Has the Confusion Cleared?
A handful of contentious debates routinely split the Valdrain Empire.
Chief among them was a single question: which of the two great institutions reigned supreme?
The capital's Edelbein Academy.
The southern domain's Telvier Academy.
Because the South boasted economic and cultural prosperity rivaling the capital itself, determining which academy held the upper hand was practically impossible. The Sword School, the Arcane School, the Arts School—every discipline clashed in relentless, cutthroat rivalry.
Yet if one were pressed to make an exacting distinction, Edelbein was generally regarded as holding the slimmest of advantages when it came to the Sword School alone. And the primary reason lay in the caliber of its faculty.
“We will now commence the regular faculty meeting of the Edelbein Academy Sword School.”
Every professor gathered around the conference table had once been a knight or warrior of renown: a former Commander of the Imperial Knights, a former Knight Commander of House Kundel, a former Vice-Commander of House Rihardt, alongside veterans who had once led the private orders of other prominent lineages.
These regular meetings never fail to turn my stomach to ice, Elcanto thought, wiping damp palms against his trousers.
“The agenda for today's meeting consists of two items: first-half donations and the Exchange Match.”
The moment Professor Berhal, the department head and presiding chair, began to speak, total silence swept the room. Several faculty members, Elcanto included, fixed their gazes upon him with unabashed reverence.
And with good reason. Berhal was one of fewer than thirty individuals in the Empire’s long history to earn the supreme martial distinction of Imperial Knight. Beyond that, he had once served in the Royal Guard—the Emperor’s personal shield. In truth, it would not have been out of place for him to hold the office of Academy Chancellor, yet here he sat as Dean of the Sword School.
“As of late last month, first-half donations have reached two hundred million cel,” Berhal announced. “Among them, House Kundel recorded the largest single contribution at approximately thirty million.”
“Oh? Even for an interim tally, a single house exceeding ten percent is the first since House Candea last year, Department Head.”
“Indeed. It appears Student Deleve Kundel's enrollment this term played a significant role.”
Berhal's gaze shifted naturally across the room.
“Professor Elcanto, how is Student Deleve settling in?”
“Ah, yes! Of course, Department Head. He is working with tremendous diligence and thoroughly enjoying academy life.”
“As this is your first year officially taking charge of an entire cohort, I place great trust in you. As you well know, nothing is more critical than properly managing the first years.”
“Rest assured, Department Head. I am fully aware.”
“Please keep a particularly close watch on Student Deleve Kundel and Student Celia Rihardt. Ah, and Student Maris Sophen as well. House Sophen donated a staggering ten million cel this term.”
“Good heavens. House Sophen gave that much?”
“Their merchant enterprises seem to flourish with each passing year. Student Maris Sophen's enrollment certainly factored in, no doubt.”
“I shall devote my utmost attention to them!”
Professor Elcanto gave an impeccably sharp nod—an attitude entirely unrecognizable from the haughty condescension he showed Xiel or Teaching Assistant Tyron.
“Very well. Now that we have covered donations... let us turn to our most critical matter. How are the preparations for the Exchange Match progressing?”
The Edelbein Academy Exchange Match.
It was no exaggeration to call it the paramount event of the entire Sword School. Alongside the Academy Festa, it stood as their grandest occasion. But unlike the Festa, which was strictly an internal affair for the student body, the Exchange Match welcomed outside guests—namely, parents.
And the vast majority of those parents were heads of noble houses, matriarchs, distinguished alumni, or prospective patrons with children awaiting admission.
“Let our sole focus be achieving a smooth, flawless conclusion, just as we did last year.”
“There will be no unexpected upsets this year either, will there, Department Head?”
“Could there possibly be? The disparity between cohorts is night and day.”
By 'upset,' they meant an underclassman cohort defeating their upperclassmen.
“A singular genius or two might manage an isolated victory, but an entire lower-year squad overcoming an upper-year group simply does not happen.”
Once in a blue moon, an extraordinary prodigy matriculated and toppled a second-year student, but the collective cohorts never did. The divide between grades was absolute, rooted in the sheer gulf in instructional depth and accumulated training hours. In that light, a first-year squad defeating second years was virtually unheard of.
“Then Professor Camellia shall continue overseeing the organizational duties. Let us also ensure thorough preparations for 'Edelbein Night' following the matches.”
