One in a Thousand Years

The Academy had opened for the new term.

I rose early in the morning, checked out of the inn where I'd been staying all this while, and walked out. Once I completed the final evaluation and was formally promoted into the graduating class of the Knight Faculty, a dormitory would be assigned to me — so I wouldn't have to lodge at an inn any longer.

When I turned my head slightly, the street was thick with new students walking along in their Academy uniforms. Blending in among them, I entered the Academy grounds and made my way by the route I'd memorized beforehand to the fourth floor of the Knight Faculty building.

Someone with no talent for magistery like me would need to prove himself through a rigorous, unmistakable verification process — and the ones to convince were the graduating class. If they raised no objections, the underclassmen below them wouldn't dare send up petitions of complaint.

So there I stood before the rather massive door, turning the handle to enter — and at that very moment, voices drifted out from within, perfectly clear.

「Can you people stop going on about His Highness the Prince already? His Highness this, His Highness that.」

The voice dripped with irritation.

「A perfect score on the written exam doesn't mean he's passed. And besides, people who know theory inside and out invariably fumble the moment they face actual combat. Word has it he doesn't even have a talent for magistery — am I wrong? Call it a power that turns spoken words into reality, sure, but no one can chatter with their mouth open for an entire battle.」

It made it awfully awkward to open the door and walk in.

「An enemy's blade right in front of you will always be faster than the time it takes to spit out a word.」

「However superficial the rule may be, no one at the Academy openly defies the one about outside status counting for nothing. So if you want to sing the Prince's praises, take your little group chat outside. It's thoroughly unpleasant for those of us forced to listen. Honestly, the talent for glorifying heroes who are all mouth has been around since ancient times.」

Were they talking about the rumors and old records concerning the First Emperor?

「It was thanks to that all-talk hero that humanity was saved, and that's why we exist today.」

「Anyone would think the First Emperor of the Empire single-handedly fought the Demon King's army.」

More pressingly — how exactly was I supposed to time my entrance?

「Was the First Emperor truly the backbone of it all to begin with? If he was really so magnificent, I can't fathom why a considerable portion of the records were lost in the process of being passed down. I suspect it's because he was less impressive than the legends claim, and the stories were deliberately embellished to stir people's imaginations.」

Lapis had already briefed me, roughly, on who ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was enrolled in the Knight Faculty's graduating class. That voice, then — it was likely the eldest son of a Duke of Asbarok, one of the two Allied Kingdoms.

"What are you doing standing there?"

While I hovered indecisively, hand still on the door handle, a professor of the Knight Faculty came ambling toward me. Right — I'd already missed my window to slip in quietly, so entering alongside the professor would be the least awkward option. I gave him a faint smile and, following his puzzled expression, flung the door open and stepped inside.

The students' gazes converged on me all at once. And the first to meet my eyes among them was the eldest son of the Duke of Asbarok — the centerpiece of the conversation from moments ago.

"Now. As you've all heard, the Prince of the Bertian Empire passed the written examination with a perfect score. What remains is to prove the rumor — that the power of the Dragon Tongue can substitute for magistery. To prevent any accusation of improper admission, he will be sparring with the graduating students here present."

Dueling the professor in front of them to prove myself would have been fine, but this arrangement wasn't bad either. Naturally, the students' eyes swung toward the eldest son of the Duke of Asbarok — Veronica. After everything he'd just said, backing out now would have looked rather strange, wouldn't it?

"I'll do it."

Just as expected, he raised his hand and stepped forward.

"Good. Then both of you, take a sparring weapon from the racks and stand at the center."

Veronica nodded, took up a wooden sword, and I chose one as well for the sake of appearances. But when we faced each other at the center of the room, I made no move to raise my blade or take a stance.

Originally, I'd intended to borrow the swordsmanship section of the Thousand-Armed Guanyin form and ease into things, testing technique against technique. But reading the atmosphere in the room, it seemed crushing them outright would make my life here smoother — no complications, no friction. Whether my posture read as provocation or not, Veronica's face twisted into a deep scowl. Still, it wasn't as if I was in any position to be considerate of him... after all that I'd heard.

"Begin!"

At the professor's word, Veronica closed the distance first, closing on me fast. But my body had already reached the realm of an Aura Master, and I slipped past his strike without the slightest strain.

"There are, I'd say, three things to prove here today."

I loaded my words with the power of the Dragon Tongue, weaving around Veronica's attacks as I spoke.

"First — how does one stand against ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a weapon coated in magistery?"

Veronica had claimed his blade would be faster than my mouth. Unfortunately for him, his sword was not faster than my mouth.

"Overwhelm."

