The Unexpected Reunion

"Wait—why the hell are you actually showing up?!"

"Ooooh."

After reading every last line of the explanation, motivation surged through me like a shot of pure vitality.

The Emperor’s personal guard knight!

It was the one and only path that could free me from Arlea.

"Princess. Please step behind me."

I ushered Arlea behind my back, bracing for any unforeseen trouble. I wasn’t the only one whose blood was boiling after Carlos’s speech—every other student here was no doubt dreaming of rocketing up the ladder of success.

Not a chance.

Get lost.

First place is mine!

Arlea seemed rather taken with this professional side of me; she began humming under her breath.

"Hmm~. To think someone would dare lay a hand on this Arlea Kiessen, the empire’s finest rose. Ah, where might the prince who will protect me be waiting…?"

She was spouting pure nonsense again. Lately Arlea’s empty chatter had been getting worse. Side effect of the regression, maybe?

Whatever.

Just keeping Arlea safe was already enough to break even. I turned and carefully retied the cord of her coat. Was it because of how well she’d developed? She possessed a generous heart every bit as broad as in her prime. Full marks, Arlea.

"Princess. The students appear to be targeting us first."

"Rather than ‘us,’ the word ‘you’ would be more accurate, Mikhail. You’re also the discarded branch of the imperial line—and the only chance to snap it clean off."

"The only chance… ah. You mean the other members of the imperial family?"

"Correct. I do love how quickly you find the answer, Mikhail. As you already know, my older brothers and sisters are already of age for military service."

Arlea looked up at me and lifted her arm. Soft fingers traced along my jawline with a teasing, delicate touch.

"Mikhail. Show them exactly what you can do. I won’t lay a finger on you this time. I’ll cover the rear."

That was what Arlea ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠said.

Time passed and preparations finally settled into place. The exam proctor raised one hand high, then brought it down in a sharp chop.

"Exam—begin!"

Creeeak—

Creeeak-creeeak—

The moment the trial started, the wooden dolls that had stood motionless leapt straight into the crowd.

Time to show them what I can do.

"Mikhail. Block them."

Arlea’s voice was ice-cold as she gave the order. I gripped my sword cleanly and sliced through the enemies with fluid precision. Dolls split cleanly sideways collapsed without resistance.

Here they come.

Two dolls charged straight at me. I planted my feet solidly and met them head-on.

A swordsman’s most essential virtue isn’t raw stamina. It’s flexibility of thought and the proper distribution of force—truths I’d learned across ten years of living by the blade.

Clang—!

A crisp, satisfying sound rang out as a doll’s head painted an arc through the air. The body, neck and head now separate, went still almost at once.

"I handled this side as well. Mikhail, you’re not hurt anywhere, are you?"

Arlea, hair tied back, wiped her neck and peered closely at my face. Not so much as a single scratch.

Still… she really is beautiful.

No wonder she was this game’s absolute best visual. Even after everything we’d done together, my heart was hammering hard right now.

"I’m fine."

"I’m the same—"

Whump!

Arlea seized the back of my neck and yanked me toward her. I twisted around.

A doll wearing a shadow cloak stood there. Even in the thieves’ guild you rarely saw gear like that. They’d mixed in a few assassins as well, it seemed.

Damn. Brutal. If that had landed I’d have been out on the spot—or at least critically wounded. Either way, this woman’s help is huge.

Shit, Carlos, you crafty bastard!

He was setting the board on a massive scale.

"Hah… hah. That was close, wasn’t it?"

"…Thank you, Princess. You saved my life."

"Think nothing of it."

Arlea dipped her head and tried to slide her wooden sword into its scabbard. Tried—and failed. Right, it wouldn’t fit. Instead she spun the rapier-shaped wooden blade once in a neat circle.

"Judging by how the dolls’ formation is breaking, the preliminary skirmish between humans will start soon. People unite against a common enemy, then the moment it scatters they tear into each other like a pack of dogs."

"Wise words. Your Highness will surely become both a brilliant commander and a sage ruler."

"Even as empty flattery, I’ll take it."

Arlea was exactly right. After a certain amount of fighting thinned the dolls’ numbers, the atmosphere shifted. The remaining students fixed their hungry eyes on me.

Every last one of them.

Look at me—total popular guy over here.

Well, after a debut performance like that, it would have been stranger if I weren’t popular.

"You bastard! Give me back my guard-knight position!"

"Execute the plan! Rush him all at once! He’s just a bodyguard—he’s nothing special!"

The instant I raised my sword, several male students charged together. Roughly seven. I narrowed my eyes and assessed. The flow of mana was faint and blurry.

Their level… they can’t even use mana properly.

Trash like this is exactly why the empire ends up in civil war!

That era of blood and drifting ash. In this cramped training ground I had to rip these hopeless sprouts out by the root. Charging a person and trying to lynch him in a group!

