vs. Seria (1)
"First, everyone draw the weapon you use."
The same spacious sparring grounds where the entrance exams had been held. Last time, the open ceiling had given the place the full atmosphere of a 'colosseum'; now the roof was closed and even the air conditioning was running, transforming it into a proper training hall that offered the students a comfortable environment. It was there that Instructor Bronson gathered the cadets and spoke.
"Once you're ready, I'll start calling names. The people I call will pair up. Frey Bees, Shasha Montgomery."
"Y-yes, sir…!"
"Yes."
"Head over there and stand by. Next…!"
At his call, the students paired off one by one and lined up on the far side of the arena.
And so the students in the initial positions dwindled, until at some point only Seria and I remained standing at the edge of the sparring grounds.
"…Last pair. Seria Levenstein, Lucian Peyote. Take your places."
Bronson called both our names together.
"Yes, sir."
I answered simply, then walked over with Seria to stand among the other students.
Ah, so it's the sparring event.
I'd had a rough idea what was coming ever since he started pairing students off.
The sparring event. To keep players from burning out on repetitive grinding, Union Academy's story mode changed the content of the first class every playthrough. Most of the time it was determined by what kind of results you achieved at enrollment, and if you chose the Swordsmanship Department and placed within the rankings, an event like this one would trigger — a live sparring session.
I figured as much back when I took first place, but it really did turn out to be this.
I leaned over and whispered to Seria beside me.
"Looks like we really are sparring."
"…Shut up."
A cold response. Not like her at all.
I turned my head to find Seria with her expression frozen solid, swallowing hard enough that her throat visibly bobbed.
"Nervous?"
"…Like someone said before — no matter how confident you are in your skills, it's only natural to get tense when you have to show them in front of this many people."
"Pfft."
"…Did you just laugh?"
So she was nervous.
"You're unusually talkative, too."
"…."
"Alright, everyone, quiet down! You've all probably figured out what's happening, so I'll explain quickly and we'll begin."
As Bronson standing before the assembled students called out in a loud voice, the murmur rippling through them died away in an instant.
"Ahem. First — I've been pondering exactly how best to test all of you."
"At first I thought about running a simple fundamentals test and offering each of you advice suited to your needs. But this year's class has an unusual abundance of exceptional talent, so I've decided to examine you in a somewhat different way."
As he spoke, Bronson's eyes somehow found their way to me. When I held his gaze, for some reason he broke into a small, sly smile.
"That is — live sparring. The pairs you see were formed just yesterday, matching students of comparable levels based on your entrance exam records, scores, and the abilities you demonstrated during your introductions."
"The moment you enter real combat, problems invisible in practice inevitably reveal themselves. Starting now, I will call each pair forward to spar."
"Naturally, I will be observing every match. When a bout ends, I'll point out each fighter's weaknesses and offer guidance."
"Students not currently sparring will observe from where they stand. Aside from a handful of standouts, your levels are average — which means watching a fight between opponents of similar skill will benefit you greatly. Ask yourself what you would do in that situation, or simply watch for weaknesses. Either way, you'll come away with something."
"Finally — the outcome of these bouts will not affect your grades. Give it your best effort, of course, but even if you lose, don't be discouraged. Simply learn what you're lacking. Any questions?"
No one raised a hand.
The explanation was clean enough that no questions were needed.
"Then we'll begin right away. First pair — Frey Bees, Shasha Montgomery! Come forward and prepare to spar! Everyone else, keep your distance so you don't interfere with the matches. Begin!"
"Yes, sir!"
The instant his order fell, the students moved with military precision.
And so the sparring matches rolled on.
"Hnnngh…!"
One after another, the turns of nameless students came and went — and before I knew it, it was time for the bout of Union Academy's dependable staple tank, Ron.
I wasn't particularly invested, but he was a well-built unit, so curiosity won out and I paid a little closer attention.
Thud—!
Oh?
But surprisingly, Ron went down — caught off balance, absorbing a sword that came flying in mid-stumble.
