Class Assignment Test 2

Data weapons clashed, scattering data fragments in all directions. If my reaction had been even a split second slower, I would've been done for. And this wasn't a joke—it was real. I barely blocked Clea's attack and let out a relieved breath as I stared at my half-shattered data weapon. I'd been so cocky before the fight started. Guess I can't afford to slack off against her.

Unlike me, who'd been freaking out, Clea looked thrilled as she swung her blade around.

"How's that, Neige? Pretty good, right?"

"Insane..."

"The day has finally come when you acknowledge me!"

I quickly repaired my data weapon while watching Clea get all emotional on her own, ramping up the computation allocated to encryption. It was hard to believe she'd only placed third in the battle royale. None of the so-called geniuses I'd met before had shown this level of skill.

Clea assumed her stance again. Anticipating another blitz at that insane speed, I did the same. Her computation spiked, and the moment her shoulder twitched—

Our blades collided once more, birthing another shower of data fragments. This time, I could track it with my eyes. As Clea streaked past me like a flash of light, I pieced together what was happening and nodded.

"Got it, Clea."

"Already?"

I relaxed my stance and spoke. Clea tensed up like she was about to threaten me, but I ignored it.

"That attack needs time to charge, right?"

"Yeah, spot on, Neige. You remembered."

How could I forget? At five years old, the first cyberdemon I ever faced in cyberspace attacked just like that. It needed time to charge too.

"Clea, do you still remember... when we were five?"

"Kinda fuzzy, but I think I get what you're saying."

We were orphans. No elite mentors for us. It was ironic that Clea had chosen as her "teacher" something that had nearly killed her once.

"Neige, those memories don't scare me anymore. You saved me, after all."

After enough time had passed, I resumed my combat stance. Back then, I'd known instinctively that it took time, but now I understood the principle. Pre-compute the results, store them in memory, then unleash them all at once when ready. A demon's memory was semiconductor hardware, but Clea's was pure human recall. She was mentally crunching complex equations, memorizing answers, and fighting in real time.

"That's why you placed third..."

Impressive ability, but in a battle royale—not one-on-one—someone would've spotted the weakness and ganged up on her. On pure skill, Clea deserved first.

We faced off again. If she could pull that off, so could I. I memorized V's computations, stacking answers in the corner of my mind. The instant Clea moved, I unleashed my stored calculations.

Her feint to bypass my defense and strike was now crystal clear. As she crossed her two blades to target my legs, I swung down to block. In that accelerated moment, realizing I was matching her, Clea widened her eyes and altered her trajectory at the last second, avoiding collision.

The third clash ended. Clea, looking ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠stunned, said,

"Neige, you knew how to do this all along?"

"First time trying."

"No way... Neige, you're..."

V in my head and all my accumulated experience had backed me up, sure. But to Clea, it must've felt deflating—me pulling off her hard-earned technique so effortlessly.

Should've said I'd been practicing. I'd blurted it out in the heat of success.

"Yeah, right. No way it'd be that easy for you. Okay, Neige."

Shaking off her disappointment, Clea seemed to steel herself, loosening her grip on her sword and covering her face with her hand.

"Neige, this is something I'm showing you for the first time."

New data formed at her fingertips—a mask without patterns or curves.

The next instant, Clea manipulated the mask, and its surface warped, reshaping into something like ghostly artwork.

Then Clea slowly vanished from my sight. Not like before, where speed made her slip away. She dissolved like smoke right before my eyes.

"...Clea, you made something fun."

"Right? I created this to catch you. Name's 'Mask Protocol.' Say hi."

Her voice data approached from all directions—no way to pinpoint. Knowing she'd repeat attacks from stealth ratcheted up my tension. This unfamiliar crisis, one I'd never faced before. Fighting a human bitmancer for the first time, huh.

Programs only do what's programmed. Humans are different. When blocked, they get creative.

'V, gotta be ImmuneWire stealth ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠code, right? Reverse-trace it.'

'What?'

I threw up a defensive barrier around myself. Just as it finished, one side tore open, leaving two sword scars.

No sound, no sight of Clea. Just those scars proving she'd struck.

Not stealth code, yet hidden from me? I rapidly repaired the wall, accelerating my thoughts. The wall bought me time. Now, find the enemy's weakness.

Think. This isn't a program. It's a human. A creativity battle. Lose that, and you're done.

Another scar on the wall, bigger this time. My tension spiked accordingly. Mask Protocol active, yet no charge time change. Maintaining it costs no extra computation.

Think. How to hide without computation burden.

"...Got one."

No need to camouflage with leaves in a forest. Just blind the enemy.

ImmuneWire stealth covers visual data. Reverse: Block my visual data from reaching her specifically. Divert a stream in the data flow—minimal computation. But weakness clear: Target-limited.

Two counters. First, pierce the blocked flow. Requires infiltrating Mask Protocol—but she's already invisible. Impossible.

Second: Make "me" watching her more than one. Clone? Nah, something sleeker.

I touched the data net floor. Eavesdropping code flowed, mapping the exam arena's shape. Not plain cyberspace—artificial space for student tests, complex terrain from devices everywhere.

I infiltrated it with visual-copy codes. The whole space became my eyes.

I closed my eyes, merging scattered visuals.

There—masked Clea, pondering how to breach my wall.

She assumed position. Inside the wall, so did I.

As she charged, I dropped the wall and went for direct clash. Caught off-guard, her reaction lagged. My hit landed on the mask.

