The Academy Entrance Exam (3)
Anton, a Combat Studies professor at Soul Academy and a grizzled old veteran who had once toured battlefields as a knight, let out a low chuckle as he watched the duel unfolding on the sparring grounds.
The battle was utterly one-sided.
On the offense was Lady Meryl of House Veynes.
On the receiving end was Lady Lucy of House Aln.
In most fights, the initiative naturally belongs to the attacker.
But this time, that common wisdom was proven wrong.
Lucy Aln hadn't launched a single attack of her own, and yet she was toying with Meryl Veynes like a child playing with a toy.
No one could have predicted this outcome.
And with good reason — Meryl Veynes was someone who had appeared at numerous official occasions and proven her martial talent time and again.
Granted, she fell short when measured against the geniuses of her generation, but she possessed more than enough ability to be called a prodigy.
On top of that, her hunger to climb higher was immense, marking her as one of the rising stars worth watching.
And Lucy Aln? What about her?
Every story circulating about her was nothing but a litany of poor reputations.
Regarding her character, and regarding her talent alike.
Her reputation was so abysmal that among the nobility, a baseless doubt had quietly spread — was that girl truly the daughter of the Iron-Blooded Benedict?
Because Benedict Aln doted on his daughter so fiercely, everyone held their tongues, but each time they witnessed Lucy's delinquent antics, a small "what if" took root in the back of their minds.
After all, believing that a girl who struggled to climb a flight of stairs could be the child of the Iron-Blooded Count who had once drowned the continent in fear was no easy thing.
That was why, when Anton heard the news the previous evening — that Meryl Veynes had thrown fists at Lucy Aln and been defeated — he assumed some other factor had been at play.
Otherwise, there was no reason in the world for Meryl to lose.
Yet Luka, the other Combat Studies professor who had witnessed the scene firsthand, had spoken at the faculty meeting with eyes burning bright.
'Everyone! Let us pit Lucy Aln against Meryl Veynes in tomorrow's duel. Putting those two together will let us clearly gauge their respective abilities!'
'There is deep-seated enmity between them, so neither will hesitate to harm the other, and while Lucy Aln has superior talent, Meryl Veynes has far more experience — it will surely make for a match worth watching!'
The other Combat Studies professors, Anton included, had been skeptical of his proposal.
Even granting, as a generous concession, that Lucy Aln had talent and had recently grown stronger.
How could someone who had held a sword since learning to walk, who had endured countless hours of practice and real combat, possibly be matched against someone who had only just picked up a weapon?
That was precisely why the duel would devolve not into an examination, but into a one-sided beating.
'I will take full responsibility! So please, trust my word!'
When Luka declared that if his judgment proved wrong, he would not only accept disciplinary action but personally find a new opponent for Meryl and Lucy, the other professors finally nodded.
Professor Luka had proven his eye for talent these past few years — no one could refuse a man speaking with such conviction.
And now, Anton was witnessing the proof that Luka had been right.
No — to be precise, even Luka had been wrong.
Because he had claimed the two would be evenly matched.
The talent Lucy possessed.
The talent etched into the bloodline of House Aln!
It was not something that could be measured by the professors' shallow common sense.
The moment Meryl swung her sword, Lucy's shield moved. The single strike unleashed by someone who had trained with the blade her entire life was never light.
And yet Lucy's shield held firm.
Having turned aside Meryl's sword yet again, the corners of Lucy's mouth curled into a smile.
"Remarkable."
Professor Luka broke the silence that had settled among the examiners.
In his eyes, as he watched the duel, was a rapture so intense that anyone could see it.
"Look, everyone! Look at the movement of that shield! Fighters who are inexperienced tend to think of a shield as nothing more than passive armor for blocking attacks.
But Lady Aln is different. She knows how to wield her shield actively.
She slips it into the path of the blade to sap its force. She redirects her opponent's power against them. At times, she bats the sword aside entirely to carve open an opening in her opponent's guard.
That is not something one can simply be taught! That is talent!"
"Enough with the theatrics, Professor Luka. We are all thinking exactly the same thing."
Another professor reined in the excited Luka, who had been firing off his words like a barrage.
"How am I supposed to stay calm while watching that?"
"I understand the joy of discovering a shining uncut gem, but this is an examination hall. We must not champion one side so blatantly."
"...Ah. My apologies. I seem to have forgotten my place."
Chastised, Professor Luka fell silent.
But that was all.
No one rebuked his opinion; they had merely dammed his excessive excitement.
Because every one of them felt exactly as he did.
Only last year, Lucy Aln had appeared in high society as a lady with hands flawlessly white, untouched by so much as a blemish.
Those hands told the story — she had never once practiced, let alone seen real combat, in her entire life.
And that same Lucy Aln had attained such skill in a mere single year.
She was overwhelming someone whose experience should have crushed her!
Just how extraordinary was the talent she carried?
Just how brilliantly did that uncut gem of hers shine as a star?
Just how miraculous was what ran in the blood of House Aln, that a person could transform so completely?
"Meryl Veynes, on the other hand, is a disappointment today."
