Chapter 66
Chapter 66
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 66
Chapter Title: A Thoroughly Dirty Bastard (1)
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The punk flicked a training sword he must have picked up at some point.
“You got lucky and slipped away during the sparring evaluation, but don't even think about running this time.”
The kid's venomous face looked familiar.
He was that same immature brat who'd been screaming his head off in front of the castle gate during the mock battle before getting eliminated by an arrow to the forehead.
Cadet number 23.
His entrance rank was 14th, exactly one spot above me.
So his name was...
“It's Grass Harper.”
Ah. Right. That was his name.
The punk glared at me, his eyes flashing.
He seemed to hold a deep grudge against me for many reasons.
“Come on.”
I glanced at the punk who kept pressing me, then turned my head toward the professor.
It looked like some sort of selection match for group leaders, and I wondered if I really needed to participate.
The environment of the satellite city was already making me short of breath and my body feel heavy.
At this rate, it seemed better to just rest instead.
“Participation is voluntary.”
“In that case, I'll for—”
“But supplementary lessons for the lower ranks are under my authority.”
“...”
“And I guarantee you, they'll be a blast.”
The professor's warning came as if he had read my mind.
I didn't know what these supplementary lessons entailed, but contrary to his words, it didn't sound like a very pleasant experience.
“Tch.”
Clicking my tongue, I slowly made my way to the corner of the training grounds where the weapons were stored.
Then, I picked up a blunted iron training sword.
*Shhh.*
In that time, the other kids had retreated to the edge of the training grounds.
A space naturally formed between me and the Grass punk.
Normally, the conditions for victory and various rules would have been explained before the start of a duel, but the professor merely gave a small nod to signal the beginning.
No bracket, no rules.
For me, this situation wasn't entirely unfamiliar.
It was exactly like this when a bunch of renowned mercenaries gathered to establish a pecking order.
Of course, it wasn't exactly the same.
The mercenaries' brawls for rank were closer to a free-for-all than a tournament.
And the biggest difference between the two was that unlike a brawl, a tournament required even pairings.
Thirty people currently present.
If two people faced off at a time and the winner advanced, fifteen would move on after the first round.
The numbers didn't match up.
The structure meant that one person would inevitably get a bye in the next round.
To be honest, even now, I have no idea why I, a mere squire and not a mercenary, always got caught up in those brawls.
But one thing was certain.
In situations like this, the more overwhelmingly you won, the more advantageous it was.
If that wasn't possible, you had to at least end the match quickly to conserve stamina.
“Hmm.”
I asked myself.
Will it work?
I'd beaten so-called prodigies and other talented punks several times before, but those were incomplete victories against opponents whose swordsmanship had yet to mature.
But this is the Yoram.
It's filled with kids who have been honing their swords day and night under the tutelage of masters since they were young.
Their talent and current achievements were far too great for me to be confident of my superiority based on my past life's experience alone.
They were geniuses, incomparable to my past self.
I had felt that keenly during the last weapons evaluation.
My underdeveloped body wasn't even an excuse.
The real versus the fake.
I deliberated.
But the answer was already decided.
I would do what I could.
A swift and decisive battle.
The best single move I could make.
It seemed possible now, while everyone was struggling to adapt to the satellite city's environment.
“Hoo.”
I closed my eyes.
Though they'd become less frequent recently, I still had nightmares of Roman.
I pulled out a piece of one.
A single, unusually clear line.
The trajectory that had taken my head countless times came to me naturally.
*Flash.*
I opened my eyes.
At the same time, I swung my sword upward.
*Thud.*
A heavy impact traveled up the blade.
“That's enough.”
The professor, who had been standing a good distance away, had somehow closed the distance and caught the sword I'd swung.
“Huh?”
A dazed sound escaped the punk's lips a moment too late.
His face showed he still hadn't grasped what had just happened to him.
*Shing.*
Watching him, I smoothly withdrew my sword.
As everyone remained silent, I returned the sword to its original place and stepped back.
“...The short one wins!”
The professor declared the winner a beat later.
Even then, the Grass punk was still standing blankly in the middle of the training grounds.
***
“I can't accept this! It's only because my body isn't in its normal condition...!”
Grass Harper shouted belatedly.
“Return to your spot!”
the professor said nonchalantly.
“But this wasn't a proper match...!”
“I won't say it twice. Go back.”
Naturally, Grass Harper protested that he couldn't accept it, but the professor wouldn't hear it.
*Grit.*
In the end, the loser could only grit his teeth once before making a shabby exit.
“I don't see how that's any different from a sneak attack.”
“It's not just dirty, it's downright despicable.”
The other new cadets chattered about the unfairness of the match, as if to console him.
“Grass waited for him to get ready. How cowardly.”
“Why didn't the professor declare it a foul? I don't get it.”
Listening quietly, Amelia Justice tilted her head.
Cowardly? What part of it?
She couldn't quite understand her peers' assessment.
The duel's end was as sudden as its beginning.
But there were no cheap tricks involved.
If anyone deserved criticism, she thought, it was the loser, who had just stood there blankly while his opponent closed the distance.
The winner, on the other hand, deserved applause.
A swift strike, delivered unexpectedly after closing in.
To the one on the receiving end, it must have seemed like the sword appeared out of nowhere from beneath his chin.
The timing was tricky, and the angle of the blade's approach was difficult.
Honestly, she wasn't sure if she could have blocked it had she been in his place.
