No Choice But to Draw Your Sword
Whether it was the calm before the storm or not, the month leading up to the exams at Elprime Academy passed swiftly, without any particular incident.
After Leon finished his convalescence at the Helbridge estate, he returned to the Academy. In the first week back, he spent every free moment whipping the Class A cadets into shape, while refining the techniques he'd absorbed from the Demonic Soul Pill through his own training.
Ceren could barely hide her astonishment as she watched the Class A cadets grow at a breakneck pace.
By the second week, the martial arts cadets began throwing themselves into their personal training with renewed fire. More and more of them approached Leon requesting sparring matches — and every last one of them came back with a limb broken somewhere. Class A achieved a remarkable feat, scoring two thousand points in Obulius. Whether it was the real combat experience in the Demon Realm that had sparked their enlightenment, cadets whose cultivation had advanced a full stage began springing up like bamboo shoots after rain.
In the third week, the long-dormant rankings erupted into upheaval. Rankings were, after all, one of the critical factors in the overall evaluation. Blood was flying across the entire cohort of two hundred and fifty cadets, and competition within the top ten was especially fierce.
First, Esabel's handkerchief came flying at Leon once again. The duel drew considerable attention, but—
"You— you! When did you get this strong again…!"
"Heh heh heh."
Esabel failed to last even thirty exchanges before she was sent packing. She still had a long way to go before she could catch Leon.
Beyond that: Jeniel Sovereign, the female martial artist from Class J and ranked sixth, challenged Celia (ranked fifth) and lost. Carotin defeated Frizia Reifen, the female swordswoman from Class C, and climbed to seventh. Goren Valtbin, the male swordsman from Class F and ranked fourth, challenged the third-ranked spot — only to get thoroughly thrashed by a still-furious Esabel and her Grand Emperor Sword. Lucen, the male archer from Class I, claimed the tenth-ranked seat and was hailed throughout Class I as the hope of all bowmen.
In the fourth week, Leon poured his energy into the cadets' training and his own personal cultivation rather than strategy reviews. The original story had already been twisted so thoroughly that he figured the exam content itself might turn out bizarre. Overwhelming raw power rendered strategy meaningless anyway.
He could have challenged Billy for the top rank — but Leon absolutely refused. Even by a rough estimate, his win rate wouldn't clear fifty percent. In a matchup like that, Billy, with his superior talent, would win for certain. Better to sit still than pick a fight and get his cards laid bare.
Class A held the top Obulius scores right through to the end.
And at last — the fifth week. The long-awaited Achievement Evaluation began.
Late at night.
Swish! Shhhk!
Elegant sword forms cleaved through the silence of the empty training grounds. The smooth blade scattered moonlight into glittering shards of radiance.
Whoosh! Whick!
A boy swung his sword, soaked through with sweat. Dazzling golden hair rippled with every motion. Beads of sweat started at his brow, traced the sharp line of his nose, and gathered at the tip before falling.
Shhhk — and he stopped.
"Hmm."
Billy exhaled softly and righted his blade.
"…"
As if wrestling with something, he gazed steadily at the tip of his sword beneath the moonlight. The image was picturesque — yet his eyes were sunk in heavy contemplation.
I still can't reach it.
Five weeks ago, during the battle against the demons in the Demon Realm, he had stood at the very threshold of enlightenment — on the verge of leaping to the next stage. But an uninvited guest had crashed the party, and the opportunity had slipped away. No matter how many times he swung his sword since, he couldn't recapture that feeling.
I was so close.
Click.
A faint regret colored the motion as Billy sheathed his blade. Ideally, he would have broken through before the exams. But evaluation started tomorrow — the window had already closed. For someone who had every reason to need an outstanding performance, it was a bitter pill to swallow.
Just a little. I feel like I only need the slightest trigger…
On his way back to the dormitory, Billy found Leon's face rising unbidden in his mind. That one had more than enough skill to go toe-to-toe with him. Crossing blades with him would surely yield something.
…The problem was that, for reasons Billy couldn't fathom, Leon refused to request a ranking match. It struck him as odd.
He doesn't seem like the type without a competitive bone in his body.
And of course, Billy — the higher-ranked of the two — couldn't be the one to issue a challenge.
I'll have to aim for the group evaluation, then.
Recalling the event for this group practical exam, Billy gave a small nod. When the time came—
…Leon will have no choice but to draw his sword.
The thought settled, and almost unconsciously, Billy began replaying a duel with Leon in his mind — right up until the moment he fell asleep.
Exam Day One.
For Leon, the exams didn't start until the afternoon.
"Ahh, that was refreshing."
…Because he'd filled in the written exam at random and gone straight to sleep. Leon had never had any affinity for books, even in his previous life.
"A swordsman just needs to swing a sword well. That's all that matters."
In truth, the written exam didn't carry much weight in the overall evaluation.
"Now that is a damn fine point."
Carotin, still sporting a drool mark at the corner of his mouth, agreed with fierce enthusiasm. The two idiots snickered their way toward the cafeteria. All that remained was to eat a solid lunch and then take the practical exam.
On the way there—
"Leon!"