Instead of dodging, I reached out and seized his attack head-on. His wooden sword was sheathed in magistery, so a fair amount of frictional heat scorched my palm — but not enough to break the skin. Then I twisted my wrist and bent the blade off its line, and despite the coating of mana, Veronica's wooden sword snapped like a dry branch.

He stared, flustered, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠at his own weapon reduced to half its length in an instant — but I gave him no time to recover his footing and pressed on.

"Second — how does one land a blow on an opponent who has wreathed their body in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠magistery?"

It was practically a formal announcement of my next move, and sure enough, Veronica immediately sheathed himself in mana.

"Nullify."

But it meant nothing. Nullify — the word that could erase any artificial phenomenon a target produced, undoing it as if it had never been. As proof, the magistery wrapped around Veronica's body faded away in obedience to my spoken power, and he took the incoming kick from my side without managing to block it, crumpling to the floor.

He groaned in pain — yet his brow never so much as furrowed. It must have hurt quite a bit, too.

"And third — how does the power of the Dragon Tongue replace magistery?"

I stood still, held my breath, and stretched my hand straight out. Then I touched my middle finger to my thumb, cocking them back in the posture of a flick against a forehead. From that distance, everyone could only watch with baffled expressions, wondering what on earth I was doing — but if this flick actually landed on Veronica's forehead at true range, his skull would burst like a smashed watermelon, brains scattered in every direction.

"One Rider, Ten Thousand Foes."

BANG──!

Along the arc of my snapping finger, the wind born at the starting point struck Veronica's body dead-on and sent him ricocheting into the far wall. In the same breath, the great currents of homeless wind roared like a wounded beast, thrashing this way and that — then flung open every single door in the room and staged a mass escape.

Only after the brief storm had passed did I straighten my windblown hair, turn toward Veronica as he picked himself up, and speak.

"Would this be enough to make spending a year together tolerable?"

"...It seems you're, ah, rather well-versed in the sword."

The last of his pride, perhaps. Watching Veronica's barbed delivery, I scratched my cheek and spread my hands open.

"If I weren't, my hands wouldn't look like this, would they? Veronica. Can you truly say your hands are worse off than mine?"

The calluses layered thick across my palms were, frankly, too much for a prince who'd supposedly grown up in comfort. It was true that I'd leaned heavily on the Dragon Tongue's power — but I had never once been lazy in my training. Trusting he would say nothing more, I turned my back and strode toward the professor, receiving my uniform from him. It was decorated simply in black, which rather pleased me.

"It won't be a time that's long, or short — but I look forward to working with all of you until then."

Afterward, I sat through a brief morning assembly and left the building.

The graduating class of the Knight Faculty didn't hold daily lessons; instead, at weekly intervals they ran mock battles to apply the art of war they'd studied. There were twelve fourth-years in all. Two took turns serving as commanders, and around each commander a randomized number of students were deployed. The commanders issued orders built on their strategic doctrine, and their teammates carried them out.

Plenty of free time on my hands. Not bad at all.

I rolled the stiffness from my neck and decided to run a word assembly for the first time in a while.

Once in a Thousand Years was a word I'd prepared in advance with the System's counsel. I intended to use it on the jewel hidden within the Academy — the search for the talent to aid a king.

Unlike my father, the reigning Emperor, I had no vassals of my own. In time, when my father stepped back from the front lines, the vassals who had served him might swear fealty to me — but rather than inheriting talent through the glow of my father's reflected glory, I wanted to stand beside people I had unearthed and raised with my own hands. As the old saying goes — a fine steed only shines once a true judge of horses lays eyes on it. Talented people, too, only begin to gleam when someone recognizes their worth.

Which is partly why I'd gone a touch overboard with Veronica. If I was disregarded within the Academy, the talents I hoped to bond with would turn their backs on me as well.

People are supposed to have ambition. Would it be stranger if I didn't?

It wasn't hard to guess that the System meant Lapis. Hardly surprising, either, considering the Eightfold Talents had never granted me a talent for granting talents in the first place. But Lapis didn't have two bodies, and once she became my wife, she'd be terribly busy. I couldn't go summoning for her help every time. All the more so if we came to have children.

So I steeled myself to use Once in a Thousand Years without hesitation.

It was a single-use word — the moment it was invoked, it would vanish from my list of words forever. Its effect: to forge an encounter between me and a target or event of my choosing.

"Once in a Thousand Years."

Yes.

What I was setting through Once in a Thousand Years was not a brush with some event, but a meeting with a designated person. For the target, I could enter the name of someone who actually existed, or a word describing the kind of person I wished to meet.

I gazed at the notification window and nodded. At that very instant, Once in a Thousand Years faded from my word list and was consumed.

And with that, I resumed the steps I had left frozen.

If Lapis was the crouching dragon waiting in the reeds, then what remained was the phoenix chick — the fledgling phoenix yet to take wing.