The Duel's Aftermath

After the sparring match… “Aigoo.”

The lecture had ended. I moved my legs and felt every joint in my body creak in protest. This pathetic excuse for a body. How little had I even exerted myself for the whole thing to be screaming like this again? I didn’t like it, but there was nothing I could do. If I had to describe it, it was like a patient on death’s door suddenly deciding to go for a run. Since I couldn’t blame the body itself, my resentment turned toward the bastard who had created this situation.

That guy—Victor, wasn’t it?

Just had to make things annoying.

I had tried to spare myself as much as possible, yet I still ended up taking damage. I would have to be careful with any physical activity for at least the next few days. In exchange, I had beaten that bastard unconscious, but it still didn’t feel satisfying. Setting aside the damage I had taken, the bastard had aimed straight for my dantian.

In my heart, I wanted to shatter his dantian completely, but I couldn’t.

That would get me expelled.

Thanks to the original owner—Kyle’s—track record, the world’s opinion of Kyle was the absolute worst. Both public sentiment and the Academy’s evaluation painted him that way. The Academy was probably itching to expel me at the first chance they got; I kept causing incidents and tarnishing their reputation. With the Berwen name now severed from me, they were surely waiting for any excuse. If, in that situation, I shattered a student’s dantian? I didn’t need to see how it would end. An expulsion order would arrive in a matter of days.

Knowing that, I stopped short of going that far. Instead, I beat him as thoroughly as I could without earning expulsion—without leaving any lasting aftereffects. He had passed out from the beating, but the wounds he sustained weren’t serious. A priest’s treatment would have him back on his feet in no time. As I said before, major injuries would only escalate the matter, so I focused entirely on inflicting pain. I made sure it carved itself deeply into his mind.

I had deliberately struck him in ways that kept him from passing out too easily, so the agony I gave him must have been seared into his bones. As an unintended bonus, he had even wet himself, which would surely drag his reputation even lower. It was the greatest act of revenge I could manage in my current state. He probably wouldn’t be able to show his face in public for a while.

Still…

Today’s events left more than a few loose threads in my mind. Victor throwing a tantrum was nothing special, but the fact that he had mobilized a professor to set the stage was another matter entirely. Moreover, the professor had been remarkably cooperative with him. He hadn’t stopped Victor even after realizing the boy was aiming for my dantian, and when I began beating him one-sidedly, the professor had tried to end the match.

I got lucky.

The threat I made when the professor tried to intervene had been pure bluff. Even if I had been determined to publicize everything that happened during the spar, it probably wouldn’t have blown up into anything major. There were quite a few witnesses, but only the professor and I knew Victor had targeted my dantian. Besides, the speaker would have been that notorious troublemaker Kyle. No one would have believed me no matter how much I insisted. At most, it would have caused a bit of noise before fading away.

Of course, even that much noise might have reached the Berwen family head’s ears, but… I doubted the man would bother moving his heavy body just because Kyle had gotten caught up in an incident. In other words, it had been a completely groundless bluff. The reason the professor still backed down was likely because his own imagination had run wild. Even though the severance had been declared officially, what if some lingering affection for the Berwen family head remained? What if, while unable to act openly, he stirred up trouble from the shadows? A giant’s sneeze becomes a storm to ordinary men. A single raised eyebrow from the Berwen patriarch could create a situation the professor would be helpless to handle. That was why he had retreated.

There was also the fact that things hadn’t gone as planned.

When events deviated from what he expected, he chose self-preservation. After all, a single student fainting was an incident a professor could easily smooth over. In the end, it had worked out in my favor. Being able to pummel Victor without interference was part of it, but that was merely a matter of personal satisfaction. The real gain was the information I had obtained from the professor’s attitude.

So the Academy wasn’t behind it, at least.

If the Academy’s leadership had been involved, the professor wouldn’t have backed down no matter what threats I made. He would have forcibly stopped the match whether my bluff worked or not. The Academy’s upper echelons would have shielded him from any backlash Berwen might attempt. But the professor had withdrawn obediently. That meant the intervention had come from the professor’s personal agenda, not the Academy’s will.

Who is it?

