Chapter 7: The World is Wide, and There are Many Masters (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 7: The World is Wide, and There are Many Masters (3)
Rewinding time a bit, back to when we first entered the Academy.
Until right before admission, I lived a grueling life as the Prince’s personal punching bag, doing everything in my power to ensure the Kingdom’s reputation didn't plummet.
Every single day, I was put through the wringer by the Kingdom’s most renowned swordsmanship instructors until twenty-four hours weren't enough, and I crammed my body with the absolute maximum limit of doping elixirs it could handle.
Thanks to that, I achieved the miracle of defeating the Prince exactly once out of every thirty matches.
To put it another way, despite all that hellish effort, it was still only one out of thirty.
And even that was a fluke.
How should I describe it?
It felt like the wall I encountered in my past life when I accidentally ran into a pro gamer while playing a famous RTS space-war game.
I’d clearly overwhelmed them with a 9-to-1 advantage in the early build, but by the time I snapped out of it, I was getting absolutely wrecked. I felt that every single time.
I clearly won the psychological warfare, so why was I the one getting my ass kicked?
It wasn't a matter of physical specs. In fact, with the power of doping, I was technically stronger!
But whenever our swords clashed, I was the one who ended up losing.
It was a difference in technique and intuition.
Even if I started the early game with an advantage, I’d fall behind by the mid-to-late game.
And even if things went well until the late game, I’d almost always lose the war of attrition against Prince Ellen.
How should I put it?
I had a larger absolute quantity of mana, but our "fuel efficiency" was on a different level.
It’s hard to express mana in exact numerical values, but it felt like if I used 100 mana, Prince Ellen would block it using only 30 or 40.
It was insane.
It sounds simple in words, but that kind of play meant that if his responding mana was even slightly insufficient, he’d be crushed instantly.
It was an extreme tightrope walk for the sake of victory.
And Prince Ellen attempted—and succeeded at—that extreme tightrope walk every single time.
Failure rate: 1/30.
The terrifying thing was that the more we sparred, the lower that failure rate became.
Geniuses really are a frightening breed.
The more I learned about the sword, the more my time became a realization of the gap in talent.
And that realization reached its peak at the Academy’s entrance ceremony.
“I am Arenio, the Head Professor of the Swordsmanship Department.”
With those words, cheers erupted in the previously silent auditorium.
Until a moment ago, there had only been obligatory applause, but now, I could even see a few people sobbing.
Aren.
He was a man far more famous by his title, the Sword Emperor, than by his name.
A commoner by birth who rose to the absolute pinnacle through the sword alone.
A man who could have claimed the highest honors but was respected even more because he still held nothing but his sword.
To young swordsmen who still cherished the chivalry found in stories, he was an object of worship even greater than the Goddess.
There probably weren't many people in this hall as indifferent as I was.
But because of that, there was something only I could see.
I could evaluate the Sword Emperor coldly as a single swordsman, not as a hero with worship-worthy achievements and character.
“……”
He was a monster.
Even our Captain, the strongest swordsman I knew, wouldn't stand a chance against the Sword Emperor.
I wondered if such a gap could really exist between fellow Sword Masters, but then I remembered the difference between Prince Ellen and me—who looked similar on the surface—and it made sense.
Is this why they say becoming a Sword Master is just the beginning of the sword?
Our Captain still has a long way to go.
As I was thinking that, was it a coincidence? My eyes met the Sword Emperor’s.
“Adam. The Sword Emperor just looked this way.”
Those were the words of Prince Ellen, whose face was flushed like a teenage girl's.
Normally, it would be gross for a guy to act like that, but it was terrifying how his good looks made even that look like a scene from a painting.
“He’s probably just scanning the crowd.”
“Can we really learn from the Sword Emperor himself?”
“He is the Head Professor, after all.”
A Head Professor is usually assigned at least two mandatory lectures.
There was no way the Prince of the Leon Kingdom would be barred from the Sword Emperor’s classes.
In fact, with Prince Ellen’s talent and skill, he’d probably be able to take the lectures even without the title of Prince.
“We’re in!”
