Let's Fight It Out Clean
Mist and silence settled over the land as one.
Dark clouds stretched wide across the sky, blotting out the moonlight and draping the quiet expanse in deeper shadow.
On the concluded battlefield, only trampled weeds and a faint residual heat remained. There were no mangled corpses, no blood, no scattered weapons — this had never been a real battlefield, only a mock one.
Whish!
Leon gave the Heaven-Shattering Sword a single shake and slid it back into its scabbard. There was no blood or filth on the blade, of course — it was just habit.
"Everyone all right?"
The Class A cadets answered with their eyes instead of words. Collapsed on the ground, they could only gasp for breath.
Leon swept his gaze over them. Two fewer than before. Not bad.
"Good."
Satisfaction shone plain in the crooked smile that tugged at his eyes. Two casualties to take down Class 3 — more than enough for a successful operation.
At this rate… first place is pretty much locked in, isn't it?
Starting from Class I, then C, F, J, G, D, and E.
Counting them up, that's a hell of a lot.
Seven classes wiped out by Class A alone. Tally the points and…
9,800.
Add the zone control scores from the southeast through the east, and—
"Damn."
It was over. This was first place, no question. All that remained was to casually snatch up the nearby Grade 1 zones and—
…Except.
Where the hell is Class B?
They were the only class that could even come close to matching Class A in raw ability — and there wasn't a single sign of them.
"…"
A bad feeling prickled at the back of his neck.
The remaining classes… well, there's still Class H.
Class H? Leon's assessment of them boiled down to two words: Vessel Hammond, and spearmen. Vessel, ranked ninth, was decent enough. Beyond that, they were a spearman-heavy class same as Class G. Everything else about them was mediocre. If they ran into Class B, they'd get steamrolled.
Class B's main force was Billy and Esabel, true — but the rest of their cadets were solid as well. The day before, Leon had rewatched the footage of them clearing the Relvgius Breakthrough. Esabel's boasts hadn't been empty talk after all. Their coordination was tight, their individual skill high. The only reason things had gone differently was the variable named Leon the Reincarnator. In the original story, Billy's class had taken first place — so of course they had the capacity for it.
Which meant—
"…Don't tell me they've been eating up the entire outer perimeter?"
Even if Class B had run into Class H, there was no way they would have lost.
"Wait. Wait…"
Leon furrowed his brow and forced his mind into overdrive. Setting aside the southeast-to-east stretch Class A had already swept through, and excluding the Grade 1 zones — if Class B had taken roughly half of the Grade 2 and Grade 3 zones…
Sixty-five points per minute. 3,900 per hour. The evaluation had been running for about seven hours now.
…Even lowballing it, that was over twenty thousand points.
"Huh?"
Leon's jaw went slack.
Fifteen Grade 3 zones. Ten Grade 2 zones. That was the list of territory Class B had seized.
After smashing Class H from behind in the northwest, they had swept counterclockwise from the north all the way down near the south — carving a clean path through the field. Their score was already brushing thirty thousand.
"I never thought everyone would flock to the center."
Esabel murmured it with a hollow laugh. Even Class B hadn't expected this kind of free rein. With every other class getting demolished by Class A, they hadn't encountered a single enemy after the early skirmish with Class H.
At its core, this was a territorial contest. Expanding zones mattered more than racking up enemy kills. Grade 1 zones were important, sure — but not when you'd already swallowed this much of everything else.
If we hold this much of the remaining territory, the Grade 1 zones barely matter.
They were currently earning eighty points a minute. Even if some class monopolized all six Grade 1 zones, that would only be sixty per minute. And with most classes crammed into the central region, a clean monopoly was unlikely anyway. The score gap would only keep widening.
Esabel was nodding to herself when—
"Captain!"
A swift-footed Class B cadet came flying in. He was one of the scouts Esabel had sent to recon the central zone.
"Looks like Class A won. They were the only ones left in the center."
"Hmm… is that so?"
Esabel tilted her head slightly.
"Well then. We stick to the plan."
Nothing had changed. If anything, with Class A still tied up in the center, this was the time to push even harder.
"Move out."
Class B did not stop their advance. They turned southeast and pressed on.
"…"
"…"
"…"
The Class A cadets sat clustered together, radiating a blank, stunned silence. After hearing Leon out, they had realized they might actually be losing — and the idea that they could be behind after crushing that many classes was more than enough to leave them reeling.
"…So what do we do?"
Kiana blinked and tossed the question out.
"What do you mean, what do we do? We go catch them."
Leon answered flatly. Roughly two hours left — three at most. It was far too late to start hustling around reclaiming zones. They would never close the gap that way. The simple answer was total annihilation of the enemy.
"Conveniently, I picked this up."
In Leon's outstretched palm sat an object about the size of his hand — a circular compass of gray metal, but nothing like an ordinary compass. Gauges, buttons, and dials crowded its face in complicated array. A Mana Residue Tracker. It could follow the mana trail left in an opponent's wake, and it had come off one of the Class E cadets they'd just finished off. Almost certainly gear awarded from a Grade 1 zone.
