A Public Confession?
The Academy Central Duel Plaza.
The arena sat in a prime spot on campus, and today it was packed far beyond its usual crowd. A turnout like this only happened when a duel had real heat behind it.
"Haha. Look at all these fans, here just for me."
Collin Zauss flicked his hair back and swept a look around the stands. Eyes from every year were locked on him, and he showed not a flicker of awkwardness—if anything, he was savoring it. For a man whose brain was half showmanship, a stage like this was always a welcome sight.
Standing opposite him with a mute, unreadable face was Arsha Swordhorn. She did not look eager to be there, but the atmosphere around her did not so much as ruffle her. Hers was a still-water mind, tempered on the sword. If a crowd of onlookers could shake her, she would never have been called a leading light of the Golden Generation.
"Arsha Swordhorn versus Senior Zauss… I don't care how good Miss Swordhorn is. He's a third-year."
"It's not just the year gap. I hear that senior's a real problem even among the third-years."
"For real? Don't tell me he's one of the Ten Honored?"
"Not quite, but…"
"The Ten Heroes? What is that? Sounds like a name for people who cook insanely well."
"Idiot. It's not the Ten Heroes, it's the Ten Honored. You don't even know that? It's what they call the student council's official top ten—the Academy's absolute elite. Year doesn't matter. Department doesn't matter. Those ten are this Academy's face."
"First-years can make it?"
"Obviously. Miss Leoris is a lock for a seat. The first-years just haven't been ranked yet because they only just enrolled."
Collin had been drinking in the cheers. At that last stretch of conversation, his brow tightened, just slightly.
He was perfect. So perfect, in fact, that he sometimes wondered whether the gods had made a mistake when they put him together—as if every stat that ought to have been spread evenly across other people had been dumped on him instead.
If he had to name one thing that perfect self still lacked, it was fame. Claiming a place among the Ten Honored, the mark of the Academy's finest, was one of his goals. That title kept paying dividends long after graduation.
Goading Arsha Swordhorn into this duel had been part of that plan. She was only a first-year, barely through the gates—but a win against her would look very good when the Ten Honored promotion review came around. Arsha Swordhorn was no ordinary freshman. She was a rising star the entire Royal Capital had already taken notice of.
"Haaah… I've got a mountain of busywork piled up…"
A professor who looked as if he possessed not a scrap of motivation scratched the back of his head and sighed. Jace Ragan, Academy swordsmanship instructor. He had been dragged in as the duel notary more or less by accident, and the annoyance sat openly on his face. Even the Academy had faculty who would rather be anywhere else.
"Miss Swordhorn. First duel, right? Don't tense up too much. Losing to an upperclassman is nothing to be ashamed of."
Collin smiled pleasantly and patted Arsha's shoulder. She stepped back a pace without bothering to hide the contempt on her face.
"Kindly keep your hands off me."
She brushed off the shoulder he had touched as she said it. Collin threw both hands up in exaggerated surrender.
"Oho. Looks like I've been hated. The rose's thorns are quite sharp."
Professor Jace looked from one to the other.
"Arsha Swordhorn. Collin Zauss. Are you ready?"
"I am."
"Same here."
Both declared themselves prepared.
"You all know the rules. Killing blows are forbidden. This is a five-minute match. If there's no result inside five minutes, I'll call it myself."
Professor Jace gave his cheek an idle scratch and announced the start.
"Begin!"
Arsha lifted her eyes and took in Collin Zauss's armament. The blade in his hand was a rapier, short at about eighty centimeters—a thin, light sword built for the thrust. Women usually favored it more than men.
His stance is proper, at least.
Rapier extended forward, his other hand set behind his back: a textbook posture, with no easy openings. His face and his personality were both a lost cause, but his swordsmanship looked like the real thing. Not that it would be enough against her.
Tat-tat-tat!
Arsha took the first move. She closed the gap in a handful of spare, efficient steps and cut, her eyes flashing. The gaze was a beast's. The path of the blade was as precise as if it had been drafted with ruler and compass.
"Hah!"
Collin met the strike with a shout and turned it aside. Arsha's assault did not break off there. The first exchange might as well have been a warm-up; a rain of cuts came hammering down after it.
Ting! Ting! Ting! Ting! Ting!
Sparks leapt every time the blades crossed, a spectacle in its own right. From the stands, it was hard to tell who was the first-year and who was the third. The one holding the initiative was obvious: Arsha Swordhorn.
"Th-that's insane! Did she pop a buff skill?"
"She's beating a third-year senior on raw physicals. Is that guy even actually strong?"
"Good lord. Collin Zauss, getting pushed like that. He's not one of the Ten Honored, but he was supposed to be a real handful."
"So the talk about this being a Golden Generation was actually true…"
Even the third-years watching could not keep their mouths shut in the face of Arsha's onslaught.
