End of the Second Semester (1)

Two days had passed since I'd set Agnes up with a fire spirit—and, in exchange, suffered something suspiciously like punitive skinship at Ethan's hands.

Now, at the final lesson of Harold's second-semester swordsmanship course, Applied Magic Swordsmanship, I stood facing him, tense, my eyes locked on the man before me.

This sparring match against him was, for all practical purposes, the final assignment of the semester.

"……"

"……"

Calmly gripping a single greatsword in both hands, he fixed his gaze on me—a Sword Master waiting for nothing but my advance.

They called it a handicap match, but the gap between a Sword Master and an academy student remained every bit as absurd as ever.

Besides, unlike Harold, who had presumably eaten, slept, and breathed the blade his entire life, swordsmanship wasn't even my major. As part of the Magic Department I could certainly enchant my blade with stronger spells, but in the end, physical limits were not something magic could so easily overcome.

Faced with that stance of his, which still showed no opening whatsoever, all I could do was unconsciously tighten my grip on the dagger in my hand.

…It's fine. Just do exactly what you practiced.

This was my last chance of the semester—my final duel. Whether or not I could win even a single bout here would decide my second-semester grade.

Whether or not I could earn an A+ in Harold's Applied Magic Swordsmanship exam.

Granted, failing to get the A+ wouldn't tank my grade catastrophically, but if I had the chance, I wanted that top mark all the same.

Just as in the original game, academic performance determined the extra rewards—I'd confirmed that much back in the first semester. If I was going to do it, I needed to win at least one bout for the sake of my stat growth.

…Because in a life with only four years of this opportunity, I had to take everything I could get.

"You may come at me whenever you like, Lilith."

"…Yes, Master… Professor."

"However, if you do not attempt an attack within one minute, I shall come to you. I cannot afford to spend all my time on a single student's match."

"…Understood."

Deflecting an attack from an advancing Harold would be dozens of times harder than pressing one myself, which meant I had no choice but to be the one to move first.

Once I'd steadied my nerves, I kicked off the ground and lunged, activating my newly learned dagger skill in the same breath.

Dagger Tier 1 skill, IAI Slash.

If I'd had my way, I'd have preferred not to invest any further in the dagger tree, but with half-hearted resolve I couldn't have beaten Harold to begin with.

Praying that the course-completion reward and grade-evaluation reward would be worth every point I'd sunk in, I charged at Harold alongside my new skill.

And of course, I didn't forget to layer Sharp Blade on top as I went.

My body, launched off the ground, drove straight toward Harold's lower half.

Aiming for the throat or the heart would have been the effective choice for a clean, decisive blow—but that option belonged to people who actually had the capability to pull it off. With my short reach and our considerable height difference, it was hardly the right approach for someone like me.

The target was the abdomen, or the waist. With nothing but the thought of driving a blade into one of those spots filling my head, I closed the distance to Harold, and with the Blackwood-crested dagger in my right hand, I thrust for his solar plexus.

With a resounding CLANG, Harold—having spotted me coming in low—simply shifted his blade with composure and parried.

"Ngh…."

I hadn't expected to land a killing blow on the very first strike anyway. This was an attack meant to force Harold's hand—nothing more, nothing less.

Fortunately, the shockwave halved most of the impact, sparing me from losing my grip on the dagger, and in that same breath I unleashed the new secret-arts spell I'd learned.

It worked on precisely the same principle as Mana Blast, but was a lesser spell that could be fired far faster.

Naturally, its power fell dramatically short of Mana Blast as well. Still, if it actually connected, it was far from harmless. Even Harold would be forced to choose—dodge or block. And when three of these came screaming in at once, at least one or two had to be stopped with the sword.

Especially from within that pale, blinding haze where his two eyes could confirm nothing.

The flash burst—and a misty white fog of Dim Light swallowed Harold's surroundings. Into that momentarily blinded space, three mana bullets hurtled toward him.

With any luck, a couple would trace their intended trajectories. Given the opponent, direct damage was out of the question—but if it forced Harold to burn his sword-arm's opportunities parrying blind, that was enough.

I immediately began preparing the next technique to bring him down.

After all, the rules of the Applied Magic Swordsmanship duel were simple: use every means at your disposal to defeat Harold.

"Now, Sally! Sei!"

'Take THIS!!'

A massive fireball launched from the palm of Sally, the high-ranking fire spirit. Even after consuming roughly a quarter of my total mana, it wasn't all that enormous.

