Legitimate Torture in the Name of Training
Even though he’d only been half-jokingly pushed into it, Kair still grumbled the whole time while doing exactly as he was told. It was almost like he couldn’t hide that protagonist quality of his. At the very least, you had to give him credit for his stubbornness—bordering on stupidity. That was the feeling that carried us through the basic drills, repeated right up until the day before the Mock Battle.
“Augh, my thighs… Don’t yours hurt?”
“Our training loads aren’t the same.”
When Kair, clutching various parts of his body and moaning in pain, asked the question, I answered leisurely that our workloads were different. Even as the words left my mouth, I swallowed a few awkward ones inside because I knew the uncomfortable truth.
‘…Honestly, it’s mostly just my level.’
If this were a world where you could see stats and levels as numbers, that little exchange would’ve been nothing but high-level deception. Completely unaware of how smoothly I’d lied, Kair scratched the back of his head with a hissing sound, like he was swallowing his frustration.
“Tch, at this rate I won’t even be able to catch up…”
“Catch up to what? You’ll never beat me.”
I snorted at his already grandiose goal, walked a few steps ahead of him, and headed back to the classroom. Those firm words—that he could never win—might’ve stung a little. ‘Even if I can’t read his mind…’ For some reason, I was certain that was exactly what he was thinking. Before graduation, he was going to surpass me no matter what. I didn’t even need to look back to feel that conviction.
A day passed, and finally the day of the Mock Battle arrived. Back when this was just a game, only about four matches per participant had been shown—an event that felt more like a minor side thing. So I hadn’t expected it to be on such a large scale…
“Are you Spina’s parents? Ah… confirmed. Please cooperate with the staff inside to ensure the event runs smoothly!”
‘That many carriages…’
Contrary to my casual assumption, the Mock Battle was quite the grand affair. There were several times the usual number of staff managing the grounds, and even more people were busy directing the flood of carriages through the crowded academy. Their tone was soft—requests for cooperation rather than barked orders—because most of the people inside those carriages were high-ranking nobles. They were clearly trying not to offend anyone with a single careless word. After all, one wrong remark could cost them their job… or, in the worst case, their head. The usually cold-blooded guards who sorted students by uniform alone suddenly looked almost pitiful today.
As always, students in uniform passed through the gates in a trance. Inside, the paths had been divided into carriage lanes and pedestrian lanes—only natural, since a single accident involving a carriage would turn into a disaster. After weaving through the crowd of students, parents, and carriages, we finally reached the Mock Battle arena. It was the spectator stands where our class had claimed a wide section for themselves.
I picked a decent seat and looked straight ahead without thinking. The arena was shaped like a coliseum, though closer to an oval. ‘Ah, this…’ It didn’t take long to realize that the view from the opposite stands was the same background screen shown at the start of a Mock Battle. Just like during the entrance ceremony, reality overlapped with the game screen. Every time this happened, an indescribable sense of dissonance washed over me, almost making me forget that what I was seeing was real.
“You’re here?”
At the familiar voice, I turned toward the source. The only person who would greet me first here was Kair. True to his earlier advice about keeping family matters vague, he hadn’t interacted with anyone else. As if he didn’t care whether his academy relationships were ruined or not, he continued.
“You got here early.”
“I came by carriage. You’re participating in the Mock Battle too, right?”
Kair answered my question about arriving early by mentioning the carriage, then immediately asked if I was entering the Mock Battle.
“…For now.”
His tone made it sound like my participation was already decided. I nodded with a bitter affirmation and turned my gaze forward. Honestly, I wasn’t thrilled about the event itself, but if academy activities could raise my stats, I had to set my mood aside for a while. Especially since winning all four matches would give stats equivalent to several weeks of training or reading… For surviving three years at the academy, the Mock Battle wasn’t optional—it was mandatory. Even if you lost, you still had to participate. That was the kind of event it was.
“Students who registered for the Mock Battle, this way—!”
Thirty minutes before the event began, the teachers’ shouts from each class cut through the students’ murmurs and echoed across the stands. It was the call to gather everyone who had signed up. Quite a few students from our class stood up, leaving gaps in the seats.
“Let’s go.”
Kair, who happened to be nearby, gestured for me to come along. At his short words, I quietly rose and followed the voice through the empty seats. Silently moving with the flow of students, we were led to what looked like a waiting room and told to stay there for a while. While we waited, Teacher Cedric scanned the participant list once and spoke.