"Oh — if we've got that!"
"Thank god!"
The cadets brightened at once. The field was vast and they'd had no idea where to even start searching — and now a solution had dropped neatly into their laps. Find a flag Class B had planted, use the mana residue on it as a starting point, and track from there.
"Everyone rest five minutes, then we move. This'll probably be the last break."
Leon pulled out a potion as he addressed them.
"Find them as fast as possible. No — we have to find them."
He glanced up. The moon hung at its peak.
"Before that moon falls."
Class A had exactly twenty people left — a fifth of their strength gone. But Leon had something to lean on, and it wasn't just raw skill.
Gear.
In the process of taking down seven classes, Class A had collected the equipment their enemies dropped. A quick inventory of what they'd selected and equipped: the mask, boots, bracelet, pauldrons, and gauntlets they'd already been using, plus a breastplate whose durability had taken some hits through combat but was still serviceable; greaves that reinforced leg strength; a necklace with a memorized body-enhancement spell for pre-engagement use; a ring bearing a similar enchantment; and consumables — mana bombs, potions, daggers, and more.
That was more than enough, Leon figured, to close the gap left by their missing numbers.
And so, putting the tracker to full use, with roughly an hour remaining until the evaluation ended — Class A finally caught Class B's trail. They had gone south, confirmed a gray flag planted there, and followed it in.
"There they are!"
Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud!
"…?!"
The Class B cadets spun around at the sudden onrush of presence — and their faces went white. A stampede of wild boars would have been less startling. That tidal-wave charge in a spearhead formation could only be Class A. Masks or mixed markings made no difference; they were unmistakable at a glance.
"What the—! Everyone, halt!"
Esabel's eyes went round as she ordered her cadets to a stop. Running from that lot didn't look viable.
Skrrrrr—
Both classes gradually ground to a halt. As the sound of footsteps faded, a strange silence settled between them. They stood tens of meters apart, each side formed up in ranks. A standoff. Swordsmen's eyes rolled as they sized each other up — Class B murmuring at the state of their opponents' gear, Class A clicking their tongues at how fresh Class B still looked.
Whooooosh—
A dry east wind cut between them. Esabel's ponytail, at the front of her line, streamed to the left.
It was wasteland terrain — uneven ground, tumbleweeds rolling dry and brittle, moonlight pooling soft over the crumbling earth.
Esabel finished her measured survey and broke the silence.
"You must've been pretty desperate, chasing us all the way out here."
Carotin answered for them. A rough voice pushed out through the black mask.
"You were the only enemies left, you see."
"…"
Esabel's gaze flickered. That meant they'd crushed every other class. But after a brief calculation, an easy smile returned to her face.
"Looks like you worked hard. Shame, though — I think we've already won."
Even if Class A had taken down all seven remaining classes, the ranking for this evaluation was decided by score. And a class that had spent the entire time expanding territory simply couldn't be overtaken. A quick count of the zones they'd occupied was enough to call the match already decided — or so Esabel informed them, thoroughly at ease, thoroughly unhurried.
And she was right. At that very moment, Class B had blown past thirty thousand points, while Class A trailed them by more than a full perfect score.
However—
"Hmm. If we just win the fight right here, that changes things, doesn't it?"
That was also true. Total annihilation meant that no matter how high your score, the surviving class would take the ranking over you.
Of course, Esabel had her reasons for looking so relaxed.
"I figured you'd try that, so I peeled a few people off in advance."
She gave an elegant wave of her hand.
"Even if the main force gets wiped, the class as a whole won't be eliminated."
"…Hah."
As she'd said, the Class B force in front of them numbered twenty-three. Leon had assumed those were combat losses — but no. Two cadets had been sent elsewhere beforehand, ensuring Class B could hold out until the evaluation ended even if they lost the fight. At a point this close to the finish, it was a shrewd move.
"—You mean these two?"
Thud. Thud!
That was before Leon dragged two Class B cadets forward like sacks of cargo.
"…What?!"
Esabel's and the Class B cadets' eyes nearly split open. Even Billy's brow twitched, ever so slightly.
"Whew. Took some work."
Leon grinned and gave the tracker in his hand a little shake. Anticipating exactly this kind of play, he had broken off from the main force and torn through the field like a madman — courtesy of his improved Heavenly Spirit Steps and his absurd stamina.
Shing!
A short, sharp draw of steel.
Slash!
A blue arc swept a half-circle toward the ground, and the unconscious cadets' heads came clean off — eliminated.
Leon pointed the tip of his sword forward and flashed a grin.
"Let's fight it out clean and finish this."
"…"
His crimson eyes locked with Billy's blue ones for a single instant.
Shing-shing-shing-shing-shing!
As if someone had given a signal, swords tore free of their scabbards in unison.
Fwoooooosh!
Sword auras bloomed bright from every blade.
"No choice, then."
Esabel muttered it through smoldering eyes.
"I'll take Leon."
Behind Billy, who stepped forward without expression—
"Charge!"
"Forward!"
War cries erupted as one. Swordsmen kicked off the earth and hurtled toward each other — and the final battle that would decide the victor began.