A Prodigy's Bitter Defeat
“Hmm……”
When I heard the rumor that Bellard had lost to Elion, I couldn’t help but let out an involuntary groan.
Elion’s rise to fame was only to be expected. I had also anticipated that she would eventually cross paths with Bellard. What I hadn’t foreseen was that their first encounter would unfold in this manner.
‘……Tsk.’
Bellard Berwen. That brat was a true genius. Even by my own stringent standards, not the lenient ones of the general public, he stood out. In a world overflowing with superhumans and monstrous talents, Bellard’s gift was exceptional. There was a reason he was called a performance monster despite appearing early in the game.
Even I, who knew every future monster that would emerge, had to acknowledge it. From the world’s perspective, it was obvious. The moment Bellard’s talent revealed itself, he was treated as a prodigy—and he accepted that treatment as natural. How could he not? No one around him possessed talent that surpassed or even matched his own. Having lived that way for over a decade, it was inevitable he would come to believe his talent was supreme.
Yet that same Bellard had lost. And not just to anyone—to Elion, someone his own age.
From what I heard, it hadn’t been a complete rout. The match had been decided by the narrowest of margins. Still, a loss was a loss. Bellard must have been utterly shaken. He had lived believing no one could surpass him, only for someone to appear right before his eyes and prove otherwise. It must have felt as though his entire world had been overturned.
‘If only that shock could work in his favor……’
The ideal outcome would be for him to process the defeat, use it as fuel, and grow stronger. That route existed in the game. If he followed it, there would be nothing to worry about.
However, I felt uneasy. Judging by the flow of events, I doubted things would unfold so positively.
“No choice, then.”
So I made my decision. I would see it with my own eyes. It was better to prepare in advance than to regret it later.
Bellard had been called a genius since childhood. Mana, physical ability, instinct— he had been superior in every aspect from the very beginning. No one around him could match Bellard’s talent. Even at the Academy, where all manner of gifted individuals gathered, the situation remained unchanged. Whether they were renowned prodigies or legitimate heirs of great houses, none could reach Bellard’s level.
There had been a few decent opponents, but none had ever become a true rival. No one had ever made Bellard feel tension.
So when he first heard the rumors about Elion Verdiel, he hadn’t paid them much mind. Challenging her to a duel had been nothing more than a whim—an idle amusement sparked by the appearance of someone whose reputation had begun to rival his own. He had felt no anticipation whatsoever. Bellard assumed Elion would be no different from all the others he had crushed before.
But his expectations were shattered.
“…Th-the winner is Elion Verdiel.”
When the trembling voice of the supervising instructor reached his ears—
‘Huh?’
Only then did Bellard realize he had lost. There was no denying it. The sword hovering at his throat proved his defeat beyond any doubt.
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
‘He lost?’
He had lost. He, Bellard Berwen, had lost. It was something he had believed impossible. Yet the impossible had happened.
He felt the gazes directed at him. The stunned whispers, the disbelieving eyes. All of it burned itself into his mind.
After that, his memories grew hazy. When he came to his senses, he was already back in the dormitory.
There, Bellard replayed the duel with Elion over and over in his head, trying to understand how such an absurd defeat could have occurred.
It had been by the slimmest of margins—so close that one could say luck alone had decided the outcome. That was how he had lost.
At that point, Bellard acknowledged it. He had lost to Elion Verdiel. However, that did not mean he accepted Elion as his superior. Even though he had been defeated, he still believed his skill was greater.
He had his reasons. He had been careless, underestimating his opponent and failing to go all out. He had even deliberately sealed away his magic, thinking he would go easy on her. If he hadn’t been careless, if he had used his full strength, he was certain he wouldn’t have lost.
The next day, Bellard secretly summoned Elion. He needed to prove his theory. Elion accepted the challenge without hesitation.
Thus, the second match took place—and once again, Bellard was defeated by Elion.
“You really are amazing. I might’ve lost if I’d made even one mistake.”
Elion smiled as she said this, extending her hand. But her voice never reached Bellard.
‘I…… lost again?’
