Ranking Tournament: Crushing the Rival

With a look like I was staring at some kind of bug, I said, "What the hell kinda bullshit is that?"

"I put actual thought into that answer, and you call it bullshit? With a bug-staring face, no less!"

"You're the one spouting nonsense, so that's on you."

"Hmph. But you shot down Plan A yourself. I said I'd swap rooms with her, and you were all 'nope, don't wanna.' Nope, right?"

Belica puffed out her cheeks like she was sulking and started thumping me with her fists. Hard, too. I scooted back a bit as I sat down and said, "…Look."

"Look what? What?"

I let out another deep sigh.

"I'm already drowning in debt as it is. I don't wanna owe you on top of it."

"What kinda reasoning is that?"

What else? It was exactly what it sounded like. For a bunch of reasons, my rep at the academy was in the toilet. Ronari Sharino was just one symptom of that mess. Getting close to me never ended well for anyone—and Belica was no exception. Even as childhood friends, we were way too close for comfort. Wild rumors about our relationship could pop up any ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠second. The only reason nothing had blown up yet was Belica's wide circle of smooth friendships.

But if she suddenly became my roommate instead of Ronari in this situation…? …It'd never stay just gossip.

Suspicions about me and Belica would explode. No one would buy "just friends" at that point. The academy couldn't ignore it, and it'd tank her reputation too. I wanted no part of that.

It felt awkward to spell it out, so I just bullshitted instead. "Plus, you'd be way more of a pain in the ass than that Ronari girl."

"Heh, true that."

I stood up. I'd just finished wrapping the bandages around my hands.

"Fine. Whatever. I'll figure out a solution myself. Shouldn't have asked you in the first place."

Saying that, I handed Belica two wooden swords. She snatched them with a spry twirl.

"Heh, so the thrilling roommate life with the academy's idol, the beautiful Ronari, continues? Lucky you~?"

I grabbed the last wooden sword and pointed it at her. "Don't phrase it like that."

"How else should I phrase it?"

With that question, Belica motioned for me to take the first swing, like she was yielding the opening move.

"I dunno. Just watch your wording, damn it!"

I gladly obliged, slashing lightly at her. We had the ranking tournament this afternoon, so I wasn't holding back too much.

Ronari stopped by the faculty office before class to check the ranking tournament brackets.

She was an academy student too, after all. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠She had to compete just like everyone else.

The ranking tournament was one of the two pillars of the academy's grade evaluations. One was the midterms assessing major class performance. The other was the ranking tournament, gauging practical combat skills.

True to its name, it was a one-on-one duel to determine student rankings. High ranks meant great grades; poor ones meant penalties, or even academic disadvantages in the worst cases.

Ronari had wondered if Ilsea Alerzar's tournament scores were decent enough. She never heard about him racking up penalties or demerits despite skipping classes.

Ilsea… Ilsea Alerzar…

Before she knew it, Ronari realized she was hunting for his matchup on the bracket sheet. She thought about stopping, but her hands wouldn't flip the pages back.

It'll be fine, just this once, she told herself. Plus, she was too damn curious. As his roommate, she needed to know what that idiot was up to.

Soon, she found him. Match today. Opponent… Ronari's eyes went wide.

Lorband… Arni.

That was definitely the guy who'd picked a fight with Ilsea ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠over her yesterday.

A weird possibility sprouted in her mind. Maybe that's why Ilsea came home late or snuck out at night? Late-night solo training.

Q: Why? A: To smash this punk eyeing me!

Ridiculous. "Pfft."

Ronari burst out laughing despite herself. She put the bracket sheet back.

Ilsea's opponent could be Lorband or whoever—she didn't care. It might be good if he got crushed. A wake-up call could reform the delinquent. That Lorband guy seemed pretty high-ranked too.

And if he won and kept harassing her, she'd just beat him herself. Let anyone win.

…Then why am I still here?

Afternoon rolled around. Ronari had steamrolled her own match and come back, but she was still lingering at the Grand Arena. She wasn't usually into spectating other fights. Hers had been one of the first, long over by now.

