The Path Forward
“Heh heh….”
Bronson Clyne let out an awkward chuckle as he looked at this term's top and second-ranked students.
What on earth am I supposed to say to them?
As an instructor, he ought to offer them some kind of advice—but he honestly couldn't bring himself to do it.
The biggest reason, of course, was that the duel had unfolded in a way completely unlike any ordinary bout.
They never even crossed swords once….
From the moment the duel began, the top-ranked student, Lucian Peyote, had simply stood in the same spot the entire time.
A fair amount of time had passed, yet all the second-ranked student, Seria Levenstein, had done was swing her sword wildly at empty air, as if possessed by fury.
Lucian had merely stood still and watched her, then in the final moment walked up to the exhausted girl and leveled his sword at her. That was all.
From any outsider's perspective, it was nothing short of a one-sided mockery of a fight.
Normally, an instructor would point out weaknesses through direct combat—but there was simply nothing to work with here.
“Wh-what on earth was that…?”
“That's what the top rank looks like, huh….”
Even the cadets who had come to watch with such high expectations for a duel between the top two ranks could only react in stunned disbelief.
“Wait, isn't the top rank going easy on him, though?”
“Lady Seria is getting handled like that? What kind of monster is this guy?”
At a glance, it looked like Seria had flailed around like a madwoman and collapsed all on her own.
But these were cadets who had briefly experienced Lucian's ability just yesterday, and they couldn't quite bring themselves to say so.
“For us to beat Lady Seria, we'd have to gang up on her all at once—so how the hell are we supposed to deal with him?”
“And that's without her even using her ability. Turns out the top rank really isn't something just anyone can hold.”
The noble-born cadets, who knew full well what Seria was normally capable of, could only gape in sheer shock.
Listening to the cadets' reactions, Bronson privately found himself agreeing—then quickly pulled himself together and turned his head toward the boy and the girl.
Still, I ought to say something.
“First off, good work to you both. That was… a rather hard-to-comment-on duel, but let me point out a few visible issues before we move on. Seria Levenstein?”
“…Yes.”
She answered with a strangely hollow expression.
Her soul's left her body.
He didn't know what kind of battle she'd been fighting in there, but it had clearly been no easy one.
Expressing his regret inwardly, Bronson opened his mouth.
“First, your swordsmanship is flawless for your age—practically perfect. I imagine that's the result of steady training since childhood. Am I right?”
“…Ah. Yes. That's correct.”
With a bit of gentle prompting, Seria seemed to come back to her senses.
Bronson looked at her and got to the heart of the matter.
“Superb swordsmanship, an outstanding ability—all of it good. Your ability is a dangerous one to use carelessly in a duel, but even without it, you could subdue most cadets with ease. However… your opponent aside, your emotional control was poor. I'd like you to keep that in mind.”
“…Understood.”
Ah.
Watching the exchange, Lucian thought to himself.
That's my skill's doing.
The reason she'd been so unusually unable to control her emotions was his skill, Emotion Amplification.
Well, no harm in letting it slide.
He could have spoken up, but he didn't think Instructor Bronson was actually wrong, so he simply let it go.
“And Lucian Peyote.”
“Yes, Instructor.”
Meanwhile, Instructor Bronson called his name.
“Um….”
Bronson wore the expression of a man at a loss for what to say.
Only after agonizing over it for a long while did he finally open his mouth.
“…First, as you well know, I have no real issues to point out from this duel. You understand that much, I trust?”
“Of course.”
Lucian answered with a wry smile.
He'd just stood there with his hands in his pockets spectating, then drawn his sword at the very end—what advice could anyone possibly give?
He had briefly considered showing Bronson the same illusion he'd shown Seria, but blocking out a person's senses devoured far too much mana for that to be feasible.
“So instead, I'll give you what I felt during your entrance exam, along with whatever advice comes to mind right now. That suit you?”
“Of course.”
“Good. Then let's start with your biggest problem: you're terrible at concealing your presence.”
“…My presence?”
“That's right.”
