Entrance Exam Preparations - Part 2

The Imperial Academy entrance exam was seven days away. Once again, Elen Norvel made her way to the training ground. Amid a sea of muscular men, her pure white figure from head to toe stood out like a sore thumb.

Clack. Clack. She settled into her usual corner. Like a scolded puppy, she kept her head down, steadying her breathing several times. Then she drew the sword from her waist.

I can't make any mistakes. With that thought repeating in her mind, she began swinging at the training dummy. Her movements looked somewhat clumsy, but she struck again and again with steady determination.

Swish—. She repeated the motions until her breathing grew ragged.

Good. My condition today isn't ba—.

“Whoa, this is awesome!!”

…? The loud noise from somewhere threw her off.

I need to focus. This is for my father—.

“Ussh! Ttu-shyoo!”

“…Excuse me?”

It was a battle cry she'd never heard before in her life. In the end, curiosity won out and Elen turned her head.

What she saw was a man gripping iron dumbbells in both hands and throwing punches into the air. Black hair streaked with gold. Clothes she'd never seen. Movements she'd never seen. To her, he was an entirely new kind of human being.

“I need to focus… haa…”

She tried to pull herself together again.

“What on earth is he doing now…”

The man was now peering deep into the well. At this rate, it looked like he might actually climb inside.

“Are you thirsty?”

Gathering her courage, Elen offered him her water pouch.

And then.

“What thick skin. Must be from living up north where it's cold.”

Unable to endure the voices around her, she fled. She leaned her back against a wall and slowly slid down until she was sitting.

It was a familiar scene. Northern origin. In the Empire, those two words were all it took. No matter where she went. No matter who she met. It was always the same.

Pascal, the northern nation locked in a decades-long border conflict with the Empire. Their culture, which prioritized survival above all else, was the complete opposite of the Empire's emphasis on chivalry and honor. That was why the people of the Empire pointed fingers at her. Cultural differences and the scars of conflict had sharpened their gazes.

“...”

With her tension finally broken, Elen slumped down and hugged her knees. She was desperately holding back the tears when—

“But that guy seemed pretty nice, though?”

It was the first kind word she'd heard since coming to the Empire as a refugee.

With six days left until the Imperial Academy entrance exam, the girl from the north had been driven out of the training ground after being surrounded by hostile stares. Was the relationship between their peoples truly that bad? The discrimination based on nation or region had reached the level of outright personal hatred.

Since the place I'd be staying was the Empire, it was probably best to be careful no matter what.

“But… what now?”

There were still six days until the exam… and I'd lost my place to work out.

“I need to train…”

A day had passed since being chased out of the training ground. When I opened my eyes that morning, I saw a new message.

I thought there wouldn't be anything like a status window. Did that mean my stats had been rising all along, even if I couldn't see them?

After reading the message, I immediately ran a lap around the city. Even with such small increases, I could feel my body had become noticeably lighter.

Since my stats didn't grow while I was just running around the city, it seemed they didn't rise from random movement. Maybe it required training above a certain intensity, or consistent repetitive exercise? I still didn't know the exact criteria.

But one thing was certain.

Training makes you stronger.

“Alright. I'll just do whatever I can.”

And so my reckless training schedule began. I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ran through completely unfamiliar scenery and punched straw dummies instead of sandbags. I was staying at an inn, and the noise got me scolded by the owner. But when I explained it was for the academy exam, they let it slide.

The academy really must be a big deal. It was like how no one bothered a high school senior preparing for the college entrance exam.

This no-holds-barred training turned out to be a pretty good experience. It felt like going on a pre-season training camp with the sports team back in the day. The stimulation from an unfamiliar environment was more enjoyable than I'd expected.

Because I kept at it, every morning when I woke up there was a small but definite increase in my stats. And I realized something very important.

The benefits of rising stats were far greater than I'd thought.

There are limits to human physical ability. That's why people with exceptional physical talent are called geniuses. Or, in modern terms, they have a "muscle spoon."

But this stat system was different.

No matter what my talent was. No matter where my limits lay. The stats were raising me regardless.

