Midterms (1): A Sword Saint's Anchor
Rustilla burst out of the sparring hall and sprinted across the athletic field that unfolded before her like an open plain. The person waiting there was a woman wearing cosmic-hued epaulets. A soft saaa whispered through the artificial wind as her platinum-blonde hair swayed, carrying the crisp scent of Ether. An unmistakable aura of nobility radiated from her.
She met the eyes of the swordswoman. Those emerald irises, honed to perfection, sparkled as though they had captured the sun itself.
“Hello? You’re early again today.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Naier Clark. Guardian of the eastern front. One of the Federation’s twelve Great Omega-rank swordsmen. Wife of Isaac Clark. She had many titles, but right now only one mattered: Rustilla’s sword instructor. At her husband’s request she had come to Stellarium and spent every day teaching the girl.
“They say the early bird catches the worm. Hehe, excellent posture. It makes volunteering my leave worthwhile.”
A Great Omega was often called a Master and treated as a nation’s ultimate asset, so their schedules were merciless. Had Rustilla not been a Stellarium student, lacked talent with the blade, or if the Ether Belt hadn’t developed an emergency breach, Naier would never have set foot here.
“Enough talk. Prepare for ionization. We’re jumping straight into live combat.”
Rustilla nodded and poured Ether into her sword. The ionized edge screamed, spitting photons. Naier drew her own slender blade in perfect sync.
Multi-Star Sword Qi. Heroes contracted to entire constellations rather than a single stellar deity were granted the ability to wield multiple sword styles with one blade. Not every equal could manifest it, and even those who could were usually limited to fields similar to their original training. Naier was different. She had invented a style known as Private Wave, allowing her to paint the air with any stroke she desired. Its wild, untamed paths made it vulnerable to psychological warfare, yet its adaptability was unmatched. It suited Rustilla perfectly.
“Try to block this.”
Naier grinned and heated her sword. In the blink of an eye she traced three separate trajectories, each one a lethal first strike. Rustilla’s eyes widened. She wrenched her Ether to maximum output and swept her blade in a wide arc. The edges clashed, spraying sparks. Radiant heat washed across her face.
She had blocked it far better than on the first day.
“Now this one.”
Five strikes this time—coming from the sides and even from behind. A diffracted ion beam targeted the back of her head in the space of a heartbeat. Rustilla ducked. The aftershock lifted a few strands of hair. The scorching sensation made her grimace. She wondered how long her Ether shield could hold.
That worry became reality an instant later.
Crack!
The Ether could no longer endure the ions. The membrane peeled away like a soap bubble. The recoil sent Rustilla tumbling.
“Ugh!”
Naier sheathed her sword and approached, offering a water bottle.
“You’ve improved a lot since the beginning. But you’re still clumsy at controlling your emotions.”
“Emotions?”
“Exactly. Emotions. You and I are the same kind. The details differ, but in the broad sense we both fight with self-invented styles.”
Walking the path of a private style was difficult. There were no manuals, no proper teachers.
“You don’t need perfect form or set patterns. Just swing the sword the moment the thought appears.”
In short, it was impulsive. And therefore emotional. That was why a single mocking word from Zernya could send her spiraling into instant defeat.
“We cannot let our emotions swing wildly. Anger simplifies the sword path. Depression breeds hesitation.”
Rustilla touched the corner of her mouth. “Should I fight with a blank face, then?”
Naier shook her head. “It would help, but it’s not a fundamental solution.”
“Then what should I do?”
“In my case, I drive a single wedge into my emotions. For example—love.”
“Love?”
The word was so unrelated to combat that Rustilla blinked in surprise.
“Yes, love. Whether you like it or not, you love your husband—that sort of thing. I often fight paired with mine, after all.”
Naier’s face soured as she pictured her husband. The phrase “fight paired” seemed to carry more than one meaning, but Rustilla let it pass.
“Matching my husband can be irritating. But because I love him, I synchronize my breathing with his.”
Love. To seventeen-year-old Rustilla it was both fresh and impossibly difficult. Thanks to her parents’ interference she had never fallen for anyone. There were boys her age she was friendly with, but—
Rustilla shook her head, clearing the thought.
“You don’t need to overthink it. I only figured it out around the time I graduated from college myself.”
Naier patted Rustilla’s shoulder and checked her watch.
“Oh, it’s already time. See you tomorrow.”
“Actually, you don’t need to come for the next three days.”
“Why not?”
“It’s midterms.”
“Idel, how did the test go?”
“Well enough, Professor.”
It was the first day of midterms. After finishing the written portion I had descended to the planet housing the college and was now enjoying tea with Professor Feynman. Sonia had called me insane and tried to stop me, but damn it, no one could stop me.
