Chapter 122
Chapter 122
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 122
Chapter Title: Final Exams Begin
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That day, Milmyu's expression was far from normal when she returned to the dorm.
"...Milmyu."
"What happened?"
She was smiling, but not really smiling. A true expert knew how to control their aura.
Milmyu had crossed countless battlefields.
From the weakest to the strongest, from the bottom of the class to the top. Especially after her expedition to the northern snowfields, she possessed a fundamental strength that set her apart from the other first-year fledglings.
That's why her friends couldn't help but worry when they saw Milmyu's expression and the intimidating aura radiating from her.
She had clearly said she was going to her admired senior's store that day.
The girl who had been full of love before leaving was now exuding such a fierce, fearsome presence.
"What happened? Did something bad...?"
"No. This is... the resolve of love! I've seen it in novel illustrations."
"...? Did you eat some spoiled yogurt yesterday or something?"
"Quiet. Spoiled Vanilla. It has to be that the senior pushed her against the wall and went thud! with his hand, right? There was an illustration like that where the heroine was all shaken up."
"Mm-hmm. So what you're saying is Milmyu got something from that senior? From that senior?"
"..."
"Yogurt. You should be more selective about the novels you read."
"...Shut up."
"Besides, if something happened with that senior, Milmyu wouldn't be mad right now."
"..."
Yogurt shut her mouth at Vanilla's deduction.
"Why are you being so logical, Vanilla?"
"Our grades are about the same to begin with, aren't they? I just wear glasses, but our scores are similar."
"...I'll settle this in the finals. I swear on these glasses!"
"Do whatever you want. If wearing glasses made you smart, they would've been mandatory for Jefrin admission."
Vanilla was usually bright and cheerful, but during finals week, she couldn't hide her sharp edge. Yogurt was the same—normally acting all intellectual, but now she was a bit unhinged.
However, instead of grabbing each other's hair or heading to the training grounds with hammers and bows, the two focused on Milmyu's change.
"Tell us what happened, Milmyu."
"Yeah. We're here to listen."
"Well..."
Milmyu explained what had happened at the convenience store earlier that day.
After hearing the whole story, the two gaped, their eyes wide as saucers.
"Dragon...?"
"Sister...?"
What? Some imperial joke?
They shot her looks that said, The imperial family really is on another level—even their jokes are like that. But Milmyu was dead serious.
"Yeah. The senior called her his sister—a dragon. Apparently, she's the adopted daughter of the first emperor."
"Right... I see."
While Vanilla struggled to accept reality and marveled at the imperial family, Yogurt fell deep into thought, her face grave.
"Milmyu... this is dangerous."
"Uh, yeah?"
Her thinking done, Yogurt placed her hands on Milmyu's shoulders with a serious expression and began her earnest advice.
"A dragon sister, daughter of the first emperor—that status is way too big."
"...R-Really? That huge...? I know it's forbidden yet legal, but..."
"No, Milmyu. You know nothing."
"Uh, yeah?"
"I'm the one who ruined her eyesight by binge-reading romance novels every night under light magic before even entering Jefrin, blasting through five books a day. Listen up."
Vanilla shrugged at Yogurt's hidden hobby confession.
"So that's why you wear glasses...? Yogurt, you're such an idiot."
"Shut your mouth, Vanilla. Anyway, Milmyu. Listen well."
"Y-Yes, Master!"
The title had changed to Master.
"The first emperor's daughter. A distant sister, but you said their relationship seemed really close?"
"Uh, yeah. They even talked about working together..."
"Listen up. You've run into the toughest rival in history."
"Wh-What? For real?"
"Yes. A dragon who's lived hundreds of years and a young, handsome prince. The strongest race and the weakest imperial scion. Forbidden yet legal romance blooming between them. Interspecies love transcending races. How do you compete with that weight?"
"...Hiiing."
As Milmyu teared up listening to her master, Vanilla picked at her ear and tilted her head.
"Yogurt, you've never dated, have you?"
"Shut up, Vanilla. Anyway, Milmyu, listen. What makes those two perfect is that year and a half timeline."
"A-A year and a half?"
"Yeah. Senior Wolfram graduates next year, right? These siblings who found each other after three hundred years will grow aware of each other and agonize over their limited time. We think Jefrin is forever, but they won't."
"...I-I see. As expected of Master. The difference in perspective... the gap in viewpoints."
"Exactly. So you can't afford to slack off either. Got it?"
"Yes, yes! Mashter!"
Milmyu nodded repeatedly, Yogurt looked satisfied, and Vanilla voiced her doubt.
"Did you read that in a novel?"
"Of course. A year and a half could fill nineteen volumes. Side stories included."
"So it's not real dating?"
"..."
"You've never dated yourself, but you're projecting some imaginary romance someone wrote onto this?"
"................."
"For real? Seriously? There's someone that pitiful in the world? Yogurt, say something."
"Sh-Shut... You, you've mocked me. You've scorned me."
"No, I just feel bad for you."
"Y-You haven't dated either, yet you... you..."
"I haven't, so I don't pretend to know? Giving advice based on nothing but eye-ruining romance novels—like you're crazy for love or your brain's pickled in it. Haha. Even honey-soaked peach drink wouldn't be that sweet."
"Duel! Grab your weapons!"
Yogurt snatched up her bow, and Vanilla shrugged, gripping her hammer before patting Milmyu's shoulder.
"Alright, Milmyu. Yogurt and I are off to play. Have fun."
"Uh, yeah. Have a good time."
"Oh, right. Here's my advice. I've never dated, but living in the dorms, we get to see firsthand who catches whose eye and how they flirt."
"Uh, yeah."
"Sometimes, they go after the same person. Know who wins that love?"
"...Wh-Who?"