What if… this system had no limits?

“Ttu-shya—.”

Thud—.

The final body shot made the straw dummy explode as if it had burst.

“Haa…”

“Career high renewed, hell yeah~.”

I was starting to think I might be able to break through human limits.

After that final training session, the day of the entrance exam finally arrived.

The exam site was much larger than I'd expected. We had to wait a long time in a vast open area inside the academy. I'd heard hundreds of applicants gathered every year, so it made sense that proper evaluation would take a while.

“Oh! It's the nice guy from before!”

By chance, I ran into the girl I'd given water to. So she was taking the entrance exam too.

“...”

For some reason, the moment she saw me, she whipped her head away.

S-sorry. It was because of me, wasn't it.

I remembered what she'd said before running away from the training ground. It seemed like she was avoiding ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠me because of that incident.

But if I approached her first… wouldn't that come off like some creep bothering a young girl? I wanted to at least ask her name, but I didn't want to make her uncomfortable.

While I was wrestling with that dilemma—

“Next applicant, please step forward.”

It was my turn.

The exam format was for two people to come out into the empty space and spar. There wasn't even a proper cage-like arena. With spectators watching from the sides, it was actually pretty nerve-wracking. It felt just like the first time I'd competed in a tournament.

“It's been a while since I've been in a real match. All I've done is sparring.”

This was my first real combat in a long time.

“Um… so you're Lee Dojin?”

“Yep.”

“That's quite an unusual name, isn't it?”

“Yep.”

“Your outfit is also quite unusual…”

“Yep.”

“...”

An awkward silence fell. One of the examiners cleared their throat and flipped through the documents.

“Now, everyone will proceed with a mock duel. You may only use the training equipment we provide.”

With those words, they pointed to the equipment rack on one side. Swords, spears, axes, bows, shields, staves, and more. Every weapon one could imagine was there. They were training versions, so they were wooden models, but still.

My opponent quickly picked out their preferred weapon. A large two-handed sword… Even though it was wooden, getting hit by that would probably break bones.

“Please choose quickly.”

Since I was just standing there blankly in front of the rack, the examiner urged me on. There were plenty of weapons, but I didn't know how to use any of them. The only weapon I'd ever used was the K2 rifle during my military service.

In the end, I picked up what looked like the safest option—a one-handed wooden sword.

It ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠felt heavy and cool… my ass. It was just awkward.

“It's heavier than I thought…”

I swung it a few times, but it still didn't feel right in my hand. Whatever. I'd just block and hit roughly. How about my opponent?

“Ooh, this looks serious.”

My opponent had taken a proper stance. Their lower body was centered, and the massive two-handed sword was resting on their shoulder, ready to swing. I knew nothing about swords, but I could tell at a glance that this person was a proper swordsman.

Those who actually train have a completely different aura.

In comparison, I was just a young man holding a sword. A fool who didn't even know how to grip it properly.

“The duel will now begin.”

The moment the examiner spoke, my opponent moved. They closed the distance in a few steps and brought the sword down with a powerful shout.

Clack—.

I'd thought I'd just block it roughly, but I stopped it. Or rather, I caught it. The sword hadn't touched my body, but the impact made my wrist sting. I'd taken the full force without any technique.

“Tsk… ugh…”

I tried to endure it to save face, but it was impossible. My opponent didn't seem inclined to go easy even after seeing my state. The sword strikes continued several more times, and I somehow endured by sacrificing my wrist.

And in the end, I reached one conclusion.

I absolutely couldn't win like this.

This academy was basically like Seoul National University. That meant these people had been holding a sword for years. There was no way I, who had picked one up for the first time today, could win. Yep.

Clatter.

I threw the wooden sword away without hesitation.

“Haa…”

Yeah, I can't win with a sword. With a sword.

I slowly shook out my wrist. A sharp pain shot up my forearm. Damn it. It was probably going to swell up like a balloon by tomorrow.

I took a long breath and spread my feet apart. Then, I familiarly raised both fists close to my chin.

“Alright. Come on.”