My provisional contract with Sally still lacked efficiency, apparently. But it didn't matter. With Sei on the case, even ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Sally's half-baked output could be leveraged at far higher efficiency.

'Ungh, huuuuuh…!!'

The sylph cupped her hands to her mouth and exhaled a furious gust of wind toward the trajectory of Sally's fireball. The flame and Sei's support magic collided midair and were sucked into the pale haze—and a heartbeat later, the inside of that misty light erupted with a thunderous roar.

At the very least, the blast hadn't been canceled or intercepted. It had landed properly.

Surely that wouldn't kill him. Considering the opponent's sheer physical toughness, an explosion of this scale was something he'd endure. The real question was whether my attack had actually done meaningful damage to Harold…

Unable to claim victory just yet, I kept preparing my next spell even now—and Sally's accursed commentary beside me only made my heart sink further.

'…Did we get him?'

With a sharp thud of a footfall, the answer came.

'N-no…'

"He cleaved the dust cloud of the explosion apart with a single stroke of his sword," the fire spirit muttered in apparent disappointment as Harold reappeared.

God, how I wanted to punch Sally's yapping mouth shut—but regrettably, I didn't even have the luxury of such distractions right now.

Thinking fast, I hurled Seraphin's dagger from my left hand at the charging Harold with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a Dagger Throw.

It whistled through the air—and Harold tilted his head a fraction, as if the projectile were ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠beneath acknowledgment, and slipped past it.

His body showed no burns, no singeing—his clothes were merely a little worse for wear. Which meant that entire explosion had failed to deal him any meaningful damage whatsoever.

'Not a monster, just… what ARE you?'

A combo attack that would have roasted any ordinary monster the instant it caught them—how had he walked through it without a single wound? A natural thought occurred to me: while my view was blocked by the Dim Light, he must have blocked the burst using aura or mana.

Now the pressure of his advancing blade carried something close to terror. I did my best to hold out against him with support magic and daggerwork, but with nearly every trump card spent, subduing me was no difficult task for Harold.

CLANG!

"Ghk…!"

KAANG!

"Ugh, hahk…!!"

The Blackwood dagger in my right hand, then the silver blade of Liz's dagger hastily re-gripped in my left—through a handful of sword strokes, Harold struck precisely at the weak points of my blades, sending my last means of attack spinning into the sky.

With what amounted to a total victory, Harold's gaze moved quietly toward me.

"…Not a bad attempt."

"……"

Which was his roundabout way of saying it hadn't worked on him.

Then again, if it had been a genuinely good attack, the one eating that final blow would ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠have been me, not Harold.

Apparently satisfied that he had me firmly subdued, Harold continued his evaluation of our exchange as though drawing the duel to a close.

"The moment we began, you used an attack that forced me to block with my sword, restricting my movement—and immediately committed to your next strike."

"…Yes, sir."

"You'd have been better off skipping the Dim Light. Blinding an opponent's vision is hardly a poor choice, but it doesn't work on me. At this level of attainment, one can sense where a spell is coming from even with eyes closed. Besides—you failed to find my blurred silhouette yourself, and missed with a spell, did you not?"

…It wasn't the haze that made me miss. I'd just had terrible accuracy, plain and simple.

But one can't exactly interrupt a lecturing professor to raise objections, so I kept my mouth shut and listened.

"Your affinity with the spirits is quite good. Coordinating linked spells with that kind of timing precision must have taken considerable practice."

"Yes. I also enrolled in the spirit communication course this semester."

"It will serve you well in the years ahead—assuming you learn to fight alongside them while managing your mana properly."

"…Yes, sir."

Harold quietly lowered the greatsword he'd held in both hands, gradually easing out of his combat stance. His final verdict was nearly at hand.

"Your swordsmanship has improved considerably since the start of the semester. That opening charge in particular was the sharpest strike I've seen from you yet. …Your swordplay in the final exchange afterward was somewhat lacking, however."

Well, yeah—that's because IAI Slash had expired. Nothing to be done about it; it was a buff skill I couldn't reactivate mid-fight.

Harold continued, doling out assorted commentary and grading Lilith's performance piece by piece.

And while I nodded along, feigning a respectful audience, I was slowly, steadily preparing one final, secret strike.

…Aiming for Harold's fatal, unguarded mistake—the one he had overlooked without ever realizing it, right here in this very duel.

"…So, all things considered, your grade, Lilith, would likely be—"

"Professor Harold, before you evaluate my grade, there is something I must say."

"Hm? What is it?"

"…The duel… isn't over yet."