vs. Seria (2)
Seria Levenstein.
Eldest daughter of the Levenstein family, the Sword Ducal House of the Rayon Empire.
From childhood, she had displayed a prodigious talent for the sword — the darling of a generation, hailed as having no equal among her peers.
For all that brilliance, she was also graced with humility and relentless, painstaking effort, and so she was spoken of as the finest up-and-coming blade of her age, a prodigy lacking in absolutely nothing.
Riding a wave of everyone's expectations, she had swept forward unbroken — until recently, when she found herself face to face with a towering wall.
Lucian Peyote.
The ash-haired boy walking beside her right now, heading toward the sparring grounds.
The rising star who had snatched away the top seat that some had already begun calling hers, guaranteed as fact.
Gulp.
Can I actually win?
Seria swallowed hard as she studied him — walking beside her toward their duel without so much as a crack in that composed expression.
Honestly, at first she'd assumed he'd taken the top rank through sheer luck.
Granted, his physical abilities and talent were a notch above hers — but Seria had years of honed technique and steadily accumulated experience behind her. If they matched each other on pure skill alone, she would win.
That was what she had believed, and up until only yesterday, that belief had been unshakable.
But.
…In front of the entire classroom, no less…
Ever since he had briefly unveiled his ability in front of everyone, her conviction had been thoroughly obliterated.
That power he had cast over the whole classroom — what if he unleashed it entirely on a single person, with nothing held back?
The mere thought was terrifying.
The time he landed a hit on the Kingdom's Greatest Sword during the practical exam — that wasn't just luck either.
She had told herself the result had come only because her opponent had been badly off guard and fortune had smiled on him. It hadn't been. She'd even grumbled inwardly — what kind of greatest sword in the kingdom loses an exchange to a first-year? — but in truth, it was precisely because he was called the greatest that he'd lasted as long as he did, even caught completely off guard.
And yet — just as in the entrance exam — this was a Lucian who had grown far beyond even that day. Could she withstand the Illusion he would unfold now?
…It's going to be hard.
It wounded her pride to admit it, but she simply couldn't picture herself coming out on top.
Analyze it.
She acknowledged, of course, that he was someone precious to her. Their meeting had been a coincidence, yes — but she'd been drawn in by his singular strangeness, they'd grown close quickly, and she'd learned so much from him.
But still. Still.
She couldn't help the knot of inferiority that twisted in her chest whenever she thought of him, surging up from some hidden place to overtake her.
"Take your positions. Ready yourselves."
Before she knew it, they had arrived at the sparring grounds. Standing face to face with Lucian from quite a distance away, she heard the voice of the Kingdom's Greatest Sword — no, Instructor Bronson.
Gulp.
Where will he come from? How will he move?
Tension made her grip her sword tighter than usual as she glared at Lucian, waiting for the signal.
I can't trust my senses.
And as she stood there, the absurdity of it struck her anew. What kind of ridiculous ability was that, even by any measure?
Among Seria's many gifts, her keenest — alongside her swordsmanship — was her unusually sharp perception.
But now her sharpest blade had been taken out of her hand, and she felt utterly lost. No — losing a weapon alone would have been a mercy. This was like fighting blindfolded with earplugs in.
"One… two…"
While she grumbled, Instructor Bronson's counting drifted over, slow and unhurried.
Huumm—
She steeled her nerves for the battle about to begin and poured mana into her blade.
Her beloved sword answered, resonating into a deep, lustrous navy.
It was a dangerous power that cleaved through anything it touched without resistance — but against Lucian, she had no leeway to hold anything back.
After all, hadn't he told her to use her ability freely?
Which means he's confident he can handle it.
This was not an opponent to go easy on. The Academy's professors of healing could reattach even severed limbs, so as long as neither of them died, everything would be treatable no matter what happened.
"Three — begin!"
By the time she'd finished steeling her resolve, the instructor gave the signal, and Seria's eyes flew wide open, tracking Lucian's every movement.
Illusion, or real? Probably an illusion, right? Then when exactly did it start?
The moment she thought it, she realized how pointless the exercise was — but what else was there to do?
…Isn't this a bit much?
She knew an enemy was closing in on her, and there was nothing she could do about it.
…Fine. Whatever happens, happens.
Shaaaak—
After agonizing far longer than she should have, Seria finally resolved to fight the enemy she could actually see.
It was almost certainly a phantom — but if it wasn't, she had no other option anyway.
Shff—
Just as I thought.
Sure enough, Lucian was bisected top to bottom without even attempting to block her descending blade.
Ordinarily, no matter how little resistance something offered, there was always a feeling to cutting — and that feeling was absent.
An illusion.
Swiiish—!
The instant she registered it, Seria dropped low.
She hurled herself toward the spot where Lucian was least likely to be — the very front, where his phantom had stood only moments before — spun on her heel, and with a shff—! swept her sword in a great arc behind her.
Huh?
Wait. A shff?
Something was wrong. She'd felt the sensation of something being cut.
She'd slashed empty air — why would she feel that…
Oh, no… don't tell me…!
Had she just cut down Lucian?
Her gaze trembled as it moved — and there he was, split from left shoulder to waist, crumpled on the ground.
Th-this is…
"Lucian! You idiot!"
She sprinted to him in a panic. A pained groan reached her ears. Her heartbeat spiked, and her thoughts refused to form.
"Hey! Get up! Get up!"