…Hard to get up for some reason.

Well, she was already seated. Might as well watch his match out of roommate loyalty. Yeah. Even if she kinda hated the delinquent, he was her roommate.

-Yawn.

I stretched my jaw wide as I stepped into the massive building ahead. It looked like a gym or coliseum at a glance—the academy's Grand Arena.

Inside was pure chaos. Cheers for fighters. Clanging metal. All six arenas buzzed with students testing their skills.

It was the first ranking tournament of the semester. That's why I'd come.

I'm basically the quiet type. What I can't stand most is group hysteria—like spectators screaming in unison from the stands. Without the ranking tournament excuse, no way I'd drag myself to a noisy dump like this.

Right on cue, a faculty member called my name.

I hauled my strangely heavy body up to Arena 4. Got scratched up in the dungeon yesterday from getting careless, and sparring with Belica this morning had reopened some scrapes.

…Itchy as hell.

Sparring with Belica always went like this. No mercy from her. Even if we started light, it always ramped up.

"Gotta dial it back next time…"

As I scratched and grumbled, my opponent was called.

Lorband? Rings a bell. But whatever. Didn't matter who.

I was beat. My ranking scores were stable enough. Climbing higher might draw unwanted eyes, messing up my side gigs. Plan was to throw it and crash early.

He climbed up, and that's when it clicked—the asshole from yesterday yapping about swapping dorms.

He recognized me too and greeted first. "Nice to see you again, friend."

Who the hell's your friend?

I ignored him.

"C'mon, return a greeting when someone's giving one."

Persistent in the dumbest ways. I muttered, "…Yeah. Good fight."

He snickered. "Good fight? You? Against me?"

I'd scraped together some courtesy, but he wasn't having it.

"Friend, you know my rank? I'm not for trash like you to scrap with. Know your place." He tapped his temple mockingly. "Been thinking since last time—something wrong up here?"

While he rambled, I sized him up. One-handed sword and shield. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Classic knight setup. Cocky mouth, but solid skills. Gotta have some chops to lead a pack of mutts.

Just attack already. Wrap this up.

I glanced at the faculty. That's when Lorband piped up again.

"Friend. Wanna bet?"

Not your friend, asshole.

"Loser drops out. Deal?"

What the—

"Can't stand seeing trash like you rooming with Ronari. Just leave the academy. Yeah?"

I rubbed my brow and shot back, "Me?"

"Yeah. She'd welcome rooming with me more."

Could've brushed it off as bullshit. Ronari did hate my guts. But it pissed me off anyway.

"Quit yapping Ronari, Ronari. Her name's off-limits. Annoys the shit outta me."

"Ha. You're just as bad."

Bad how? Like you, you perv?

His yapping dragged, so the referee signaled to start. I stepped forward. He mirrored to the opposite side.

He eyed my empty hand. "Why unarmed? Swordsmanship major, right? Scared shitless and forgot your blade?"

I reached into my pocket instead. Pulled out a short wand. About a handspan long. Grip like a sword hilt, tip with a simple metal guard like a longsword's.

"…Mage?"

The referee called: Both sides, to positions!

We took stances five steps apart. Mine was just standing, wand half-extended.

Short silence.

Begin!

Lorband charged, shield first. I swung the wand short.

A blue-glowing blade erupted from the tip. Mana Saber. Basic spell forming a mana blade.

I slashed down at the charging knight.

Clang!

He blocked with his shield and crowed, "Too light, you worthless shit!"

Decent power, sure—not some backdoor admit. He shoved me back and pressed with shield and sword in erratic strikes.

I retreated step by step under the barrage, nearly out of bounds. He went for the finisher.

Fine then…

I cut mana to the wand, stepped back half a pace, and twisted. His overcommitted lunge toppled.

I kneed his exposed gut, cracked the wand on his skull, then booted his falling head.

Crack!

"Gack…!"

I strolled up, planted my foot on his throat, and looked down. Shock turned to fear in his eyes.

Whatever.

"Guh… guh…"

Gazing at the choking bastard, I said, "You don't have to drop out."