My thoughts kept spinning. Victor Dilot had been the one to orchestrate the scheme. But he couldn’t have set the board alone. He seemed somewhat skilled, yet his family didn’t appear powerful enough to sway an Academy professor. A teaching position at the Academy was no trivial role. It wasn’t a post that would move for pocket change or minor benefits. The fact that he had secured such a professor’s cooperation—especially in a risky matter—meant someone with real power and background had stepped in.

It doesn’t seem to be Berwen.

I had considered the possibility that the Berwen family was involved. But the professor’s reaction suggested otherwise.

Who, then?

I did have a few guesses. The number of factions with the influence to pull something like this off was limited, and I already knew most of the important figures who possessed such power. Still, narrowing down the suspects wasn’t easy. No matter who it turned out to be, it wouldn’t be surprising.

As everyone knew, Kyle had many enemies and countless tangled grudges. Among them were quite a few people with tremendous backgrounds. That was the problem. There were too many candidates, making it difficult to guess who had arranged the board. With no other evidence, it was even harder.

I’m short on information.

In the end, that was the conclusion I reached. There simply weren’t enough clues to identify who had set everything up. I would need to gather information first. It was good timing; I had already been thinking it was time to visit an information broker. The only problem was money. Buying information naturally required funds, and I was currently close to penniless.

After pondering for a while, I finally let out a sigh.

“Hmm… Looks like I have no choice but to go there.”

I had reached my decision. There didn’t seem to be any other options.

On the top floor of one of the Academy’s many buildings, a man knelt on one knee and lowered his head.

“Your Highness, a letter has arrived.”

The direction in which the man’s head was bowed held a young nobleman seated in a chair. Brilliant golden hair that evoked the sun itself, purple eyes—the very image of the empire’s great bloodline. He was a beautiful youth no one living in this vast empire could fail to recognize: the Second Prince, Ernen fon Rihel.

A glint of interest flashed across his refined eyes.

“Oh?”

With visible pleasure, Ernen accepted the letter his subordinate offered. It bore the seal of the Goddess Church. His heart beating faster, Ernen broke the seal and read its contents at once. Soon, a smile spread across his face.

“At last.”

It was a smile of pure satisfaction. And why not? The plan he had poured his heart and soul into had finally borne fruit.

“Then…?”

Seeing his master’s reaction, the subordinate asked with clear anticipation. Ernen nodded cheerfully.

“They have accepted the proposal.”

“…!”

At those words, unmistakable joy bloomed across the subordinate’s face.

“Congratulations, Your Highness!”

He congratulated his lord as if the victory were his own. Ernen’s smile deepened, but he lightly shook his head.

“It is still too early for congratulations. We have only taken the first step.”

Even as he said this, the smile never left his lips. How could he not be happy when the scheme he had devoted himself to was finally showing results?

For the past several years, the empire had cooperated with the Goddess Church. They had answered the Church’s request for help in locating and eradicating an unknown force that threatened the continent. The Goddess Church was a religion that spanned the entire continent, and their opponent was a heresy that endangered all lands. The empire had no reason to refuse. Moreover, the Church had not asked for military cooperation—only assistance in locating the enemy. Since their carefully trained agents would not be wasted, the empire suffered no great loss. In fact, one could honestly call it a gain. Through this cooperation, they had placed the Goddess Church in their debt.

Of course, the justification the Church offered was sound, and the empire had sacrificed almost nothing, so the debt was not particularly large. It was the kind of favor that might naturally be forgotten or brushed aside with mere formal pleasantries. Yet there was one person who had focused on that small debt: Ernen fon Rihel.

He had made a proposal to the Church. What if the Saintesses attended the Academy?

Saintess. In the long history of the Goddess Church, such beings had appeared only a handful of times—exceedingly rare and noble existences. That three Saintesses existed in the current generation was something Ernen and the imperial family had learned by chance during their search for the unknown group. When they first discovered the truth, the imperial family had been quite shocked. It was, after all, impossible to understand by ordinary logic. The fact that three Saintesses—beings said to appear once every few centuries—had been appointed simultaneously was astonishing enough, but the Church’s decision to conceal their existence was even harder to comprehend.