"That's enough. …Ron McAllister. Your durability is excellent, but your reaction speed leaves much to be desired. Of course, with your ability, you have no need to run back and forth shielding your allies. But if you want to hold a line against monsters or warriors on a real battlefield, reaction speed is essential. You'll need to sharpen your dynamic vision and footwork."
"Understood, sir!"
As he had all along, Bronson halted each bout at the right moment, dissected the problems point by point, and handed out concrete solutions.
"Next — Karl Armand?"
"Yes, sir."
"Have you ever formally trained in swordsmanship?"
"…I'm ashamed to say I haven't."
"No, there's nothing to be ashamed of. Reaching this point on raw talent alone deserves praise. However, I did notice problems born of a weak foundation. Your overall movements and ability usage are flawless — so what you need is training in the fundamentals of the sword. I'll assign you an instructor during practical sessions."
"Thank you very much, sir!"
Perhaps absorbed in his work, his tone came off curt at a glance — yet beneath it ran a genuine care for his students.
"The instructor… his first impression scared me a little, but he's secretly kind, isn't he?"
"Right? I assumed he only became head instructor because he's the Kingdom's greatest blade, but looking at him now, he's got a real talent for teaching on top of his strength."
Thanks to all this, the students' opinion of him was climbing in real time.
"Hmm… truly worthy of the head instructor. He pinpoints exactly what each student needs."
Seria, it seemed, was no exception to his spell.
Since nothing she said was wrong, I readily agreed.
"He is. I like how he's so easygoing normally but gets serious when class starts. Although…"
"Although what?"
Seria tilted her head at me.
I pointed toward Instructor Bronson, off in the distance, scribbling down notes.
"He's hearing every word of this, you know."
"Oh my, really?"
"Yep. Look closely —"
The senses of a transcendent are not to be ignored.
Look carefully, and you could see him pursing the corners of his mouth even now, listening to the praise of his own teaching.
"…It's true. He's smiling."
"See?"
Seria, having caught him in the act, let out an awkward laugh. To be fair, that stern face of his really didn't suit such childish reactions. Still, though.
"He snaps you out of it, sure, but I think it works for him. You know how it is with instructors who are all rigid and stern? It's like… a charm point, I guess."
"Now that you mention it, maybe so."
"Ahem. Cough. Next. Nia Mist, Lumia Catarina. Step up to the sparring grounds."
Perhaps he had overheard our conversation, because Instructor Bronson let out a conspicuous cough and hastily pressed on with the matches.
"Nia Mist. It's her turn."
"Yeah. She's caught my eye quite a bit since the entrance ceremony, too."
Up onto the stage stepped a small, white-haired girl — Nia Mist.
The first of the standouts to complete her practical exam, a prodigy who had recorded the seventh-highest overall score.
Meanwhile, her opponent climbing the stage was a girl with hair the blue of aquamarine — Lumia Catarina.
She was a 5-star character too, wasn't she.
Her ability was Blink, just as she'd announced during yesterday's introductions.
In-game, she was played by abusing her short-cooldown dash to shatter enemy formations or to devour opponents whole in duels. A character with entertainment value to rival Nia's, and control requirements roughly three times harsher — one of the many who spawned legions of 'tryhards' in her image.
"Ooh… a duel between entrance ranks seven and eight!"
"They'd definitely make a good match."
True to what I'd heard, she had placed eighth — directly below Nia — in the entrance exams.
Word around campus was that her looks, plus her bright personality and considerable skill, had been earning her popularity since the very start of the semester.
"That fight's going to end fast."
"It will."
I was genuinely looking forward to watching the two of them clash, but as Seria said, there wouldn't be much to savor. Both of them were the type to close out fights quickly on pure mobility.
They weren't going to grind out a bout the plodding way ordinary warriors do.
"Take your positions. Good. Ready yourselves…"
Both girls settled into place, and Bronson began the count.
"One, two, three… begin."
Whoosh—
And sure enough, the moment Bronson called the start, Nia vanished from sight.
"…As slippery as ever."
