An Unfamiliar Ceiling
It was an unfamiliar ceiling.
“……Where am I?”
“Ah, this is the infirmary.”
I turned my head. Sonia stood there, hands clasped neatly in front of her, gazing down at me with those blank white eyes.
A strange sense of déjà vu washed over me.
I forced myself upright. Every muscle in my body shrieked as though it might snap. When I checked my forearm, it was mottled with deep purple bruises.
What the hell happened?
I remembered starting the spar with Rustilla. After that… nothing. The rest had been wiped clean from my mind. I had a vague impression of something flashing before my eyes, but that was all.
“You were knocked unconscious by a single blow from Lady Rustilla, young master.”
“…I was?”
“Yes. You have been unconscious for three hours.”
Sonia let out a small sigh and continued. It was a miracle the injuries were only minor. She had been worried when I wouldn’t wake. Rustilla was apparently beside herself with guilt. Recalling the original Idel’s foul temper, Sonia asked me to be generous and forgive her when she arrived.
Click.
Speak of the devil.
The door opened and in walked Seti and Rustilla, accompanied by Jermel and Donna. Both girls wore tense, ashen expressions.
“…Hey. You okay?” Seti asked.
“You’re awake, so I guess you’re fine, but…”
The usual sharp-tongued little sister had vanished. Her eyes drooped at the corners and her face had gone soft. I had never seen that expression on her before.
I waved my arm. “As you can see, I’m perfectly fine.”
“Ah…”
Seti exhaled in a way I couldn’t quite interpret. Then she folded her arms and let out a tiny snort of laughter.
“If you’d kicked the bucket this time, it would’ve been a total win. We could’ve collected the death insurance.”
“…Sister?”
“What? It’s just math. We still have to pay academy tuition, don’t we?”
The barrage of spicy death jokes left me dizzy. They hurt more than Rustilla’s blow.
“Miss, minors cannot enroll in death insurance,” Sonia noted flatly.
“You think I don’t know that? It was a joke. A joke.”
Seti shot me a sideways glance, clearly checking my mood.
I didn’t have the energy to be angry, nor the desire. I simply rested my chin in my hand and sighed.
A delicate tension settled over the room.
Rustilla was sweating bullets, completely at a loss. Finally she bowed her head deeply and stepped closer.
“I-I’m sorry. Did it hurt a lot?”
She repeated the apology like a broken wind-up toy. Those sea-blue eyes trembled like candle flames in a draft.
It felt both excessive and heartbreakingly pitiful.
“We apologize as well,” Jermel said. The other androids bowed in perfect unison.
“We will cover all medical expenses. If there is anything else you require…”
“It’s fine.”
Jermel’s eyes widened until the whites showed.
“An injury of this level doesn’t warrant any payment. I can handle it with my own funds.”
Once I passed Stellarium, I had planned to sell every last item in my room anyway. I could cover the costs that way. There was no loss.
“But… surely…”
“I said it’s fine. Look.”
I rotated my arm lightly. It ached, but there were no fractures. I could move it without issue. This was nothing more than muscle pain.
“Young master. With all due respect, our lady dislikes being in anyone’s debt above all else. If you have any requests, please state them…”
“Hmm. Is that so?”
Even if I wasn’t angry, a request was still in order—provided it benefited both Rustilla and me.
I looked straight at her. “Then let’s have one more spar.”
Sword Saint.
The title Rustilla earned after single-handedly stopping an S-rank monster invasion.
Receiving personal training from someone of her caliber was an incredibly rare opportunity. Under normal circumstances it would have cost a small fortune.
Even so.
Even so…
“……This doesn’t look cool at all.” I flicked the practice weapon with a finger and grumbled.
“It can’t be helped. Just in case…”
Rustilla smiled bitterly, clearly sharing my embarrassment.
For safety reasons, we had ended up with inflatable cheering batons—the long, floppy ones people wave at baseball games and concerts.
Yes. Inflatable batons. Seti had apparently rushed to the nearest shopping center and bought them, whether because she didn’t want me injured or didn’t want Rustilla accidentally killing someone.
“Wow.”
Even she thought they looked ridiculous.
The God of Wisdom and Curiosity lets out a sigh.
Rustilla and I assumed our stances and leveled our “swords” at each other. Passersby snickered. Rustilla’s face flushed crimson.
“S-shall we begin…?”
The purpose of the spar was to gauge my current level.
My defeat was inevitable, but it was a necessary step if I wanted personal instruction from Rustilla.
“…Come,” I muttered, trying to sound confident.
And then—
“Ugh.”
The instant Sonia dropped her hand,
“Urgh!”
I began getting pummeled like a stray dog.
Pow, pow, pow. The sound of air pockets bursting echoed across my body. It didn’t hurt, but my reactions were far too slow. I couldn’t read the trajectory at all.
The same spots were struck again and again. My forearms and thighs gradually swelled into angry red welts.
“A-are you all right…?”
A burning heat spread across my skin. When the spar finally ended, I dropped the baton and stared blankly at the sky.
Thank goodness they were balloons. Real swords would have turned me into cubed steak long ago.
