Model Student of the One-Eyed Country (3)
The wooden sword in Caspar's grip sliced sharply toward Chrome's head. A technique honed since childhood. The thrust, born from a body refined by a life of abundance, carried a power that no clumsy mercenary could ever hope to match.
Crack!
A crisp, lively sound rang out as solid wood collided with solid wood. It was the sound of Chrome's wooden sword, held in his right hand, striking Caspar's blade from below in a powerful upward swing. Caspar's upper body lurched violently from the impact he couldn't withstand, leaving his stomach completely exposed. Chrome's merciless kick slammed into that defenseless spot without hesitation.
"Guhk!"
With a dizzying wave of pain, Caspar doubled over and staggered backward. Chrome looked down at him with a bored, indifferent gaze.
Loto, the country boy from the Spero Kingdom, thought to himself, 'What the hell am I even watching right now?'
He had never thought Chrome was weak. His outstanding marksmanship, the composure that kept him from panicking in any situation, and the sharp judgment to use every tool at his disposal in exactly the right place. But the strength Loto had imagined in Chrome was that of a tactician—one who made the most of limited resources and ruthlessly exploited his opponent's openings. It wasn't the kind of strength that came from brawling head-on without any schemes.
So then what exactly was this scene unfolding before his eyes?
"Y-you bastaaaaard!!"
Caspar, who stood a full head taller than Chrome, charged with all his might, swinging his wooden sword. And every single time, Chrome's blade—moving just a fraction later—would slam into Caspar's sword, forcibly knocking it aside. Then, into the opening that appeared, Chrome's counterattack would drive in without mercy.
This process had already repeated itself several times.
"Huh. Well now. Was that kid this skilled?" Crow muttered, stroking his chin with what looked like genuine admiration.
Blocking an opponent's attack and countering sounded simple enough in words. But what Chrome was doing went far beyond that. He deliberately let the opponent strike first, then used a sword that moved later to hit the flat of their blade. Since he was moving slower than his enemy, he had to be that much faster to land the hit before their attack reached him. And to shatter the opponent's posture from the front like that—rather than simply parrying or redirecting their momentum—required overwhelming physical strength as well.
And more than that...
"...Wow. He's really going for it," Pino muttered.
Just as she said, Chrome hadn't made a single proactive move since the fight began. Every time Caspar attacked, he simply received it and countered with even greater force. If you looked closely, Chrome's position had barely shifted at all from where the duel first started.
Caspar screamed.
"You bastard! Are you mocking me right now?!"
He couldn't understand the current situation at all. He had only suggested a duel out of consideration for the surrounding eyes, but to Caspar, this fight was nothing short of an execution. He was the judge. He was the executioner. And Chrome, standing before him, should have been trembling at his verdict, begging for mercy.
So why had things turned out like this?
Even at his shout, Chrome's expression didn't change in the slightest. The sight of him staring back with that indifferent, silent gaze only fueled Caspar's rage. He charged again, but his full-powered strike was easily blocked, and a fierce counterattack smashed into his left shin.
"Guhk...!"
The horrible sensation of bones nearly shattering made Caspar instinctively clutch his leg and collapse to the ground. The body he'd trained since childhood under his father's constant scolding still refused to let go of the sword, but even that right arm was now trembling like a leaf in the wind.
He hadn't taken a single blow to his arm yet, but the cumulative shock transmitted through the blade with every clash had already pushed him to his limit.
Even though he was now full of openings, Chrome didn't move.
And that humiliation—the realization that his opponent wasn't even using his full strength—tore at Caspar's heart far more viciously than the pain spreading through his body.
"Fight me properly, you bastard! How dare you—how dare you do this to me!"
Even under that hate-filled glare and venomous shriek, Chrome didn't react. A silent Chrome facing off against a Caspar who could only growl with his mouth but no longer dared to charge.
And at that sight, several of the spectators watching the duel finally realized Chrome's intention.
'How vicious.'
Caspar himself would never admit it, but the meaning behind his current state—having lost his initial momentum and now only running his mouth instead of his sword—was crystal clear.
Caspar was terrified.
Every full-powered attack was effortlessly dismantled, and each time, a powerful counter came back. The strikes hurt intensely, but never enough to cause an injury that would prevent him from moving. Chrome's intention was obvious. He had no plans to give Caspar the easy outs of "I fought well, but I was injured and couldn't continue" or "I passed out from the damage."
Either keep charging recklessly and suffer endless pain, or admit defeat yourself even though you could still fight.
