Senior vs Junior (2)

Swish! "Guh…!"

After taking down one of the charging examiners, Iris Otreang flicked the blood from her beloved three swords and let out a quiet sigh in her heart. It wasn't that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠she regretted cutting someone. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Having clawed her way up through an era that sneered, "What use is a woman learning the sword?" driven solely by her ambition to rise in the world, she wasn't about to hesitate over a little blood now.

Of course, some of her peers had muttered that even if it was just a test, swinging weapons at each other with killing intent felt wrong, but while Iris could understand the sentiment, she couldn't bring herself to agree. It wasn't as if anyone was actually dying—they were only being knocked unconscious. The agents waiting outside the exam grounds would patch them up without any lasting effects anyway.

If anything, there was a certain thrill in effortlessly cutting down opponents from higher-ranking families who had received far better education than she had.

So why the sigh?

"Haha! Those Nahart brats. They always brag about being the best in martial arts, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠but they're nothing special!"

"They call themselves battle-hardened warriors, but in the end they're just beast-hunters. Of course they can't match us Speros, refined through knightly duels."

"At this rate, we could even aim for the championship!"

Because of these idiots, obviously.

When the integrated group assignment was announced, the first-years had been burning with excitement. More precisely, the mood had been one of triumphant cheers, as if the long-awaited moment had finally arrived. They saw this event—where students from all classes would compete—as a "legal ranking tournament" within the grade.

Students who were particularly conscious of the Special Request Class felt this even more strongly, displaying a fierce determination to crush their rivals and place themselves or their factions at the top.

Iris herself had no intention of criticizing that mindset. After all, she had entered the academy precisely for success and power.

The problem was that even those whose skills were lacking but whose self-esteem was absurdly high had gotten carried away. Worse still, those very people were on her team.

"With this, we've cleared the first round safely."

"By the way, I didn't expect them to make us fight each other from the start. Last year, I heard we faced familiars controlled by mages."

"Probably because there are so many of us. Over two hundred people are participating in the second round alone."

"What's next? Another fight against our own grade?"

"Or maybe we'll face the imperial army like the seniors did?"

"That sounds great! There's no reason we couldn't do it too!"

"Instead of dealing with weaklings like the Southern Army, why not take on the Central Army from the very beginning?"

"The Central Army isn't much these days either, is it? As expected, the East and West are…"

Their confidence was so inflated it seemed ready to soar into the sky, and Iris felt a headache coming on. Did these people think the imperial regular army was some neighborhood gang?

"How about everyone stops there? The assignment details haven't even been decided yet, and you're already getting ahead of yourselves."

When Iris could no longer stand it and spoke sharply with wide eyes, the students either looked embarrassed or cleared their throats and turned away. Among them were several from higher-ranking families than hers, but here, unlike outside, they didn't dare treat her rudely. It was partly because they had witnessed her overwhelming two opponents at once earlier, but more than that, Iris was seen as Frelia Magnus's right-hand woman within the academy.

Of course, this wasn't real power. It was borrowed authority at best—a bubble that would vanish the moment Frelia cast her aside. To prevent that from happening, she needed to produce good results in this assignment, yet her teammates were acting like this. How could she not be furious?

"Be careful. We must be extremely cautious. We need to prepare ourselves for something completely unexpected. Do you understand?"

Despite her repeated warnings, her teammates responded with lukewarm indifference. They probably thought she was worrying over nothing.

If the next assignment really turned out to be nothing special, Iris would be in quite a bind—but as it turned out, that wasn't the case.

…Honestly, wouldn't it have been better if nothing had happened at all?

Watching the professors explain the rules with extremely reluctant expressions, Iris Otreang thought, What now?

Upon the assignment's reveal, the first-year students' reactions split into two main groups.

"They want us to take down Her Highness the Princess? Have the professors lost their minds!?"

"Competing against the seniors isn't bad in itself, but rushing in to gang up on them just looks terrible."

"It's not like we absolutely have to defeat her anyway, right? Ignoring her might be the better option."

"What kind of scheme are they plotting now? …This feels suspicious."

The first group, like Iris, felt an inexplicable reluctance or rejection toward the situation itself. They believed there was meaning behind being pitted against the second-years and approached it cautiously, wary of being drawn into some plot. In negative terms, they were timid; in positive terms, they were level-headed enough not to be swept up by the atmosphere.

Unfortunately, they were a minority among the first-years.

"It's an officially announced rule by the academy, isn't it? No matter what happens, the academy takes responsibility, not us."

"If they're appearing here, they must be outstanding seniors even among the second-years. This is our chance to prove we're superior!"

"Wait, isn't taking down one Target far more profitable than clumsily dealing with other teams one by one?"

"Two hundred against twenty? There's a limit to how much you can ignore the odds!"

The second group showed no rejection toward the revealed rules. Or rather, while they felt some reluctance, it was overshadowed by even greater desire. If this had been a fight between equal numbers, they wouldn't have been so optimistic, but there were simply too few second-year Targets.

Thus, on the day of the second assignment, in the vast forest within the academy grounds, the tactic chosen by the first-year students was a swift and decisive strike.

"We have to find them first, no matter what!"

"We need to take them down before anyone else does!"

Their faces, wandering through the forest, were filled with urgency—like university students preparing for a dreaded course registration or idol fans lining up for limited-edition tickets. They had to find the Targets first and convert them into points before their competitors could reach out.

They didn't even consider whether they could actually defeat the second-years they found. After all, what could a senior do against five-to-one odds? Even if it were their senior's grandfather, it wouldn't matter.

Whether due to their enthusiasm or sheer luck, they soon located their target not long after beginning their search.

Even from a distance, the red cloth marking a "Target" stood out clearly. A brown-haired girl with the cloth tied haphazardly around her right arm stood leaning against a massive tree, arms crossed and eyes closed.

The students suppressed their presence and checked the wanted poster.

Ligret. 9 star points. Proficient in various weapons.

Jackpot!

Considering that the 10-point Princess was an awkward target for various reasons, this was effectively the highest-scoring opponent they could realistically aim for. And she wasn't a mage skilled in one-versus-many combat, but a pure warrior type.

What kind of luck was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠this? Their certainty grew even stronger when they saw her standing defenseless with her eyes closed, as if she had no intention of fighting at all.

They exchanged glances and whispered.

What do you think?

She's worth 9 points. Maybe she's hiding something?

Given her small build, she's probably a speed type. But with all that bulky equipment, that advantage disappears. She looks like an easy mark to me.

If she's using enhancement, she might actually be a power type.

Enhancement only draws out your original physical abilities. If your base is weak, it's meaningless.

When the burly martial arts student declared this confidently, the others nodded in agreement. More importantly, with other first-year teams possibly approaching at any moment, they needed to take her down and secure the points as quickly as possible.

To maximize the surprise attack, they all rushed in at once, their blades mercilessly slicing toward the Target's body.

Crack!

Huh?

Why did it make a cracking sound when cutting into a human body…?

That wasn't the only strange thing. He had clearly swung his sword at the girl, so where had she gone? No, before that—why were his feet not on the ground but in the air—

Thud. Crunch. Splash.

After three distinct sounds rang out, a burning sensation spread across his entire face as if it had touched fire. Before he could even realize he had spun once in midair and landed face-first on the ground, one young man could only fill his mind with question marks.

"That makes 10 points."

Hearing the girl's blunt voice, tinged with some inexplicable displeasure, he lost consciousness.