Proving Worth (8)
Luka had volunteered for dungeon monitoring duty today. He wanted to engrave the duel between Lucy and the Second Prince into his memory.
There was also the matter of the Academy map that had vanished from his desk — so this contest was bound to be an entertaining one.
He had braced himself for a razor-tight, evenly matched struggle. Reality turned out to be rather different. Lucy, entering the Academy Dungeon alone, began carving her way through it at a crushing pace, accompanied by one outrageous stunt after another.
Flight via Yeti strength and lightweight scrolls. Smashing through the forest by exploiting a wolf's instincts. Forcing the Floor 40 boss into its own charge path and letting it plummet to its death. Poisoning the Floor 60 boss with its own venom and watching it die by its own hand. The list went on.
"What am I even looking at?"
Luka drank in the breathtaking spectacle — a scene stunning enough to leave the very professor who had conceived and designed this dungeon reeling in shock — and was forced to admit that he had underestimated Lucy.
Her blessing concerning dungeons was simply not something the likes of Luka could hope to fathom.
And so, barely half a day later, Lucy conquered the Academy Dungeon and emerged into the open air.
"How on earth am I supposed to explain this situation to the other professors?"
The Dungeonology professor's face went pale, as if he couldn't imagine any way to convince them this hadn't been a failure of difficulty balancing — but he was not Luka's concern.
"I'll go explain to the students that this isn't some kind of glitch."
"...Go ahead."
With Luka stepping forward to do the explaining, everyone came to accept that Lucy's victory was entirely legitimate — yet Lucy Aln herself, the very victor in question, seemed far from satisfied with how things stood.
Even amid the surrounding congratulations, she wore a vaguely dissatisfied expression, and then she let this slip out of her mouth:
"I should check what the Retard Prince is actually capable of. I'm really curious what kind of amazing skills he has, to think he could beat me."
When he heard that she intended to pick a fight with the Second Prince, Luka thought the young lady's confidence was excessive.
After all, he kept his eyes peeled for unearthing stars at Soul Academy. Naturally, he knew very well exactly what kind of strength the Second Prince possessed.
The Second Prince was strong. His talent, already capable of overwhelming most active-duty knights, was at a level where even the current Knight-Commander publicly declared him a certifiable genius.
No matter how remarkable Lucy's abilities were for her age, she was still young. She was still in her growing years.
A gap of a single year during one's growth period was immeasurably larger than a year between full-grown adults.
Was Lucy's talent overwhelming enough to overturn that gap?
Luka harbored doubts about her confidence — but he did nothing to stop her.
She was throwing herself into a trial of her own accord. Why on earth would Luka interfere with that? His job was to help her face the trial.
Luka fulfilled Lucy's wishes to the letter, arranging things so that she and the Second Prince could duel without any concern for their surroundings.
And so, as he watched the duel between Lucy and the Second Prince come to pass, Luka's expression was grave.
Heavy with the look of a man ready to leap in at the slightest mishap. Anyone who saw him would take Luka for a dedicated teacher worried about his student — but beneath the surface, he was anything but.
For under that earnest educator's mask, Luka's true nature was quietly humming a tune as he watched the two of them fight.
Once more, black aura collided with pristine white divinity. A deadlock in which neither seemed willing to yield a single inch.
It was the white that fell back first — but not because it had been devoured by the black. It was a move designed to destabilize the balance and hunt for the master of the black in turn.
With the force that had been absorbing his power suddenly gone, the Second Prince's body pitched forward. His defense crumbled as a result, and Lucy did not let the opening slip.
Her shield slammed into the Second Prince's flank, and his airborne body was promptly driven into the ground.
"Is that all you've got?♡ Turns out the Retard Prince's muscles were just for show?♡ All intimidating on the outside, but nothing but empty dumb-muscle underneath?♡"
The Second Prince rose to his feet amid the jeering laughter, but his body had already reached its limits.
The outcome was obvious. No amount of thrashing from the Second Prince at this point would change a thing.
Lucy was still at full strength, while the Second Prince was in a state where he could collapse at any moment.
So the talent the Aln young lady possesses is the real deal. To completely overwhelm His Highness the Second Prince...
Of course, I must account for the fact that His Highness is utterly exhausted while the young lady took ample rest — but even so, the conclusion holds.
Had they dueled at full strength, the fight would have been somewhat more worth watching than this. But the difference would have been only that much. The result would not have changed.
The Second Prince cannot defeat the Aln young lady.
Because she was reading his every move, perfectly, from start to finish.
Having watched the duel from its very beginning, Luka observed many facets of Lucy Aln's abilities woven through the flow of combat.
A shield technique grown beyond all comparison to the girl who had first entered the Academy.
Physical prowess great enough to trade raw strength with the Second Prince head-on.
A mastery of words that shook an opponent's emotions to their core.
Not a single one of these failed to inspire awe — but what astonished Luka most of all was Lucy's combat logic.
Amid the endless exchange of attack and defense, she always chose the optimal move.
Not merely blocking with her shield, but disrupting her opponent's footing with movement, feigning a contest of strength to strike at his unguarded flank — and the moment her opponent began to grow suspicious, she would switch to pressing him with sheer, honest force.
Lucy Aln had been reading the Second Prince perfectly from the very start.
