Deleting the Midterm Exam at the 56th Hour
After everything that had happened, time had steadily—yes, steadily—passed.
I spent every possible moment sparring with Rie, refining the swordsmanship I had finally begun to grasp. The technique had stayed stagnant for so long; now that it was starting to move, I wanted nothing more than to push it even further.
Defense had reached a level so flawless that everyone around me—me and the others alike—could see it. Rie no longer needed to hold back much of her full-strength strikes. My breathing stayed steady, my body moved with precision, and I was even landing light counterattacks.
But…
“Aiyot!”
“Still too slow.”
The instant I swung, Rie would click her tongue and lightly slap the back of my hand with her blade.
At that speed, a full offensive was pointless. It was better to do nothing at all.
Honestly, I was furious. I had poured over a month and a half of insane effort—skipping every single line of my thesis, every night of sleep, every moment of fun.
And yet I still couldn’t keep up. That was far too harsh a verdict!
Sometimes a little encouragement would have been nice, something warm and encouraging, something that made me feel like I was actually improving.
“Truly slow. You should be hit, Rie.”
“…Even Senior Charlotte is saying that. You’re taking real damage today too.”
“I’m just speaking the truth. Please accept it, Lucian.”
“Who wouldn’t accept it? I’m just exhaling because my limits have become painfully obvious. Ah, and…”
The senior who had been silently watching me suddenly spoke up, hesitantly.
“Lucian. When did you last get a proper sword strike in? Two months ago, wasn’t it?”
“Roughly. I pushed it back because I couldn’t do it outside the academy, and after entering Minerva, the only times I’ve managed anything was with Rie’s help—so yeah, that’s about it.”
“Then it’s not a limit. It’s talent.”
“Eh?”
“It’s not bad at all. It’s actually great. You’ve been blocking every single one of Rie’s attacks.”
“Blocking isn’t everything, though, Senior Charlotte.”
“Blocking isn’t everything, but it’s not useless either. It’s good. You’ve done well, Lucian.”
I felt a little better, like I was being cheered on by a kindergarten-age niece.
Still… she was an elf, and elves have such sharp eyes. Maybe she really saw some spark of hope in my swordsmanship. That was a small relief, at least.
In any case, today’s sparring session with Rie had ended.
When I had first entered the academy, I had been the weakest Literary Division student. Now I could wield swordsmanship solid enough to cut through not only the Literary Division but even the Martial Division peers without breaking a sweat.
Normally I hated crowds, so I had turned down every single peer spar until now.
But two weeks ago Rie had started accepting challenges from the other students, needing different styles and new experiences. The results had been a few wins and a few draws.
Offense was still my weakness, while defense was so unbreakable that no one could pierce it.
So wins came when I somehow landed a hit even with mediocre strength, and draws happened when neither of us landed a clean strike.
“And, Lucian?”
“Hm?”
“From now on you should probably take some time off sparring. Or at least limit it to one hour a day.”
“That… ah, right. Damn, I completely forgot.”
Recently I had been too busy—sword practice with Rie, thesis prep with Senior Charlotte, and using those excuses to build connections.
So the upcoming midterms had slipped my mind entirely. The accursed midterms!
Rie nodded in understanding, then let out a long sigh.
She must have been worried about the midterms. Why was an academy genius acting like this?
“Administration is so annoying. I hate having to do it.”
“Still your weak point? I’ve helped you a lot lately.”
“I know, but I just hate it. It’s too hard.”
“Hard, sure. But if you just accept the necessity and understand the structure, it would be way easier.”
I had never been someone who only took from others. My pride was still intact, and I always repaid any favor I received.
So I had occasionally helped Rie with a few lectures that were giving her trouble, and the one that caused her the most pain was, of course, administration.
She was an academy genius, but her real strength lay in swordsmanship. Sitting at a desk for hours—or days—arguing over perfect structures was simply not her thing.
Still, I cheered her on. She would manage it.
In truth, although Rie despised and struggled with administration, her grades weren’t at the bottom. They ranked among the top few in the entire year.
She had simply wanted someone to handle every single part perfectly, which is why she had asked the first-year administration top student—me—for help.
“Honestly, I might have been a little scared if you had done administration perfectly too… along with everything else. Rie.”
“Eh? Why? Why would I be scary?”
“No… it’s a little unnatural. How can a person be perfect in every single area? If there’s even one weak spot, they’re human. A machine… anyway, human.”