The exam hall fell silent. Did I look like a crazy bastard who just threw away his weapon? No. My opponent's eyes didn't change.

“Heh heh… It's been a while since I've felt this.”

The words slipped out on their own.

The tension of reading and calculating the opponent's moves.

And then.

A large rotating slash pivoting off the front foot.

The blade was coming in horizontally—a hook with the weight shifted forward. I ducked my head and stepped forward to evade the high hook. This is called ducking. Immediately followed by a rear-hand body shot.

Thud—.

The thrill of breaking through the opponent and landing a clean hit.

The perfect strike landed. My opponent staggered backward from the impact. The vibration from my fist traveled up my arm to my shoulder. It shot straight to my brain, creating a rush of adrenaline.

This was why I could never quit training.

“Heh heh heh…”

It was my first time fighting against a sword, but this was pretty fun in its own way, wasn't it?

Only now did my opponent's eyes change. When your attacks don't land at all and you even eat a counter, everyone makes a similar face. That subtle expression mixing bewilderment and tension upon realizing they're a step behind. It was my favorite look.

My opponent widened the distance with their large weapon. A reach-based fight. If they fought calmly, I'd be at a disadvantage.

“Scared?”

So I threw in some moderate provocation. Lowering my guard and beckoning with my hand—there wasn't a single guy who didn't fall for it.

“Don't get cocky!!!”

“Bingo.”

One-two. Weaving. Hook—straight. Body jab—fake hook. Pivot. Check jab. One-two. Slip. Check hook. Ducking. Shoulder bump. Straight—.

I dodged every sword swing my opponent made. I kept landing body shots in succession, drawing their attention. It was a combination at a speed normal people couldn't even comprehend. I bet the guy getting hit didn't even know what was happening to him.

They'd probably just think, Why can't I take the initiative even though I have the longer reach? Why? Even if they wanted to create distance, they couldn't shake me off. And when they tried to close in, the accumulated damage to their abdomen kept building. Getting hit in the same spot again always hurts more.

That naturally makes a person impatient. And in the end, there's only one choice left.

The so-called desperate move.

Just as I thought.

As expected, my opponent raised their sword high, preparing a big downward slash. Even blocking this could cause a fracture. If it landed cleanly, it might even be fatal.

“Uaaaaah!”

A strike filled with a battle cry.

Swoosh—.

I ducked with a sway and slipped into their chest. The tip of the wooden sword grazed past my shoulder. Its reach was longer than I'd anticipated. That was close.

Fighting a sword really threw off my sense of distance. But whatever—I didn't get hit. So it was fine.

Now it was my turn.

My opponent had leaned forward while swinging downward, their center of gravity shifted ahead. Their arms were down. Their chin was wide open.

In the time it took to blink, the scene had already changed. In that instant—

Slide—.

My left foot dug in deep. Sway. My upper body tilted back while simultaneously changing direction. I twisted my waist to generate rotational force. I flicked my shoulder, transferring power into my fist. With my center of gravity fully lowered, I drove upward with my left hand.

It was like throwing my arm upward. An uppercut—.

I knew it instinctively. This was a K.O.

And just like that, my opponent collapsed like a robot whose power had been cut.

“D-duel… over…!”

The examiner's declaration of the end rang out.

“What the hell just happened?”

“He threw away his sword and still won?”

“Hey… look at that guy's face…!”

“He's laughing? Did he throw chivalry to the dogs?”

The applicants watching the duel each added their own comments. Instead of cheers and applause for the result, their words were laced with a chilling tension.

“...”

Elen was watching the scene as well. In her eyes, the black-haired ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠man was smiling. But it wasn't to show off his composure, nor to belittle his opponent. To her, he simply looked like someone who purely enjoyed fighting.

That sight suddenly reminded her of something, and she lowered her head.

She'd clearly never seen him before. Yet for some reason, that smiling face bothered her.

The smell of blood. A snowfield. And someone who was smiling.

Elen hurriedly shook her head.

“...No.”

Without realizing it, she clenched her fist tightly.

“Next applicant, Elen Norvel.”