Chapter 35
Chapter 35
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 35
Chapter Title: Light and Shadow
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“...But, Captain. That student Rowen. What on earth is his deal?”
The training hall after Rowen and Arien had left.
Mateo spoke to Serin as she gazed at the traces of their spar.
‘...That spar just now.’
The odds of exceeding expectations during a match?
Plenty high. Fresh sprouts always shattered predictions.
The odds of seizing the advantage from a stronger foe?
Slim, but possible. Talent defied explanation.
‘But there were limits.’
By his aura alone, he clocked below average freshman level.
Yet he traded blows evenly with the top seat?
Mateo himself couldn’t guarantee taking down the Hero without a scratch.
Sure, at full throttle, victory was certain.
But an Imperial Knight going all-out on a freshman? Absurd.
Undeniably beyond freshman caliber.
“Shadow. Yeah, shadow fits.”
Serin pondered Mateo’s words before cracking a smile in response.
“...Shadow? What’s that supposed to mean?”
What was the captain even talking about?
Genius recognizes genius, they said.
But the captain often spouted unfathomable riddles.
“Where there’s light, shadows follow.”
“Please, elaborate.”
“If there’s a radiant light called the Hero, a shadow trails in its wake.”
Serin shot him a look like still not getting it?
She mulled it over briefly, then pressed on.
“What crossed your mind watching that spar, Mateo?”
“...Incomprehensible. With that kind of talent, he could coast. But burning himself out just to keep pace with Arien?”
“No, spot on, Mateo. That’s a shadow for you.”
Even as a mere spectator, he could barely imagine Rowen’s headspace mid-fight.
The sense of an uncrossable wall. A miracle just to weather a single exchange.
Yet Rowen scorched himself, desperate to land one clean hit on Arien.
Frustration, jealousy, anxiety, obsession—all that negativity as fuel, shattering his limits over and over.
“He knows he can’t touch the light, yet pours his all into chasing its heels.”
“Why the desperation?”
“Beats me. Never had one myself. No peers ever caught up.”
Serin wore a genuinely puzzled look.
...Well, yeah. The captain had no equals her age.
She’d never know the sting of a rival’s shadow.
“When you first met the Hero, know what I thought?”
“Great junior incoming?”
“Figured the same. Didn’t pan out.”
Serin recalled her first encounter with Arien, her face clouding over.
“Relief—that she was born later. No comparisons.”
“...”
“Could see her smashing my records soon. All my hard work, overwritten.”
Arien’s rep soured from that mess, sure.
But witnessing her talent firsthand? Mateo got it.
Thought he’d outgrown that petty inferiority complex.
Yet it nearly bubbled up unbidden before raw brilliance.
“Still, part of me regretted it. Missed out on someone who’d get me.”
“I see.”
“Rowen’s vibe? Same deal.”
Now it clicked for Mateo.
Born with unfathomable talent.
Yet forced to watch someone outshine you.
“Isn’t that dangerous?”
“Nah, won’t go there.”
“I’m... not so sure.”
Would’ve been kinder at an impossible distance.
That one unbridgeable step, no matter how you strained.
He knew how that teasing hope could drive you mad.
‘Explains why demon cultists never thin out.’
Folks selling their souls just to close the gap.
“I’m here. Show him he’s not alone. I know a word of cheer goes miles.”
“So that’s why you’re...”
“Plus, as my disciple, he’s gotta aim for the top. Strongest master demands strongest pupil.”
Back when the captain first joined the knights.
So young, eyes full of venom, sword her only language.
Must’ve seen her younger self in Rowen’s solitary grind.
“Think my disciple’s got more raw talent than the Hero. So drop the pity.”
Serin flashed her signature easy smile, faith in Rowen plain.
‘Pondered how to help the kid.’
Worried for nothing.
“...Got it. Then Rowen’s in your hands.”
“...What’s with the fond tone?”
“And you’re awfully soft on him. Masters stay stern with disciples.”
Never knew the captain could sound so womanly divine.
Age gap small or not, decorum mattered.
“W-When did I? First disciple gets a little extra!”
“Parties never notice. Recall how you talk to us.”
“...Fine. Discipline time.”
Serin flushed beet-red, utterly thrown.
Hm, way cuter like this.
Too young for captaincy, always playing the unflappable adult.
Pitied her every time.
‘Take the heat off her, Rowen.’
Not a crush yet.
But give it years—good news incoming.
Thwack! Crack!
...Even so, I’m old enough to be your dad.
Mateo swallowed his grievance, eating the punch laced with secondhand embarrassment.
Back at the dorm after the spar wrapped.
“...Feels good, somehow.”
I lay on the bed, staring at my outstretched hand ramrod straight.
Body throbbed everywhere, but mere exhaustion.
A solid rest, and I’d bounce back quick.
Name:RowenTitle:Freshman
Stats
Free Stats: 5
Traits
[Swordsmanship Lv. 5]
→ [Serin-style Swordsmanship Lv. 3]
Skills
Unique Traits
Massive gains across most stats post-Arien spar.
“Makes sense.”
Felt my limits cracking mid-fight.
My Body and aura pushed to the brink—my growth would be inevitable.
Sure, my gains would slowdown later.
Getting to swordmaster territory worries me even more now.
For now, grind my training. Prep for the midterms.
“More like, I felt I'm on the cusp of something...”
My sword arcing in a trance.
Even as my awareness faded, a new path glimmered faintly before me.
Looking back, that might be my level-up precursor.
“No rush, though.”
Felt like I'm a single step away.
But fixating would risked missing true insight.
‘My current pace defies normal logic anyways.’
Compared since the entrance exam? It's a night and day growth.
Keep this up, and I might eclipse the original Rowen, no doubt.
‘I get why Rowen made his descions.’
One step gained, two steps lost.
Utter futility vibe.
One loss already leaves this ache.
Hundreds for him? He's got some impressive grit.
I’m thrilled Arien's powering up. Rowen however? He probably went panic mode.
Post-grad, fights starts to dwindle his mind—demon whispers start to become tempting?
Evokes gold-haired warrior clans.
Me? Zero interest in all of that.
—Click.
The door creaked open amid steam. Arien emerged from the shower.
“...You’re not sprawling dusty on the bed, right?”
“Nah, you took forever...”
“Shower! Now!”
He showered for ages.
Body screaming, couldn’t just stand...
No craving sticky vibes, so grabbed clothes. Bathward.
‘...Huh?’
Steam-choked bath.
Shelf: compression bandages strewn.
Arien unscratched...
“Arien! Your bandages?”
“...Huh?”
Crash!
Frantic footsteps outside. Arien barreled in.
Bang!
“P-Put it down...!”
“...?”
Why freak?
Worn, not new. Still warmish.
Silky-firm grip oddly satisfying.
...Kinda fun.
Irresistible urge to stretch and toy.
“S-Stop... I said quit!”
“Hahaha, now I wanna more.”
Bandage overkill reaction?
Flushed, flailing Arien? Secret thrill.
Lost spar—payback time.
His distress at each touch? Comedy gold.
“...Nngh, won’t return it, forced to act.”
“Not gonna clobber a patient, right?”
Arien pondered, quivering awhile.
Me? Kept fiddling.
Smack!
“Gah!”
Resolved, he closed in, knuckle-dusted my forehead.
Hey, patient here...
“Told you nicely first!”
“Pffft, sorry Arien. Reactions too gold.”
Prickly daily.
But hypersensitive here.
Seen touchy guys like that. Got it.
“Showering now. Out. Hate guys eyeing my body.”
“Zero interest!”
Arien bolted post-line.
Squabble fizzled anticlimactically.