His abilities. His temperament. His attacks. She had grasped everything and used it to toy with him.
That kind of combat logic — the kind that treats one's opponent like a plaything — is not something easily acquired.
It cannot be obtained simply by possessing great talent, or good bloodline, or abundant resources.
What it requires is struggle.
It is something that can only be forged through countless battles, through countless life-or-death bloodbaths against countless opponents — so how could that young girl possibly possess it?
Even as Luka confirmed once more the star's power to sculpt its chosen vessel, a question formed in his mind about House Aln.
What manner of training goes on in that house, that it could grant a child not yet even of age judgment keener than that of a seasoned mid-tier mercenary?
I should pay them a visit and see for myself, when the chance arises.
...What is that?
What caught Luka's eye was the black aura now wreathing the Second Prince's sword.
An aura that did not merely rest upon the blade, but carried its own weight and oppressive pressure by its very existence.
An aura imbued with its own unique characteristic? That is something one can only wield after crossing a certain threshold of mastery, is it not?
Did he attain an epiphany at the edge of desperation?
Having confirmed it, Luka relayed the Second Prince's surge of power to those around him, framing it in terms of Lucy's own blazing confidence.
It was a deliberate distortion, but there was no problem with it. After all, Lucy herself had not spoken a single word on the matter. He had never once disobeyed what she instructed of him.
"Professor Luka. Isn't that thing dangerous? I know it's what the young lady wants, but still."
Indeed. That was unquestionably dangerous. At the very least, it was not an attack a mere Academy student could be expected to withstand.
"Rest assured. If it becomes dangerous, I will intervene personally."
Yet Luka had no intention of stepping in. Because he wanted to see how Lucy would answer it.
As the Second Prince, lost in the state of no-mind, raised his sword high, Lucy thrust her shield forward.
At once, the divinity she carried gathered before the shield.
Divinity of overwhelming density.
Warm to the point of scorching — a radiance like gazing upon a miniature sun — spread across the shield's face at Lucy's will, and before it, it wove a second shield entirely.
"...Ha."
Having engraved the sight into his eyes, Luka let out a gasp of admiration, forgetting entirely to keep his mask in place.
Truly, she is one whom God loves and seeks to sculpt with His own hands.
Ah. The young lady is too bright. Even with the sculpting unfinished, she is so radiant I fear I may go blind.
Just how brilliantly does she intend to shine the moment the final stroke is complete?
Is her design to turn the dark night sky into day and drain the color from every star in it?
Luka, who had been laboring to contain the laughter threatening to spill from his lips, soon recovered his composure and addressed the Dungeonology professor beside him.
"There's no need to intervene, is there, Professor Jesl?"
"...No. There isn't."
The pristine white shield — glowing so brightly it threatened to outshine even the crimson of the sunset — turned aside the descending sword with effortless, almost insultingly light ease.
The moment the Second Prince's sword came down upon the shield of divinity, I knew for certain.
Knew that that sword would never pierce my shield. That before this blazing light, the Second Prince's darkness was powerless.
My prediction was not wrong. At the end of a considerably long deadlock, it was the Second Prince, his strength spent, who crumpled first.
Shoved aside by the shield's light and sprawled flat on his back, the Second Prince could only stare up at the empty sky, heaving ragged breaths — he looked as though he could not possibly rise again.
Confirming his state, I withdrew the divinity gathered before my shield and approached him.
Perhaps because he had poured out every last ounce of his strength — rage included — only moments before, the traces of reason had returned to his eyes.
"You're... a monster... aren't you..."
A laugh escaped me at the Second Prince's winded voice as he looked up at me from the ground.
A monster? That's supposed to be MY line.
It hasn't even been a year since the game's opening, and he's already at the level of imbuing his aura with a unique trait? What is he even trying to do?
If I hadn't trained myself half to death with Grandpa, that could have gone really badly for me.
'Good work out there, by the way.'
"Not bad, for the Retard Prince. Sure, you were worse than me — but then again, who isn't?"
"You... cursed... little..."
You have successfully given the Second Prince a True Education!
🎁 Reward:'Impact Conversion' has been granted!
It came!
It came!
It caaaame!
I let out a silent cheer in my heart as I confirmed the reward had been granted.
Impact Conversion.
One of those skills any front-line character who tanks damage for a living absolutely must have.
Its effect: converting a portion of the damage you take into your own combat resource.
In other words — from now on, just blocking an enemy's attack restores my divinity!
I can become a Holy Cockroach, healing endlessly and clinging to my opponents until they drop!
Ahh. I want to test it right now.
I want to feel with my own body just how powerful this skill really is.
Let's do a performance test tomorrow — as one of the trials Luka said he'd prepare for me.
No, wait. Should I just go tonight?
It's not like missing one night of sleep would kill me.
I was grinning to myself, unable to contain the anticipation, when Grandpa called out to me in a low voice.
⟨ Girl. ⟩
'Yes? What is it?'
⟨ Look around you. ⟩
Around me? Why around me?
Snapped back to reality by Grandpa's voice, I could feel the gazes fixed on me from every direction.
They came in many varieties, but for the most part, the students' eyes all carried the same note.
Wariness. Or outright fear.
...Did I do something wrong?
Why are you all looking at me like I'm some street thug?
I didn't do anything that bad, did I?