What a spectacular welcome ceremony for the new students.

And there was no way I would let Arlea receive substandard leftovers like these. When Arlea got angry, she was terrifying beyond measure.

Shall I warm up with these first?

I spun on my heel at once and brought my aura-clad sword crashing down. The student who looked like their ringleader—the one who’d charged first—froze the moment he saw the blade’s trajectory. I’d aimed for a blind spot in his vision that he couldn’t possibly deflect in time.

"H-his speed is insane!"

The male student tried to parry. At the very least he had to redirect it. Fail, and the result wouldn’t stop at a simple injury—it was that vicious. He managed to knock aside the first incoming strike.

Crrrack—

His wooden sword split with a grinding shriek. He stared down at the blade that had fallen limp onto the ground, then squeezed his eyes shut.

"How… the gap in skill doesn’t even make sense…"

Assistant instructors waiting on standby dragged the crushed student away. From the edge of the grounds, Carlos clicked his tongue.

"Zekri of Uta. Eliminated! Final rank: 20th. Remaining total: 19!"

Total remaining: nineteen.

Excluding Arlea and myself, that meant I still had to knock ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠out seventeen more. But I didn’t care.

My stamina was still rock-solid, after all.

Fine. I’ll play along.

Time to become Sword Saint Mikhail again.

I reduced their numbers that way—beating them one by one in pure rage. The ones with zero potential I pounded until their veins looked ready to burst.

"Ugh… uuuuugh…"

"Damn it…"

The survivors still standing now numbered roughly two. Arlea was not among them.

"I surrender. I’ll stop here."

Once the numbers had thinned, Arlea snapped her own wooden sword as if simply giving up.

"Princess?"

"It’s fine. This much should satisfy Father. Do your best. You have both talent and skill to spare."

By regulation, if you could no longer cut down an opponent with a wooden sword, you were eliminated.

Snick—

Arlea made a throat-slitting gesture toward Carlos.

"Her Imperial Highness Arlea Kiessen, radiant light of the great imperial house… eliminated! Final rank: 3rd. Remaining contestants: two!"

I waved as Arlea vanished from the field, then turned my attention to the last remaining student.

"So that one’s the final opponent?"

They wore a veil pulled low. The build looked quite slender. I found myself wondering who it could be.

At least, I don’t remember any outfit like that.

I watched carefully. Their swordsmanship while fighting the dolls was mediocre, but their mobility and ability to read the field were outstanding.

"Let’s stop. This fight doesn’t look like it has any chance of success. No point shedding blood for nothing."

The moment I finished speaking, the pitch-black veil of unknowable depth lifted its head.

"……."

Pitch black?

I furrowed my brow. They were using magic to conceal their identity. Fifth-circle magic, no less. Strange.

A freshman mage of that caliber would have been more than qualified to take top rank at the Magic College instead of the Sword College.

My yandere sensor started screaming!

I must not get any closer.

Carlos, still standing at the edge of the grounds, seemed to feel the same.

"Did we even have a student like that? Check it. That’s clearly a uniform from a hundred years ago. How did they get their hands on something the academy only has left in storage?"

"Yes, sir!"

An assistant instructor who had been observing from the spectator seats came down onto the training ground. With the identity already looking suspicious, Carlos’s brow tightened further.

"This may be connected to the recent unsavory incidents. Capture them alive—no matter what!"

"Understood!"

But the opponent suddenly raised both hands as if surrendering.

Fuck.

The moment the veil came off, a curse tore out of me.

The last student standing on the training ground was one of the Seven Heroes I absolutely could not afford to meet right now.

"It’s been a while, Oppa. H-have you been well? I… I’ve come for you!"

"That crazy bitch—of all places to show up here!"

Like a sleeping beast whose whiskers had just been touched, Arlea’s eyes snapped wide open. She snarled and drew her magic staff. Tension stretched taut through the air.

"Professor Sophia! What the hell is the meaning of this?!"

Carlos drew his weapon and moved to stand beside Arlea.

"Stand down. Who do you think you are, coming here, witch?"

Arlea ground her teeth at Sophia; Sophia only flashed a bright, toothy smile.

"I-I’ll have to decline! Your Highness the Princess!"

"What nonsense is that, you little— Don’t tell me you cast a recognition-impairment spell? Ha. Not even funny. I thought you’d rot in the underground dungeon for the rest of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠your life."

Arlea narrowed her eyes at the archmage. The reaction was only natural.

The Grand Archmage.

She, too, had been one of this game’s heroines.

But one detail still refused to make sense. How was someone who should currently be a student standing here as a professor?

…Regression?

The co-regression hadn’t stopped with Arlea?!

In that instant a tidal wave of memories crashed over me.

Three seconds.

That was how long it took for every single moment of what she had done to me after catching me to flash past my eyes.