Especially not now, with her body restricted by the satellite city's navigation systems.
“...Has he professionally trained in swift sword techniques?”
Amelia Justice glanced toward the winner.
Despite the criticism from his peers, he didn't show the slightest sign of being upset.
“Closing his eyes must have been part of the plan from the start. So meticulously dirty.”
“Tsk. Does he really want to win that badly?”
Even after displaying such an incredible move, he was treated as a coward instead of being applauded, yet he seemed to have no complaints.
“'The short one?' Isn't that a bit harsh?”
To be precise, he did seem to have a complaint, but its focus was elsewhere.
“...”
Amelia Justice frowned.
Come to think of it, it was always like this.
From the very beginning, up until his admission to the Yoram, he had never been properly evaluated in any of the tests he'd taken.
Setting aside the pathfinding and composition subjects, whose results hadn't been revealed, he hadn't received a single good word.
In the first subject, weapon maintenance, he was criticized for persuading the examiner with sophistry. In the second, horsemanship, he was accused of being a stablehand or a groom posing as a squire.
The evaluation for the mock battle was even worse.
She still remembered it vividly.
The night raid that exploited the besiegers' carelessness and the exquisite transition to offense.
The near-divine deployment of the cavalry.
Above all, his leadership, which encompassed the entire force, was astounding.
Her other peers struggled to command a single unit type, a century at most.
Yet he had perfectly controlled numerous unit types and squads, not struggling in the slightest, but handling them like his own limbs as he overwhelmed the besieging side.
It was a level of military strategy so masterful, it was unbelievable for a mere squire who had never even been near a battlefield.
They called it dishonorable.
Nothing more than the unscrupulous scheming of a mercenary who'd do anything for money.
But weren't the things he'd shown far too incredible to be dismissed like that?
It was the same now.
Did no one else really see it?
“Ah.”
No.
Looking around, Amelia Justice belatedly realized.
It wasn't that no one had seen it.
A few of her peers stood with hardened faces, not uttering a single word of criticism.
Every one of them had demonstrated outstanding skill in the weapons evaluation.
One sees only what one knows.
Those with a discerning eye had all recognized it.
They just weren't speaking of it.
Trying their best to feign composure, to act unfazed.
But underneath, there was an unconcealable competitive spirit.
That must have been why.
When everyone had finished their first duel.
“Hey, you!”
“Number 99.”
“Shorty!”
The shouts erupted as if on cue.
“Yan.”
Amelia Justice, too, stepped forward quietly.
“...But why?”
The person in question opened his already round eyes even wider.
***
I frowned.
Since this was a tournament, it was only natural to think about conserving stamina.
And to save stamina, picking an easier opponent was the priority.
If I needlessly fought someone strong, it would be a Pyrrhic victory at best, and I'd have no energy left for the next duel.
That's why I'd even drawn upon Roman's sword from my nightmares.
It was a clumsy imitation, but the match ended in a single blow, so I was satisfied enough.
This should be enough to get my intentions across to the other kids.
—Don't touch me, I bite.
It was a warning of sorts.
But.
“With me...”
“No, I'll be your opponent...”
“I stepped up first...”
The result was disastrous.
Far from avoiding me, everyone was strangely desperate to be chosen as my opponent.
They were all familiar faces.
Every single one of them had ranked high in the entrance exams.
Led by Bern Vigete and Amelia, the entire top five was there.
Apparently, my clumsy imitation didn't look all that impressive to these talented punks.
Or maybe they just hated me.
Or perhaps it was both.
“By any chance...”
I asked the professor.
“What's the standard for being in the 'lower ranks'?”
*Smirk.*
Instead of answering, the professor just smiled.
To me, that smile seemed to say, 'Stop trying to pull a fast one and just pick an opponent.'
“I don't know about anything else, but anyone without motivation is getting special instruction, guaranteed.”
As if that wasn't enough, the professor added a warning.
“Sir.”
I gave a short reply and looked ahead.
I had high hopes for the first class, but why was it so unreasonable?
In the end, I was left with only one choice.
After careful consideration, I picked my opponent.
“Amelia.”
At my words, Amelia Justice's face brightened.
But it was only for a moment.
The kids who had ambitiously challenged me but weren't chosen stepped back.
“He's looking down on her.”
“To think there are still guys who judge skill based on gender.”
“I couldn't believe it, but he actually chose her.”
“His shallow calculations are so obvious.”
The problem was that these damn punks couldn't just step back quietly; they had to run their mouths.
*Twitch.*
Amelia's expression changed.
In an instant, her aura turned sharp.
“The Judgment Sword and the Execution Sword of the Trial Knights. I wonder which one she's put more effort into.”
“Judgment Sword or Execution Sword, what's the difference? They're both merciless.”
I wanted to shut their mouths right then and there, but something more important had come up.
“It's a misunderstanding...!”
First, I had to clear up the misunderstanding.
I didn't choose her because I was looking down on her.
It was because I thought she was the only one who didn't hold a grudge against me.
However.
“I certainly didn't have one before, but I do now.”
That was now a thing of the past.
Amelia raised her sword, her face radiating a frosty chill.
Her stance was grim, like that of an executioner about to behead a prisoner.
“It's the Execution Sword of the Trial Knights!”
Shouts erupted from all around.
I couldn't hold back and yelled.
“Please, just shut your mouths!”
At that moment, Amelia brought her sword crashing down.