After the one-week trial period following the entrance ceremony, Prince Ellen and I naturally succeeded in enrolling in the Sword Emperor’s lectures.
Basics of Combat: 5 credits.
Basics of Practical Swordsmanship: 5 credits.
Two courses worth a whopping 5 credits each.
The titles were "Basics" of combat and swordsmanship.
In the Imperial Academy, where the continent’s brightest talents gathered, offering "basic" level courses was practically a sign telling people not to bother. However, because the instructor was the Sword Emperor, the students were thrilled, interpreting it as a profound lesson to start over from the fundamentals.
“As expected, the foundation must be solid!”
Prince Ellen was no different.
Honestly, I didn't understand what more he hoped to learn there, but what could I do if he was happy?
And so, the first day of Basics of Practical Swordsmanship arrived, filled with half-anticipation and half-worry.
“First, it is important to know your current standing.”
As soon as the Sword Emperor entered the classroom, he abruptly invoked the "Now, kill each other" protocol.
“We will conduct random duels through a drawing.”
The rules were quite detailed, but in short, it was: "Adjust your level to your opponent and do it properly."
The format was a 1:1 unlimited duel.
If you lost, you were eliminated immediately. The winner would immediately face someone else with the same number of wins.
Because of this, my first opponent was finished in a single blow, and the second was the same.
By the third, we exchanged a few bouts, but the fourth opponent was weaker than the third and ended faster than expected.
Having won quickly, I was earned the right to watch the others bickering, when...
“Are you Adam Smith?”
A familiar face approached and asked.
The Minor Sword Emperor, Asran.
The Leon Royal Family’s officially recognized candidate for Prince Ellen’s rival.
He looked at me with a friendly gaze that was nonetheless filled with fighting spirit.
“I am.”
“I’m Asran, your next opponent.”
“Already?”
“They said the winners should start quickly because it looks like it’ll take longer than expected.”
Well, now that the riff-raff had been filtered out, those remaining were all skilled to some degree.
I figured it would take some time once they started clashing.
“Sounds good.”
I was lucky.
I could directly confirm the Minor Sword Emperor’s skills sooner than expected.
At the same time, I could avoid a duel with Prince Ellen, where my defeat was already guaranteed.
Even for me, losing constantly chips away at my confidence.
The gap in skill was such that even the GigaChad inside me would tell me to just pack it in if Prince Ellen was the opponent.
“Hahaha, indeed.”
The Minor Sword Emperor seemed pleased at the prospect of a fight, nodding with a cheerful laugh.
Based on his appearance alone, he felt more like a mad dog looking for someone to bite than a "Minor Sword Emperor."
But because he was the grandson of the famously virtuous Sword Emperor, he just looked like someone with a high competitive spirit.
This is the power of a background.
Just as Prince Ellen’s face made even his mediocre traits look good, Asran’s association with the Sword Emperor made most of his quirks seem positive.
Then what did I, who had neither the face nor the background, have to show?
It was skill.
“Asran vs. Adam Smith. Round 5, begin.”
At the words of the teaching assistant acting as referee, the surrounding eyes gathered.
They were the gazes of the students who had already been eliminated.
Though they were looking at Asran, not me, the fact that I was included in their field of vision remained unchanged.
I had to engrave it into their minds. The name of a swordsman who wouldn't lose easily, even to the Minor Sword Emperor Asran.
I lightly circulated my mana and released my sword energy.
Against ordinary opponents, it might be overkill, but against the Minor Sword Emperor, this much was essential.
“Ha.”
At that, a satisfied smile spread across Asran’s lips.
It was the moment a beast, previously restrained by rules and unable to give its all, bared its fangs.
And in a split second, sword met sword.
And then.
“W-Winner, Adam Smith.”
“……”
This was the result.
We exchanged a total of thirty-four bouts, and I was the winner.
In the beginning, I was just testing the waters to gauge my opponent.
And that was it.
“That’s my Adam!”
Except for the familiar voice coming from behind, no one could open their mouth.
It was understandable.
Asran, the rising star renowned across the continent and praised as the Minor Sword Emperor, had just been wrecked.
If I had been a third party, I would have felt the same way.