This time, he hadn’t been careless. He hadn’t held back. He had thrown everything he had at her. Yet he had still lost.
There was only one meaning to that: he was weaker than his opponent. Elion Verdiel was stronger than him.
‘……No. That can’t be right.’
The arrogant prodigy—the genius who had never known defeat—could not accept his loss. His mind understood, but his heart refused to. That dissonance soon gave birth to a murky emotion: resentment toward Elion.
“Since we’re connected by this fate, how about we—”
Bellard didn’t even spare a glance at the speaking Elion. He simply turned and walked away.
From that moment on, he began investigating her. The Berwen family’s influence was formidable, and it didn’t take long for Bellard to obtain information about Elion—her family, her life, her characteristics.
What he focused on most was her house. Verdiel. An imperial noble family with some history, but nothing remarkable. They were merely maintaining their noble status. Compared to Berwen, they were insignificant.
In other words—
‘I can get rid of her.’
If Bellard so desired, he could erase her background entirely. The prodigy who had spent his entire life winning could not tolerate the existence of someone more talented than himself. So he intended to remove her from his sight, even if it meant using unjust methods.
It was at that moment, as the murky emotion coiled within Bellard’s heart threatened to bloom, that a familiar voice reached him.
“Bad premonitions never miss, do they?”
Bellard’s head turned naturally toward the source of the voice. Standing there was an all-too-familiar face. A noticeably thin frame. A pale complexion that could only be described as haggard. Yet there were undeniable traces of resemblance to Bellard himself.
Kyle Berwen. His half-brother.
“……What do you want?”
Bellard frowned the moment he recognized Kyle. It was an instinctive reaction. Even though he had lost his usual composure, Kyle was the one person who could still draw out Bellard’s instinctive revulsion. He was someone Bellard despised so deeply that even the murky, sticky emotion festering in his heart was momentarily forgotten.
Of course, the feeling wasn’t one-sided. Bellard knew Kyle didn’t think highly of him either. No—he knew Kyle outright hated him. And Bellard believed that hatred was justified. After all, how could one not resent the person who had stolen what should have rightfully been theirs?
Yet understanding that and despising Kyle were two different things. Bellard didn’t hate Kyle because he had been pushed aside, nor because Kyle’s talent was inferior. He hated him because of what Kyle had done after being cast out.
If Kyle had openly turned hostile, if he had sharpened his blade for revenge, Bellard wouldn’t have despised him this much. But Kyle had chosen not to seek revenge. After losing the competition, he had immediately tucked his tail between his legs. Instead of resenting Bellard, his mother, or the family head and plotting vengeance, he had chosen to give up on everything. Without even struggling to change his reality, he had merely lamented his fate and wasted his life away.
Bellard genuinely despised that version of Kyle.
At the same time, he found it unexpected. Kyle had always consciously avoided him until now. Unless it was by chance, he had gone out of his way not to cross paths with Bellard. Yet here he was, appearing of his own accord. It couldn’t help but feel strange.
Still, Bellard had no interest in the reason. To him, Kyle was not someone worth wasting time on.
“I don’t know what you came here for, but get lost. I have nothing to say to you.”
He issued the dismissal and tried to ignore him. Or rather, he had intended to.
“You’d better stop.”
If Kyle hadn’t suddenly spoken those words, he would have.
“……What?”
Bellard scowled and turned to Kyle.
“Whatever it is you’re about to do right now—you’d better stop.”
“……!”
Bellard flinched at those words. Deep down, he already knew. He knew that what he was planning was unjust. That he was about to commit a wrong simply because his emotions had gotten the better of him. Hearing it pointed out so directly made his body react involuntarily.
But—
“……I don’t know what nonsense you’re spouting. This isn’t something you should be meddling in. Get lost. Now.”
There was no way Bellard would meekly accept Kyle’s words. Not when he was in no state to listen to anyone.
“……”
Kyle stared at Bellard in silence. Then—
“I see. Then there’s no helping it.”
He slowly shook his head.
“Looks like you need to get beaten up today.”