Midterm Exam and the First Sparks of Rivalry
It was the kind of day that previewed the ultimate judgment for some, a preview of the final verdict that felt profoundly chilling. The midterm exam season at Minerva Academy had finally begun.
Some students had clearly stayed up all night, their eyes hollowed out as they muttered “wooow.” They looked like zombies, barely functioning. Others, it seemed, had simply given up entirely, showing up with the same worn-out expression as every other day.
Today’s lectures would be history and swordsmanship.
I stepped into the history classroom and found Professor Milaze already there, methodically distributing exam sheets at each desk. She sat waiting with perfect poise.
“Come in, everyone. You all look so excited already. We haven’t even taken the exam yet.”
“Professor… please, I’m begging you, let there be almost no economics questions…”
“That won’t help. The questions for the midterm have already been set, after all.”
Despite the collective wails from her classmates, Professor Milaze showed no trace of hesitation.
In fact, at this difficulty level, most students would likely end up with such high scores that the grading scale would become impossible to separate. Of course, that clause about “students who prepared seriously” applied, but that was the only real safeguard.
“All set? Then clear everything from your desks. Time limit is fifty minutes. Any student who finishes early may leave. Before you go, make sure you wrote your name correctly on the answer sheet, and confirm with the person who answered it that it’s right.”
She gave the simple rules, glanced at her watch, and when the clock struck exactly on the hour, she spread her arms wide and declared, “Begin!”
The moment the words left her lips, everyone flipped their papers and started scanning the questions.
“Ugh…” “Argh…”
Before long, groans of defeat echoed from every corner.
Professor Milaze was a good person, no doubt, but she was not the type to hand out points easily. In fact, her grading was so rigorous—bordering on merciless—that most people could only solve the problems they had carefully reviewed and taken detailed notes on during her lectures.
Scratch-scratch-scratch.
The only sound filling the room was the steady scratching of pens.
To Professor Milaze’s delight, that sound alone brought a warm smile to her face. Her students, however, were anything but cheerful; they were desperately trying to think of even one more answer they could write down.
Some bit their lips, others drummed their fingers on the desk or shook their legs so hard the whole table rattled.
Even in a fantasy world, people under tension did the same things.
In that atmosphere, I finished the final question, set my pen down, and checked the clock. Only twenty minutes had passed.
I stood up, holding my answer sheet, and the classmates still working around me looked up in surprise.
“What are you staring at? I figured it out ahead of time. I’m definitely the number-one.”
My talent was one thing, but I was so confident in history that it felt like my specialty. So for this exam I used my ability zero times and solved every question with pure effort alone.
I wrote perfect answers for all but one— that single tricky problem was the only moment of uncertainty, though I still knew the answer.
“Impressive, Lucian. You’re only thirty minutes in and you’re already finished.”
“I think twenty minutes is plenty, Professor. I got them all.”
“Are you sure? If you submit now you won’t be able to change anything. This is your only chance. I’ll let you go back to your seat to double-check if you want.”
Despite her offer, I simply placed the paper on Professor Milaze’s desk as my final submission.
She nodded, as if she had expected exactly that, then checked that my name was written and that it was indeed mine before declaring the exam over.
The first midterm exam had gone well. I had taken it without a single use of my ability, yet I had clearly understood every question and given the right answers.
Apparently, diligent preparation does not betray you. Studying history had paid off beautifully, leaving me in an excellent mood.
Now all that remained was the swordsmanship exam, and today’s tests would be complete.
If I were my old self, I would have muttered, “Ah, it’s over. I’m definitely at the bottom.” Thanks to the academy genius girl, however, I now knew I could properly wield a sword. The next test—swordsmanship—was therefore something I was actually looking forward to.
With a little time left before the sword exam, I settled my thoughts and took a moment to stretch my body before heading to the training ground.
There, I found several literary-division classmates and even some martial-division students who had clearly come to the same conclusion.
I loosened up, gripped the hilt, and swung the sword exactly as Rie had taught me—downward, then side to side, then diagonally downward again.
Simple attacks, but without fancy technique their power was devastating, as she had said. The gap between me and Rie in swordsmanship was so vast that words alone could not describe it. That was why her advice and scolding had become the very blood and flesh of my training.
“Ridel.”
“Hey, Locke. Did the exam go well?”
“Not really. I bombed it. I guess I just don’t have talent in the academic side.”
“Maybe you didn’t even try to get interested? You’re way more into swordsmanship than anything else.”
When I said that, Locke scratched his head and muttered, “Yeah, that’s true.”
Locke had a strange quirk: if something didn’t spark his interest, he could never master it. His hidden talent only awakened when his heart was pulled toward something, yet in areas that failed to ignite his passion, it was like poison.
“Try taking interest in other things too. You know your dream is to become an important knight like your father, right? But that won’t happen just because you’re good with a sword, will it?”