Holy shit, what just happened?
I would have watched with that thought in mind.
“Holy shit.”
What just happened?
Being the person involved made me even more flustered than a bystander.
But since it was a fact that I had won, I tried to think of the reason for my victory.
First hypothesis:
The gossips of the continent had exaggerated the rumors again.
It was a common occurrence. Some gossips were paid to inflate achievements.
The problem was that the person in question was Asran.
His title, Minor Sword Emperor, came from his grandfather’s title.
Asran, who had even discarded the noble surname his father received to follow his grandfather, didn't seem like the type to inflate his own skills.
Even if others called him the Minor Sword Emperor, he would have rejected it if his skills didn't live up to the name.
According to the Leon Kingdom’s intelligence, Asran was that kind of person.
Then, the second hypothesis:
Asran’s condition was poor.
That was possible.
I was confident I could beat Prince Ellen if he was bedridden with the flu.
The problem was, looking at Asran right before the fight, that didn't seem to be the case.
Did he suddenly have to go to the bathroom?
Didn't seem like that either.
—Come to think of it, I didn't realize I was strong until I entered the Academy either.
That’s when Senior Lucia’s words from a few months ago came to mind.
Senior Lucia’s lament—how she thought she was a total weakling because she got thrashed by Princess Hestia every time, only to find out she was the Academy’s overlord.
The third hypothesis emerged: Wait, am I actually insanely strong?
Well, I did do a massive amount of "stepping up" before entering the Academy.
It wouldn't be strange if I had actually become a powerhouse close to the strongest in the Academy.
Which led to a question.
If I, who easily beat the continent’s greatest prodigy, Minor Sword Emperor Asran, am this strong...
“Winner, Ellen Leon!”
Then what the hell is our Prince, who beats me up every single time?
I thought the world was wide and masters were many.
But it seemed the strongest of them all had been right next to me.
*
“And that’s what happened.”
—I see. So that’s what happened.
I gave a brief report of the day’s events to the Captain.
Across the crystal ball, the Captain looked about 70% dumbfounded.
—Even the Minor Sword Emperor is no match.
The Captain had learned the sword directly from the Sword Emperor, albeit briefly.
Because of that, he had believed that the Minor Sword Emperor, who inherited that name, would be able to provide a significant challenge to the Prince.
Prince Ellen’s most powerful rival.
The Captain himself was the one who had evaluated Asran that way.
—W-Well, he’s still a student. We don’t know what will happen once he grows.
He said that, but the Captain seemed to know.
If Asran grows, Prince Ellen will grow even more.
He was the person who had watched Prince Ellen’s growth from the closest vantage point, second only to me.
“I hope so.”
—...I’ll look forward to next week’s regular contact.
With a sigh and a face that didn't look expectant at all, the Captain cut the connection.
I looked out the window at the sunset sky.
“Time to eat.”
We all do this just to make a living, after all.
I left the dormitory and headed toward the Academy cafeteria.
Naturally, the eyes of those around me gathered.
The whispering grew louder.
I had become an Academy celebrity in a single day, but I only felt complicated.
Asran, you bastard... how could you betray our trust like this?
Perhaps because of the wound of betrayal, I suddenly craved something spicy.
I wonder if they sell anything like that.
The fantasy world is great and all, but spicy food is hard to find.
Just as I was about to enter the cafeteria...
“Adam!”
With a familiar voice, someone grabbed my hand and pulled.
With a strange grip strength that made resistance impossible, I was dragged all the way to a secluded spot behind the cafeteria.
“What is it, Your Highness?”
“I-I told you not to call me that. No, that’s not what’s important right now!”
I turned my head to see the culprit who had dragged me here.
Prince Ellen was looking at me, his face strangely flushed.
Wait, why is he making that face?
If he tries to pull a BL drift here, I’m hitting him, Prince or not.
“I... I think I’ve fallen in love.”
Goddammit. If he says it’s me, I’m really hitting him.
“I only met her for the first time today!”
Fortunately, it wasn't a BL drift.
Wait, but still.
“Tell me more.”
The Prince was clearly planning to cause trouble from day one.