Edelbein Night: the grand banquet and gala ball held on the evening of the Exchange Match. It was slated to be another crowning highlight of the festival.
“With that, we shall conclude the regular meeting... Ah. Professor Elcanto.”
Elcanto, whose nerves had remained stretched taut like bowstrings the entire time, jumped in his seat at the sudden call.
“Y-Yes, Department Head!”
“Why so startled?”
“Ah, w-well... sitting among so many esteemed seniors always leaves me rather humbled...”
“Haha. Come to think of it, Professor Elcanto, only two years ago you were scampering after us calling out 'Professor! Professor!', weren't you?”
“Quite right. Look at him now, a full professor in his own right. Hahaha.”
Elcanto scratched the back of his neck with an embarrassed grin.
“It is all thanks to the generous guidance of my seniors. I shall continue to strive with everything I have.”
“Good. Ah, what I meant to ask just now was... yes. How is the new elective lecturer settling in?”
Why is the Department Head asking about Teacher Xiel?
Elcanto’s mind spun into frantic overdrive. Someone of the Department Head's stature rarely concerned himself with temporary staff in the first-year curriculum—unless a scion of a monumental bloodline directly tied to institutional endowments was involved.
Could it be that the Department Head... knows as well?
A staggering hypothesis materialized from the depths of his runaway paranoia: Xiel Steelheart possessed backing of incomprehensible magnitude—perhaps even the Imperial Palace itself!
“Ah, yes! Department Head. Naturally, he is doing splendidly. My teaching assistant reports that he submits his curriculum documents with absolute punctuality. Ah! And just recently, he even took the initiative to observe the second- and third-year lectures of his own accord.”
“Is that so?”
“Indeed. He overflows with passion.”
Did Xiel overflow with passion? Elcanto had merely ordered Tyron to let the man watch because he had asked, nothing more.
“Please see to it that nothing untoward occurs. An elective lecturer is exceedingly important. Particularly for the first years.”
With the exception of Elcanto, everyone present took the remark as mere polite pleasantry. Elective instructors burned out and resigned with alarming frequency; it sounded like nothing more than a perfunctory word of encouragement.
Exceedingly important... particularly for the first years...?!
Cold dread surged up Elcanto’s spine. He nodded emphatically.
“Yes! Naturally! I shall watch over him with the utmost vigilance. Under no circumstances will any trouble arise, I assure you!”
“Haha, our Professor Elcanto certainly has fire in his belly. Is it because he oversees the first years?”
“Indeed, Department Head! Hahaha!”
Amid the warm, ringing laughter of the senior professors, Elcanto alone failed to crack a genuine smile.
Damn it all... How on earth am I supposed to watch over him? Do I need to go sit in on his lectures myself?
The self-defense practical was in full swing.
Yet hardly a single student in the hall could summon complete focus.
'Ten of you taking this class right now.'
That single line from Xiel—dropped casually just before class began—hung over their minds like an impenetrable fog.
What did he mean by that? Has he already decided who gets picked?
No way. A lecturer wouldn't have that kind of authority...
Out of a hundred freshmen, ten from this room alone? Ahead of everyone else?
They had no means of deciphering what Xiel had intended. Yet treating it as an idle passing remark was out of the question; securing a berth in the Exchange Match was an opportunity of colossal proportions. For students from minor provincial lineages who had barely scraped through admissions—like Yurio and Karen—it was a lifeline of immense significance.
“Deleve, you are slower than last class.”
Naturally, the price of a wandering mind was paid instantly.
“Kuh!”
Deleve's belated parry arrived far more sluggishly than before, exactly as Xiel noted.
“Your concentration has deteriorated. Are your thoughts elsewhere?”
“N-No, sir. I will go again.”
The young noble’s resolve to land a clean counterattack today crumbled into an embarrassingly clumsy swipe.
“Wait for your next turn, Student Deleve Kundel.”
Deleve was hardly the sole offender.
“Student Celia Rihardt, your reaction is delayed. Raise your guard a fraction faster. By my estimation, you should have blocked that blow in today's session.”
“Student Karen Aswan. Pivot faster on your left ankle.”
The entire cohort was in disarray, minds clouded by the exact same burning questions.
Ten of us?
Could the roster already be fixed?