Bronson's explanation went like this.
Trained fighters can sense presence even with their eyes shut and ears plugged—through the displacement of air as a body moves, the flow of mana, killing intent, and the like.
During the entrance exam, the way Bronson had pinpointed Lucian's location had also been through his presence, apparently.
He advised that if Lucian intended to keep fighting the way he did now, he would need to practice concealing his presence completely, the way assassins did.
“Thank you.”
So that's what it was.
He'd been wondering how the man had located him back then—turns out it was something like that.
The game had no fantastical elements like “presence,” so he'd figured simply cutting off sound cues was enough.
Apparently not, though.
Air currents, mana… he could cover those with Illusion too, but doing so would burn through mana at an absurd rate.
Presence, huh… Maybe I need to pick up a skill like 'Ambush' or something.
As Lucian was mulling over what to do, Bronson continued.
“And one more thing.”
“Yes?”
There's more?
When he looked up at his instructor, the man was speaking with a serious expression.
“First off, Lucian—do you plan to keep fighting the way you do now going forward?”
“Yes.”
Lucian answered without a moment's hesitation.
Originally, he'd planned to take the swordsman skill tree in the early game.
But using mana had turned out to be so fun that he'd over-invested in it, and now he had no trouble maintaining Illusions for extended periods.
In group battles that might be one thing, but in one-on-one situations, letting the enemy close the distance was more dangerous—this style was both safer and stronger.
And above all, like he'd said, using his ability was just plain fun.
As he grew more adept and his stats climbed, the potential growth was going to be enormous—how was he supposed to resist that?
Mostly, I'm dying to find out what the ultimate skill is.
“Hmm. So that's how it is, then.”
Hearing his unmistakably firm answer, Instructor Bronson nodded slowly.
“Honestly speaking, your swordsmanship isn't anything great. I was planning to call that out, but… if you keep fighting like you did today, that hardly seems worth mentioning. So—how would you feel about changing your primary weapon?”
“That doesn't sound bad at all. Then… would daggers be good?”
Daggers suffered from short reach, but in terms of portability they were the undisputed champion of weapons.
With almost no attack scaling, they instead granted a huge boost to the agility stat, making them essential for building an assassin character.
Since he'd need to conceal his presence as much as possible and close in fast to kill his targets anyway, daggers seemed like a natural fit.
“Daggers would do fine, but what about a short sword?”
“A short… sword?”
But Bronson recommended a different weapon.
A short sword—literally a small blade. Its portability was decent, though inferior to a dagger's.
In exchange, you get a bit of attack scaling.
But its agility scaling was mediocre and its damage scaling only middling—use it wrong and your character ended up master of neither—which was why it had never been a popular pick.
And yet.
For me, though…
He had a feeling he could handle a short sword beautifully.
As he stood there quietly, Bronson went on with his explanation.
“Yes, a short sword. You're not going to be out doing assassinations, so there's no real need for a dagger, and when it comes to stealthy movement your ability more than covers you—I'd say the short sword is the better choice. With a dagger, if your proficiency isn't high enough, you can lose a target you meant to kill.”
A short sword, by contrast, had real killing power—so even with lower proficiency, taking down enemies became considerably easier.
The fact that it outperformed daggers in close-quarters emergencies was a bonus on top.
“You're right… a short sword suits me far better.”
“Good. It's not a common choice of weapon, but for talent like yours, it's a perfect fit. Short sword technique shares a great deal with dagger work, so I'll assign you a dedicated instructor.”
“Understood. Thank you.”
After a few more brief exchanges…
“That's it for today's class! Anyone with errands is free to leave the grounds, and the rest of you may train on your own or spar with your fellow cadets. Dismissed!”
With that, Instructor Bronson wrapped up the lesson.
“Hey, what're you all doing now?”
“Gonna look around the academy. There's still so much unfamiliar stuff here.”
“I'm going to go gawk at the Magic and Healing Department kids. I heard that place is a zombie den, keke.”
