Chapter 111
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 111
Chapter Title: Choice (1)
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"Bro!"
A faint memory from the past surfaces.
The garden of that starkly white ward, unnecessarily blue, comes to mind against the walls of this purely white space.
Somewhere in there is a kid who chased after me, calling me "bro."
"Bro, where are you going!"
Sion Askal.
I deliberately climbed trees to avoid him because being near him made my heart uneasy for no reason, like madness was about to seize me, but that bald, shiny-headed kid always found me. He spotted me no matter where I hid, like it was nothing.
"Bro, how do you fly around like that? Were you a knight? I dream of being a knight too!"
At first, I brushed him off with half-hearted nonsense, but after he followed me around for about a week, I finally couldn't take it.
"Hey, hey. Forget 'bro.' Call me friend. 'Bro' tickles. You're not my little brother anyway. Why 'bro'?"
He'd reply,
"You're nine years older than me."
"Doesn't matter. Hey, can you climb up here?"
I looked down at him from the treetop. He blinked, then nodded firmly. Then he clung to the trunk like a cicada and struggled upward.
After a while, when he couldn't make it, he pulled out his ultimate move.
"Friend. I'm a leukemia patient. I can't climb."
"What's with 'friend'? I said use casual speech."
"......Then come down."
After that, we got along pretty well.
He said he had no parents. I said I killed my own grandfather.
He asked what it took to get into Mana High. I said you need talent.
Every time, he'd grumble that I wasn't helpful, and I'd poke him with a twig, telling him to recover first and think later.
Oh yeah, there was that day he met my real little sister by chance, catching a glimpse of Elise walking down the hospital corridor.
"I've never seen such a pretty girl~ Heh heh heh heh."
That's what Yael said, laughing.
Those were good times.
Fun times.
That was the only memory for a madman like me.
I think back on those ward days several times a day.
I live in the past.
"Heh... Fun."
Yes, I'm manic.
A lunatic.
As the heir to a great noble house, the restraints and oppression were unbearable. Accepting their hypocrisy and double standards was impossible for my constitution.
They always said nobles must be perfect, but if those perfect nobles crushed commoners with power and hierarchy, how was that perfect?
It's bullshit.
I killed nobles because it disgusted me. I slit my grandfather's throat and killed the elders.
That fact remains unchanged.
If I'd left them be, even Elise would have been tainted.
She seems to be adapting well in the house without those old men, but even so, with our father still alive—the most important figure—she'd just grow into the same monster.
I stopped that...
Creak—
Right on cue, the door burst open.
Yael looked toward it.
A burly, imposing man. As a child, his height had been overwhelming, even scary to meet his eyes—a noble.
Gen Petra looked down at him and said,
"...You survived."
"Yes, Father. Though you secretly hoped otherwise."
Yael bared his teeth, glaring up at him.
"My little sister didn't kill me today. Heh heh heh heh—"
His smile carried defiance and certainty.
At the very least, his sister Elise wouldn't grow up like him.
The next day, Tuesday. Swordsmanship Studies practical exam day.
"What, they rented out a colosseum?"
I marveled as soon as I saw the exam hall. It had been a noble mansion yesterday; today it was a full-blown colosseum.
The interior was massively spacious. In the center were about twenty sparring arenas enclosed by mana barriers. The right passage had shield emblems, the left sword ones.
A good crowd had already arrived—mostly scouts with cameras and laptops tucked under their arms.
"Number 77, Sion Askal. Please head to the left sword waiting room."
"Ah, yes."
A College Board staffer prodded me as I stood there dazed.
I made my way to the waiting room at the end of the passage, name tag '77' pinned to my chest.
—Hey, who you picking? Decided yet?
—We got rough estimates. Gonna pick based on the academy tier list.
—Tier lists to trade? Anyone wanna swap tier lists?
The waiting room was packed, nearly 200 people milling about like a train station concourse.
The tier lists, by the way, were student swordsmanship rankings provided by academies or dojos. I didn't have one, naturally.
Poke.
Someone poked my shoulder—not with a finger, but a book's corner.
"...What."
I turned to see Elise.
"......"
She silently poked my shoulder again. Poke, poke. With the book's edge.
"What's this? For me?"
I took it, and she turned away without a word. I looked at the cover.
[Selcenacio Tier List]
"Sele... what?"
Selcenacio—the top academy in Edshila. Their tier list.
I glanced back at Elise, but she'd already blended into the crowd.
"...What's with her?"
Did she eat something weird? Still, no reason to refuse a gift. Truth be told, I hadn't settled on anyone yet.
I sat and opened it.
[S+ : Soliet, Gerkken]
[S : Esher, Mel, James, Vital...]
Among shield choosers, only Soliet and Gerkken were S+. I scanned from B rank. Too weak would be no fun.
