Final Exams (4)
They were first-years at the same academy as me?
Arthur, who had been watching Lucy and Frey's sparring match, let out a baffled, hollow laugh.
No one present could watch those two cross blades without marveling. The fight unfolded faster than the eye could follow, and that speed alone held a power to captivate everyone watching.
But not everyone who watched drew the same conclusion.
Most of the students standing there were simply marveling at those two's talent — but Arthur was similar, and yet different. He did not stand in the same realm as the two of them. However, neither was he so far beneath them that he couldn't grasp the heights they had reached.
In his eyes — mouth agape, all thought of dignity forgotten as he stared at the duel — he saw the finer details. At some point, a blue trail had taken residence in Frey's sword. That was unmistakably aura, or something so close to aura as to make no difference. Aura, at her age?
Among those who trained the blade, it was common as dirt to see men nearing thirty give up in despair, never once grasping even the feel of aura. And yet Frey had seized that distant endpoint through nothing but her own raw talent.
It's astonishing. When did she grow to that point?
Even when she had first entered the academy, Frey Kent had been a genius. But she hadn't been a genius of that breathtaking a caliber. Back then, she had been at a level he could catch up to at any time.
But now? What trick, what method, had let her grow strong so quickly?
Frey wasn't the only shocking one, though. Lucy was the same. She was receiving a sword wreathed in aura as if it were nothing. No — "receiving" wasn't the right word. Lucy was actively pushing back against Frey, aura and all. The sword Frey swung with everything she had was helpless before Lucy's shield.
How is that even possible?
The gap between those who wielded aura and those who didn't was enormous. It was precisely because of aura that a single knight could hold off a hundred soldiers. No matter how brilliant a martial talent Lucy possessed, standing powerless before aura should have been the natural order. But Lucy was different. She knew nothing of aura, yet she was crushing someone who wielded it.
She usually handled divine magic, so she was likely narrowing the gap with something divinity-related — but even granting that, it made no sense.
The duel that had looked so fiercely contested at a glance ended in an instant. Blocking Frey's sword with her shield, Lucy closed in, seized her by the collar, and hurled her to the ground. To be exact, she had stopped the throw just short of impact — but what the result would have been had Lucy followed through without pulling her strikes was obvious.
The winner of the match, fought by both at full strength, was Lucy.
Haha. So the monster I must surpass is that one, is it?
And I'm told I must overtake a genius who reached such heights in barely a year?
Arthur had never once believed he couldn't do something. Whatever he wished for, he had achieved — whether it was a field of the body or one of the mind. But for the first time in his life, Arthur now held the thought that something might be impossible. The wall called Lucy Aln was simply too high to even dream of climbing.
It's hard. It's so hard.
Surpassing that monster who wore a sulky expression as if her own handiwork were nothing special — and then finding the answer to that question of why she made herself out to be pitiable. Was that truly possible?
A few minutes after the two of them finished their match, Anton called different names. Jackal Burrow and Meryl Veynes — names that, either one of them, were spoken of as future leaders of the kingdom.
Their duel was certainly high-level. But Arthur, the other spectators, and even the two combatants themselves all seemed unsatisfied. Compared to the duel Lucy and Frey had shown just before, theirs was downright dull.
"Lady Aln. The final exam results are out."
Already?!
A weekend morning. I was loosening up before my usual training when Joy's words froze me solid.
Wait — wasn't it supposed to take longer for grades to come out?!
What's gotten into the academy professors? Why are they pushing themselves so hard? You're supposed to live leisurely and take it easy! Why go out of your way to hand students their death sentences early?! WHY?!
"Shall we go take a look for a moment?"
I couldn't easily answer Joy's suggestion. Honestly, I didn't want to see my grades. Because I was definitely screwed.
Not that I slacked off on the exams. I put in real effort preparing for the finals and gave it my absolute best. I'm serious! If I'd worked this hard back in my student days, I would've gotten into that university next to Mount Gwanak!
But giving your best doesn't guarantee good grades, does it? By my own estimate, my results this time would be middle of the pack, or maybe a hair above it. Pretty shabby results for the person who took first place on the midterms.
I had no desire to witness that drop with my own eyes. I didn't want to hear everyone else whispering about it either. And above all, if I went to check my score, Joy and Arthur were guaranteed to tease me about it!
I refuse to volunteer myself as everyone's prey!
⟨Even so, you took the exams with real effort. You should at least go confirm them.⟩
...Can't I just go later?
⟨Tsk. What good does avoiding it do, just because the news is bad?⟩
Cornered by Grandpa's nagging — which bordered on a threat — I had no choice but to accept Joy's suggestion. Ugh. I really don't want to look for my name way down at the bottom of the list.
"Aren't you going, Lady Kent?"
Frey, who had been stretching alongside me, tilted her head at the suggestion. Her answer was a foregone conclusion. She cared about her academy grades this much: not at all. Surely...
"Yeah. I'll come."
Huh? I had fully expected Frey to refuse, but she didn't. To my surprise, she readily tagged along at my side. What is this? Why is she suddenly doing this?
I couldn't tell her reason, but either way, the three of us headed together for the academy plaza. A large crowd had already gathered there.