“Everyone has their own reasons for entering the Mock Battle… Some of you want to test your skills properly, others want to show off in front of family who came to watch. ”
The teacher continued, guessing at the students’ motivations. Testing one’s abilities, showing a cool side to visiting family—examples tailored to the students’ level, even if they sounded a bit childish. When his own class didn’t respond much, Teacher Cedric, who had been standing with his hands behind his back in a haughty pose, went on.
“Whatever your reason, I doubt anyone came here planning to lose disgracefully… So give it everything you’ve got and seize victory, got it?!”
“Yes!”
It was encouragement mixed with motivation. At the end of Teacher Cedric’s spirited words, the students answered loudly. Of course, victory’s foundation naturally rested on the defeat of the opposing students… Even while aware of that uncomfortable truth, we could only stay silent and prepare for the matches.
Soon after, cheers from the stands reached even the inner waiting room. When the door swung open, the muffled cheers grew much louder.
“Time’s up. Let’s go.”
At Teacher Cedric’s announcement, the students stood up in unison. Whether we liked it or not, we were about to be under many eyes, so we swallowed the tension that followed. The expectant cheers that filled our ears and rang in our heads, along with the irregular applause from beyond the stands, only heightened that tension.
Once we stood in the space that looked like a limited arena, a student about our age in regular clothes—not a uniform—stood opposite us, also swallowing tension while watching. It seemed matches were at least separated by gender: boys versus boys, girls versus girls. In that moment of silent standoff, charged only with tension—
“Now, for the first-year students experiencing the Mock Battle for the first time, I’ll give a brief explanation.”
A dignified voice filled the entire arena. There was no visible speaker equipment, yet the voice carried clearly throughout. As soon as the explanation announcement ended, staff who had been waiting nearby approached and clicked metal bracelets onto our wrists.
“Each student participating in the Mock Battle has been given a bracelet that only works within the academy grounds.”
The bracelet felt slightly loose and was made of cold metal. Whether we examined the oddly shaped item or not, the low voice continued.
“Although real weapons are used in the Mock Battle, this equipment was created so students wouldn’t get hurt… It generates a protective barrier inside the arena. If the barrier created by this bracelet drops below a certain level, it will emit a loud noise, and that will determine the winner.”
In other words, it was both a safety device and equipment that reduced the burden of injury on both sides. I looked at the bracelet now fastened to my wrist with a sense of novelty. ‘So something like this existed.’ It didn’t look ordinary at a glance—quite expensive-looking, in fact. After finishing the explanation for the first-years, the voice addressed the students inside the arena.
“Now… each student, please choose your weapon.”
At the instruction to choose weapons, nearby staff brought over weapon racks and placed them beside each student. There were four types of weapons available for the Mock Battle: one-handed sword, wand, two-handed hammer, and dagger. The two-handed hammer was a weapon I’d once been fooled by its attack power into trying, only to give up after missing every time. Since I couldn’t use magic anyway, the choices quickly narrowed to the one-handed sword and dagger. I’d been wanting a new weapon anyway, and here was the chance right in front of me. Instead of the dagger I’d been using for years, I picked up the one-handed sword—called a shortsword.
After choosing, I looked up to see that the well-built student across from me had also chosen the same one-handed sword. The staff who had brought the racks collected the unused weapons and returned to their original positions.
“Then, in a moment, the match will begin with the signal.”
Even at the continuing voice, I kept my gaze fixed forward with a cold stare and maintained steady breathing. After all, this wasn’t the first time I’d swung a blade at another person. The tension that had been stirred by the cheers gradually settled, and the irregular applause was buried beneath a quiet, steady pulse.
“I’ll count to three and start. Three, two, one…”
All my nerves were now focused on the unfamiliar voice of someone I didn’t even know.
“Begin—!”
The moment that voice rose, a cheer like a signal flare erupted. My boots left the ground, and the student across from me rapidly closed the distance. He didn’t seem used to fighting; gripping the one-handed sword with both hands, he froze in place.
“U-uaaah!”
Instead of preparing to block or counter, he squeezed his eyes shut and screamed. Since I’d already heard about the bracelets, I swung without holding back, aiming from his left shoulder across to his right waist—
‘…Huh?’
Instead of cutting through empty air, I felt a strange sensation, as if the blade had struck something. A sharp metallic sound followed. Before I could even reset my stance, a piercing whistle-like noise erupted from the opponent’s bracelet.
“Stop!”
The one who claimed victory in the first-year’s first match was none other than me.