Talent and Enlightenment
A gentle blue starlight wrapped me in its warm embrace. A mysterious energy coursed through my entire body, filling me with power. Soon the stars of other colors began to fade one by one, and the world regained its clear sky.
I slowly raised my sword. Pascal, who had come back to his senses a moment too late, leveled his dagger at me with a heavily guarded expression. Not moving recklessly was a wise choice. Ignoring him, I lightly ran my left index and middle fingers along the blade. The blue light that had enveloped me transferred into the sword.
Enchant. A technique that imprints one’s unique magical power, divine power, or other forms of energy onto a weapon or one’s own body. Yet what I displayed was an authority far higher than any ordinary enchantment. It was the conceptual power of ‘containing’ something. Depending on the user’s capacity, whether the medium was magic, soul, object, or illusion, I could grant and imbue anything I wished.
What I had contained this time was Talent. It let those who could already see a path glimpse an even longer one, and those who saw no path at all discover a new one.
— Thump!
With a small pulse, the light fully settled inside me. I pointed my sword—now heavy with blue radiance—straight at Pascal and spoke.
Pascal’s whole body trembled. Cold sweat streamed down his skin, his pulse thundered, and the tip of the dagger in his grip shook wildly. Some unknowable terror threatened to swallow him whole. Yet he quickly steadied his mind and focused on his opponent.
The outcome of a mere spar wasn’t important, but the plan that would unfold soon demanded he uncover every possible variable. From the one who fought the hero to this guy… Just what kind of academy is this?
He had assumed that, aside from the professors and the hero, he only needed to watch a handful of somewhat famous students. Instead the saintess had enrolled without warning, an intruder had slipped inside, and a member of the Great Pioneers had arrived. Strange events had begun piling up one after another.
Even today he had discovered new anomalies: a student who could stand toe-to-toe with the hero, and now this bizarre one standing before him. Pascal decided this could not continue.
I have to draw information out of him somehow.
Too many variables had already surfaced. To keep the plan intact he needed to reduce them or at least prepare the minimum countermeasures. Information gathering came first.
This is the task Father entrusted to me. I cannot disappoint him.
For the family’s sake, even the smallest flaw or error was unforgivable. Pascal drew a multitude of hidden weapons from his coat while simultaneously circulating his magic power. Around him, clumps of energy shaped exactly like the daggers in his hands began to form.
This was the technique the Myers family valued above all others. Only the current head could wield it perfectly, but as a direct descendant Pascal had reached the level where he could imitate it.
Sky-Blooming Flower Rain
A secret art that unleashed countless real daggers alongside fakes born of magic power, creating an attack that looked like falling petals. He had adapted the famous technique with the Myers family’s unique magical properties. Its duration was shorter than the original, but its destructive power had increased enough to land decisive blows.
Pascal launched himself forward at once. He had already mapped every route he would take and every movement the magically controlled daggers would make. If he could seal off all his opponent’s possible paths and simply pour the blades down—
—Swish! Swish!
I win!
The moment Pascal broke into a sprint, the countless daggers created in his wake flew toward his opponent. They were packed so densely there was no room to dodge. Convinced it was impossible to evade them all, he charged straight ahead—
—Step.
One step. The opponent moved.
—Clang!
The blue light drew a gentle wave, and every dagger flying toward him clattered harmlessly to the ground.
Even after witnessing it, Pascal could scarcely believe his eyes. Flashy movements? No. The motion itself had not been fast or unnatural. Yet the result was utterly alien. His mind refused to process what his eyes reported. It was as if the world itself followed the flow of that sword.
“What the…”
An impossible feat. As Pascal tried to leap backward—
—Step.
Two steps. Blue light exploded outward in every direction.
“Urk…!”
Pascal dropped heavily onto the arena floor. Extreme terror now carved deep lines across his face. He pressed a trembling hand to his chest. Something was terribly wrong. It felt as though countless threads connected to him had been severed—soul, history, emotion. A distance had opened between him and the very things that composed his being.
Yet he was still alive. He could breathe, his heart still beat, and his limbs obeyed him. Nevertheless he remained seated, eyes fixed on the opponent taking the final step.
—Step.
Three steps. Every flow of magic power lost meaning. Holes were punched through the systems of balance and strength. Even so the blue blade advanced, slow and unhurried, as though nothing in existence could touch it.
That was as far as Pascal’s permitted talent allowed him to see. He stared blankly at the approaching blue edge. The despair and fear he had felt only moments ago had already been cut away.
If only talent had been granted to me… I could have seen so much more…
He closed his eyes and surrendered himself to the light.