“…Perfect is good, though, isn’t it? Pretty, smart, strong, and only looking out for one person. There’s nothing bad about that for Lucian, right? Or is that the part you don’t like?”
Saying it that way made me feel like I had suddenly turned into a bad guy—or a weirdo.
I had no idea what to say, so I was struggling when Charlotte, who had been sitting beside me swinging her legs, tilted her head and spoke up.
“Why are you suddenly talking about Lucian? What does ‘there’s nothing bad about it’ even mean?”
I had slipped up. I had been warned not to talk carelessly in front of kids.
Rie and I both looked guilty.
Charlotte was staring at both of us, waiting for an explanation of what we had just heard.
In the end, I had to explain it to the pure elf princess in a way that was at least a little clear.
Because Rie was so outstanding, there had to be some weak points that others wouldn’t resent and would accept as “someone like us.”
“…Being outstanding is good. I learned that too. Being above everyone else is the best.”
That part would probably need to be taught again later.
Being above everyone else? Of course it was good. It felt amazing. Nothing could be more satisfying.
But on the flip side, what if someone fell from that position for some reason?
People would become even stronger than before and would step all over the fallen one even harder.
They would feel satisfaction and joy by crushing the one who used to be above them.
Senior Charlotte, as an elf princess, probably had to deal with that kind of envy too.
Being a princess and an elf didn’t mean everyone would see you with kind eyes.
I hoped not, but the world didn’t always bend to what I wanted.
That was why I had surrounded myself with people who understood me.
“So… I’m a little envious of that perfection of yours, Rie. Not like you, who’s great at both swordsmanship and magic.”
“Now that you mention it, there’s also the magic track. Any progress on that?”
“I hoped there might be some growth like with swordsmanship, but it’s impossible. Even the part where you have to think—when your head’s not working, you can’t even eat chocolate properly. It’s killing me in every way.”
Administration, history, philosophy—those were easy for me. I had the ability, and I had forced myself to dive into theory just to hide the fact that I was a complete idiot in real combat.
Swordsmanship and magic were torture because I had to do them myself, but that didn’t mean I was weak. It just meant I wasn’t born for that.
‘Professor Raven… I can still see that disappointed sigh in my eyes.’
I hadn’t failed to understand magic. My theory was actually perfect. Even when I solved the formulas and calculated the mana flow, I could predict how fast others would manifest it.
But the moment I tried to cast it myself, everything vanished in a puff of mana.
“…I still don’t get it. You can do everything, but you still can’t cast magic?”
“That’s exactly why I’m doing this, Senior Charlotte.”
“There’s food in front of you. A fork and knife, you know how to use them, you know what the food is. You just need to eat. But you can’t. It’s the same as if you couldn’t eat.”
Saying it like that made even my stupid self feel even stupider.
I had no comeback, so I just squatted down and tapped the floor of the training hall with my forehead.
Rie rushed over to warn her, “Senior, you can’t say things like that!”—showing the danger of fact-based bullying—but Charlotte only tilted her head.
Of course she would. Elves naturally thought of archery and magic first.
Since most elves lived in forests, spears felt cumbersome. Using a bow or magic from the treeline was far more effective than drawing a sword.
Because of that, elves had developed those two arts enormously long ago.
“Senior Charlotte, do you cast magic well?”
“Me? I don’t know. All the other elves around me clap every time I do anything.”
Was she actually talented enough to get claps, or was it just because she was a princess?
Curiosity got the better of me and I asked without thinking, “Senior, can you show us magic once?”
Charlotte blinked, then asked, “What magic?”
“Um… something like a mild, low-risk spell with a bit of calculation. Not an attack, just something safe but complex.”
“Flight magic would be perfect, right? It’s not an attack, so it’s safe, but it requires a decent amount of calculation.”
“That sounds fine. Charlotte. Did you hear? Flight magic…”
Swoosh.
Before I finished speaking, Charlotte had already lifted her feet from the ground.
I and Rie had asked about flight magic exactly five seconds earlier.
Even if someone prepared perfectly, it normally took at least a full minute.
Yet the elf senior right in front of me was already floating in the air with a cheerful “Heehee.”
“…”
That was why they all said “ken, ken” when they saw me. I was feeling pretty pathetic.
I was getting battered by Rie with swordsmanship and by Charlotte with magic.
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