Attack Is Easy, Defense Is Everything
There was hardly any room for debate. Everyone silently nodded along to Dick's assessment.
Simon scratched his temple, feeling a touch embarrassed, while Hector showed no reaction at all.
"And as for the weakest team—"
Dick shot a furtive glance at Meilin before continuing.
"That'd be Team 1, the one you and I are on, wouldn't it?"
"Hey! Why are we the weakest?!"
Meilin protested, her face flushing red.
"Meilin, do you know any enhancement-type dark magic?"
"Uh, well. A few minor ones, maybe…"
"Then unless you plan on burning every Class C student to ash with dark flames, you're going to have a rough time shining in a game like this."
Chuckles rippled out from all corners. Meilin's face flared scarlet.
Oblivious or indifferent, Dick pressed on with his explanation.
"While Team 1 is centered entirely on Meilin, Team 3 has real depth to its roster."
Cindy Vivace, Class A's Spirit Magic ace.
Jamie Victoria, Class A's Curse Magic ace.
Pierre Buckler, Class A's Summoning ace.
Claudia Menzies, Class A's Toxicology ace.
Students who'd scored in the 90s on their written exams in their preferred subjects were all clustered on Team 3.
The only reason people overlooked them was that Simon and Hector's performances had been so overwhelmingly flashy. A handful of students actually believed Team 3 was the strongest of all.
Meilin, meanwhile, would have to carry Team 1 alone—no small burden for someone without any dark magic particularly suited to ball games.
"So our class makeup is weakest, strongest, and strong. Which means we have to do whatever it takes to pit the weakest team—Meilin's Team 1—against Serne's team."
"…I'll remember this. Just you wait."
Meilin shot Dick one last glare, crossed her arms, and turned away. Then she began stoking her competitive fire, burning hot.
Watching her, Dick let the corner of his mouth curl into a sly smile.
Beyond that effect, he also trusted that with Serne as her opponent, Meilin would fight tooth and nail no matter what it took.
"Mr. Big-Shot over there sure loves running his mouth, huh."
The cold voice shifted the lively mood of the classroom in strange ways.
Hector cut in, eyes flashing murderously.
"Stop dragging this out and get to the damn point."
"Oh my, someone's impatient~ Just give me a second."
Dick replied with easygoing confidence, one hand still in his pocket.
He's getting this cocky on the assumption I'll back Simon Polentia.
But Hector didn't react any further.
There was no need to waste attention on small fry like that. One person was already more than enough to keep his focus fixed on.
"Got it."
suddenly, a male student's voice echoed from empty air. As everyone craned their heads around, the air rippled and melted away, and a bespectacled student materialized right beside Dick.
Camouflage—a concealment technique that hid the body from sight.
"Care to share with the class?"
Dick grinned.
"Alright then, students! Get ready for the game!"
Brad, playing referee, grumbled as he announced it. The students swarmed up to the court.
Ugh, this is such a pain.
Professor Hong Peng and the other TAs had all flown off to prepare the meal, leaving Brad and two senior assistants stuck entertaining students and playing referee.
And of course, those seniors had dumped everything on Brad and vanished somewhere to hole up.
Agh, this is insane! Is this really the treatment someone of my caliber deserves?
Brad raked a hand wildly through his hair.
Ever since that incident with Simon, I can feel Professor Hong Peng looking down on me! The other TAs keep subtly disrespecting me too! Damn it all! Damn it all! They all know something for sure! Did that bastard Simon spread the story around?
Of course, it was nothing more than Brad's own persecution complex.
Simon Polentia…!
And to make matters worse, something had happened earlier that irritated him even more.
Simon had brought over a girl named Camibarez.
"TA sir, I think Kami might be showing signs of anemia. She needs some medicine."
Brad had curtly told him there was no such thing and to just hold out a little longer.
And then Simon had delivered the line of the century with an icy smile:
"A student is sick. If you say you don't have anything, does that mean you're done being a TA?"
His heart had nearly stopped.
A wordless threat: tell Professor Hong Peng everything, or give up your position at Kizen.
With his weakness firmly in Simon's grip, Brad had no choice but to sprint all the way to Hong Peng's cabin and fetch the medicine himself.