She'd forgotten this was even a duel — she hauled his body up and shook him.
"Seri…a."
His voice came out in ragged strains.
"Lucian…"
At the sight of him, tears surged up before she could stop them.
"You idiot… I told you not to go easy on me. So why — why would you do this… Just hold on. The Academy's medical facilities are the finest there are, they said so. Right. Instructor! Instructor, please, hurry—!"
Seria whipped her head around desperately toward Instructor Bronson —
Huh?
And there he sat, resting his chin on his hand, watching her with an impossible composure — in a situation where the Academy's top student might well be dying. Her body froze solid.
…What?
Nothing about this made sense.
Seria's brilliant mind whirred into overdrive.
Don't tell me…
The tears stopped mid-stream. In the space of a heartbeat, she arrived at the answer — and with a look of dawning disbelief, she looked down at the Lucian cradled against her chest. And then—
Grin.
"Lucian…!!"
Sure enough — the boy in her arms was smiling.
"Got you."
The blood-soaked phantom grinned at her, and then—
Clack—!
Far across the arena, the fingers attached to his fallen left arm gave a flick and let out a bright, snapping crack.
Shaaaaak—!
"…!!"
At the same moment, the warmth flooding from the Lucian in her arms vanished — and she felt something being swung at her from behind.
FWUMP!
Seria flung herself forward in desperation.
"Wow. That's our Seria. Dodging that?"
From behind her came a voice that, for some reason, grated on her like nothing else.
"Luciaaan…"
Shame at being fooled so completely, fury, a surge of wounded pride — every raw emotion at once came boiling up.
Grrr—
Seria clenched her teeth with a ferocity unbecoming of her.
Not even sparing a thought for the dirt caked into her clothes, she squared her stance in an instant, gripped her sword hard, and launched herself at Lucian.
"Ouch. Was that too harsh?"
"Shut uuUUUP!!"
She swung her blade, brimming with rage, at the boy shrugging his shoulders so infuriatingly.
Shff—
The sensation came, his body was cleaved apart, and hot blood spattered her cheek.
But she knew better now. This was an illusion too.
FWOOSH—!
"Khh…!"
Sure enough — a sharp edge drove into her chest from behind.
"Now you're actually trying."
She turned her head to find Lucian standing there, his sword buried in her body.
But this had to be an illusion as well. The pain was so vivid that steam escaped her lips — but he would never actually try to kill her.
Fweee—
Sure enough, the moment she swung at him, he melted away as if he'd never been standing there.
Bonk!
Then she felt someone flick her squarely on the forehead.
Was he mocking her?
She spun back toward him with furious eyes — but this time, not even a trace of him remained to be seen.
"UWAAAAAAAH!!"
She swung her sword brimming with sheer frustration, but all it did was cleave innocent air; not even the faintest feeling of contact came back.
"Lucian! Lucian! LuciAAAN!!"
It didn't matter, though. If she couldn't hit him, then she would simply keep cutting until she did.
With nothing but that single-minded conviction, she swung her mana-flooded sword through the empty air — swung, and swung, and swung again.
Somehow her emotions had burned hotter than usual — but the swordsmanship she had trained without pause since childhood carved out flawless arcs even with her reason clouded.
Yet for all that, her blade split nothing but empty air.
Whish— whish—
Swiii—
With every stroke she made, cadets vanished from the stands; Instructor Bronson, overseeing the match, vanished as well.
Then her sight went dark. Sounds stopped coming. The faint scent of dirt and sweat disappeared — and before she knew it, the wind was gone, and even her mana was beyond feeling.
"AAAAAAAGH!!"
She screamed herself hoarse in pure desperation — but the sound her throat should have produced never reached her ears.
All she knew was that something had torn in her throat for the sake of screaming. Whether she had actually made a sound, she had no way of telling.
She swung her sword — but she couldn't even be certain she was doing it correctly.
Thus she swam through the void for what felt like an age, and it was only when fear finally began to creep in that she understood.
Lucian had severed every one of her senses.
Ah.
"Stop…"
When even the question of whether she truly existed had begun to rise in her, at last the fierce emotions that had fueled her burned out entirely, and reason returned — and Seria collapsed to the ground.
No — had she really collapsed?
She couldn't feel a thing, so she had no way of knowing.
How much time passed like that, she couldn't say. Her mind was an utter blank, when—
"Ta-daaah."
With the voice, her senses came flooding back.
The pitch-black world regained its color. The texture of the ground pressed against her. Murmuring voices reached her ears, and she felt the cold of steel against her neck.
"Lucian…"
"Was that too much? Uh… sorry, I guess?"
She lifted her head to find the ash-haired boy who had driven his sword into her, wearing that same sharp, blade-like face — and yet apologizing with a completely stupid expression.
"Honestly…"
"Haha…"
They stared at each other in mutual awkwardness for a moment —
"That's enough! The winner is Lucian Peyote!"
From far away, Instructor Bronson's voice announced the end of the duel.
Ah.
So that maddening duel was finally over.
Thud—!
"Haha…"
All the tension drained out of Seria at once, and she flopped back onto the dirt with a hollow laugh.
Only after her head had cooled did she finally manage to grasp it.
…That she, painfully, had been toyed with — completely and utterly one-sidedly.
No matter how strong I get, I guess there are people in this world you just don't mess with.
For all her expectations going in, somehow that was the only lesson the duel left behind.