Chapter 3
Chapter 3
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: 3. One Punch
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Beatrix, the student council secretary at Elpante, was the president's friend of ten years.
That also meant she was angrier than anyone about Elnor being late for her appointment.
“This girl has lost her mind...!”
She ground her teeth while glaring at the time stamped on her magitech wristwatch.
For someone as crucial as the student council president, she should have arrived ten minutes early, dolled up from head to toe. That was only proper.
“S-Senior! Kraytan Count has just arrived...!”
“Galantier Marquis is here too...!”
If that wasn't bad enough, the reports drifting in from around her were only pouring fuel on her rage.
Elpante's entrance duel wasn't just some academy event—it was a gathering where the empire's heavyweights mingled and networked.
They couldn't afford to show up late to such important people...!
As she burned with fury hot enough to turn her head white, someone smoothly swung open the door to the student council room.
It was Elnor, covered head to toe in blood.
“...”
“...”
While Beatrix and everyone else fell silent at the sight, Elnor trudged into the room, let out a sigh, and set her sword down on her desk.
One of the students spotted the blood dripping from the blade and started hiccuping.
“What?”
Only then did Elnor notice the bizarre silence, glancing around as she spoke.
Beatrix rubbed her throbbing temples and replied.
“There’s a lot I want to ask, but this sums it up—so answer straight. What the hell have you been doing?”
“Handling some cleanup.”
As expected of a ten-year friend.
It took Beatrix all of two seconds to realize this wasn't a topic for others' ears—a reaction worthy of praise.
“...Sorry, but from here on, it’ll just be me and the president. Everyone else, clear out?”
With a friendly smile, she shooed the other students away. The moment the last one left, her face twisted into a demonic scowl.
“What mess did you get into this time?”
“It wasn't a mess. I said it was cleanup.”
“I’ll agree if no one’s dead.”
“Not many. About twelve?”
“...”
After a few deep breaths to steady herself, she continued to the still-expressionless Elnor in a trembling voice.
“What’d they do to deserve dying this time?”
“You make it sound like I go around slaughtering people for no reason like some maniac.”
Elnor calmly wiped the blood from her blade as she spoke.
“They were assassins trying to kill me. They disguised a rockslide as an accident on the train to the academy. I tracked them down—they were close—so I took them out.”
Her tone was as matter-of-fact as stating the sun rises in the sky.
“Then just hand it over to the school...!”
“Too much hassle.”
“...”
“Someone’s clearly backing them, pulling the strings. No ordinary law will touch them. It’d just be endless annoyances ahead, so I nipped it in the bud.”
“...”
Beatrix clenched her fists, feeling sweat slick her palms.
Never mind how she'd uncovered every infiltrator hiding in the academy in less than a day despite their cover.
If pros hired by someone powerful enough to dodge the law, they weren't amateurs. Top-tier talent.
And she'd massacred twelve of them single-handedly. That was fact.
But what was truly eerie was her attitude in recounting it so nonchalantly.
As if it were the most natural thing. As if anyone she deemed an 'enemy' dying by her hand was no surprise at all.
In a way, it almost seemed like she was unleashing the evil she usually suppressed whenever the opportunity arose.
“Or do you want me to play the 'righteous and perfect' role too? Spare their lives mercifully even when my own's on the line?”
Beatrix swallowed dryly.
She'd caught the sticky disgust always lurking beneath Elnor's eyes when she said lines like that.
She knew better than anyone that this was Elnor's reverse scale.
“Anyway, enough. You wouldn't 'force' that on me.”
Fortunately, Elnor finished cleaning her sword, shook off the vibe herself, and turned away.
Beatrix finally exhaled in relief, wiping her brow as the oppressive weight lifted.
It wouldn't last anyway. They had urgent business.
“Elnor.”
“Yeah?”
“You’re great and all, but if you don’t change and get ready now, you’ll be late. Don’t wanna die, do you? Hurry up.”
“...”
It took top-tier courage to say that to someone fresh off killing twelve pro assassins.
But the murderous glint in Beatrix's eyes was dead serious.
Elnor sighed deeply, irritation oozing from every pore.
“...Fine, fine. At least I hope the duel’s fun. Dealing with all these schemers, might as well enjoy the view.”
“No need to worry about that.”
Beatrix rummaged through her mental files as she spoke.
“You’ll run into that prodigy freshman if you head over now. The bracket’s definitely Eliya Chrisanax versus Dawood... Dawood... what was it?”
“Dawood Campbell?”
Beatrix's eyes went wide.
“Yeah. How do you remember that? Guy’s a total nobody.”
Elnor fell silent a moment, then smirked.
“He’s an odd one, that man.”
“Odd?”
“Yeah.”
No one says something like 'seems nicer than he looks' right off the bat otherwise.
As if he knew the dark side she harbored.
Elnor smiled faintly and rose.
“Let’s go. We’ll be late if we don’t hurry.”
“...Your attitude’s different from earlier. You actually excited or something?”
“That man piques my interest.”
Elnor replied with a sly grin.
“I plan to watch him closely in this duel.”
●
If this academy had a betting culture on wins and losses, anyone putting even a dime on me would get insane odds.
The vibe from the crowd staring at me right now said it all.
Every glance from the stage sidelines brimmed with anticipation for my utter demolition.