When one of the examiners remarked on this, everyone voiced their agreement.
"However deep their grudge, she is far too emotional."
"She doesn't even seem to realize she's being played like a fiddle."
"She isn't swinging her sword with any thought behind it — just attacking blindly."
The examiners spoke up one by one.
Their observations varied, but the flaw they pointed out was one and the same.
Meryl could not control her emotions.
Someone who loses their temper that easily becomes a dangerous liability in real combat.
Especially inside a dungeon, where a single mistake can wipe out an entire party.
"Shall we conclude the observation here?"
Professor Luka said it as though speaking for them all, and the rest nodded their assent.
Once the examiners' consensus was settled, Anton rose from his seat and walked to the center of the sparring grounds.
"Pathetic. Winded already? Dogs at least have decent stamina — I suppose you can't even manage that much?"
"Sh... shut up!..."
"Is that the only thing you know how to say? Big head, tiny brain, hmm? You really do take after a dog! Fascinating!"
"SHUT UUUUP!"
So her talent had blossomed, but that temper of hers was apparently here to stay.
It had been obvious ever since she'd started toying with an opponent she could have felled ages ago, but hearing it up close was enough to make a man's head spin.
"By my authority as examiner, I hereby conclude this duel."
At Anton's declaration, both fighters' gazes snapped toward him.
The first to react was Meryl Veynes.
"No! I can still fight!"
"Lady Veynes. I have made it clear that this duel is over."
"But that damned wretch—!"
"Meryl Veynes. Drop the sword, unless you'd like to fail your examination on charges of misconduct."
Meryl panted heavily, her jaw grinding, but she lacked the courage to defy an examiner's word, and she lowered her blade.
Watching her, Lucy — standing on the opposite side — lowered her shield as well.
And then it happened.
Meryl, seeing Lucy defenseless, lunged straight at her.
As if her lowering the sword had been nothing more than a ploy to invite carelessness.
What Meryl had forgotten, however, was that Anton, standing beside her, was a powerhouse far beyond anything she could hope to handle.
He twisted her wrist, knocked the sword from her grip, and let out a sigh.
"Meryl Veynes. I will say it once more. If you do not stop here, I will have no choice but to disqualify you."
"...I'm sorry."
<That was too far, girl. This whole business went overboard.>
'...Yes. You're right. This was clearly my fault.'
Grandpa was right.
Just now, drunk on the euphoria the Mesugaki skill fed me, I'd taunted her far more than the situation ever demanded.
However deep our grudge from yesterday, there'd been no need to torment the girl to that degree.
If all I'd wanted was to hand her a humiliation, a decent, ordinary defeat would have sufficed.
Against goblins or orcs back then, indulging in that euphoria had cost me nothing.
They were monsters, the enemies of mankind, and no matter what fate I delivered them to, there wasn't a moral bone in my body that would protest.
But this was different.
Against ordinary people, I could not afford to get drunk on that high.
Wound up and acting more reckless than usual, I was nothing short of a ticking time bomb — one day I'd cause a real problem.
Even today alone, I'd provoked that girl so viciously that she very nearly suffered consequences she didn't deserve.
What if my opponent had been a higher noble like her?
Or what if she'd been a powerhouse I couldn't hope to handle?
Either way, the outcome would have spiraled toward the worst possible end.
<The blessing you carry has just as much potential for trouble as it has for greatness.>
'Tell me about it.'
I needed some way to counter the skill's euphoria, but there was nothing I could get my hands on right now.
Mental-resistance skills simply weren't obtainable in the early game.
And the few things I *could* get were inferior knockoffs of Fear Overcome and Unbreakable Will, so there was no reason to sink time and resources into them.
For now, restraint was my only option.
Whew. In any case, the first practical exam had gone off without a hitch.
According to Grandpa, that girl hadn't exactly been weak, and I'd handled her with room to spare — so the examiners had gotten a proper showcase of my talent, I figured.
All that remained was the final obstacle.
Conquering the dungeon Soul Academy had built for the exam.
By all rights, I should have been betting everything on this dungeon run, but at the moment, I honestly wasn't.
Thanks to Grandpa's help, the tests had gone smoothly enough,
and I'd surely scored high in my first practical, the duel.
I didn't need to claw for special admission — regular acceptance to Soul Academy should already be within reach.
Of course, that didn't mean I planned to coast through the dungeon.
I was a hardcore veteran of Soul Academy, after all.
I'm simply not the kind of person who can stomach watching my name slip down the leaderboards.
I just hoped I'd draw some decent party members.
The entrance exam's dungeon run was conducted by three randomly-drawn applicants tackling it together.
Which meant that, to set a record, my party members needed to be as good as luck allowed.
The vanguard? That would be me — so what I really wanted was someone behind me providing firepower support.
Preferably a versatile mage, if I could get one.
That would let us push the clear speed right along.
The heavens heard my prayer.
They granted me a versatile mage, capable of handling all manner of things from the backline, as my party member.
The problem was, she happened to be the airheaded noble girl I'd made a bet with.
"Well, well, Lady Screw-Up. Seems our little feud runs deeper than I thought~"