Suddenly, a shadow fell over the list.
"...Hey. Why do you have a Selcenacio tier list?"
I looked up to see Kain.
"You steal it or something?"
Surrounding eyes locked on my list. Kain grimaced in disbelief—
"Kain."
Elise called him.
"...Huh?"
"Don't say stupid shit."
Her voice was dead serious.
"Uh, uh..."
Kain shuffled toward her.
I studied the list again.
Until the ceiling speakers blared the announcement.
—Seniors, heads up. Opponent selection for the practical exam is about to begin. Everyone out front, please.
The room emptied in a rush. I stuffed the list into my duffel and followed.
"Line up, please. Swords to the sword side, shields to the shield side. Numbers are assigned."
On stage stood Gioli and the Swordsmanship Studies professors. They pointed to our spots, marked with glowing numbers on the floor.
I took position 77.
Across were the shielders. Lighting was dim, but their faces were clear.
Soliet, Gerkken, Esher, Mel caught my eye first. Mel—the one I back-headed at the ghost hotel.
"Opponent selection starts at 10 a.m. sharp. Five attackers at a time, one-minute limit. Pick before your turn if possible. Note: 2,500 scouts, corporations, and college reps are here in person, and check the board for remote VIPs."
[Current Remote Participants]
-Igiris Arkne
-Celine Petra
-Theia Esil
-Kigen Cicero
-Zia Libra...
Heavy names everywhere. Zia Libra jumped out at me.
"They're watching via remote cams, even if not present. Impressive lineup, right? Put in some effort."
Gioli checked his watch. 10 sharp—he gripped the mic.
—Commencing elective Swordsmanship Studies practical: 'Sword vs. Shield.' First five attackers on the board, select opponents.
The board went dark, then spat five numbers.
[117. 132. 139. 97. 205.]
"Nice!"
The lucky five pumped fists and stepped forward.
In the grand colosseum, 450 aspiring swordsmen gathered for opponent selection. Tension built with each round, breaths growing ragged.
"Huff huff. Haa... Ah, ah, my weak... weak heart."
The guy next to me was already hyperventilating.
Sure, Swordsmanship Studies was just an elective, but with all the scouts and eyes watching...
That's why even non-knight-aspiring Elise took it.
[123. 193. 3. 55. 29.]
Already the 12th round.
People thinning out like rats gnawed away, but Elise and Kain still hung on.
[13. 99...]
Elise and Kain just went. Kain picked Esher, Elise James.
A couple more rounds...
[...77.]
77. My turn at last.
"Fhew."
I took one step forward; the other four bolted, clearly pre-picked.
"Team with me."
"Sure."
"Number 9, Dramm Tellro, selects Baldarak 253."
Like reuniting with friends; selected opponents sighed in relief.
"Hey, do me."
"Phew. Right away."
"108 Kellick selects 404 David..."
Some actually knew each other.
Four pairs matched in five seconds and vanished to waiting rooms.
Left alone awkwardly, I walked slowly. Scanned the lined-up shielders.
Initially planned random from Selcenacio's A to A+ tiers.
—But.
Suddenly, unexpectedly, someone caught my eye.
No clue why.
He just stood there, no expectations.
The vibe so far confirmed it.
No one picked him. No one dared. Even scouts ignored him.
Too strong, too perfect—untestable on this stage.
So he stood like a bored statue, mere backdrop.
I quietly looked down.
At my hand.
The feel of Five Initial Forms and Three Sword Forms, freely edited and swung—still vivid in my grip.
—Number 77, please select. 20 seconds left.
Urged from behind, my body moved before my brain.
Straight toward someone—
One step.
No hesitation.
Thinking back, I'd always wanted to beat him.
That desire never changed.
He always looked down from on high, so different despite same commoner roots.
Two steps.
Tempting eyes everywhere as I advanced.
I passed them all.
Three steps, four.
Fixated on one—
Finally.
Reactions when I stopped? Quite the sight.
Psycho lunatic stares. Some muttering "crazy bastard."
I ignored it all. Just looked up at him. Smiled from the heart's depths.
Probably didn't grin too maniacally.
He looked down. Same cold face, but faint tremor in those dawn-blue eyes.
"Number 77. Sion Askal."
Thinking about it, no thought needed.
If there's one I want to challenge, test my honed skills against...
"Number 450."
It's just you here.
"I select Gerkken Kal Dun."
The colosseum quivered slightly. He said nothing. Still expressionless, gaze unshaken.
I liked that.
He could've dismissed me as pathetic, lame, annoying—but showed no emotion, just acknowledged me as opponent.
Thus, he'll go all out.
I'll pour everything into his blade too.
Rare chance.
"What're you waiting for?"
I jerked my chin at Gerkken.
"Let's go."