Whoa. Look at that swarm. It's early morning and everyone's so diligent.
Normally I'd have to puzzle out how to shove through that sea of people, but I had no such worries. Our very existence was a free pass.
Excuse us, everyone.
"Move it, you scrubs."
The moment my voice rang out, the eyes of everyone nearby snapped toward me. Standing before them was Lucy Aln — the deranged girl who would insult a king, the pope, anyone, the instant they crossed her. Beside her, Joy Partran — the daughter of the great Ducal House of Partran and the axis around which the noble daughters all revolved. On looks alone, she was a textbook villainess.
Frey was... hmm, let's just gloss over her.
With a lineup like ours, a path naturally opened through the crowd. The first few times, the sight of people flinching away had wounded my feelings, but you get used to this too. These days it's honestly a bit convenient — wherever I go, just showing my face settles everything.
Having arrived in front of the posted results, I began searching for my name from around the middle of the list. If my estimate was right, that's about where I'd be.
But as I scanned that section carefully, I soon tilted my head.
Huh? Why isn't my name here? Did I read it wrong?
I double-checked, puzzled, but it was the same. My name wasn't in the middle. What?! Don't tell me I botched the written exams even worse than I thought?! So badly that no practical score could make up for it?!
Whoa. I'm cooked. Genuinely cooked.
Bottom of the barrel is still a problem no matter how you slice it. If this ends in me repeating a year, it'll be a catastrophe. A catastrophe.
Tracing my gaze further and further down the list, I spotted Frey's name before I found my own.
My score is lower than Frey's?! Was I even more of a blockhead than Frey?!
"Ah. She failed to beat His Highness the Third Prince this time. Strange — on my self-graded tally, she definitely scored higher."
Joy says Frey failed to beat Arthur? Then Arthur took first this time, I suppose. Just like in the game.
With no outside interference, everything snapped back to how it was originally.
"Thank goodness Lady Aln held onto first place, at least."
...Huh? What? I'm first?
What kind of nonsense is that? Do you have any idea how many questions I just guessed on?
Joy, you're messing with me, aren't you? You're thinking, 'She's so delusional about being first that if I say it, she'll actually believe me'? You're planning to Joy-Kick me?! AREN'T YOU?!
Is this your way of venting all that pent-up frustration?! Ha. Seriously. Your little scheme is so cute that I've been letting you get away with it on purpose.
I let out an internal scoff and looked up — and there it was.
Lucy Aln.
Arthur Soladin.
Joy Partran.
Jackal Burrow.
...
My name was written at the very top of the list, and I sank into bewilderment. Huh? Why is my name up there? Is this some prank show? Are the academy professors plotting to mess with me?!
No. That can't be it. Then what is this? A dream? Yeah. It must be a dream...
No wait — I can't even dream these days. Every time I fall asleep, Grandpa makes me do push-ups.
'Grandpa. What on earth is going on?!'
⟨What do you think? You took first place.⟩
'HOW?!'
No, seriously, how am I first?! This makes no sense!
I'll admit I scored nearly perfect on the practicals! And I can accept that my game knowledge carried me in dungeon studies and the other subjects where it applied! But I got mauled like a dog in every other class — how does that add up to first place?! I guessed on half the questions in the subjects I don't even understand!
⟨Even I watched in amazement. How does a thrown pencil land on the correct answer every single time? To think the Chief God watches over such trivial matters — clearly, you are well-loved, child.⟩
Wait — hold on. You're telling me every time I rolled to guess, the right answer just popped out?
...Ooh! O Dice God!
You've bestowed this blessing upon me even though I didn't offer a single prayer this time! Thank you! Thank you so much!
As I was offering gratitude to the ever-competent Dice God — so unlike our useless Chief God — a thought suddenly struck me.
'Grandpa. So you knew my results from the very beginning?'
⟨I did.⟩
'...Then why didn't you say anything?'
⟨Because I wanted to watch this little scene of yours.⟩
So you're telling me you kept it hidden this whole time because you wanted to watch me mope, then learn the truth and rejoice?
Grandpa. Are you a pervert? You were standing there with a creepy grin on your face while watching me sweat it out, weren't you.
I'm seriously in the mood for mutually assured destruction right now. Is there anything better than a jealousy tour? Anything at all that could humiliate Grandpa?
Something that would make a scream burst out of that old man's mouth...
"Lucy Aln."
I was deep into imagining what might rattle him when a voice calling my name snapped me back to my senses.
I don't know when he'd gotten so close, but Arthur was standing in front of me. His expression wasn't great. That was only natural.
He'd scored higher even than Joy, whose practical scores had skyrocketed thanks to my coaching. Arthur must have poured in an immense amount of effort — and even so, he'd lost to me yet again. No wonder he was glum.
Hmm. How should I comfort him? Wait, no. Could I even comfort anyone in the first place? Wouldn't just keeping my mouth shut be the best move here?
"I have something to say."
'What is it?'
"What is it, Pitiable Prince? Did you get trampled by me again, you loser?"
"Khh."
Yep. Keeping my mouth shut was definitely the best option. Comfort? What comfort?
Arthur stifled a cough — or three — under the baiting of the Mesugaki skill before he finally managed to continue.
"Teach me how to become stronger."