The Academy Tournament's First Match: Obstacle Race
The first event of the Academy Tournament was the Obstacle Race. Each team would field two players—one serving as the runner and the other as the trapper.
The runner’s objective was to break through the obstacles lurking across the field and cross the finish line. The trapper’s role was to complete assigned missions, install obstacles on the field, and hinder the opposing team from reaching the finish line.
Hehehe, now this is exactly my area of expertise.
The mission given to the trapper involved solving formula problems. It worked much like the formula puzzles Professor Magnus had assigned as homework during the first semester. Contestants had to unravel sequentially presented, tangled magic circles. Solving them earned points, which could then be spent at the shop to purchase handicaps for the opposing team’s members.
It was a format that required no magic or mana manipulation whatsoever—just solving the formulas. In truth, it was practically a customized event prepared specifically for Marily.
Of course, the most important role in this match is still the runner.
Even so, it didn’t matter much. If the event had been about competing in pure magical skill, the story might have been different, but the true nature of this match was, without question, running. And on this team existed someone whose magical ability was even more pathetic than Marily’s, yet possessed a monstrous physique comparable to that of a seasoned martial artist.
It’s a shame the first match has such low point value.
The obstacle race was merely a warm-up event designed to give everyone a taste of the virtual reality world—one not easily experienced in daily life—and to help them adapt. That fact alone left Marily clicking her tongue in mild disappointment.
Standing before the tablet where the problems would soon appear, she glanced sideways.
“Haaaaam. Hm?”
In the seat beside her, Amy Pewter of Benedict Academy’s representative team had apparently grown bored during the wait. She had been yawning so widely her mouth looked ready to split. Feeling the gaze from her right, she turned her head. The moment her eyes met Marily’s, her face flushed with embarrassment and she broke into a bright, bashful smile.
“Good luck. You’ve got this!”
She thrust both fists forward in a spirited show of support.
“Yeah, you do your best too, senior.”
Marily returned a small chuckle and raised her own hand in the same gesture.
So this is what good-natured competition feels like.
It was an experience entirely new to her. She had grown up witnessing only the cutthroat rivalries of noble society, where a single defeat meant being cast aside.
It doesn’t feel bad at all.
Thanks to that, her desire to win burned even hotter. With a faint smile playing on her lips, Marily rested her hand on the tablet and waited for the match to begin.
“Hmm.”
While Marily prepared for the match as trapper, Togun had stepped into the virtual reality space where the real competition would unfold. He couldn’t help swallowing a quiet groan.
So this is what a virtual world feels like?
Honestly, his first encounter with virtual reality fell short of his expectations. He had heard others say things like “It’s an entirely new world,” “The sensations are completely identical to reality,” and “It’s incredible.” Perhaps he had simply built it up too much after listening to those reviews.
They call this the same as reality?
Breathing felt stifling. The colors in front of his eyes looked off. The textures against his skin were strangely unnatural. Far from the glowing testimonials, the sensations were too detached from real life. It felt more like wearing a VR headset to view a flat 2D world. The awkwardness brought an involuntary bitter smile to Togun’s lips.
He could roughly guess why his senses felt so wrong.
Damn this body.
Magic Rejection. That cursed trait had once again made itself known. According to Marily, virtual reality magic was a fusion of mental and spatial systems. It must have repelled part of the mana that was supposed to seep into his brain through the magic circle. That was why, unlike everyone else, he could only perceive these half-baked sensations.
“Sigh.”
He had been so excited. For a moment, childish frustration welled up so strongly he thought he might actually cry.
“Why the heavy sigh?”
A familiar voice came from behind him. Togun turned, and his gaze traveled upward—quite a distance—until he finally saw the face of the massive man standing there.
It was Baraki Nepiri, Benedict Academy’s runner for this obstacle race.
“It’s nothing.”
Togun shook his head in a fluster as Baraki approached with a puzzled, concerned look.
“Haha, what’s this? Don’t tell me you’re nervous?”
Baraki let out a booming laugh at Togun’s awkward smile and clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder. Then, grinning widely, he roughly tousled the younger boy’s hair.
“Don’t get too worked up. Honestly, most of the participants in this event are nowhere near your level.”
This was a warm-up match meant to showcase what the virtual reality world was like. Since it was the first event, the point value wasn’t particularly high. Securing an early lead and widening the gap with other teams wouldn’t be a bad idea, but there was no need to cling desperately to the result. It was far more advantageous to protect their team’s data and preserve the stamina of their ace player. After all, being the team’s ace meant participating in the greatest number of matches throughout the tournament.
“I’ll vouch for that myself, having fought your team several times.”
“Haha, thank you.”
Togun smiled awkwardly. He hadn’t been nervous for that reason, but he couldn’t embarrass a senior who had spoken those words out of consideration for him.
“Then do your best out there.”
After giving Togun’s back one final encouraging pat, Baraki walked past. Togun watched his broad back for a moment, then quietly gripped the hilt of the sword at his waist.
Right. Time to focus.
