Chapter 10
Chapter 10
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter Title: 010. Sophia - (3)
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Sophia was a pathetic wretch.
At least, that's how Isabella von Kreuz saw her.
A lanky girl who draped her deep crimson bangs over her face like a curtain, too spineless to even meet her eyes properly.
No matter how much she bullied her or hurled insults, all she'd do was mutter apologies like some mute idiot.
And yet, this scholarship student who got into the Knight Faculty under the princess's protection—getting her tuition paid for on top of that—had zero talent to show for it. She couldn't even swing a sword properly.
That was Sophia Aquilova, as far as Isabella had seen over the past year.
"Get up. We're not done yet."
But today, Sophia was different.
Different didn't even begin to cover it.
When she'd been picked as Isabella's sparring partner, she'd been trembling like a newborn calf. But the moment their wooden swords clashed, she transformed.
She parried Isabella's strike, dodged, and slammed her wooden sword right into her gut.
"Hngh... ughk..."
Only then did Isabella realize she was sprawled humiliatingly on the training grounds, vomiting everywhere.
The stares from the onlookers stung. Her face burned with shame.
"Th-that was just me letting my guard down!"
She yelled at no one in particular, mortified.
Yeah, it had to be carelessness. Dumb luck. No way that Sophia could pull that off.
After all, Isabella had seen her for a whole year. That gave her just enough resolve to haul herself back up.
"You fucking bitch. You're dead today. How dare you—how dare you attack me?"
"It's a spar. Got a problem with that?"
Isabella flinched at the immediate comeback.
Sophia's voice was utterly calm.
More than that, she wasn't even using polite speech anymore.
The daughter of traitors, talking like that to a noble lady from a prestigious house?
"Y-you insolent traitor's spawn...! I'll snap your neck right now...!"
Blinded by rage, Isabella charged.
Shrk.
She readjusted her grip on the hilt. Normally, she'd stick to the textbook forms for points, but she had no room for that now.
So Isabella unleashed her family's secret swordsmanship. The wooden blade twisted at an unnatural angle, aiming for Sophia's throat.
"H-hey! Isabella!"
The Swordsmanship Instructor freaked out.
Aiming for the throat was taboo, even in a mock battle with wooden swords.
But Isabella didn't care. If things blew up, her family could handle it. Crushing this pathetic traitor's daughter completely was more important.
But...
Clang!
Sophia's sword intercepted Isabella's path.
No—Isabella's sword had crossed into hers.
Sophia's blade had been there from the start, as if she'd known exactly where it was headed.
"...H-how?"
Isabella was an heir to House Kreuz. Her father, the family head, was one of the kingdom's mere seven Swordmasters.
House Kreuz was a renowned swordsmanship lineage.
Isabella's technique was a secret art passed down through generations, trained since childhood.
Reading or matching it should have been impossible.
'She kept up? No... she read it?'
Yet Sophia blocked it effortlessly.
And she was holding her sword one-handed. Her grip was a total mess. With that crude form, she'd stopped Isabella's full-force two-handed swing.
It wasn't luck.
This was...
Thwack!
"Guh!"
The wooden sword struck Isabella's solar plexus again. She collapsed, expelling all the air from her lungs.
Step, step.
Sophia approached.
"We're not done. Get up."
"Y-you bitch."
Isabella ground her teeth and grabbed her sword, forcing herself up again.
But...
Thwack!
The moment she rose, another blow flew in. Hit in the collarbone, she face-planted into her own vomit again.
Stars exploded in her vision. Even straining with all her might, only a wheezing gasp escaped her open mouth.
"Kgh."
"Get up."
"Th-that's cheating!"
Striking an opponent who hadn't even assumed a stance—cowardly didn't cover it. It was downright despicable. A disgrace to the Knight Faculty. But Sophia showed no concern whatsoever.
"If it's cheating, fight back. Just win."
How had it come to this?
She'd planned to beat Sophia senseless under the guise of a spar.
Now the tables had turned completely.
Thwack!
"Kk."
"Get up."
"Y-you... aaaargh!"
Isabella snatched up her dropped sword and lunged.
Crack!
"...Sophia Aquilova, victorious."
The Swordsmanship Instructor, unable to watch any longer, finally declared Sophia's win—after Isabella's limbs were thoroughly shattered.
The fact that she hadn't surrendered even then was almost admirable, but the bout had been brutal.
Less a domination, more a trampling.
"..."
Normally, the Knight Faculty applauded after a spar.
Not this time. No one clapped.
The training grounds filled only with Isabella's ragged breaths and occasional groans.
Everyone stared blankly, eyes flicking between the bloodied Isabella and the impassive Sophia looking down at her.
"...Gulp."
Someone swallowed hard.