“…I know. I know too well. I can’t become a great knight just by swinging a sword well. After this exam I finally realized how clueless I was.”
“Even so, you can still do well. There’s plenty of time. You’re only a first-year, and this is just the first semester. Even if you try now, you can still make it to the top, even if not as high as me.”
“…What? Did I hear something unlucky just now? Must be my imagination.”
“No imagination. Honestly, who could keep up with me in theory?”
If it was unlucky, there was nothing I could do about it. This was reality.
Even Rie admitted my theory was strong enough to ask for my help. Since I never got to practice it in real combat, I had dug deep into theory and developed a specialized ability that let me match most professors.
“Ah, Locke, I should get going. I have the sword exam.”
“Yeah. I heard you’ve been growing a lot lately. Since you’re Rie’s rival and all, the first-years have already jumped your name up a rank.”
“Keep expecting me to climb higher. I’ll make being your friend painful enough to scare you.”
“Empty confidence has gotten people killed before, but you’ve got solid reasons, so I can’t say anything.”
Locke had offered genuine encouragement. That was exactly the kind of friend I needed.
After wishing him good luck, I headed toward the first-year literary-division swordsmanship exam venue.
When I arrived, I saw Professor Staffen standing with several new faces I didn’t recognize. It was clear these were the apprentice knights who would be assisting with the exam.
“Everyone here?”
“Yes, Professor.”
“Good. Then we’ll begin the swordsmanship exam. As you can see, it’s one-on-one sparring. Your opponents will be apprentice knights of appropriate skill. Most of them are graduates of Minerva Academy themselves, so show them the respect they deserve.”
“Understood!”
“The format is simple. One by one, come forward and spar against the designated apprentice knight. I will do the scoring. Time limit per group is three minutes. Since it’s a spar, anything goes, but if you do something dangerous you will be disqualified immediately. Be careful.”
It seemed they really wanted to test every individual separately.
I had assumed they would just let classmates fight each other, but calling in the kingdom’s apprentice knights meant the academy’s expectations for Minerva were enormous.
“Then everyone stand in front of the apprentice knights when I call your name.”
Professor Staffen’s voice rang out one after another.
Each time, a student stepped forward and stood before the knight.
“…Lucian von Deodore.”
“Yes.”
The moment my name was called, I stood before the designated apprentice knight.
He looked like a sturdy, well-built knight, and the scar on his eye was particularly striking.
“Lucian von Deodore.”
“Apprentice Knight Ridel Hurt. Good luck.”
We exchanged brief greetings and waited for the start signal.
Three minutes was barely enough time to assess a student’s level and score them.
I watched the others spar and saw my turn arrive quickly.
“Next, Lucian von Deodore. Step forward.”
Holding the hilt, I advanced at Professor Staffen’s command.
Right behind me, my opponent, Apprentice Knight Ridel Hurt, stopped in front of me.
“Best of luck.”
“The same to you.”
After our simple exchange, Professor Staffen gave the start signal.
I immediately created distance and fell into a moment of hesitation.
What should I do? Should I try the move I had only barely managed to land against Rie?
No. Better to stay on defense and wait for an opening—after all, this wasn’t real combat. It wasn’t even a real spar; it was an exam.
We were judged by how well we performed, not by who won.
Since that was the goal, I decided against taking unnecessary risks and lowering my score.
- For your sake, for mine. Become even more wonderful. One day I want people to remember you, not me. Let it be you who holds that sword. Can you do that for me? -
The words Rie had once spoken to me echoed in my mind.
They urged me to become wonderful for her sake, for everyone’s sake.
The moment they struck, the vague unease in my chest vanished and a fierce flame roared to life inside me.
I didn’t try to extinguish it.
Instead, I let it burn fully, throwing myself into the moment with every intention of engraving my true self into everyone’s minds.
Clang! Ka-kang-kang!!
“….”
A hint of surprise flashed across Ridel’s face.
He clearly hadn’t expected me to attack so aggressively right from the start.
Since I had no intention of ending the fight early, I shoved him back and swung again.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Clang!!
It was different. Definitely different. When I fought Rie I hadn’t noticed it, but now I could clearly see every opening.
Where to swing, how to strike—everything was suddenly clear.
Apparently the knight thought defense alone wouldn’t be enough against my offense, because he countered the moment I deflected his blow, driving straight in.
If it had been any of my other classmates, he might have been flustered.
But I had expected exactly this, so I used the hilt of my sword to deflect his blade with perfect precision and then drove the hilt straight into his chest.
Shick! Boom!
“Ugh!”
The attack landed. I twisted at the last second to dodge most of it, but I had clearly struck his side.
“Enough! That’s it.”
And that was it. I had defeated the apprentice knight in less than a minute—well before the three-minute limit.