Yet the empire had not dug any deeper. To them, Saintesses were not entities that required much attention. While their appearance would certainly increase the Church’s influence, the Goddess Church was ultimately a religious organization operating on a different axis from the empire. Thus, even after learning of the Saintesses, the imperial family had paid them little mind. All except for one man—Ernen.

Having learned of their existence by chance, Ernen had thought: Couldn’t I use the Saintesses?

The continent was currently at peace. The Rihel Empire, the strongest nation on the continent, no longer harbored great ambitions. However, the atmosphere within the imperial family was heavy, quite unlike the state of the wider continent. The reason was simple: the emperor’s lifespan was nearing its end. The throne could not be left vacant. The time had come to decide on the next emperor. As a result, a quiet succession war was already underway inside the imperial palace.

Yet the conflict was not particularly fierce. The board itself had tilted heavily in the Crown Prince’s favor. It was not that the other candidates lacked ability. In fact, some even whispered that Ernen’s talents might surpass the Crown Prince’s. But the Crown Prince possessed a powerful weapon: the very title of Crown Prince. The weight of being the emperor’s officially recognized legitimate successor was immense. Unless another candidate overwhelmingly surpassed him in ability, the majority of neutral factions would naturally gather beneath the name of the Crown Prince. Thus, the succession struggle had effectively ended almost as soon as it began.

To Ernen, it was unbearably unfair. He believed he lacked nothing to become emperor. It was not mere self-delusion—those around him ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠evaluated him the same way. He possessed both talent and ability. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠The only thing he lacked was a weapon strong enough to overcome the title of Crown Prince.

Even with defeat seemingly decided, Ernen had not given up. The seat above all others—the position of emperor—was too tempting. But if things continued as they were, he would never claim it. While searching for any variable he could use, his thoughts had landed on the Saintesses.

Saintesses of the Goddess Church, appearing for the first time in centuries. Beings treated as the Goddess’s proxies, the most noble existences within the Church. Moreover, the current Saintesses were said to each possess heavenly talent. If he could take even one of them as his wife, it would be no different from gaining the entire Goddess Church as his backing. With that, he could overturn this hopelessly tilted succession war.

Having reached that conclusion, Ernen had sent his proposal to the Goddess Church. It had been rejected immediately, and every subsequent attempt had met the same fate. Yet this time, for some reason, the Church had accepted. The Saintesses would come to the Academy.

Anticipation gleamed in Ernen’s eyes. Taking even one Saintess as his wife would be enough to flip the board. But what if he could bring two or more into his camp? The position of next emperor would be his without question. No—he would possess the most unshakable power in history.

Ernen was confident. In appearance, in ability, he believed himself superior to anyone. He forcefully calmed his racing heart. It was still too early to rejoice.

After steadying his breath and composing himself, he asked his subordinate, “Were there any other matters?”

The subordinate hesitated for a moment, then spoke.

“Now that you mention it… it seems Kyle Berwen has caused yet another incident.”

“Kyle Berwen?”

Ernen naturally knew the name. The disowned troublemaker of the Berwen family—one of the empire’s greatest houses. Berwen itself was a force Ernen coveted, but Kyle Berwen had already fallen outside his interest. Once severed from the family, the boy held no value.

“Hmm. Did he get beaten again?”

The boy had never possessed any real skill. Now that he had lost even his background, if he had gotten caught up in trouble, the odds were high that he had been the one pummeled. However—

“Actually… it is the opposite.”

The answer was completely unexpected.

“What?”

After another brief hesitation, the subordinate continued.

“They say Kyle Berwen… unilaterally beat Victor Dilot to a pulp.”

“……?”

Ernen frowned. The answer had strayed too far from his expectations. Victor Dilot was someone he also knew. He had heard rumors that the boy possessed considerable skill. Yet that Victor Dilot had lost to Kyle Berwen? It was impossible to understand by common sense.

But then—

“It is ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠not something that requires our attention.”

Neither Kyle Berwen nor Victor Dilot was a person Ernen needed to concern himself with. Neither could help him, nor could they hinder him. Therefore, it did not matter who had beaten whom. With a slight shake of his head, Ernen erased both names from his mind.