Does Instructor Xiel... actually possess the power to decide?
When they really considered it, the suspicion carried strange weight. Why would a martial artist of such terrifying caliber be relegated to a 'mere' elective instructor? Even this grueling, unorthodox class had somehow forced everyone to accept its absurd effectiveness through sheer results.
That has to be it. He’s handpicking ten of us from this very room.
While some students arrived at that rationalization, others spiraled into private panic.
Dammit! Why did I have to mouth off to him back then?! Maris Sophen thought, cold sweat drenching his collar as regret gnawed at his gut.
“Your form has worsened across the board.”
Xiel paused the training session, his voice carrying clearly across the quiet hall.
“Your focus is universally degraded.”
Then came a query nobody had anticipated.
“Did the upperclassmen harass you?”
Stunned silence answered him.
“Or are you hungry?”
Why were those his only two deductions?
“Unless one of those conditions applies, there is no reason for every student's concentration to fall off so sharply.”
He spoke with utter, deadpan sincerity—he genuinely could not comprehend it. In the end, Deleve raised a hesitant hand.
“Instructor.”
“Student Deleve Kundel. Speak.”
“I believe all of us are feeling rather unsettled by what you said earlier.”
“What I said? Unsettled?”
Xiel tilted his head slightly.
“I said nothing today with the intent of causing confusion.”
“Did you not state earlier that ten of us in this room would be chosen?”
Every student in the hall nodded in vigorous agreement. Xiel asked in that same flat, uninflected cadence,
“Is that a statement that warrants confusion?”
“Yes. Enormous confusion, in fact.”
“Confusion, you say...”
Xiel sank into earnest contemplation. Where, precisely, lay the source of their disarray? The number ten? The phrase 'among you'?
Ah.
Understanding dawned upon him.
“Right. It seems I did cause confusion.”
“See? As if the selection had already been rigged—”
“All ten selected from here will defeat the second years. I caused confusion by omitting that fact.”
“...Pardon?”
“I am told the first years typically duel the second years during the Exchange Match. The ten chosen from this class will win every single one of those bouts.”
The hall plunged into an even deeper, dizzying shock.
He can even influence the match outcomes?!
What is he talking about...?!
For nearly every student present, a universal truth had been hammered into their marrow: first years defeating second years was an impossibility. Even setting aside the vast disparity in combat skill, the strict hierarchical culture between seniors and juniors within the Sword School ran deep. Save for scions of the absolute apex ducal houses, ordinary cadets were profoundly intimidated by their seniors.
“Wh... What do you mean by that, sir?”
Even Deleve, who had stepped forward to ask, stammered in bewilderment.
“Are you still confused?”
“Yes... profoundly so.”
“Hmm.”
Xiel fell into thought once more, considering how best to resolve the students' dilemma.
Confusion. A state of mental disorder and lack of clarity. That was the textbook definition.
As he pondered, Celia Rihardt raised her hand.
“Instructor.”
“Student Celia Rihardt. Speak.”
“Do you... already know the outcome? In advance?”
Tyron had already briefed Xiel on the exact mechanics of the selection trials and the Exchange Match. Consequently, Xiel understood how the brackets were structured, what the historical results looked like, and the general standard of ability across each year. But knowing the ultimate outcome? An outcome was something manifested only after every process reached completion. There was no way he could know the future.
Yet in that moment, Xiel interpreted Celia’s question from a slightly different angle.
“Yes. If it is that outcome, it is plainly visible.”
“R-Really?”
The students stared in sheer horror.
He’s truly controlling the whole board?!
Good gods, who on earth is this man...?!
Just as the misunderstanding threatened to detonate into utter hysteria, Xiel continued calmly.
“You are already far ahead of the other first years who do not attend this class.”
His amber eyes remained flat and steady as he swept his gaze across the assembled youths.
“Stamina, reflexes, counter-ambush reaction, and respiratory mana circulation. Over the span of two months, you have made immense progress in all of them.”
That was the true, literal meaning behind what he had said.
“That is why I am certain ten will be selected from this room.”
Those undergoing this training were already outpacing their peers.
“And should those ten be chosen, they are more than capable of defeating the second years as well.”
Even against opponents they regarded as insurmountable, their foundations would hold.
Xiel looked at them and asked,
“Has the confusion cleared now?”