Celia suddenly burst out of nowhere.
"Oh, Celia. How'd the exam go?"
She sidled up and latched onto him as she answered.
"So-so?"
She said that, but she wasn't the type to skip studying.
"So you did well, then. Hmm — but why are you so close…"
"Stay still."
Pop!
This time Aria Blinked into existence right at Leon's side.
"Gah!"
Carotin, who'd been walking on Leon's right, went flying — but Aria paid him no mind whatsoever, smiling with her eyes as she asked,
"Master, how did your exam go?"
"…I slept through the whole thing. How about you?"
"Me? Well."
Her calm, matter-of-fact tone and expression said why even ask, and Leon let out a wry laugh. Aria would take first place — that much was obvious. No genius among the first-years could surpass her.
"Aria, could you back off a little?"
Celia snapped, eyes narrowed to sharp points.
"My, my. Look who's talking."
Aria didn't yield an inch.
"…Why do you two fight every single time you meet?"
Leon stared at the growling pair in bewilderment and tried to pry them apart — but they clamped down with everything they had, and the pressure shut him down cold.
"…"
Resigned, Leon walked into the cafeteria with one girl hanging off each side. The cadets' murmuring swelled noticeably louder.
Clack, clack.
"Leon—"
Esabel approached with a look of steely resolve, then took one look at the state of him and stopped mid-sentence.
"…"
She stared at him as though examining a piece of garbage. Leon maintained a carefully casual air and opened his mouth.
"Your Highness — have the spots where I hit you fully healed?"
Esabel's eyes immediately flared with twin sparks of fury.
"Hah. Ranking matches are only one part of the evaluation, after all."
"That's a classic loser's line—"
"Shut up. You know what the group evaluation event is, right?"
"The group evaluation?"
So that's what she came to say.
Faced with her smoldering gaze, Leon smiled as though thoroughly entertained. She was the type who couldn't contain her competitive fire — the kind who made bold declarations right before a fight, only to end up eating her words later. Well, until she'd met Leon, she'd always won, so it had never mattered.
"That's right. Look forward to running into our class out on the field."
"Oh my, yes, yes."
Leon kept smiling and answered with deliberate nonchalance. Listening carefully, it seemed Class B had been sharpening their blades under Esabel's leadership, preparing thoroughly.
Tsk tsk. She must've worked them to the bone again.
Leon privately offered his condolences to the Class B cadets who'd been crushed under the princess's authority and run ragged… all while remaining blissfully unaware that he himself was the worst of the lot, doing far worse through violence and sheer terror.
After lunch, in the afternoon — the Grand Training Grounds.
It began with the individual evaluation. One-on-one combat was already assessed through the rankings, but other metrics remained: mana control, sword qi, and physical capability.
Leon first approached the instructor in charge of the mana control test.
"Sit however you like. You're Leon Crusif, correct?"
Instructor Herial Espund, overseeing the mana control exam, wrote down Leon's name and class without even asking. It was true — few people within the Academy didn't know who he was.
While Herial retrieved something, Leon settled into a cross-legged seat on the platform. The mana control exam — more precisely, the internal mana control exam — measured three things: speed, precision, and efficiency. How effectively a cadet could handle mana exactly as they intended. Physical techniques powered by mana were fundamentals among fundamentals for any martial artist. The more skilled a warrior, the more they needed to wield the mana within their body like an extra limb.
Herial produced a magical instrument shaped like a long rod with a gauge mounted on top and said,
"Concentrate mana as quickly as possible into whatever spot I indicate."
"Yes, sir."
Leon closed his eyes and turned his focus inward. First he roused the dormant dantian.
Wooooom!
As pure mana flowed through his circuits, a refreshing sensation wrapped his entire body. Once he seemed roughly prepared, Herial spoke quietly.
"Beginning now."
Herial pressed the button on the handle and simultaneously set the rod against Leon's right shoulder. The moment Leon channeled mana into the area—
—Beep.
A number appeared on the gauge as it registered the mana.
"…Huh?"
Was the measuring device malfunctioning? Herial tilted his head, then placed the rod against other spots in succession — back, arm, hand, calf, foot, and so on.
—Beep.
"…Hah."
Herial let out a breath he hadn't meant to release. This was already beyond cadet level. At first, he couldn't even believe the numbers on the gauge.
Everything else aside… the speed is truly absurd.
The process of moving mana was as smooth and swift as moving a hand. Instant response the moment the thought formed.
Something like this… should only be possible with an enormous amount of real combat experience.
Herial's brow furrowed with doubt. An eighteen-year-old boy, raised safely in a ducal house — where on earth would he have accumulated that kind of combat experience?
Is the Crusif family's training far harsher than what's publicly known…?
"Instructor?"
Leon's voice prodded Herial's wandering thoughts back into place.
"…Ah. The test is finished. All A's — no, all A-pluses."
"Oh, thank you very much."
"Not at all. I'm not the one evaluating you — the numbers are. Nothing to thank me for."
Herial watched Leon's retreating back as he left, then wrote three A-pluses onto the form. And of course, he didn't forget to add a one-line comment.
Reaction speed already at knight-level.