"Nngh…! Orage de Fleur!"
Thrusts rapidly forward with a mana-wreathed blade. The lighter the sword, the faster the attacks; Agility also increases attack speed. The final thrust deals twice the power of a normal thrust.
Power: Equipped sword's power / 2 + 9 + (Agility × 1)
Driven onto the back foot, Collin was the first to spend a skill.
The Zauss family's secret art was Fleur swordsmanship—famous for being as elegant and beautiful as a flower, and recognized as far more than a pretty performance piece. Its power was the real thing.
Orage de Fleur, the Storm of Flowers, lived up to the name: a relentless chain of strikes meant to smother an opponent. The skill was only D-Rank, but the damage itself was nothing to sneeze at. If it had been weak, it would never have been counted among the Zauss family's hidden techniques.
"Hmm. Looks like I'll have to teach my senior a thing or two about consecutive strikes."
He had drawn the wrong opponent. Arsha had a skill that was, for all intents and purposes, a strict upgrade.
"Blade Dance."
Spins a mana-wreathed blade and strikes in every direction. The mana in the sword and the rotational force combine into a powerful synergy. Damage rises the longer the assault continues, and the final attack deals twice the opening power.
Power: Equipped sword's power + 15 + (Strength × 1)
Chang! Chang! Chang! Chang! Chang! Chang!
A pair of blades tangled in a blur. The landscape painted by the deep-blue mana along the steel was beautiful enough to bewitch every spectator in the plaza. Even Professor Jace, who had been hauled out here against his will, found a spark of interest lighting his eyes.
"Holy hell! That's an insanely high-level exchange! So this is how fun it gets when two speed-swords go at it! Born, who's winning!?"
"Use your eyes. Miss Swordhorn's ahead. The result's obvious, isn't it?"
"He's losing even in a skill clash…"
"I-it's fine! That guy's the weakest of our third-years anyway!"
"I-is he? He isn't even one of the Ten Honored."
"Stop coping. None of you could even take Zauss."
Collin was rattled. He had known Arsha Swordhorn's reputation. He had not imagined he would be pushed this far.
Strength. Agility. Skills.
Arsha Swordhorn outclassed him in every category.
Good thing I bought insurance…
A thin, ugly smile touched Collin's mouth. It came and went so fast that even Professor Jace missed it.
Vmmm—
He poured mana into the bracelet at his wrist. The band answered with a faint tremor. It was no ordinary piece of jewelry.
"Nnh!?"
Arsha's movement dulled all at once. An opening. Collin threaded his rapier through the hairline gap.
"Tch!"
The line of Arsha's sword bent with liquid grace. Her blade snatched Collin's thrust out of the air like a hawk taking a rabbit—pure animal reflex. A fraction slower and she would have eaten the hit.
Monstrous athleticism… which only makes her more appetizing.
Collin licked his lower lip and smiled. Now it was his turn to dictate the timing.
"Huh? Is it just me, or did offense and defense just flip? Born! What happened?"
"Y-yeah… Miss Swordhorn. Did she overdo it? Her speed dropped off a cliff."
"There it is. A first-year was never going to beat a third-year, no matter how you slice it."
"Inexperience, then? Figures. People who've actually dueled a lot know how this goes. Try to force a result too hard from the opening and you end up like that."
The shape of the match inverted in a heartbeat. Collin Zauss was the one pouring on the pressure; Arsha Swordhorn was the one scrambling to keep him off. No one found the situation harder to believe than Arsha herself.
My shoulders feel like something's crushing them! Did I mismanage my condition…?
It was bewildering. In all her countless spars, in all her countless hours of training, nothing like this had ever happened. Arsha had tunneled down the path of the sword with single-minded focus, but her actual combat experience was thin. Sudden variables were exactly where her responses fell apart.
Tat-tat!
"You actually blocked that. Lucky you~"
Too close. The more her heart raced, the sloppier her swordsmanship became. Collin swung with that greasy smile and praised her reflexes. Both of them could feel it clearly: her technique was coming apart.
At this rate she would lose in well under five minutes. A murky fog seemed to be spreading through her head. Arsha swallowed dryly. Her thoughts would not line up. What was she supposed to—
"Arsha!!!"
A huge voice calling her name. It cut through the stands and snapped Arsha's fogged mind awake, as if she had been coming out of a cold. She did not need to look to know who it was.
"You're looking especially pretty today!"
What is that idiot even saying!?
Yohan's sudden confession left Arsha's head even blanker than before. At the same time, she could have sworn a murderous gaze had just stabbed her in the back.
"That necklace of yours, especially!"
You idiot!!! Why would you confess at a time like this!? I mean—I'm happy, but… wait. Necklace?
At Yohan's words, Arsha registered the heavy presence at her throat. The pendant he had given her was sitting right there.