And honestly, I agreed. Not even I would bet on myself for a miracle upset in this national-standard beatdown.
“How many exchanges before he drops?”
“Exchanges? Surviving with minimal damage is the win here.”
“True. What talent’s some trash baron’s spawn gonna have?”
Snippets like that floated over, but rebuttals didn't even cross my mind.
Such mockery was tame, anyway. Most couldn't be bothered with the obvious outcome.
'Sad, really...'
I thought to myself, eyeing my opponent.
The girl lightly stretching, loosening up.
But to me, she looked like a massive serpent with jaws agape, tongue flicking at prey.
Swap me for a little mouse, and it'd match her actual combat power spot-on.
And.
That was exactly why I was thrilled.
[ Skill: Desperate Situation ] [ Grade: ??? ]
[ Stat boost activates in moments of crisis. Effect strengthens the lower survival odds. ]
My stats were trash—straight-up joke-tier. One blind hit from her, and I'd drop dead without surprise.
This was a crisis situation, no question.
“...”
Talk about a do-or-die plan.
Pinning too much on a freak skill with question-mark grade felt risky.
'Ah, whatever.'
No matter how I sliced it, no sane method matched the growth speed I needed.
Not when a life-threatening event loomed in two days. No room for playing safe.
All-in or bust.
'My angle is...'
This post-entrance ceremony duel was a main event in the setting—huge crowds, key figures watching.
Heavy-hitter nobles and academy brass with major plot sway would be there.
Meaning the 'villains' I'd face later lurked among them too.
I had zero intention of beating her. 'Lost but fought well' was my max goal.
With expectations on me at 'just don't die,' delivering that much should snag their 'interest' if not outright 'favor.'
Doable.
I was a vet player of this game—knew her move set like my palm.
Info edge plus stat buff? Odds were solid...
“Excuse me.”
Lost in thought, Eliya—sword already drawn—tilted her head and spoke up.
Voice low enough for only me.
“Be honest. You’re crazy weak, right?”
“...”
Why stab where it hurts out of nowhere?
“Was gonna smack you once like normal, but...”
She gave a wry smile. I cocked my head—something off in her words.
“Why smack me?”
“You rode in the same cabin as the Tristan Duchess, right?”
Eliya smirked and continued.
“I hate that woman. Hate the whole Tristan Ducal House.”
Her voice dripped with icy hatred.
“That family’s demonic.”
Ballsy.
In this world, even mentioning 'demons' was taboo. They were behind every major disaster in the lore.
Tristan Ducal House could kill her on the spot for that without batting an eye.
'...Not wrong, though.'
Issue was, they actually tangled with demons.
Not 'like' demons—some had real contracts.
Plus, she had a massive personal grudge against Tristan.
Family vendetta. Understandable...
“...I just happened to share a cabin.”
“That reminds her of you. Annoys me, so I figured one good hit.”
“...”
So?
“But seeing your skills softened me up. How about we fake a fight and call it? You don’t wanna get hurt either, right?”
She winked, whispering.
Eh.
Nice try on her part, but impossible from mine.
Two days to hyper-grow or die.
Only shot: make my mark here.
Which meant.
“Just hit me hard then.”
“...Pardon?”
“I kinda like her.”
Plenty reason to poke her now.
She blinked blankly at my words, then nodded like it clicked.
“She does have that polished public image. I get why you’d fall for it. But that’s all—”
“—facade. I know. Got the gist of her dirty deeds too.”
“...”
Eliya's face hardened instantly.
“...For real?”
“As real as your hate for her.”
Lie.
Truth was, I wanted zero ties to Elnor—purely for my survival.
But provoking her full assault? This was the play.
Timeline-wise, Elnor was schmoozing nobles now. No way she'd fixate on my duel mid-event...
[ Skill: Fatal Charm activates. ]
[ Villain favor skyrockets! ]
[ Reward added to Gift tab! ]
“...”
Why pop this now?
Staring in shock, Eliya—still stiff-faced—tilted her head slightly.
“Oh?”
Chillier tone than before, laced with menace.
“No guilt then.”
Next instant.
She closed the gap in a flash.
Motion skipped—like start and end only, insane speed.
'Son of a—!'
I hurled myself aside with an inner scream. Barely laid back as her wooden sword grazed my throat.
Cloth fluttering from the near-miss chilled my blood.
Who wields a bokken like a live blade? Without knowing her opener cold, I'd be maimed.
“Huh? Dodged it? Not total weakling after all?”
She showed no sign of stopping. Head turned, she reset instantly.
I hadn't recovered—straight hit incoming.
“Harder this time?”
Her sword speared for my chest.
'Crazy bitch...!'
She mistook my dodge for skill—pure luck from info edge.
This lands? I'm dead.
“...!”
Gritting teeth, I threw a bare fist.
No time for my weapon—this was peak crisis. Skill would trigger.
No clue how much, but it'd mean something.
[ Crisis detected. ]
[ Deemed direct life threat. ]
[ Skill: Desperate Situation applied at EX grade. ]
'...EX grade?'
Isn't that top-tier?
No time to marvel.
-!
-!!!
-!!!!!!!!!!
-!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
My fist connected.
Eliya rocketed off—unseeable speed—into the arena wall.
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