Ibel Adford (1)

Snipers are weak in close quarters. Once the enemy closes in, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it's hard to reload, and you can't run around swinging that heavy, oversized sniper rifle to create distance again. That's why denying the enemy any approach was the standard playstyle. It was common knowledge from countless games and media before my development days.

Reflecting on my memories, even looking back through the entire previous episode, I'd never engaged in melee as a sniper. Each episode had thrown close-range threats my way at times. I'd nearly died plenty— the beast I faced with Ibel during the entrance exam, and Herpen today. One slip-up, and it would've been game over. I wasn't built like a tank with endless stamina, after all.

Honestly, it scared me. I was that kind of loser.

So a week ago, to shore up the sniper's melee weakness, I'd borrowed the Valencia Standard: Roland Noble Swordsmanship manual.

"This is basically the bible of basics."

The book covered foundational knowledge and techniques for swords in general—not just for knights wielding longswords, but greatswords, rapiers, daggers, you name it. Any blade under the sword umbrella. In fact, it's the first textbook first-years in the Knight ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Faculty get. That said everything about its importance.

Of course, I only devoured one section. Daggers.

They weren't covered in much depth—probably because they're more of a shadowy underworld weapon—but the essentials were there. Everything else was irrelevant. Longswords had too much reach to pair with my sniper rifle, and the same went for other weapons.

A quiet clearing in the forest. My usual training spot.

"Let's do this..."

I set the manual aside and gripped my wooden dagger. A week's worth of whittling with a carving knife had given it decent shape. Not a short dagger exactly, more like a proper knife with some length.

From here, the manual wasn't needed anymore. I'd memorized it all. I wasn't aiming for knightly foundations like infusing weapons with mana for auras, or the pinnacle of elemental infusion. Just patching up my melee gap.

My opponent: a straw dummy bundled from branches and grass.

I launched into the routine I'd drilled for a week.

Slash—!Rip—!

My blade struck the dummy's vital spots with precise form. Dagger techniques didn't follow rigid forms. Longswords had efficient sword paths thanks to their reach, but daggers were short-range, so any strike could flow lightning-fast. High variability.

No delay between slash and follow-up. The goal was simple: land lethal hits on vitals. Stab, slash, rake from any of the eight directions. Fists, the back of the blade, even kicks flowed seamlessly like extensions of dagger work.

Thud—!

Pummeling impacts rained without pause. Straw flew into the air. The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠motions should've been tricky to chain, but with my A+ growth efficiency, insights kept coming, and I improved relentlessly.

Then, at some point— whoosh—

"...!"

It happened once. My wild swings and awkward transitions suddenly formed a cohesive shape. Pure coincidence at first, then awareness kicked in. Still crude. I focused practice on reproducing that sword form, and after an hour, I nailed it again.

That's when I got it—stamina aids combat skill acquisition. Animal instinct, basically. Same vibe as learning magic.

"Hoo..."

Just crawling stage, but steady practice would yield results. I eyed the dummy ahead. It was in tatters. Grass scattered on the ground, wood scarred with countless cuts. A tap with my blade tip, and the branches gave out.

I smiled at the text floating in the air.

"Guess I've earned some recognition?"

The status window acknowledged it as skills. Long road ahead, though.

The next day, I headed to the academy hall. Midway through major classes and electives, grabbing lunch with Sedric and Roden.

"That's the guy, right? The one who got carried by Siel."

"Yeah, wish I could score ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠like that~ Free A's on easy mode, lmao~"

"Freeloading like that? I'd be too ashamed to show my face."

I popped some smoked meat from my bento into my mouth, eavesdropping on the students' obligatory chatter—it'd feel off without it now.

They were spot on. Our team scored high. Professor Mason overlooked the demon appearance and gave full 20 points to everyone for slaying the beast. Surface reason, anyway. There's more beneath.

In the original story, the player survives the demon fight. Mason assigns scores, but—plot twist—the footage glitches out! Demon mana interference blanks the signal. Faculty only gets fragments from team reports. They vaguely grasp you held off a demon and a beast. Impressive enough for full marks. Now, with the demon's corpse? No reason not to max us out.

We rocketed into the top ranks.

Artina Academy fuels competition by plastering real-time scores on the massive Magic Tower bulletin board.

Heading to Magic Faculty classes, the buzz around the tower made sense. Staring at the board, I was floored. Magic Faculty #2 overnight.

"Sigh..."

Higher rank didn't shift perceptions. Just more aggro for "Siel's carry." Now topped with "audacious commoner shoving out Princess Elena Valencia for #2." Instant notoriety. Elena herself seemed unbothered.

Then Sedric asked over lunch, "Kyle, sparring in two weeks, right?"

"Yeah."

"Aren't you pumped? Wonder who my mentor'll be...? You thought about it?"

"Eh, not really. It's random anyway."

Sedric meant the next episode's event. Chapter 1, Act 3: Mentee Magic Duel. Second-years mentor first-years to build senior-junior bonds and impart lessons. Pairs by grades: mentors teach lacking magic and combat basics to their mentees. Mentees then enter a tournament-style duel, earning eval points by placement.

Sounds one-sided for seniors, but it's a class for them too—points based on mentee growth. Even low-rank mentees can shine with visible progress. Win the duel with your mentee? Massive prestige among second-years.

Magic Faculty #1 spot? Star-studded honor.

In the original...

I recalled the plot. No demon here—instead, a student contracts one for power. Caitlin Fairon, current second-year Magic #1 noble lady's mentee. Uses dirty tricks to win, starts unnoticed, but later loses control and rampages. Climax: player duel vs. demon-powered scrub.

Problem is, this is nightmare mode. Patterns complexify, phases split. I crammed meat thinking of the diffs. Still far off. Mentors not announced yet.

"Roden, you...?"

"Me? Any senior deigning to guide me is a blessing!"

"R-Right..."

I shoveled food listening to Roden and Sedric. The smoked meat was old—kinda tough.

Three days later, the mentee duel roster dropped. Early morning at the Magic Tower board. Hundreds of names crammed in. First- and second-years swarmed, hunting pairs.

I checked post-classes, afternoon. Textbooks in arms, heading to the forest.

"Alright, let's see."

Honestly, excited. Second-year Magic Faculty meant battle-tested talent. Top 50? Real combat advice, maybe even agency scouts.

I scanned the list.

"Uh...?"

I froze.