I snatched a fragment of the shattered mask, maintaining standoff.

'Two functions? More capable than V.'

'Please play along.'

I tuned out V, focusing on battle. Names suggested current was Ghost Mode. Eyes closed, I raised my blade toward her.

No time to give. Close distance, attack.

Clea manipulated the mask immediately.

Berserker Mode. Mask turned monstrous; her movements shifted. Twin blades whirled like a storm, our clashes a dancer's graceful performance.

"Got it, Neige."

"...?"

Mid-fierce exchange, we shoved apart, creating distance. Clea grinned.

"Your eyes aren't just one now, huh."

She jammed her blades into the data net, flooding it with elimination code.

She shredded every visual code across the terrain. Leftover ones would let elimination code ride back to me.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Simultaneously, Clea switched modes again. Charging stance—and vanished.

But next instant, I parried her blade, grabbed her, slammed her down, and pinned her.

"Huh...?"

Stunned, Clea let out a adorably dumb sound.

"Clea, that was super cute just now."

Her face flushed beet red.

"Ow! How'd you see that?! I was invisible!"

"Come inside the mask."

"...Huh?"

Clea split her consciousness, entering the mask's system. Inside, she saw my detached mind.

"Hi!"

"Ah..."

She sighed, realizing. I'd wrecked Ghost Mode and its systems while waving.

"No security here? Way too easy."

"...I don't have that much computation to spare!"

Outside Clea stared, then said "Ugh" and lightly punched me. Honest punch, no hack. Just sensation, no pain.

"When'd you get in?"

"When the mask broke."

"Should've suspected..."

Wall drop and hit—I hadn't just broken the mask. Like with the spider, I'd infiltrated a detached mind. Then pressured to distract from the mask, buying time. Infiltrator wrecked internals. Done.

Bitmancer duels go to the more creative. I edged her this time.

"Ugh!"

Clea deactivated Mask Protocol and flopped onto the floor.

"No more?"

"I already lost."

"True."

I sat beside her, gazing at the sky. Curiosity struck; I grabbed and flipped her slightly.

"Clea, hold on."

"Yeah?"

Her back. I traced the spine line with a finger.

"Eek!"

She jolted up, kicking me. Not painful, but I got the intent.

"Why?! Why suddenly?!"

"Cyberspace aptitude heightens senses. Wondered if others too."

"Just ask! Why touch outta nowhere? The back, really..."

Same gender, friends—thought it'd be fine to tease. Am I lacking girl vibes? Do girls not do that?

"Spine has thickest nerves outside brain... Thought it'd confirm."

"Neige, honestly..."

Clea sighed deeply, then smiled faintly.

"But I did make you tense, right?"

"Yeah, true."

"Good enough. Satisfied!"

She lay back happily. I asked what I'd wondered.

"You aiming to beat me?"

"Beat you? Catching up would be lucky."

Staring blankly at the sky, she said,

"Neige, since you saved me, I've wanted to stay with you."

"And?"

"But you're so amazing, I thought you'd leave me behind. So I worked hard. How am I?"

Her eyes expectant.

"Good enough to stay by your side now?"

I knew what she wanted. Say it straight? No—I wanted to share mine too.

"Clea, I have a dream."

"What?"

"End this era. Bring back when people were happy."

Dream born at five, thanks to her push. First to her.

"Won't stop till it's done. Want you as friend and comrade to the end."

"Neige..."

"After, we can rethink us, right?"

She laughed heartily—pure, age-fitting.

"Neige, you're such a fortress."

"Am I?"

"Yeah. And you should stay that way. Why? 'Cause you're a gem. Not for just anyone."

She sat up, eye-level.

"When that time comes, keep today's promise."

"Definitely."

"Gonna repay that back-touch double. Brace yourself."

"Kinda scary."

Finally, she offered her hand, smiling.

"Here, take it."

"What?"

"Victory. Mr. Neige."

"You win."

I grasped the many meanings instantly. Maybe, when my secrets spill, a friend who'd never betray.

I forged an elimination dagger, stabbing her hand.

"Ow! Neige, too hard."

"Doesn't hurt."

"Teasing."

Exiting cyberspace, Clea hugged her knees, laughing.

"Win the finals. Cheering for you."

Gone, I looked at her sky.

"Gotta win."

Cyberspace filled with announcement. Finals over in 5 seconds—opponent eliminated.

Class assignment results were predictable. I got Research Class. Chairman's influence, obviously. For nurturing future doctors—pure intellect kids.

"Huff... huff... That kid..."

Dodging rabid professor fans like celebrities was exhausting.

Clea: Agent Class. Combat standouts in cyberspace. Most secretary aides from there? Rumors of instructors thrilled at talents.

"Building stamina for long dives! 20 laps!"

"Neige! Save me!"

"...Sorry."

Hellish PT terrified.

Saints missed test—late individual due to cyberdemon damage. Leftover computation scored high.

"Wanna be in your class, Neige..."

"Nail the test."

"Yeah...!"

Academy vibe: "One kid made everyone's eyes venomous."

"Yeah."

Overheard staff. All geniuses admitted. Except Clea, none lasted a minute against me. Pride shattered.

Classmates' glares venomous. Stare all you want. Study. Jealous? Cyberspace.

Chilling days—till

"Miss Neige."

Svetlana approached.

"Chairman wants to meet. Very impressed by your 'report,' he added."

Response to my video findings incoming.