AAAAARGH! Infuriating! That bastard's climbing way too high!
Tap tap tap.
Brad's leg trembled with rage. At the same time, he felt a pang of pity for his own plight—powerless to resist Simon.
How am I supposed to survive the three years until that guy graduates?
Maybe he'll skip Magic Combat in the second semester?
No chance. Professor Hong Peng dotes on him, and Magic Combat is the field where he's showing off powerful talent.
What bothered him most of all was the sight from earlier: when Simon had successfully pulled off Internal Jet Black Eruption, Professor Hong Peng had worn an expression of pure, world-conquering bliss from across the field.
In five years of serving her, he had never once seen her make a face like that.
Grrgh!
Jealousy, fury, and self-pity made Brad feel like his head was about to explode. He irritably clawed at his hair.
He was only in the fresh green of his mid-twenties, and stress was already thinning his hairline. At this rate, he was doomed to end up just like his father…
"TA sir."
A voice snapped Brad out of his spiral.
Jamie was standing rigidly at attention in front of him, addressing him.
"Classes A and C are all gathered, sir."
"Ahem, ahem."
Brad rose slowly from his seat.
"Then we'll begin the match! Team one from Class A and Class C, step forward!"
From Class A, Team 1—Meilin and Dick included—stepped out.
And from Class C—
"It's Serne! Serne's up first!"
"Serne is playing!"
"WAAAAH!"
Class A threw their arms up and cheered.
Meanwhile, the Class C students had been watching Simon and Hector's side, and when they realized neither of them was coming out, they let out disappointed groans.
From Class A's standpoint, it was the ideal play—successfully matching their weakest card against the opponent's trump card.
"Throwing Serne's team against that lineup is an absolute steal."
"The rest of them will manage somehow."
The Class A students were already treating defeat as a foregone conclusion.
"Don't you dare give up on us, you lunatics!"
Meilin whirled around and shrieked at the Class A students.
"We're going to win!"
The Class A students gave her a hollow, listless round of applause. Their eyes, of course, radiated zero belief.
Wondering how many times her stomach would turn over today, Meilin jerked her head away.
Wave, wave.
There stood Serne, a white coat draped over her uniform, waving at Meilin with a smile. Meilin glared back with a look that could curdle milk.
You're dead today. Genuinely dead.
Twenty students from each class filed onto the court.
Outside, each class's most fervent cheering squads were already going to war.
While the students on the court waited in blazing suspense, only Brad yawned through a long stretch and, wearing an expression of pure annoyance, blew the whistle hanging from his neck.
"Quiet! Team representatives, step forward!"
Meilin and Serne walked out. Brad pulled a one-silver coin from his pocket.
"Heads or tails—what'll it be?"
"Heads! Absolutely heads!!"
Meilin shouted, burning with intensity.
"Then I'll take tails~"
Serne replied in a soft, lilting voice. Brad lazily flicked the coin into the air and carelessly slapped it onto the back of his hand.
"Tails. Class C's court first."
"Yes!!"
Meilin clenched both fists tight. Serne flipped her hair and turned away.
"How cute~ Did you actually want to win something, even if it's just this?"
"Because I'm looking forward to shattering that skull of yours with the ball!"
Like fire and water, the two turned their backs on each other and walked to their sides. Even so, Serne kept chuckling to herself.
Brad hurled the ball toward Class A's side.
"Begin!"
Trill!
He blew the whistle. Meilin passed the ball to Dick.
"Hey, enchant pack mule. Make it quick."
"Yay, yay~ Standard procedure it is."
While Dick worked the enchantment into the ball, Meilin raised a magic circle. Dick shot her a sideways glance.
"You know using offensive magic directly on the opponent means instant disqualification, right?"
"Obviously I know!"
Having drawn her circle, she stepped back a few paces. The roaring cheers of the Class A students reached her ears.
"Land that first strike in style!"
"Take out one of them and do 'the pose' for us!"
Her face went red and she whipped her head around.
"Ugh, everyone shut up! Zip it!!"
Having silenced the Class A students who kept gnawing at her mental state, Meilin returned to a serious expression.
Dick finished the enchantment and gave her a thumbs-up with a smug shrug of his shoulders. She nodded.