This was the moment the hierarchy of the Knight Faculty's second-years flipped upside down.
Sophia Veronica Aquilova was one of the five protagonists in Throne of the Academy.
Especially as the only one who wielded a sword, she was wildly popular.
Early in the game, she was a gloomy girl with unkempt deep crimson hair. But by the mid-to-late game, she grew it out and blossomed into a stunning beauty.
Her major debut came at the climax of Act 1.
The once-reclusive student Sophia gets caught in a Shade attack. In her panic, she stumbles into the academy's treasure vault, uncovers a sealed demonic sword, and uses it to rack up feats against the Shades, solidifying her path to becoming the next Sword Saint.
That's the canon path.
However...
"...No way her early-game timidity was because she's from a traitor's bloodline..."
And yet, that Sophia had come to the chapel for my confession.
Even putting it into words, it made no sense. I clutched my head.
"Fuck."
I'd decided to avoid messing with the original plot as much as possible.
If only to survive the academy when it turned into a warzone soon.
If only to avoid drawing the princess's unnecessary attention.
But what was this?
"Ugh, the game never mentioned it. The traitor backstory!"
If I'd known the girl in the confessional yesterday was Sophia the Sword Saint, I'd have sent her packing.
No way I'd meddle with a character who grows fine on her own.
But the water was spilled.
"Alright. Let's think positive."
All I'd told Sophia was not to lose heart and to build some confidence. That was it.
Common sense. Plain advice. Nothing special.
She'd follow canon: get the demonic sword at Act 1's climax and take her first step as Sword Saint.
She had to.
"Sigh. Priest Leo, listen up."
My optimism shattered the next morning when Lowen showed up at the chapel.
"The cathedral's swamped lately."
"...What now?"
"Last night, one of the Knight Faculty students got hauled in half-dead. Took multiple healers to stabilize her. We're already short-staffed, and now this. Her limbs were smashed clean off."
"Some accident in the Knight Faculty?"
"Nah, just sparring injuries. I mean, breaking limbs in a spar? There's ruthless, and then there's this. Tch."
Lowen sighed deeply, then eyed me as if remembering something.
"Come to think of it, didn't you already know, Priest Leo?"
"...Me? Know what?"
"You asked about that traitor's heir recently, so I figured you were in the loop."
A seed of dread sprouted.
I asked carefully.
"...Did that young lady... do something wrong?"
"The patient who got dragged in? That Aquilova girl did it."
Ah, shit.
Sophia faced no punishment.
It was only natural. In sword spars, as long as you didn't target the head or throat, no one was at fault.
And Sophia knew that full well.
Isabella alone had broken her arms more times than she could count on one hand over the past year.
Even with Isabella carted off to the cathedral with shattered limbs, Sophia got off with a light warning.
But the glares were sharp.
"You kept hitting her when she couldn't even stand?"
"Typical traitor's blood—look at that cowardice."
Sophia was the victor, but the crowd still despised her.
She was used to it.
Everyone saw her as the traitor's heir, a criminal.
"...Doesn't matter."
Things were different now.
Sophia had realized for herself that she wasn't a sinner. Just a survivor.
"...Sophia Aquilova."
It was after class, as everyone dispersed.
The Swordsmanship Instructor called her aside. Unlike his usual boisterous self, his face was full of wariness.
"Today's spar... Yeah. Hate to admit it, but it was impressive."
"...Thank you."
"Pardon the rudeness, but where'd you learn that swordplay? It's completely detached from any kingdom style I know."
It had to seem that way.
Sophia knew no swordsmanship. She'd just swung on instinct.
Apparently, it looked unnatural to the instructor.
"Could it be... the Aquilova secret sword art, honed in real battle...?"
"..."
"Ahem. Anyway. Sophia. Let me make a proposal. I'd like to guide your talent properly. How about private lessons? Oh, and tuition-free, of course!"
The instructor's eyes gleamed with greed.
Sophia instinctively knew he coveted the Aquilova secret art. As her eyes narrowed, he hurriedly added, anxious.
"Hey, I graduated top of the Knight Faculty back in the day. Even got scouted by the Royal Knights..."
"No thanks."
A firm rejection.
His eyes widened.
"N-no? Sophia, think it over. This is a once-in-a-lifetime offer. Private lessons, even! There's a line of students who—"
"I'm good."
Sophia made a point of acting disinterested.
When he still wouldn't drop it, she sighed.
"I already have a master."
"...A m-master? Who— Hey, Sophia! We weren't done—"
Ignoring his protests, Sophia turned away.
Master.
It wasn't a lie.
The one who affirmed her existence. The one who showed her the path to victory.
If anyone could guide Sophia, there was only one person in the world.
'My one true confidant is that priest.'
Sophia's steps led unhesitatingly toward the chapel.