Shall We Even the Numbers First?
In the heart of a darkened forest—
—Slash!
A silver trajectory leapt forth and severed a dense tangle of outstretched branches in a single stroke.
"Hurry!"
Goren shouted with fervent urgency as he swung his sword, carving a path through the undergrowth.
He was in pursuit of Class A, accompanied by fourteen fellow swordsmen.
Far ahead, the fleeting glimpses of Class I cadets' backs flickering between the foliage marked the way.
Slash. Whoosh! Thud-thud!
Stepping through footwork techniques, cutting down vegetation as he went—Goren's breathing had grown slightly ragged from the breathless chase.
Leon. Leon!
This was a chance to catch that Leon—or Class A itself.
The Class A cadets themselves didn't seem to fully grasp it, but their renown had soared to the heavens both inside and outside the Academy.
It had started with those absurd scores in Obulius.
Then their unbelievable exploits in the Siruntel Demonic Realm.
And just yesterday, that insane display of capability at Lilvgius.
Being ranked the top class among the first-year Martial Arts Division was only natural at this point. Instructors and distinguished figures of the Empire alike were taking a keen interest in them.
And that was just Class A as a whole.
Leon Crusif, standing at the center of it all, needed no further explanation.
Perhaps for that reason, Goren was thoroughly consumed by a hunger for glory—determined to crush Leon or Class A here and elevate his own name.
It was a chance to snatch everyone's attention in a single stroke.
Attention. Fame. Honor.
Things an eighteen-year-old boy would naturally fixate on. All the more so for a noble scion who had never once been outmatched in talent throughout his life.
How long had they been running?
"This way! Quickly!"
A Class I cadet standing atop a massive boulder waved them forward.
"…! Understood!"
At last—had Class A's feet been bound?
The other Class I cadets had also come to a halt, fanning out to take positions around the area.
The Class F cadets closed in on them with movements that had grown even faster.
"Damn it!"
"Hold formation!"
"Just kill them all and move on!"
Sure enough, five Class A cadets stood ahead with their backs pressed together, swords leveled.
"So they decided to fight rather than keep running…"
Goren was about to crow in triumph when something struck him, and his face twisted.
Just how arrogant did they have to be—how thoroughly did they have to look down on their opponents—to think they could face them with those numbers?
The other Class F cadets seemed to share the same thought; fury settled over their expressions.
Whatever anyone said, they were cadets of Elprime, carrying the pride of being the continent's finest talents. Their self-regard regarding their own skill overflowed without limit.
"These bastards…!"
"Kill them all!"
Taking it as an insult, they drew their swords with murderous intensity and spread their encirclement wide.
"We'll cover you from the rear!"
Class F immediately nodded at the Class I cadet's shout.
Archers taking the rear was only natural. Being able to receive fire support from behind only made them feel more secure.
Good. With this much, it's more than enough…
Goren's lips curled upward.
The disparity in forces was overwhelming. No matter how exceptional Class A was, what could they do when outnumbered more than three to one? And having archer support from the rear was far better than adding a few extra swordsmen.
And so—
Class A, Class F, and Class I formed concentric rings of battle lines in that order.
"…"
"…"
"…"
A brief exchange of glances. A silent war of nerves.
Whooooosh—!
Sword qi bloomed one after another.
Then Goren, eyes gleaming with excitement, announced the start of combat.
"Charge—!"
Roaring, Goren launched his body forward using the Baltbin family's Seven Flash Steps.
Fwoooosh!
Transformed into a single sharp needle, he carved a thin straight line through the air.
Faced with that lightning-like momentum, the Class A cadets immediately scattered sword qi in response.
"Not a chance!"
Whoosh!
Goren sharpened his body even further, deftly threading between the streams of sword qi.
Razor-edged killing intent grazed his skin as it passed, but he didn't so much as blink.
Goren, after all, was a powerhouse ranked fourth. Within the first-year Martial Arts Division, the cadets who could stand against him could be counted on one hand.
"This is as far as you go!"
Fully intoxicated with his own martial prowess, he bellowed as he closed the distance to the Class A cadets in an instant.
Planting the final of the Seven Steps, he thrust his sword hard toward his opponent's vital point.
Shrieeeek—!
The tip of his blade closed in on a Class A cadet's throat—
And just as a smile of triumph spread across Goren's face—
CLAAAAAANG—!!
"What…?!"
Blue sparks of mana scattered through the air.
And with a clear, ringing clash of steel that swept across the battlefield—
"Nice to meet you."
A crimson-eyed swordsman who had intercepted his attack smiled with his eyes narrowed in amusement.
"Wh-what?!"
Goren recoiled as if he had seen a ghost.
Those eyes—so murderous that merely meeting them made his hair stand on end. The solid rebound he felt through his hands.
The moment he saw those eyes and crossed blades, he knew.
That man was Leon Crusif.
But…
"N-no! Why are you wearing Class I clothes?!"
Goren fell into confusion at the sight of Leon in a face covering, a green insignia fixed to his chest.
"Too much trouble to explain. Watch the recording once you're outside."
Leon answered indifferently.
The guy would be eliminated soon enough anyway. He'd figure it all out watching the replay from outside.
