Sun and Hill Club Showdown
html, body { margin:0; padding:0; } Freshman: Johan 21
It was a weekday. The academy was on edge from the incident Bianca had caused, but they didn't go so far as to cancel classes.
That was actually a good thing. If events got scrapped, my plan to wander the clubs, snag some fateful encounters, and plant flags everywhere would go right down the drain.
Club recruitment season was in full swing, with every group pulling out all the stops to lure in top freshmen. Some clubs were swarmed with applicants, while others—like Twilight Sisters—were deader than a ghost town.
Naturally, the latter outnumbered the former by a landslide. Even in the academy, clubs followed the rich-get-richer, poor-get-poorer rule. The top-tier ones had insane competition—you wanted in but couldn't hack it—while the bottom-feeders had seniors begging, bribing, and pulling every trick to get even one recruit.
It made perfect sense. These weren't just hobby groups; they were networking hubs. Joining a trash club meant throwing away your shot at real connections. That's why everyone busted their asses to land a spot in a good one.
Bane and I hit the swordsmanship club Sun and Hill first. It was the academy's most renowned blade circle.
Lake Sword was exclusive to Ibis dormers, but Sun and Hill was open to anyone—except Oracles.
Oracles got the short end of the stick from other dorms, subtle discrimination everywhere, and club rejections were common. Plenty of circles outright shunned them.
The Sun and Hill clubhouse was a massive mansion, dripping with opulent design that could intimidate anyone who laid eyes on it. Their triangular roof, blazing red like the sun, had a single sword stabbed through it like a church cross.
It came with impeccably manicured gardens. Anyone who barely scraped their way in would spend their entire academy life tending those—club hierarchies were brutally clear.
A fluffy cloud of students clustered at the entrance, deluding themselves that this was their ticket to high society. Did they even realize they'd be gardeners till graduation? Idiots.
We approached the clubhouse. A hulking knight statue in full armor guarded the front gate.
The main gate stood wide open—standard for freshman recruitment week.
We stepped inside together. Bane, the alchemist, had zero chance of joining a sword club, but she tagged along anyway.
"Freshmen...? What the hell? It's an Oracle."
A pale-skinned celestial dude shot me a frosty glare as I entered the garden. He waved his hand dismissively.
"Scram, Oracle. You're not getting in anyway."
This nameless extra talking down to me like he owned the place? Not even a footnote in the novel, bossing me around.
"What did you just say!?"
Bane beat me to the punch, her mouth twisting into an inverted triangle, brows furrowed like an angry hedgehog all balled up. Her eyes looked bloodshot.
"Doesn't matter for Ibis. Our club doesn't take Oracles—tradition."
"Isn't that discrimination?"
"It's tradition, not discrimination. We don't have the luxury for useless Oracles anyway."
Right on cue, the gatekeeper bullshit started. I came prepared for this Oracle hurdle—there was a reason.
"I heard you guys are holding sparring demos during recruitment week."
The extra snorted. "You, an Oracle, sparring? Pfft! Pro tip from a senior: bail before you embarrass yourself."
"Hey, Dost. What's the commotion?"
"Yo, Baren. Some Oracle wants a tour. Kicking him out."
"What? Oracle shows up here and you've got balls of steel. Huh...? You."
A familiar face popped up behind him—the incubus from the carriage ride down with Scarlett-senpai.
Baren Kurger, right?
Remembering a guy's name. Guess I'm growing up.
"This the punk who wants a spar?"
"Yeah. You know him?"
"Intimately! Oh ho, our fates run deeper than I thought!"
"Not interested in deep bonds with dudes."
"Same here! But fate says otherwise!"
The incubus flashed an annoying grin, arms wide like he was hugging the air.
"I'll show you the terror of Sun and Hill myself. Bonus: senior supremacy lesson. Hey, freshman—follow me."
Things smoothed out fast. Bane gripped my arm, voice laced with worry.
"This feels like it's heading south.... Maybe skip it?"
"It's fine. Don't sweat it."
I shook off her concern and trailed Baren inside. This was exactly what I wanted.
We passed a fancy garden with three fountains, pushed open the mansion doors, and bam—a huge club hall.
Portraits of past club leaders lined the walls. One of my goals here was that final one hanging there.
Flowing Flame, Idsha Garnet. Gotta plant some flags with her early.
First target: current Sun and Hill club president, Idsha Garnet.
Baren led us to a room at the front of the hall. Inside was a training ground bigger than the hall—even larger than our sword class arena, just a tad smaller.
The sparring area had multiple circular rings like sumo pits, with weird metal machines beside them. Totally out of place.
"That's gotta be the Reality Room. One of Hibirisax's ooparts...."
Bane whispered.
The Reality Room was a special magic item for realistic duels. Inside those small rings, all physical impacts were nullified, pain dialed down to a tenth.
A compact battlefield for real fights. We hadn't used it in class yet—a rare gem. Even storied Lake Sword had just one.
"Hold up, Baren. The Reality Room? Newbies get wooden swords."
"That's why Oracles barge in—too soft. Gotta make an example."
Baren said it loud enough for us to hear. As he approached, eyes from nearby wooden-sword spars turned our way.
"What's up? Reality Room?"
"Whoa, real blades then? First time seeing it!"
"Against a freshman?"
"Isn't that the Oracle human?"
"Yeah. Oracle in Sun and Hill? Never heard of that."
Ignoring the rowdy crowd, Baren closed in. Bane's grip tightened on my arm.
"Seriously, back out now...."
"Told you, chill."
I casually shook her off.
"Scared? Run now—I'd allow it. Oracles' specialty, right? Pfft!"
"You won't tuck tail like in front of Scarlett-senpai?"
"Never ran. Cockier than I thought. Guess all Oracles yap till they eat steel."
My line exactly.
"Get in, punk. Sword lesson—and manners."
He tossed me a 120cm steel sword.
I snatched it midair. Solid weight—nice. Standard sparring steel.
First things first: Idsha-senpai needs to show. Otherwise, pointless.
Wooing randos? Not thrilled. But she'd show if I smashed enough egos.
Even academy elites were just students—no real combat edge over me.
I stepped into the ring, sword ready. Baren nodded outward.
The gatekeeper dude fiddled with the machine. A translucent barrier snapped up around the sumo-pit space.
"Standard duel rules. Out of bounds or incapacitated: loss."
Baren shook his head. "No out-of-bounds. Incapacitated only."
"What? Too hardcore for a newbie."
"Heh, told ya—manners lesson."
Clowning hard. Digging his own grave. Any mercy? Gone.
Bane clasped her hands behind me, anxious. I flashed her a grin and waved.
"That human freshman's screwed—Baren of all people."
"Kinda pity him. 'Thorn Baren'—total sadist."
"Incubi gonna incubus. Slacker, but sword skills are legit. Won't join anyway—gonna get hazed hard."
Thorn Baren, huh? Lame nickname.
I wanted something cooler. Hmm.
"Sword up, runt."
"Sure~"
I held it loose, club-like—pure provocation.
"What? That freshman's basics suck."
"How long till he drops?"
"Ten seconds?"
Baren bit, vein popping on his forehead.
"This punk thinks I'm a joke. Fine—playtime's over. Begin."
He signaled the machine guy, who nodded and slammed the red button.
"Okay. Duel start."
"Kahah! Last ten seconds, I'll praise ya!"
Baren charged with that taunt.