Midterm Exam (3)

Matus Whiritia was born and raised on the frontier. A planetary system unprotected by the Ether Belt. A place constantly raided by Outer Deities. People lost their minds at the slightest provocation, and children vanished every other day. The frontier was little more than a battlefield. Expecting support from the Union government was foolish. So Matus had clawed his way up with sheer grit. By day he read books. By night he learned how to shoot—through live combat. It hadn’t gone well, but he’d also grasped the basics of handling Ether. Later, with his two younger siblings left behind by his parents, he proved he hadn’t gone insane, passed the immigration screening, and finally set foot in the Golden Zone. That was four years before Matus enrolled at Stellarium.

So many things had happened between then and now. Being turned away from every part-time job because he was from the frontier. Getting into fights with merchants who slashed his food, rent, and clothing prices just because he was from the frontier, only to be kicked out of the system. Taking his sick little sister to the hospital, only to be slapped with a bogus mental illness diagnosis and a medical bill that nearly bankrupted him. Those privileged bastards. He wanted to flip the whole damn table.

The young master of the Rheinland family standing before him now was no different. Even after enrolling at Stellarium, Matus had never let go of his hatred for highborn houses. Of course, since Eidel had never directly harmed him, he hadn’t gone out of his way to pick fights. He still had some basic manners. But what time was it now? Under the pretext of midterms, this was the perfect chance to beat the arrogant noble heads he usually despised to a pulp. Since it was happening in virtual reality, even if they felt pain, there would be no actual injury. No need to worry about consequences!

Half in rage, half in excitement, Matus charged. The moment he swung his poleaxe down at Eidel’s head—

“Ugh!”

A movement as slippery as a snake coiled around him instead. His body refused to move, as if paralyzed. His entire frame went rigid, like he’d been injected with neurotoxin from a venomous serpent. This feeling—he’d experienced it somewhere before. But he couldn’t remember.

“Sorry, friend. I can’t give up first place.”

“Wh-what…”

Eidel’s left hand moved in a blur. The blade of the caliper pressed down on Matus’s crown and sank deep.

“Gaaah!”

By the time Matus screamed, spacetime had already warped.

“Huff… huff…”

Clutching his chest, he slowly swept his gaze around. He had just woken up on a hospital bed, an IV line attached to his right hand. Cool air circulated between the white patient gown marked with light-blue lines.

“Where… am I?”

“Hey, are you okay?”

In the bed right beside him lay a girl with deep green hair. It was Mezlen Whiritia, his classmate. Mezlen was more than twenty centimeters shorter than others her age, which might explain why the polka-dot patient gown she wore looked suspiciously childish. (It was, in fact, children’s size.)

“Where is this?”

“The infirmary.”

“Why am I here?”

“You got pummeled by the top student.”

Mezlen calmly explained what Eidel had done. ‘What the hell? How did that happen? This is fascinating!’ Mezlen had been watching Matus’s fainting with great physiological interest, then offered herself as a test subject and promptly fainted— ‘Kyaa! Mezlen! How dare you touch my friend—!’ Christine, furious, had tried to retaliate and fainted the same way— ‘Not bad at all. Let’s have a match.’ James from the same class had challenged him after seeing that and also fainted. Several others jumped in afterward, but every single one joined the fainting party. They had all been struck once by that caliper—or whatever plasma sword it was—and lost consciousness.

In truth, when he looked around, Matus and Mezlen weren’t the only ones there. The six-bed room was completely full.

“What are you looking at?”

Christine, who had been reading a book, answered curtly.

“Kuh, my mistake.”

James clenched his fist and trembled.

“Why did everyone faint?”

“The teachers think it’s hologram shock.”

“Hologram shock?”

“Yeah. Apparently if you receive too strong an impact in virtual reality, the brain thinks it’s dead and sends out a fainting signal.”

Matus replayed his battle with Eidel in his head. A single exchange. Everything had crumbled in one single exchange. He had fought like a starving wolf roaming the slums, yet that hard-earned wild combat sense had been dismantled so easily. So in the end, there was no beating the rich kids who received systematic training? Was family background and money truly everything?

“Anyway, you know what? The top student’s earned himself some new nicknames.”

Welton told ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠me the nicknames I had acquired in just a few hours and giggled.

“That’s ridiculous.”

Mistaking a caliper for an axe. The current state of the education system was truly lamentable.

Anyway, after knocking down every challenger one by one and using my cards to raise my score, I had secured first place. I had one card left. I planned to use it depending on the final situation. Or I could use it now.

“Yusford. Want to spar with me?”

“Haha. Good one.”

Of course. After watching several people dragged off to the infirmary, Welton had no reason to pick a fight with me.

“Smart kid. Ever think about grad school?”

Shashash. Welton quickly backed away.

“Hiiik! D-don’t come near me, you monster!”

It was unfair to be called a monster just for offering grad school advice.

“I should’ve known from the moment you said you wouldn’t hit girls but then went after Mezlen and Christine. You’re insane. Seriously, I can’t handle you. Who knew there were so many peerless masters in the world. Kuh!”

Unfair. If I hadn’t entered this world, hadn’t been forced into a contract with Cartesia, or hadn’t ended up in the body of that maniac Eidel, I wouldn’t have had to live being called crazy like this.

At any rate, the important thing was that my grand plan to make Welton study solid-state physics would have to be put on hold for now. How sad.

Welton fled as if escaping, and then Seti arrived.