"Not the one prepping some one-day spectacle, but the one who visits every day and smiles."
"...Ah."
"Hang in there. That's my advice. Now, let's go, Yogurt."
Milmyu dashed straight to Wolfram's convenience store.
Her friends' advice had been incredibly helpful. She could proudly call them her best friends for life.
First, to the senior.
The senior had just a year and a half left.
She had to find her answer in that time.
Riding Black King Tiger, forcing her pounding heart to calm, she arrived at the store.
There he was, with his usual grumpy expression.
"Milmyu, huh."
"...Senior? What are you doing?"
"Hm... Just testing some things."
"Testing?"
His face was smudged with soot, his hair dusted and messy.
The production kit on the floor for his skill [Handy Worker] was scorched too—clear signs of failure, obvious to anyone.
"Yeah. Trying to make what you asked for."
"Ah..."
The senior was kind, so he couldn't refuse a request.
Whose was it this time?
Whose request had he taken, fulfilled, and rin their heart with?
Senior Aila? Senior Rudika? Senior Nefti? Senior Eve? Or that dragon sister from recently?
No.
Her heart felt too narrow to smile.
Normally, she'd force a smile and say something sincere yet empty like, You're working hard again.
"Wh-Whose request... were you working on?"
"Hm... Was gonna show it once it was done. But maybe I should hear your thoughts first."
"...?"
With that, Wolfram beckoned Milmyu over. What she saw made her eyes go wide.
No way she wouldn't recognize it.
She wore it constantly during training and classes.
She knew the size of whatever was attached to it.
"This is..."
"First, my apologies."
"Y-Yes...? An apology?"
"Hm. The Cartridge-Type Battle Gauntlet Mk.3 was tough to fit into the schedule."
Then it clicked.
Whose item the senior was making.
"Ah... Th-Then this is mine...?"
"Correct. Parts for the Cartridge-Type Battle Gauntlet Mk.2 Ultimate Edition. Final upgrade before the next gen. Hm. Not easy to calibrate."
"So the reason you're making this..."
"Didn't you ask? You want to win it all. Hold onto everyone. So I'm making it."
Wolfram gave her a look that said, Why even ask something so obvious?
He rarely changed expressions, but Milmyu could tell.
This soot-streaked face poured full effort into accepted tasks without complaint.
No princes or lowly nobles there.
"...Senior."
"Hm?"
"Might be disrespectful, but I think it'd be fine even if you weren't a prince."
"Ha. Funny thing to say, Milmyu von Sabre."
"Yes?"
"In this Jefrin right now, the only one with rank is my bloodmate and the worst student council president, Eve. In other words."
"..."
"You and I are equals—just two years apart in school."
"Yes."
Her face flushed.
Hold it together, Milmyu.
The senior's words meant nothing more.
Just literally 'equals'.
Don't twist it. Don't misunderstand. Understand. This is who he is.
"No helping it. Was gonna show you when done, but needs more tweaking. Help me?"
"...Yes!"
That day.
The two completed the prototype.
And the day of the final exams dawned.
The air across all of Jefrin crackled—no exaggeration or hyperbole needed; it felt that electric.
Your best friend right next to you was a rival today.
You could surpass them in grades with study, but 'combat power'? Not so easy.
Beating them and showing mercy? Fine.
She wanted to be the one preserving their friendship.
But not the one receiving mercy, with pity tainting the friendship.
Such tension hung in the morning air.
In the general department's arena stood two girls.
Cotton Shinespark. First-year rank 4. Magic power 17—a genius.
The other: Milmyu von Sabre. First-year top.
The first-years' anticipation built steadily.
Class-top Kelters was a composite user. Second-place Gale Strike wielded a greatsword.
Amid that, pure mage Shinespark—magic power 17, the next ace candidate—versus the current top [Iron Fist]. How would she handle her?
As expectations peaked, the two appeared.
And everyone tilted their heads before nodding in understanding.
Milmyu and Cotton atop the arena were polar opposites.
As Cotton elegantly covered her mouth with her fan-shaped staff to show leisure, Milmyu wore a deeply serious face.
It didn't change even after they took positions and the referee stood between.
Of course. How could Milmyu von Sabre with magic power 9 beat Cotton, the next magic division ace contender?
"I hear the Sabre family is from some eastern backwater. If you're thinking of going central, forfeit to me here."
"..."
Milmyu didn't respond.
Everyone took her silence for tension.
"Match begin!"
"And the match begins. How should I handle her... Urk."
But.
No.
Milmyu hadn't abandoned thought the moment she stepped onstage.
She meticulously measured distance to her opponent, endlessly pondering how to deny a mage space.
The result.
Thud. One leap.
Grip. Left hand over Cotton's mouth.
Clench. Right hand seizing Cotton's uniform at the solar plexus.
Hmph.
Even caught, Cotton smirked inwardly.
Think I'd skimp on scouting you?
Cartridge-Type Gauntlet Mk.2 was a knuckle-mounted gauntlet by default.
Needing 'swing range' mandatory.
So it was weird.
Left fist covering mouth, right fist gripping clothes.
So what would she hit with?
As she arrogantly let her guard down, a strange noise rang out.
It came from the Cartridge-Type Battle Gauntlet's fist section.
The ring additionally attached—unseen in the Gale bout—accelerating.
Not the gripped fist accelerating, but the ring atop it...?
If that—that—slammed into her solar plexus...?
Too late when she realized the truth.
[Impact Buster]
Short incantation.
The last thing Cotton saw: the endlessly spinning ring bursting forward past the fist, smashing into her solar plexus.
Before losing consciousness to the gut-wrenching shock of her organs flipping from the monstrous spin.
"Doesn't matter if it's a dragon. I won't lose to anyone."
The final words she heard were nonsense laced with resolve, from eyes burning with determination.