"Going."
Dick tossed the enchanted ball high, like a setter feeding a spike. Meilin, who had already activated Internal Jet Black Operation, sprinted forward and launched herself with all her might.
FWOOOONG!
She soared through the air like a butterfly and swung her arm with tremendous force.
And just before the ball touched her palm, the magic circle painted across the back of her hand erupted into jet-black flame.
FWAAAAAAAASH!
Flames burst outward like an explosion as she slammed the ball with everything she had.
CRACK!!
The ball streaked through the air and smacked a Class C male student square in the face. He didn't even have time to react.
Thud.
Ba-dump dump dump.
The ball tumbled off his face, and Meilin touched down lightly, exhaling the breath she'd been holding with a sharp hah!
"WAAAAAAAH!"
"Nice one, Meilin!"
Cheers exploded from every direction.
"See that?"
Meilin straightened her back and looked over at Dick.
"I told you we can win without any fancy enhancement magic!"
"Oh sure, sure~ You're the absolute best, milady."
She booted Dick's slouching rear end and turned her head away.
There was Simon, watching with the other students, clapping with a broad grin on his face. Her mood finally lifted a little, and she felt her pride swell.
From the referee's stand, Brad propped his chin on his hand and waved lazily.
"Chop chop. Next—Class C's serve."
From Class C, a girl with twin braids walked forward. Meilin barked out orders.
"Meat shields! All of you, get up front!"
Meilin and a few of the other key attackers pulled back while the biggest, sturdiest boys moved to the front line—Magic Combat hopefuls and students with defensive dark magic.
The braided girl glanced at Class A's formation, then hurled the ball with an awkward, unpracticed motion. It was sailing straight out of bounds.
"Ha ha! Where do you think you're throw—"
Just then, the outbound ball sharply curved mid-flight and slammed into the chest of a student in the middle of the court.
This time it was Class C's turn to erupt in cheers.
"You dumpling-brain! You saw the professor demonstrate the curve earlier! That's exactly why you don't get careless!"
Meilin roared. The hit student scratched his head sheepishly and trudged off the court.
"Dick! Re-enchant and feed it up!"
Meilin served as Class A's main cannon. Whenever the ball came over, everyone funneled it to her.
Her attacking power was undeniably exceptional. A hundred percent success rate. Not a single student had failed to knock someone out on her serves.
Class C, by contrast, rotated a variety of students leading their attacks. Serne herself stood off in a corner of the court, making no move to attack, listlessly trimming her nails. The other Class C students didn't dare step up in her place either, just watching each other nervously.
SMACK!
A Class A student tried to catch the ball, only for it to strike his arm—he was out.
Simon, watching from outside the court, gave a wry smile.
So realistically, almost every attack succeeds.
This game heavily favored the offense. Beyond that, the freshman trend at Kizen itself skewed toward neglecting defense, which played its part too.
In the first year, each individual curse packed a serious punch, so in Duel Evaluations the side landing the first curse or opening strike saw their win rate spike dramatically.
With both sides' fundamentals still underdeveloped and the first-strike-wins meta running thick, it was only natural.
On top of that, in real combat you could lean on protective suits and the Kizen uniform for defense, which only amplified the freshmen's all-out-offense mentality.
Of course, as students climbed into the upper years and professorship, the importance of defense grew right along with them.
THWOOM!
"OOOOOOOOH!"
Just then, a roar erupted from both Class A and Class C alike.
In a game where attack success rates ran absurdly high, the undisputed super play was defense.
For the first time, a Class A Magic Combat student had blocked one of Class C's attacks. Jet-black energy was coursing across his body.
He used Internal Jet Black Eruption.
A Magic Combat hopeful who'd studied ahead of the curriculum. He immediately fired a counterattack, and a Class C student was caught out.
Nullifying the opponent's attack and then landing his own made it doubly valuable. Everyone on the court swarmed him for high-fives.
Students with defensive dark magic—or powerful Magic Combat skills like his—were the key to this game.
Defense, huh.
Simon's eyes lit up.
With nothing more than a simple game of catch, Hong Peng had just tossed a whole new theme onto the table for her students to chew on.