From that day’s spar, Pascal attained enlightenment and climbed to a slightly higher realm.
—Thud!
Struck squarely by the blue light, Pascal lost consciousness and collapsed. He wasn’t dead, of course. He would probably wake up after some time.
I dispersed the remaining light and sheathed my sword. I swept my gaze across the spectator seats. Every single person—including the referee—had their heads turned toward me. At first glance it looked as though they were all watching, but their eyes were unfocused, vacant. The eerie sight made me click my tongue.
Tsk. I didn’t expect the influence to be this strong.
This was the typical aftereffect of gaining enlightenment. When someone witnessed a high-level truth and attained realization, they fell into a thoughtless, selfless state, sensing and following the path their talent had opened. It was why the mind often drifted away during the process—much like the sensation of time slowing during a life-or-death battle.
I had assumed that observers with solid perception and cognition would remain unaffected even if they watched from the stands. Yet the “realm of talent” I had revealed seemed to pierce even my own authority, embedding itself directly into their minds. Matters connected to me would be cleaned up neatly thanks to that same authority, but the enlightenment they had gained would remain with them forever.
…It felt as though I had unintentionally strengthened the academy’s forces, but it didn’t matter. My purpose had been fulfilled.
I turned my eyes toward Hestia, Arie, and Elisha, who still sat in the stands. They wore similar dazed expressions, yet the aura radiating from them revealed a clear difference. Thanks to their extraordinary talent, the three women seemed to have witnessed far more through me than anyone else. If the others had gained shallow insights, then these three had attained profound ones.
The technique of imbuing “talent” I had displayed in the spar appeared differently to each viewer. Though I had fought with a sword, to some it might have looked like swordsmanship, to others spearmanship, martial arts, or even magic. The blue starlight was the vast framework of talent itself; it was likely that every spectator had encountered the form of talent best suited to them.
Hestia, Arie, and Elisha were special. They must have seen the talent closest to their own essence, and the depth of understanding they gained was on an entirely different level.
I looked at Hestia first. Our eyes met naturally, and I could feel her panic from across the distance. She wore an expression that couldn’t decide what face to make. The light of the Holy Sword had clearly grown stronger than before.
Next was Arie. The mischievous smile she had worn vanished the moment our eyes met; she gave a knowing nod as if to say just as I expected. She too had grown, though not to the same degree as Hestia. Wait—shouldn’t she be up next? Why is she still in the stands?
Finally I looked at Elisha. Unlike the blank mask she had worn while glaring at Pascal, she greeted me with a bright, radiant smile and waved enthusiastically. Her growth was almost imperceptible, yet I could sense it: a solid mental barrier had formed inside her mind. It didn’t seem specialized against mental attacks, but it would be immensely helpful for emotional regulation—the exact ability she needed most after her recent instability caused by regression.
All three had safely attained enlightenment. Confirming that my work was done, I left the arena before the referee could fully recover. From now on I would remain in everyone’s memory as simply “the student who defeated Pascal Myers.”
I stretched my tired body. There were no afternoon classes today, so I could head back and rest—
“Hehe, I watched your spar closely.”
The moment I tried to slip away after quietly gathering my things, a voice spoke from behind me. …She hadn’t come down from the stands, so I thought I might escape her this time, but she had come looking after all.
The owner of the voice was none other than the saintess, Arie. She waved at me playfully.
“It was beyond my expectations.”
“Thank you. Is it your turn next, Lady Arie?”
“…It is. Without Yulia here I almost forgot my own match.”
“It seems rather late. Shouldn’t you hurry?”
“True. Hmm… You’ll watch my spar until the end too, won’t you?”
No, I was planning to return to the dormitory.
“Actually, I—”
“Hehe, take a good look this time. So you can see exactly what kind of person you’ll be serving from now on…!”
Arie ascended to the arena without waiting for me to finish. Unable to stop her, I had no choice but to return to the spectator seats. After all, I was just an ordinary student who could not ignore the words of the noble saintess.
Well… watching one more spar wouldn’t change my rest time by much. Still, “the person you’ll be serving”… Was she already treating me like a subordinate?
—Flash!
Boom!
“……”
Arie’s spar ended in less than five seconds. A dazzling burst of light, and her opponent collapsed on the spot after taking a direct hit. Her victory was only natural, but I hadn’t expected it to finish so quickly. In the previous round she had seemed to toy with her opponent out of consideration. This time she showed no mercy, felling them with a single release of divine power.
If she was going to end it this anticlimactically, why ask me to watch?
How absurd.