Her three-pronged blade pressed close to her body, Lumia swept her gaze in every direction.
It was true — against an opponent of lesser caliber, Nia's Stealth would be impossible to detect, making her a nightmare to fight. No matter what you did, she'd always seize the first strike.
And since whoever took the initiative usually held the advantage in an even fight, her ability was a genuinely lethal threat against your average student.
Whuum—!
"…! [Blink]!"
But Lumia was no 'average' student.
I'll say it again — she was a ranked prodigy, eighth in the entire entrance class.
Bronson had matched them evenly, and she possessed skill that yielded nothing to Nia — along with an ability practically tailor-made to counter her.
Flash!
In the blink of an eye, Lumia crossed the short distance, evaded Nia's ambush, and counterattacked.
"!"
"I'm not exactly a pushover either, you know…!"
Using Blink to snap back to her original spot, Lumia thrust out her arm from the very posture of her teleportation and loosed her rapier.
Thip—
Wrenching her body aside in haste, Nia avoided the lethal blow — but her slow reaction left her forearm skewered.
"Ugh…."
A groan escaped her — perhaps the first wound of this scale she'd ever taken. She kicked off the ground and retreated in a flash, then gripped her dagger and melted back into nothing.
"Okay, I've got a rough idea now…."
Muttering to herself, Lumia put on a confident expression.
But before long, something seemed to click, and in an instant her face flooded with alarm.
"…!!"
The moment that stricken look became visible even to my eyes, she desperately twisted her body and swung her rapier in a wide, sweeping arc.
CLANG—!
The shriek of steel rang out from empty air.
"…No way…."
"She's fighting while cloaked? Incredible…"
Just as someone in the crowd said — Nia had kept her Stealth active and attacked anyway.
That has to be taking a heavy toll on her.
Was her pride stung by taking a wound for the first time in ages? Or, having been hit, was she simply trying to force a quick resolution?
Accepting the risk, Nia began to seize control of the fight.
Ching—!
But it didn't last long.
Whether she'd adapted or not, Lumia began using her ability to deftly dodge and absorb Nia's attacks — and as time wore on, Nia's mana apparently ran dry, because her Stealth peeled away.
"Heh heh. Still rough around the edges."
"……I surrender."
Staring blankly at the rapier resting against her throat, Nia slowly raised a hand.
"Good work, both of you. First — Lumia?"
"Yes, Instructor."
"Excellent. You used your ability to perfection. It's not that you have no shortcomings, but those will fill in naturally with time. That said, your rapier work was a bit disappointing. It was an unavoidable situation, but you took the attacks head-on too often. You're lucky your opponent used daggers — your sword could easily have snapped. Going forward, fight in a way that evades attacks rather than blocking them."
"Understood. Thank you for the guidance."
Lumia bowed with flawless courtesy.
"And… Nia Mist?"
"…Yes."
"Your talent is splendid, but your experience is still lacking. Above all, you need to stay calmer. You know you lost your composure out there, don't you?"
"……."
Nod.
"Right. When an attack gets through, don't panic — fall back, line up another ambush, and the outcome might have been different. Well, filling in gaps like this is exactly what the Academy is for, so don't worry too much. The instructors, myself included, will guide you well. Step down for now and get that injury treated."
"…Yes."
Perhaps deflated, Nia answered timidly.
Then she turned her head and — huh?
…Did she just look at me?
For a moment, I had the distinct feeling our eyes had met. I focused mana into my eyes to look closer, but she was already facing Instructor Bronson, as if nothing had happened.
Was I imagining it?
By the time I'd finished wondering, Nia was already clutching her bleeding arm and retreating. Lumia had apparently offered to walk her off, and the two were heading away together, trading bits of conversation as they went.
Nia seems annoyed by it, honestly.
But with Lumia's talent for making friends, I figured Nia would open up before long.
While I was thinking that, the few matches that remained flew by —
"Next! Seria Levenstein, Lucian Peyote! Step up to the sparring grounds!"
And before I knew it, the final pair had arrived: our turn.