Rustilla scratched her head as she looked at me—now bright red from head to toe.
“I’m truly sorry. I tried to hold back as much as I could…”
You call that holding back?
While I was sighing, Seti tossed me a towel.
“Told you, didn’t I? Against Sister Rustilla you can’t even gather your own bones. Be grateful it was only balloons.”
“…Yeah. But is it even possible to be that fast?”
I genuinely hadn’t seen anything. Not where the attacks came from, nor where I should have blocked.
I thought I had trained enough with Sonia, yet I couldn’t perceive any of it.
“Sister Rustilla contracted with a constellation. That’s why her speed is on another level.”
“Ah…”
Now that she mentioned it, the novel often used the phrase “her sword strikes surpassed the speed of sound” whenever describing Rustilla’s blade. I had assumed it was exaggeration.
It wasn’t.
We hurriedly set the batons aside and picked up wooden swords instead.
“……Then I’ll begin pointing out what you’re lacking.”
Rustilla smiled gently, like a flower on the verge of full bloom.
“Swordsmanship begins with calming the mind. If your mind wavers, so does your blade. You must clear away stray thoughts.”
“Stray thoughts, huh…”
“Were you thinking about something else?”
“I… wasn’t exactly not thinking.” Even during the spar my mind had been racing. What exactly I should do after enrollment. What kinds of Outer Deities would appear according to the timeline. Which monster I needed to handle first. What components would be required to develop the graviton bomb. All sorts of problems that would have been difficult even if several people brainstormed together—I had been trying to juggle them alone with my obsolete brain.
“It’s hard at the beginning. But if you focus your gaze instinctively, you’ll start to see my sword. Shall we begin with your stance?”
Rustilla corrected even the way I gripped the sword from scratch.
If Sonia taught like a street brawler, Rustilla taught by the book. Her recommended posture was difficult to maintain, yet perfectly stable.
“Your calves are weak. Bend your knees a little more. Yes, like that. Lower your center of gravity. Keep your back straight…”
“Ughhh.”
Real physical training was pure torture.
Over the next several days I received instruction from Rustilla. Thanks to her, my posture improved dramatically and my mind grew calmer whenever I held a blade.
I didn’t learn many techniques. She called those shortcuts. What mattered was understanding why you swung the way you did, even in a single strike—and possessing the ability to subdue your opponent.
As for the written exam results, I passed, of course. So did Rustilla and Seti. The moment the two girls saw their names, they threw their arms around each other and wept.
In my case, the reaction was mostly surprise. Seti was shocked. Donna was shocked. Even Jermel looked stunned. Only Rustilla smiled softly, as though she had expected nothing less.
“Do your best.”
“You bought three extra days, didn’t you? You practiced hard during that time. You’ll be fine.”
For some reason the academy had released the written results three days later than scheduled. Probably a system error.
I shook off the thought and focused forward. A shaggy-haired male supervisor tapped the microphone a few times before speaking.
This year’s practical evaluation will consist of mock combat against golems modeled after monsters.
Plasma swords are provided on the right-hand rack. Use only the supplied weapons. Safety mechanisms are installed; however, should any issue arise our staff will intervene immediately.
He continued with a long list of evaluation criteria and warnings against cheating. In short, the test would assess overall physical ability and crisis response.
“We will now introduce the monsters that will assist in your evaluation.”
“Wait, that’s…”
The creature looked like a doll whose joints had been deliberately segmented. It stood nearly two meters tall, with three joints per limb and a face as smooth and featureless as an egg. Each of its six arms gripped an axe or serrated blade.
Though artificial, the design was genuinely threatening. The examinees murmured and instinctively stepped back at the shocking visual.
“There is no need for concern,” the supervisor declared confidently. “It is only the appearance that is realistic. We have ensured none of you will be injured.”
Only then did a few students breathe sighs of relief.
“Students whose names are called, retrieve your swords. Ten candidates at a time will enter the designated rooms.”
The first ten names were announced. Neither mine, Seti’s, nor Rustilla’s were among them.
“Too bad. Going first would’ve been nice.”
“Are you insane? What if you mess up before you’re even mentally prepared?”
“They say it’s better to get hit first.”
Seti frowned, clearly displeased. She took several deep breaths.
“Weakness: becomes unnecessarily nervous on exam day.”
“Shut up.”
While we were bickering, the enormous monitor mounted on the ceiling flickered to life and split into ten separate frames. Each long horizontal panel displayed the interior of a testing room where a monster model waited.
“For the sake of transparent and fair judging, the entire practical evaluation will be broadcast publicly. Please keep this in mind…”
Great. Now failure would be utterly humiliating.
The evaluation began shortly afterward.
The time limit was ten minutes. Defeating the monster model or landing meaningful blows earned high marks. Getting hit even once would result in a steep deduction.
The God of Wisdom and Curiosity shows clear signs of discomfort.
I watched the relay monitor with keen interest. The monster models began to move. Each examinee faced them in their own style. Some fought evenly. Others were steadily pushed back.
Overall, the evaluation seemed to be proceeding smoothly.
…At least until the boy in room five had his arm sliced clean off.