"…!"
Grasping the meaning behind those words, Goren's face flushed scarlet.
"You arrogant…! Even you, Leon—do you really think you can take on all these numbers?!"
At the rage pouring from him—
"Sure."
Leon's eyes curved even more sharply.
"Shall we even the numbers first?"
"…What do you mean?"
Thud! Thwack! Thud, thud, thud!
The answer to Goren's question came in the form of successive dull impacts of flesh being struck from behind.
"?!?!"
What met his eyes as he reflexively whipped his head around—
"Wh-what the hell?!"
"Oh, shit!"
—was Class F cadets having the backs of their heads cracked open by the scabbards of the Class I students.
No—not Class I students at all…!
"Everyone, fall back!!!"
He didn't even need to say it. Everyone was already doing so.
The Class F cadets sprang away like cats that had spotted a cucumber, huddling tightly together among themselves.
But the whole thing had happened so fast that five of them were already unconscious.
"A-are you insane?! Goddamn it!"
Forgetting for a moment that everyone was watching from outside, Goren finally spat out a crude curse.
They had been on the same side from the start. He should have realized the moment he saw what Leon was wearing.
It had all unfolded in less than thirty seconds, and the sheer shock of seeing Leon had left him too flustered to think.
Goren and Class F's slow grasp of the situation—combined with the sudden transformation of the Class I cadets they had thought were allies—had left the battlefield at nine versus nine.
"Fine then! We're taking at least one of you with us!"
Realizing the entire thing had been a mockery, Goren's veins bulged in his neck with pure spite.
"I'll take Leon!"
Meanwhile—
As if they posed no threat whatsoever—
Calmly, indifferently—
Leon jerked his chin with a lazy, insolent air.
"Let's wrap this up quick, kids."
"…"
As if even answering would be a waste, Class A wordlessly raised their swords and charged.
"Y-you! You damn bastards!"
"We're settling this today!"
The betrayal of being stabbed in the back, the irritation at their own stupidity for falling for the scheme, and the fury of being continually dismissed until their rage had climbed to the tops of their heads—Class F cadets also surged forward with violent intensity.
Swordsmen began charging at one another through the dense trees.
At the very front of them—
Thud-thud-thud!
Leon shot forward like lightning and casually tilted the Heaven-Shattering Sword forward.
At the same time, mana began to surge through his entire body.
Jecheon Sword Style, Second Form—Manunbicheon…
"…!"
Recognizing at a glance that Leon was about to unleash a major technique—and that it carried enough power to wipe out his allies in a single stroke—Goren moved to counter.
"You think I'll let you use something that obvious?!"
Whoooosh!
To interrupt the sword form, he drove forward with the Seven Flash Steps, closing right in on Leon's face.
But—
Whirl!
Leon's sword, which had been tracing its trajectory, twisted smoothly as if it had been prepared for this all along—
And a cold sneer formed at the corner of his mouth.
"You fell for it, idiot."
"…!"
Over Goren's wide-blown pupils, a long blade descending toward the space between his brows was reflected.
"Kh…!"
Goren summoned the greatest reflexes of his eighteen years of life and barely managed to raise his sword.
Clang!
It was precarious—but he blocked it.
In that brief instant of steel meeting steel, what flooded into Goren was relief, and the satisfaction of having stopped this strike.
And then—
Oh no!
The dizzying realization that he must never give Leon the first move.
Chrrrrrr!
Leon's Heaven-Shattering Sword began to tremble, scattering its sword-cry in every direction—
And a madly proliferating swarm of sword-shadows packed Goren's vision full.
Clang-clang-clang-clang-clang-clang—!
Blue trajectories poured down across Goren's entire body without regard for target.
A feast of successive strikes that threatened to drive him out of his mind.
This was exactly why he could never give that man the initiative.
There was no room to try anything—only a relentless onslaught.
"Oh, not bad."
The one actually unleashing that barrage merely raised an eyebrow slightly.
"Ah, right. You were ranked fourth."
"…!"
Never mind that his voice didn't waver in the slightest even while swinging his sword—the way he spoke, as if commenting on some mutt he'd passed on the street, was extremely grating.
Goren poured every ounce of his surging frustration into striking back with all his strength.
CLANG—!
His full-powered counter created a brief opening—
"Pfft."
Leon laughed at the sight of Goren's face, twisted with resentment.
And then he began moving his sword again.
—At twice the previous speed.
Clang-clang-clang-clang-clang-clang-clang-clang-clang-clang-clang—!
"…!!!"
As if everything until now had been play.
A tidal wave of violence shot forth with the force to cleave its target apart at any moment.
It was a speed he had never experienced—as if Leon alone lived in a different flow of time.
Goren felt certain he could no longer endure it.
But then—
He had to seize hold of a mind that felt ready to faint from sheer shock.
This wasn't the end.
Faster.
Stronger.
Sharper.
More precise.
More savage.
More violent.
More ferocious.
CRAAAAASH—!
And when he looked upon the blue storm collapsing toward him with a force that seemed ready to devour even his soul—
"…Ah."
For the first time in his life—
—Clatter.
Goren let the sword slip from his hand.