“Brother, how did it go?”

“What do you mean?”

“I heard you beat up our entire class with some weird-looking axe.”

“…Not the entire class.”

“It’s fascinating. How can a sword look like that? You didn’t secretly buy it somewhere without telling me, did you?”

“I left it at the modification shop and had it upgraded nicely.”

Well, who uses a tool as a weapon? I gave a vague answer to Seti, who knew nothing about it.

“So, how about you, sister? Did you use all your cards?”

“Of course I did.”

Seti then showed me the score she had earned. A little over a thousand points. I couldn’t help but be surprised.

“How on earth did you get this score? You’re terrible at swordsmanship.”

“It’s simple. First, I go down to the lower-ranked classes, fight just enough to look like I’m barely holding on, then lose on purpose. Then the kids who think I’m weak come rushing in like mad. At that point I adjust my strength little by little and beat them one by one.”

“That’s a long way of saying you farmed easy opponents.”

“Anyway, the only person who knows my real skill level is me. I just used the information gap to win.”

It was a cheap trick, but Stellarium didn’t forbid it. Being strong against the weak and hiding your power from the strong was a strategy even more important than simply wielding good swordsmanship.

“Good work, sister.”

I patted Seti on the shoulder. Unlike before, she didn’t resist or frown warily. Seti was… smiling a little sadly. Wondering if something had happened, I used the SAN parameter.

Thoughts that were entirely burdensome. But at the same time, thoughts I was grateful for. Since Seti was willing to help me, I had to help my sister in return. That must be what true familial bonds were.

Suddenly, a certain girl came to mind.

“What about Rustila?”

“Sister? She said she was going to fight that Zernya girl and win.”

“…It’s already very late.”

The fact that Rustila still hadn’t shown up at this hour clearly meant things hadn’t gone well. It wasn’t a scene from the original story, but the indirect narration that appeared later supported my reasoning.

I wandered around frantically and finally found Rustila crouching on a bench behind the exam hall.

This was even worse than when she had been oppressed by her parents. Right now, Rustila had been broken by Zernya. I carefully sat down beside her.

“Rustila.”

Noticing my presence, she slowly lifted her head. Her jewel-like aquamarine eyes were drenched in sorrow and grief.

“…Eidel.”

Her voice trembled on the verge of tears. She had always been a girl who cried easily. Sometimes she displayed superhuman spirit and became cold, but she was still a fragile child with many delicate sides. Embracing that was the best I could do to raise the future Sword Saint Rustila.

“It’s okay.”

Nothing more, nothing less—just those three words to launch the ferry of conversation.

“My talent is…”

“…More than enough.”

Genius is lonely. When a slump comes, even if you confide in others, you won’t be understood. You must live your whole life distinguished as someone from a different world than ordinary people. What Rustila was experiencing now was also a form of ostracism. The kind that comes with praise.

I scooted my body close to Rustila’s. It was so I could pick up the plasma sword she had set down. Her breath felt close. It was unstable. Irregular, as if a panic attack could strike at any moment, and eerily devoid of interest in the world.

“Swinging a sword,” I said, placing the blade in her hand. “Is it fun?”

“……”

Rustila gave a shy nod.

“If it’s fun, just keep doing it. That’s where you find meaning. You don’t want to be a lawyer—you want to be a soldier. You wanted so badly to become a hero who protects the citizens and property of the Federation.”

“…Yes, I did.”

“Don’t pay any attention to what Zernya says.”

“But… even with a constellation, I still lost…”

I smiled bitterly.

“It’s not the loss that matters. What matters is that she doesn’t have a constellation, and you do.”

What exactly was a constellation? No—what was a star that housed a constellation? A star was everyone’s dream and hope. People looked at stars to find their way. Therefore, a constellation, a god, only shone when it contained the path a human should walk. Whether it was a blazing main-sequence star, a giant star beginning to grow in power, an erratic variable star drifting like dandelion seeds, or a white dwarf that had burned out and left only remnants. Because the star existed, people could advance without losing direction.

‘If you hold a good dream, a bright star will come to you. If you hold a bad dream, the god of darkness will come. If you covet too much, you will be surrounded by evil gods.’

That was why such tales existed among the oral traditions of the East. In any case, people with dreams had to look at the constellations and set their course, now as in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the past.

“Ask your constellation. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Ask what you should do.”

“I…”

Rustila remained silent for a long time before nodding. She looked at me and said,

“Can I keep holding the sword?”

“There’s no rule that says you have to be the best.”

“I want to be the best.”

“Then you should start swinging it from now on.”

“If I swing it endlessly, can I surpass that girl?”

Since last month she had lost to Zernya more than fifty times. Even a single defeat was humiliating enough to chew over for days, yet she had suffered it dozens of times. It was only natural to be afraid. But—

“If you swing without thinking about that, you’ll be able to overcome her.”

“……”

“There’s nothing certain in life. People who say ‘if you do this, this will definitely happen, so you must do this’ are swindlers. The important thing is whether you want it or not. That’s all.”

Just look at how the masters in any field succeeded. Not everyone who worked ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hard succeeded, but every successful person worked hard. If I hadn’t liked that uncertainty, I would have long ago abandoned my trivial dream of doing particle theory.

After thinking for a long time, Rustila finally sprang to her feet.

“…I’ll go win.”

She omitted the subject, but it was obvious who she meant. Rustila left to challenge her weak self.