Not only Baraki, but every athlete participating in this tournament was a formidable opponent. Each one was a genius hailed as the best in their respective region. Their magical prowess was so overwhelmingly superior that comparing them to Togun was meaningless. Since Marily had told him to refrain from using the Anti-Magic Sword as much as possible, he would have to face them with a body that could not wield even the slightest amount of mana.
A martial artist capable of cloaking their body in mana might have been fine, but for Togun—an ordinary person whose only advantage was raw physical toughness—even a one-star magic attack could prove fatal.
Beep! All athletes, please stand in front of the starting line!
Tiny spheres zipped through the virtual sky like flies, broadcasting the notification to every participant. These artificial intelligences served as both referees and holographic cameras, projecting the match’s status to the spectator seats. He had heard they had been updated at the beginning of the year with the latest data improved by the Magic Tower. Their performance was still unknown, but the way they flew around with cute emoticon faces on their front displays was rather endearing.
Beep! The match will begin shortly! Athletes, please quickly take your positions at the starting line!
The way they buzzed persistently through the air, chasing after people who ignored them and repeating the same warning, made them seem almost childlike. The sight reminded Togun of Andy, and he let out a soft chuckle as he walked toward the starting line.
But he had no idea that the people around him were watching him with the exact same fond gaze he had given the little AI robots.
So small.
Is that the first-year who somehow made it onto the roster?
What’s with the sword at his waist? An artifact? Or does he train in both martial arts and magic?
For a kid, he’s got some muscle on those arms. It looks out of place in a cute way.
Every magic academy in the Ellemental Kingdom—including Benedict Academy—was legally required to offer a five-year regular curriculum. Given that the Academy Tournament was typically contested by graduating students, most participants were at least seventeen or eighteen. While there weren’t many with builds as massive as Baraki’s, nearly everyone else still towered over Togun by one to three full heads. Against that backdrop, a small child warming up at the starting line looked undeniably adorable.
“......”
However, one person watched Togun with an entirely different gaze. White hair spiked out in every direction. Unblinking, creepy white eyes bored into him without pause. Standing among the crowd, the figure stared at Togun like a starving predator that had spotted prey hiding in the grass.
He’s on the same team as that girl from before?
Sirionella Private Academy. Their representative, Chris, looked at Togun and recalled the face of Arina—the girl who had bumped into him that day.
Too bad.
It would have been far more interesting if that sparkling girl had competed. In contrast, this gloomy little kid seemed so unlike her that it was hard to believe they were truly teammates. His mana affinity was so abysmal one had to wonder how he had even been admitted to a magic academy. Even an ordinary passerby would likely emit a brighter glow than this boy.
Chris absently touched the choker at his neck, then slowly closed his eyes.
The Eye that Sees Mana. As his eyelids shut, the supernatural ability flipped its switch off. The world, previously overflowing with the light of mana, plunged into darkness.
“......”
After standing motionless with his eyes closed for roughly ten seconds, Chris slowly raised his eyelids. When his eyes opened, he no longer looked at Togun. Instead, his gaze fixed on the area beyond the starting line—where the finish line, invisible from here, lay waiting. It was a silent declaration that he had lost all interest in Togun, who emitted no light whatsoever.
Beep! All athletes at the starting line, please prepare! The match begins in ten seconds!
The emoticon above the AI’s face had changed into numbers. They counted down from ten. In sync with the referee’s countdown, each runner settled into their stance. The most eye-catching among them was naturally Togun, who had assumed a perfect crouch start. More specifically, he had taken the bunch start position—the one that allowed the fastest possible dash.
[3!]
When the number reached three, Togun’s hips shot upward. The instant the counter hit one, a loud firework bang signaled the official start of the race.
BOOM!
Togun exploded forward with tremendous leg power, surging ahead of everyone else. It was a lead no spectator—or competitor—had anticipated. Yet the athletes actually running the race had no time to be shocked by his explosive start.
Wooooong!
Pure white magic circles had suddenly appeared, latching onto their limbs like shackles and pressing down on their bodies with crushing weight.
“Ah!”
“What the hell is this!”
“Right from the start?”
Though it probably wasn’t literally double in reality, the sensation felt as if gravity had suddenly doubled. Contestants stumbled forward from the completely unexpected interference. Baraki Nepiri of Benedict Academy, in particular, stared at the magic circles covering his limbs—two or three times more numerous than anyone else’s—and let out a hollow laugh.
“We’re from the same academy, you know. Don’t you think this is a bit much, juniors?”
To interfere with opposing players, one needed points to purchase handicaps from the shop. The only way to earn those points in this match was for the trapper to solve the given problems. At most, one second had passed since the referee’s signal. There was simply no participant capable of earning enough points in that brief window to hinder so many people at once.
Except for exactly one person, as far as Baraki knew.
“Hahahaha! Serves you right!”
For some reason, he thought he could hear the frivolous laughter of a certain junior whose noble status made such behavior entirely inappropriate.
Letting out a deep sigh, Baraki extended a hand wrapped in mana, preparing to dismantle the magic circles fastened to his limbs.