Senior vs Junior (3)

When the first broadcast echoed across the field, the freshmen didn’t take it too seriously.

“Damn it, someone’s already found a target! We need to move faster!”

“Stay alert! We could get ambushed while we’re fighting!”

“Wait, do the targets get points too? Doesn’t that mean it’s better to take them down later?”

To be more precise, they were worried—just not in the right way. In their minds, their enemies were the other first-years. They only feared having a target stolen or getting attacked from behind while hunting one. Defeating a target itself seemed easy.

That illusion lasted only a moment.

The announcements kept coming at intervals of only a few minutes. The more the first-years heard, the more their expressions twisted into something grotesque. There were almost no reports of first-years eliminating each other. Nearly every broadcast announced that first-years had been crushed by the targets. It was only natural they’d look that way.

“Don’t tell me the targets formed teams too?”

“No way. The rules make that impossible!”

“Then what the hell is it!? There’s no way we’re getting slaughtered this one-sidedly otherwise!”

They suspected the targets were breaking the pre-announced rules by forming teams, but the organizers issued no penalties whatsoever. In the end, the first-years had to come up with their own countermeasures.

“So they aren’t going to roll over easily, huh!”

“For now, let’s group up! We need to increase our numbers!”

“Twenty people—at least ten—and we might stand a chance!”

The simplest method was to swell their numbers through temporary alliances. Whether the targets had actually broken the rules or not, they figured more bodies would keep them from being picked off so easily. It was a decent plan, but also one with low odds of successful execution.

“Hey! Why do you guys keep inching backward? Move forward already!”

“That’s our line! You’re just trying to send us ahead so you can stab us in the back, aren’t you!?”

People who had viewed each other as rivals and competed fiercely couldn’t suddenly cooperate just because they decided to form a team. They suspected one another, kept each other in check, and tried to use each other. The constant stream of broadcasts only fueled their paranoia.

“Wait! If we keep fighting among ourselves, we’ll get nowhere! Let’s cooperate for now!”

“Don’t make me laugh! How are we supposed to trust you when a broadcast just said you eliminated another team!? Do we look that stupid!?”

“They attacked first! We didn’t have a choice!”

“You can say anything with your mouth!”

Simply finding a team worth talking to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was difficult. Even if conversation was possible, they had to worry whether they could trust that team. And even if they could, if one of their own members objected, smoothing it over drained yet more energy. Meeting all those conditions to form a connection was hard enough, but succeeding in making an alliance didn’t guarantee safety.

“Huh? Hey, something’s flying this way!”

“It’s a high-tier spell! Magic majors! Support majors! Block it!”

“Combat majors, prepare to attack! They can’t fire high-tier spells in rapid succession! The moment the next spell comes—”

KWAHHHHHNG!

Forming an alliance meant moving in a large group, which made them perfect prey for mages capable of wide-area attacks. They weren’t fools; they had prepared countermeasures. But those preparations were meaningless against an outlier who could chain together high-tier spells that others could barely cast once.

The first-years floundered, unable to find direction. Meanwhile, the targets kept raising their scores as if competing with one another.

But not every first-year was simply being slaughtered one-sidedly.

The short window between the rules being announced and the actual event beginning. The first thing Iris did was seek advice from Frelia. Frelia gave her a “suggestion” that would prove helpful.

Fools realize only after experiencing it themselves. The wise realize through others.

It sounded somewhat vague and abstract. But Iris, already familiar with Frelia’s unique way of speaking, understood the meaning.

It means I shouldn’t clash directly but use other people to test the waters.

Iris followed the advice faithfully. While everyone else rushed toward the targets, she ignored them completely and instead ambushed other teams to score points. At first, her team members quietly complained about her policy of abandoning the easy path for difficult fights. But before long, the targets’ rampage began being broadcast, and they all shut their mouths.

They looked at Iris with something like awe. Iris herself, however, had no leisure to care about their gazes. She had expected the targets to be strong once their identities were revealed, but this was beyond excessive.

They’re only seniors who learned for one more year than us. Is the gap really this big? Just what have they been doing at ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the academy?

Her dangerously late realization that the place ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠she had willingly walked into was far more hazardous than expected was cut short by a violent explosion ringing in her ears. It had come from quite close by.

Should they go, or ignore it?

Her hesitation lasted only a second. Iris led her team toward the source of the sound. At the very least, the lack of a new broadcast meant the battle was still ongoing.

In a makeshift clearing where obstacles had been blasted away—likely the aftermath of a massive spell colliding—two groups faced each other. Both sides were famous enough that Iris recognized their faces immediately.

Eagle Pendevig and Kian Danach.

The legitimate son of the Pendevig Margrave family and the prince of the Morian royal house.

Eagle’s expression was filled with such open hostility that it was hard to believe he was looking at a prince of his own country. In contrast, Kian’s face was covered by a smile whose true intent couldn’t be read.

As if even that smile disgusted him, Eagle frowned and spoke.

“Weren’t you people supposed to stay out of this?”

“Ah, His Majesty did intend to do so. However, I requested to come here myself. I also wanted to meet her, you see.”

Just from their tones, it would have been hard to tell which was the noble and which was the royal. Yet it didn’t feel unnatural. Eagle’s attitude was bold and completely unrestrained, while Kian’s polite speech carried a subtle undercurrent of mockery.

“Her… you don’t mean…”

“Lyla Everblaze Barhart. I speak of Her Highness the Imperial Princess.”

“What exactly do you plan to do by meeting her?”

“Oh, is this really the time to discuss that? We’re in the middle of a fight.”

“Stop playing word games. Answer properly.”

At Eagle’s irritated demand, Kian hummed thoughtfully before opening his mouth.

“—Well, isn’t it natural to be curious? She is, after all, the person I am scheduled to be engaged to in the future. Wanting to meet her once is perfectly normal, isn’t it?”

There was a sound like something snapping—crack. Right after, numerous ‘mid-tier wind orbs’ formed around Eagle and shot toward Kian.

The spheres spun with ferocious noise, each containing terrifying power. Yet they vanished before reaching Kian, blocked by the shield raised by the team members behind him. They all appeared to be mages who had moved to protect their master.

Danach. A royal bloodline of Morian that was not acknowledged by Morian’s own nobles. Living proof of usurpation planted by the empire. The prince carrying that blood merely shrugged his shoulders with a calm expression.

“I simply answered your question, yet you suddenly attack. How rude.”

“What nonsense are you spouting? This is exactly what this event is for. Meaning I can beat you down right here with no problem whatsoever.”

“Ah, so that’s how it works. Well, it would be awkward to make a political issue out of something that happens here.”

Kian nodded as if he understood, then added,

“But isn’t it rather arrogant to think you can defeat all of us by yourself, senior?”

“Being called senior by the likes of you is nothing but unpleasant!”

…I shouldn’t get involved with that. The aftermath would be terrifying.

Iris had been prepared to jump in, steal the last hit, or even strike from behind if the opportunity arose. But after listening to the two of them, those thoughts vanished completely. Leaving the explosive sounds of countless spells colliding behind her, Iris turned her steps elsewhere.