Give It Your All
The Hero Academy.
It was the empire's foremost educational institution, founded to gather the gifted from every corner of the world, forge them into exceptional heroes, and one day stand against the coming invasion from the demon realm.
True to its name and renown, the Hero Academy was administered directly by the imperial household—and thanks to that patronage, even its training grounds boasted facilities of the highest caliber of the age.
State-of-the-art exercise equipment, automatic ventilation, climate control—all of it was standard. And of course there were sparring arenas, installed so that students could measure one another's strength and stoke their competitive fire.
It was in one of those splendid facilities that I had been training with reasonable satisfaction—until now, when I found myself standing with William atop a circular sparring ring set off to one side of the training hall.
"I'll use this."
◈ A wooden staff provided in the Hero Academy training grounds. Crafted from the finest ebony, it boasts high durability but negligible lethality.
Blunt iron weapons were permitted under the rules as well, but since we'd come mid-training, I simply raised the wooden staff already in my hand.
"I'll use this wooden sword as well."
William held up the practice blade he'd been using.
"I know it's shameless of me to ask this after making such an unreasonable request, but… would you be willing to use your skills?"
"Do you understand what you're asking?"
What's with this guy? Has his personality shifted a little?
Given the Hero Academy's purpose—raising heroes who would one day stake their lives against monsters—sparring between students was actively encouraged. Skill-based sparring, however, was an entirely different order of danger. Without a professor present to supervise, it was a violation of student regulations.
Whether it was protagonist privilege or pure busybody instinct, William was the type to throw himself into other people's crises without a second thought. But under ordinary circumstances, he was a justice-obsessed fool who adhered strictly to rules and codes of conduct.
And yet here he was, asking me to break those rules and spar with skills…
My original goal had been to gauge his true ability and see which skills he'd already awakened, so I'd planned to needle him during the match until he brought them out himself.
This saved me the trouble.
If you're offering, I'm hardly going to complain.
"Of course. This is a spar, so weapons are unavoidable—but I want to face Young Master Winchester at full strength."
Who else but a game character could deliver a line that hot-blooded? My face nearly burned from the sheer earnestness of it.
"You'll regret this."
"I don't do regret."
His eyes met mine, calm and luminous with unshakable conviction. They shone as if declaring that he alone was the protagonist of this world—but I simply took the look in stride.
Sure. You go right ahead and be the hero.
I'll be the extra in the back, munching popcorn.
"Very well, then."
Having accepted his request, we each moved to the ready lines marked on opposite sides of the ring. Standing across the broad sparring floor, William and I raised our weapons and faced each other.
I leveled the tip of my staff at him and spoke low.
"Come, yellow commoner. Come at me with everything you've got."
My past-life memories had made me familiar with skill mechanics—not with spear arts. A man who'd shuttled between home and office and whose only hobby was gaming in his room was never going to possess some specialized martial talent.
I was simply papering over the gaps with Dragon's Sense, a Dragon Knight exclusive skill, and stats that were decent enough for a first-year. That was all.
If I was going to avoid causing an "incident involving casualties" before the semester even started, William needed to put in as much effort as my clumsy spearwork demanded of him.
So.
Give it everything.
"Unless you want to die, that is."
"—!!"
"I shall become a dragon that swallows the world."
Dragon Blood
"Please spar with me."
He knew perfectly well how rude and improper the request was. For a mere commoner like him to ask such a thing of an imperial noble—and not just any noble, but the heir of House Winchester—was almost laughable.
He simply couldn't bring himself to give up.
"I was deeply impressed by your martial prowess in the last battle, Young Master."
He wanted to see it again with his own two eyes—the figure he had so desperately longed for and admired.
A new semester began today.
I won't get another chance.
Even with an S-rank talent, a half-baked commoner like him would struggle to move in the same circles as Young Master Winchester once academy life truly got underway. He knew that better than anyone.
From now on, how often would the two of them be left alone, free of interruptions, able to look each other in the face and speak like this?
It had to be now.
There would never be another opportunity like this.
"Very well. I'll allow it."
After all the tension he'd poured into the request, Young Master Winchester granted it with almost casual ease. Having secured permission to use skills as well, William stepped onto the sparring floor and looked at the black-haired boy standing before him.
"Give it your all."
Of course.
I always give it my all.
And if my opponent is you—even more so!
"Unless you want to die, that is."
Looking at the young master in full combat readiness, William was reminded once more of exactly whom he stood before.
──!!
The tip of the wooden staff leveled at him was blunt by design, a training weapon—and yet it felt as though he were staring down a spearhead honed to a razor's edge.
Overwhelming pressure.
The air itself drew taut and clenched around his heart. Sweat slicked the hand gripping his sword.
"I shall become a dragon that swallows the world."
Dragon Blood
Young Master Winchester's mana bled into a deep crimson, and sharp horns sprouted above his brow. His frame was clearly smaller than William's own—and yet the crushing pressure that seized every inch of William's body felt as though a miniature dragon stood before him.
In the instant he tried to attack, he realized his body would not move as he willed.
Fear had locked him solid.
I'm scared?
In a spar against Young Master Winchester—I'm actually scared?
He knew this was no time for such feelings, and the knowledge only made him angrier at himself for cowering. Gritting his teeth, he forced the trembling tip of his sword upright and fixed his eyes on the little dragon before him.
He poured mana through his body and spoke the activation phrase of the skill he had seized in the jaws of death.
My will is iron, and my courage is that of a lion.
Lion Heart
—Grrraaahhh!!
A beast's roar, audible only to him, tore through his mind—and every shackle binding his body fell away. Armed with that liberation, he charged straight at Young Master Winchester.
"Yaaaaaahhh!!"
"Too slow."
Thud.
"Ghk—!"
A sharp whistle of wind, then searing agony in his side. Before he could even process the pain, a kick came flying and caught him square. The blow drove him all the way back to where he'd started, and he forced himself upright through the pain wracking his body.
A kick.
Of every attack that had landed, the only one he'd properly registered was that single kick. The strike to his side had been nothing more than a flash of something colliding with him—he hadn't even managed to track it.
Still, the skill Lion Heart refused to let his fighting spirit break, demanding he keep struggling on.
A vicious thrust lanced toward his shoulder.
Clack!
He slipped past a flowing spin attack—only for another kick to hammer into his gut.
Thud!
Charge and rebound. Charge and rebound. Again and again.
Tap!
He guarded his side as it was targeted once more and searched for an opening, but reality was unforgiving. The attacks kept coming.
Attack. Attack. Attack. Attack.
An unending barrage of linked strikes exploded against him, and the longer the spar dragged on, the harder it became even to block the staff. The gap in skill was stark and absolute.
He had never believed he could win from the start. He had already witnessed the young master's combat with his own eyes, after all.
Even so, he had wanted to fight as though victory were possible. He had wanted to see that combat again, just once more, with his own two eyes.
He understood. He knew.
And yet…
I never thought the difference would be this vast!
"Is that already all you've got?"
"…Kh!"
A question left by the one he admired: Is that your limit?
The hero he had longed for—the hero he so desperately wished to become—stood right before him now. He could not allow this moment to go to waste. He did not want to disappoint him.
My head is burning.
It felt as though his brain were on fire. That flame swallowed every emotion in his mind whole, until only a single feeling remained unconsumed.
Courage.
Even if, in the end, it was a skill that lent him aid—before the hero he admired, he would not permit himself any further disgrace.
His talent answered that iron resolve. His Effort answered it.
And at last, it wrought a miracle that bore the name of a skill.
"O sword—become the light that cleaves despair."
Sword Impact