This wasn't simply a process to decide victory or defeat. It was a methodical effort to crush the very will to resist.
The longer the stalemate dragged on, the calmer Chrome's demeanor became. In contrast, Caspar's once-shrieking voice grew smaller and smaller.
Caspar's pupils shook violently.
'This can't go on. This can't go on like this!'
He hadn't fully grasped the entirety of Chrome's scheme. But the murmuring of the crowd and the increasingly strange looks they were giving him made it painfully clear that he couldn't stay like this.
He couldn't accept defeat.
But even if he charged, it would just be handled easily again.
If so—
'This is all your fault!'
A faint red glow of magic power began to overflow around Caspar's body.
Several students who noticed the change in Caspar widened their eyes in shock.
"Body reinforcement?! Is that guy out of his mind?!"
Magic power was a force that held the potential for anything, a stepping stone that allowed humans to surpass their natural limits. A body reinforced with magic power could snap a massive tree with a bare fist or allow one to run faster than a wild beast on two legs. Unlike magic formulas that required drawing separate spells outside the body or healing arts, this was an ability that could be manifested simply by gathering or activating the magic power already inside the body toward specific areas. That made its usage incredibly intuitive and simple.
But it was also a double-edged sword. Because it acted directly on the user's own body, any loss of control could lead to severe aftereffects.
Since the academy's classes hadn't even taught students the method of reinforcement yet, only a handful of people who had learned their family's secret techniques could use it properly. Caspar was one of them.
In other words, using reinforcement against Chrome—who most certainly did not possess such secret techniques—was an act of barbarism equal to, or even worse than, using a real sword in a duel that was supposed to be fought with wooden ones.
Even if he won that way, no one would acknowledge Caspar's victory. But to Caspar, whose mind had already been consumed by pain and humiliation, that no longer mattered.
"Uwooooooooh!"
Caspar's body shot forward like an arrow. It was a speed impossible to believe from someone who had just been trembling from injury and pain moments ago. The sword he swung viciously toward Chrome's head carried clear murderous intent.
Several students leaped forward to stop Caspar, while some of the spectators closed their eyes in anticipation of the tragedy that was about to unfold.
In the midst of that chaos—
"Well, of course nothing in this insane academy would end easily."
As if he had predicted this much, Chrome unleashed a surge of blue magic power from his entire body. His sword shattered Caspar's blade.
"What the—Guhk!"
Chrome struck the center of Caspar's stomach with a swing that looked like he was hitting a baseball, while the other boy stared in shock at something that should have been impossible.
Up until now, the pattern had been the same. But this time, the attack didn't end with a single blow.
Thud.
"Kuh!"
Thud!
"Hup!"
Thud! Thud!
"Kek! W-wait, stop! You insolent—AAARGH!!"
Thudthudthudthudthud!
What followed was a merciless beating that made all previous attacks seem like child's play. At first Caspar tried to fight back, but eventually he could do nothing but scream and shriek helplessly.
Overwhelmed by the excessive pain, Caspar foamed at the mouth and fainted. Chrome pulled a potion from his pocket, popped the cork, and forced it down his throat. Then he took out another bottle and splashed it all over Caspar's body.
Slap!
"Huk!"
The sharp sting on his cheek made Caspar's eyes snap open. He flailed in panic at the sight of Chrome looking down at him, but Chrome said nothing and simply began beating him again.
"W-wait! The match is already—"
"Just as no one else can apologize in your place, no one else can surrender for you either. Don't worry. I have plenty of potions. Unlike a certain someone, I have no intention of killing my opponent in a duel."
One of Caspar's friends who had tried to stop Chrome earlier attempted to intervene again, but fell silent at Chrome's words. As Chrome had said, Caspar's last attack had clearly been aimed at taking his life.
The cycle of beating Caspar and healing him repeated three more times. Finally, Caspar broke.
"H-habog... pwease..."
With several teeth missing and his face swollen beyond recognition, the slurred surrender finally leaked from his mouth. Chrome poured a high-tier potion over his entire body one last time.
Soon, despite his tattered clothes, Caspar stood there completely uninjured, trembling violently. Chrome spoke to him.
"So? Where's the apology?"
"……………"
Not just Caspar, but everyone around them stared at Chrome with exhausted, fed-up expressions.
Just as a two-eyed person would be abnormal in a country of one-eyed people, in an academy full of madmen, the craziest one of all was apparently the model student.