“Ooh, take me with you. Zombies are scariest when they're networking, after all. Those kids pull all-nighters studying—they're guaranteed to drop leftovers from their connections later.”
With that, the cadets began filing out of the training grounds one by one.
Most of them, it seemed, were off to enjoy some leisure time.
Guess the first day really is a slack-off day.
But that was by no means a good choice.
As Lucian's obscenely luxurious dorm made abundantly clear, Union Academy offered a staggering number of perks tied directly to performance.
The way students were sorted into ability-based classes after midterms was one such example. If you wanted a comfortable academy life, it paid to put in the work early and widen the gap.
“Lucian.”
“Ah, Seria.”
“What are you going to do with your free time?”
Just as he was about to head off, Seria, standing beside him, asked.
Emotion Amplification had been deactivated and she'd gotten her apology in, so perhaps it was little wonder her mood didn't look too bad.
“I was thinking of getting fitted for a new weapon.”
Any ordinary student would need to grind away at their training right about now—but Lucian was an exception.
He already held the top rank, along with an utterly overwhelming stat line.
“Ah, switching to a short sword?”
“Yeah.”
Above all, his future build had just been redefined.
He figured he'd sort out his weapon first before worrying about leveling.
“Right… that does suit you. Hm. …I've got time to spare—want me to come along?”
At his matter-of-fact answer, Seria put on a vaguely disappointed look, then made the offer.
“Up to you. Though there won't be much for you to do if you tag along? You don't exactly need any new gear.”
Her sword was one she'd used and treasured since childhood, and fighting as she did—relying on her quick blade and mobility thanks to the nature of her ability—she had no need for cumbersome equipment.
“I can just window-shop. I was thinking of picking up a new pair of shoes anyway. And we're having dinner together.”
“Hmm… then I suppose I will.”
Lucian considered for a moment, then nodded readily.
Most cadets would have been told to train, spar, or go hunting—but she'd manage all that just fine on her own.
“Hmm? You're buying that? There are plenty of better ones.”
“Everything else is overpriced for no reason. This one's got the best value for money.”
“I could cover the cost, you know….”
“Don't bother. You're already footing the bill for all our meals—the rest too, on top of that. Besides, if you start out with something too good, you never actually get better.”
Afterward, they headed to the armory within the academy and purchased a serviceable short sword.
That was the excuse he'd given Seria—but the real reason he hadn't bought an expensive blade was something else entirely.
Because I'm going to farm my endgame gear separately later.
Buying something expensive now would just be a waste of money.
Granted, the trip would require traveling a long way, so he'd have to wait for the break—but there was no event looming that would make top-tier gear absolutely essential before then, so this was the smartest choice.
“Steak again today? You really love your meat, huh.”
“…Swordsmen burn through a lot of energy, so we need to eat well.”
“Aha. My apologies for being a fake swordswoman, then.”
“You should be sorry.”
“…?”
After that, he had a slightly early dinner with Seria.
“What are you doing after this, Seria?”
“I have a few things to take care of, so I'm heading back early today.”
“Busy life. Doesn't it wear you out?”
“I'm used to it by now—it's fine. What about you?”
“Just going to get a bit of a light workout in.”
Lucian said, drawing out his newly purchased short sword to show her.
Seria's face showed a flicker of something like disappointment, but she bid him farewell without any lingering regret.
“Then I guess we part here. See you around.”
“Yeah. See you tomorrow, Seria.”
Having parted ways with Seria, Lucian headed back to the training grounds where the class had been held.
Since it doubled as a practice space for the Swordsmanship Department students, his plan was to give his new short sword a rough test run and head back.
Jogging along the way to loosen up his body in advance, he reached his destination in no time.
And then—
“…Top rank.”
He found himself face to face with a white-haired girl.
“Hm?”
When Lucian, caught off guard, asked her to repeat herself, the girl—Nia Mist—leveled her daggers at him and declared, with grave determination:
“…I'm challenging you to a duel.”
“…Huh?”
Wait, what.
What on earth is going on here?