Once the atmosphere had warmed nicely over our cups, I showed him the Black Sphere.
“I picked this up a while ago.”
“What is it?”
“It belonged to the monster I encountered during the last reallocation exam.”
I mixed in just enough falsehood to make the story palatable. It was better for both of us this way.
“May I touch it?”
“Only if you have a Constellation.”
“I may not be much, but I do have a contract. If it’s all right, please let me see.”
I handed Feynman the Black Sphere and continued.
“I read every review paper on material chips. Nothing like this exists. Since we don’t know its properties, we’ll need a physics-based approach.”
“We should run it through the Elphus and SSM analyzers first.”
My original purpose in coming had been to deliver the Black Sphere. I prepared to leave, thinking my business was finished.
“Idel.”
Professor Feynman stopped me as I rose.
“Would you like to write a paper with me on this topic?”
“Pardon?”
Was he crazy? I was still a high-schooler, not even a college student.
“In my opinion this is valuable material. Submitting it as your first paper to a journal with an impact factor over 20… what do you think?”
“I’d be grateful if you even put my name in the acknowledgments.”
“Haha, what kind of professor would do something so terrible? If a student brings the actual substance, the least I can do is list them as second author.”
My head spun. Feynman clapped me on the shoulder.
“After midterms, let’s have a proper meeting.”
Second day of midterms. The written exams were over; only the practical remained. Honestly the written tests had been easy—Korean, math, science, the usual. Still at high-school level, I had breezed through them.
The problem was the practical.
“The duel will be a mock battle conducted inside a virtual-reality space. Since this is an official exam, the entire student body will participate. Memorize the rules thoroughly.”
That’s right. I had to fight again. Damn it. I had zero confidence in combat.
“Every student will receive five practical cards. You may freely challenge anyone you wish using them. The rules have been posted on the blackboard—refer to those. That is all!”
The moment the announcement ended, students swarmed the blackboard in a noisy wave.
1. Every student receives five practical cards.
2. One card is consumed per duel request.
3. All cards possess binding force. If an opponent presents a card, acceptance is mandatory.
4. However, fighting the same person more than once requires two cards per subsequent duel.
5. Every student must complete at least three duels.
6. All five cards must be used.
7. Each battle lasts a maximum of five minutes. Leaving the arena or exhausting one’s Ether shield results in defeat.
8. Plasma swords may utilize personal equipment.
While I was reading, the red-haired boy beside me clicked his tongue. It was my classmate Matus Vitaling.
“Ugh, what a wordy pain in the ass.”
“It just means fight a lot and win.”
“Huh?” Matus looked at me and snorted. “You sure you’ll be fine, young master?”
“To be honest, I’ll probably get my ass kicked.”
“…What? Lame.”
Matus, like Senior Edward, came from the frontier. He therefore despised the rich kids from the inner Golden Zone. As a result he stood out in class even more than Zernya. The occasional provocations aimed at me were probably a side effect of that. So far we hadn’t had any major collisions because I had carefully avoided them. It looked like that wouldn’t work this time.
Matus thrust one of his cards at me.
“Fight me.”
“……”
As far as I knew, he was pretty decent with a sword. Winning through normal means would be difficult. I sighed inwardly and reached out to accept the card—
“Wait, Matus?”
Another classmate, Welton Yusford, appeared. Come to think of it, Welton and Matus had been close in the original story too.
“Didn’t you say I’d be your first opponent?” He took off his sunglasses and dabbed at his eyes with his sleeve. “Sob sob, I’m so sad. You promised I’d be the one to take your first…”
“What the hell is this crazy bastard saying?”
“Cheating on me with another man!”
Slap! A golden card flew into Matus’s face.
“What ridiculous concept are you running today, you—!!”
“It’s the Heriset concept.”
Welton grinned and pointed behind him. Right on cue, Christine walked by, blushed furiously, and pulled out a card of her own.
“I never did any concept like that!”
Slap! This time Christine’s card smacked Welton across the face.
“Whoa! This looks fun…!”
Christine’s best friend Mezlen thought it was hilarious and hurled her own card at Matus.
Was this a duel application or a game of Go-Stop?
“Hey, you idiots! Who told you to turn the cards into a gambling table? Hurry up and take the damn test!”
The illegal gambling ring was busted by a patrolling instructor and the whole scene collapsed. In any case, I had received a card from Matus, so I would have to fight him eventually. At least I could choose roughly when.
While I was fiddling with the card, I felt a presence behind me.
“Hey.”
A voice dripping with bad luck.
“Eat this.”
Zernya Adelbein had closed the distance in an instant. She drew one of her cards and shoved it between my lips.