Chapter 14
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 14
Chapter Title: Preparation (2)
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At Iliad Academy, there was a short break after classes ended until the next one began.
Probably because it overlapped with lunchtime, giving students a bit more leeway.
A place equipped with all sorts of training tools and wooden swords.
At the same time, ideal for sparring.
Several students from the entrance test were already working out in the training grounds.
Not just from Class A, but B and even C.
Having entered Iliad Academy, they must have been hailed as geniuses wherever they came from. But failing to make it into Class A...
It was only natural that it scratched the pride of these young kids.
Tak.
The sound of wooden swords clashing.
Students paired off for sparring or lifted training equipment alone to build their bodies.
Or they drew in mana using their own unique cultivation methods.
Some like that naturally drew the eye.
Even if it was low-grade mana, the fact that they could handle it at their age was astonishing in itself.
"Taaat!"
A resounding kiai.
With the flying strike, the wooden sword slipped from the opponent's hand. The loser raised both hands in surrender as soon as it fell.
"Already holding on for over ten minutes. Mana not running low yet?"
"I can keep going."
Class B.
"Impressive. Luberic."
Luberic Keias.
The second son of the empire's count family.
He stood out even more brilliantly amid the training grounds.
His strength made it impossible to fathom why he hadn't made Class A.
A mana realm approaching mid-grade, surpassing low-grade.
Everyone in the training grounds knew he'd rise to Class A in the next 'promotion match.'
He exhaled roughly, reining in his energy.
The black hue he'd seen during the test.
The mana symbolizing mid-grade lingered vividly before his eyes.
'Deron Phillasia.'
The eldest son of Duke Phillasia, who bowed to no one save the imperial family.
Famed as a noble's disgrace and human scum—a pretty-faced fool.
Luberic hid it well, but he harbored an inferiority complex toward Deron.
From a single glimpse at a ball in his youth.
Transcending duke and count houses.
Person to person.
That refined noble bearing.
Even staggering, it seemed to enchant the women.
Countless young ladies flocked to his side.
Deron kept no one close.
Afterward, he vanished from high society.
Only rampant rumors remained; scarce few had laid eyes on him.
Yet tales of battered servants leaking from the ducal estate and grim whispers from nobles who'd barely crossed his path painted a poor picture.
The duke's lack of denial fueled society gossip that Deron Phillasia had lost his father's favor.
That was when Luberic lost interest in Deron too.
Never expecting to see him again.
That is, until word came that Deron had enrolled at Iliad Academy.
How he'd scoffed at first hearing of it.
What could the famously sickly wretch hope to accomplish here?
Had he not revealed that mid-grade mana symbol in the test, he might have landed in Class A.
"Next."
Luberic caught his breath and scanned for his next opponent. None satisfied him.
All at his level lay defeated.
"Hmm, so this is the training grounds?"
Then a familiar voice rang out.
Luberic whipped around reflexively toward the sound.
His eyes widened.
The very object of his resentment and inferiority complex.
Deron was entering the training grounds.
With steady, proper steps—no staggering.
They say some draw every eye just by entering a room.
Deron was exactly that.
The moment he stepped in, the atmosphere shifted.
Every gaze swung from Luberic to him.
And then the gazes shifted once more.
Because of the girl on Deron's arm.
Agnes.
A noble's daughter whose house she hailed from went undisclosed.
Silver hair cascading to her waist, a visage frozen in chill. Eyes like embedded diamonds.
If Deron commanded attention with sheer presence, Agnes drew it effortlessly with her beauty alone.
A perfectly matched pair.
Luberic ground his teeth without realizing.
But heedless of the stares, Deron led Agnes to the wooden sword rack.
They selected two of suitable length, then assumed stances.
The pair exchanged brief words, inaudible from afar.
"Haat!"
Soon after, Agnes let out a kiai and lunged at Deron.
Silver locks whipped in the wind, frost blooming in the air.
In an instant, the wooden sword's tip froze solid.
'Magic swordsman?'
Not formless aura, but genuine ice.
Swordsmen couldn't wield magic power like mages to summon such things.
Nor did they fight at range like mages. Luberic was certain: Agnes was a magic swordsman.
Kyang!
The frosted wooden sword clashed with a sound too solid for mere wood.
Deron had already cloaked his blade in aura.
Transparent, yet faintly shimmering black—low-grade mana verging on mid.
Luberic, aware Deron wielded mid-grade mana, figured he held back against a magic swordsman.
Magic swordsmen were arrogant fools chasing both paths at once, after all.
Not just Luberic—most would agree.
Yet the follow-up barrage twisted Luberic's assumptions, if only slightly.
Kyang. Ka-kyang!
The frost coalesced into icicles that hurtled through the air toward Deron.
Simultaneously, her iced blade sliced toward his waist.
It felt like facing a mage and swordsman at once.
Deron's expression never wavered.
He casually swung to bat away the icicles, then tapped the flat of his wooden sword with his free hand to deflect her strike.
Agnes' blade whistled through empty air.
And in the next breath, Deron's sword tip flew toward her throat.
Agnes swallowed hard and dropped her weapon, signaling surrender.
Luberic, who'd watched it all, broke out in cold sweat without thinking.
Had Agnes targeted him instead of Deron...
Even in Deron's shoes, could he have blocked so cleanly?
No chance.
He might parry, but those icicles would've struck home for sure.
'And then the follow-up.'
In that split second, readjusting his grip.
Twisting aside such a lightning thrust.
"Insane..."
No human feat.
That hair-raising focus. That dynamic vision.
Was this really the Deron he knew?
Maybe the "invalid" rumors were lies too.
Such thoughts flooded Luberic's mind.
Deron seemed far too hale for an invalid.
No one dared approach the pair easily.
Enthralled by Deron's prowess and Agnes' dazzling magic swordplay.
They couldn't even focus on their own training.
Luberic clenched his jaw and strode toward them.
To verify the truth.
'Didn't think it was him, but it's really Luberic.'
I'd come to the training grounds simply to test my body.
How far could this improved physique go after consuming the Eternal Ice Crystal?
So I'd brought Agnes—my one tenuous acquaintance—for a spar.
'Ah, why's Luberic here of all places.'
Luberic Keias.
The boss of the first episode.
The count's second son, consumed by inferiority and resentment toward the protagonist from the test onward, eventually striking a deal with demons.
Probably exacerbated by constant comparisons to his elder brother.
'But going so far as to bargain with demons?'
Backstory or not, a villain was a villain.
No one escaped the sins they'd sown. Excuses be damned.
Once I spotted Luberic, all my nerves fixed on him.
I told Agnes to hold back her power.
Though I went all out myself, of course.
Agnes dialed it back as instructed—no hint of Icicle Field.
Just a partial simultaneous deployment.
The spar confirmed it for me.
Without burning lifespan, my limit was upper low-grade mana.
'The odd part is the black sheen.'
Curiously, even plain mana use blended in Black Dragon's Mana.
Far more potent than normal mana, with no lifespan drain—seemed fine...
The issue was why it mixed at all.
Thanks to that infused mana, subduing Agnes was straightforward. My body might be frail, but my eyes weren't blind.
Agnes wore a frustrated pout but knew I hadn't gone full throttle, so she held her tongue.
Still, I couldn't focus on her.
From the spar's outset, two burning gazes bored into me.
One was Luberic. The other, Erina.
Erina was a wildly delusional character, so her glare made sense. But Luberic, why stare daggers at me?
I couldn't fathom it.
His eyes brimmed with the inferiority and malice described whenever he glared at Lee Han, the protagonist.