You're Kaplan.
You're Kaplan.
On a night graced only by moonlight, a sword split the air.
SWOOOOOSH!
A speed so great the air itself didn't realize it had been cut until a beat later, the deafening roar of the slash arriving shamefully late.
Once more. And then again. The sword split the empty void.
SWOOOOOSH!
The blade's path, falling in a purely vertical line, held not the slightest error.
As if the process itself did not exist—all that remained was the stark result: the sword brought down.
A textbook form.
A movement that fully deserved the word 'textbook'.
"Hoooh...."
The female knight steadied her breathing.
The sword may be immutable, but human flesh is not.
Her whole body was drenched in sweat. Every swing of the blade scattered droplets in all directions.
'Nine hundred ninety-eight.'
She swung again.
SWOOOOOSH!
'Nine hundred ninety-nine.'
Once, then again, then once more without hesitation....
The act of endlessly repeating a motion with zero deviation is, in itself, akin to torture.
Yet this female knight did not fear training that bordered on torture in the slightest.
Now, only one remained.
'The finish!'
CRUNCH!
She stomped the ground with all her might, and the surface rocks burst into the air. At a glance, more than ten of them.
In that split-second where the rising rocks ceased their ascent, she released her Inherent Ability.
Flash.
...In a single instant, she would cleave through them all.
That was when it happened.
"Ivan!"
At the sudden call of her name, Ivan failed to swing her sword.
"...."
"Hoo." Exhaling, Ivan looked down at her blade with a complicated expression.
"I suppose... I must count that as a failure."
Though she had brilliantly succeeded nine hundred ninety-nine times, the fact remained that she had failed once.
She simply accepted it silently.
Ivan Rose. Seeing her solemn expression, the one who had called her name quickly apologized.
"I interrupted you at a crucial moment. Apologies, Ivan."
Ivan quietly shook her head. Removing her gloves, she wiped the beads of sweat from her forehead.
"Ludvil. There is no need to apologize."
"Wasn't it because of me that you couldn't swing your sword?"
"Not in the slightest. It was I who stopped my blade simply because my name was called. The fault lies squarely with my own insufficient training."
"...."
The faces of the knight cadets who had followed Ludvil to see Ivan went momentarily blank.
That's Ivan for you.
They all thought so simultaneously.
"But... what brings you all here?"
"Ah, right. Hey, guys."
Ludvil nodded as if just remembering.
At that, the other cadets proudly held up baskets in both hands. A savory smell wafted up—they were stuffed with food.
"Ivan, isn't tomorrow the Physical Festival? We had to celebrate in advance."
"In advance?"
"Yeah. It's obvious you're going to win anyway."
Indeed, the Knight Department's win rate in combat events was overwhelmingly high, so for them, feeling any tension was basically impossible.
Ivan shook her head from side to side.
"I appreciate the sentiment, but I will eat after the match is over."
At that, "Bwhaha—!" laughter burst out around her. Ivan tilted her head.
"...Why does everyone always laugh when I say something?"
"It's your tone."
"Is it really that amusing? My manner of speaking."
"Yeah. Extremely. No matter how many times I hear it, I just can't get used to it. So quit swinging that sword all day and come hang out sometime. Our little Miss Ivan."
Ivan scratched her cheek, looking slightly embarrassed.
"Strange. Everyone back home talks like this...."
"That's why it's funny! You're from Rapel!"
"Bwhahaha—!" Laughter burst out once more. Rapel, Ivan's homeland, was notoriously known as the most backwater of the countryside.
While she muttered her own phrases to herself a few times, the other knight cadets began offering her food again.
"Come on, just one bite. A mage is someone you could beat with your eyes closed anyway, right?"
"Ludvil. Do not say such things."
Ivan cut Ludvil off flatly. The female knight's expression turned quite serious.
"No matter the opponent, should we not give our all without letting our guard down? That is the courtesy I owe myself, and extending further, the courtesy I owe my opponent."
"Oh, my~ Guys! Lady Ivan is starting her nagging again!"
Ludvil shouted as he pretended to drop dead. At that, the cadets next to him feigned propping him up while chiming in.
"Ivan, aren't you being a little too serious by yourself? Think about your own skills. Your nickname is the Supernova of the Knight Department."
"Yeah. Is there any knight in the first year who can beat you? There isn't. When even other knights can't beat you, how could a mage beat you? Ludvil's words about winning with your eyes closed are absolutely true."
At that, Ivan raised both hands. With a somewhat troubled look, she tried to calm them down.
"I-I asked you all not to say such things. I still have many shortcomings. It is disrespectful to the great knights."
"Ivan, if you're that stubborn, how are you ever going to get married?"
Ludvil cracked the joke as he burst into laughter. Hearing this, Ivan jumped up in a fluster.
"Ma-ma-marriage! My goal is to become the Sword Saint!"
"You never know. Maybe there'll be a man who becomes the husband of a Sword Saint."
"What impudence!"
Ivan's face turned red as if about to explode.
That expression was a famous spectacle among the first-year Knight Department students, and everyone burst into laughter.
Ludvil pulled out a massive bundle of papers from one of the baskets. They were all copies of the Merhen Daily.
As if they'd found a feast, the other students each snatched up a copy, and Ludvil raised his voice.
"Alright. Since the lady herself refuses to acknowledge how great she is, how about we take this moment to praise our great Lady Ivan?"
"Good grief... Please, don't do things like that...."
"How could we not? If you're unhappy about it, then you should've been less talented in moderation. The peerless prodigy of the Knight Department, the Supernova of the Knight Department, the second Scarlett Yudit, the Undefeated Knight...."
"Ludvil! That is enough! Please stop!"
Ivan objected in alarm, but she was no match for stopping them in their excited state.
Soon, someone began loudly reading the headlines from the newspaper articles.
"Supernova of the Knight Department, Ivan Rose. 'Thorough preparation underway to defend her victory!'"
"The Academy trembles at Ivan's sword. Pfft haha.... Who wrote this stuff?"
As soon as one person finished reading an article title, the person next to them picked up the next. Ivan pressed her palm to her throbbing forehead.
The 'praise' for Ivan continued for a long while. Drinking cups were busily passed around.
Instead of responding to each piece of embarrassing flattery, she pulled a necklace from her bosom and clutched it tightly.
'Father.'
Whenever she held the necklace, memories of her childhood came flooding back.
The brutal training from her father who had taught Ivan. Scolded doubly if she cried, always utterly exhausted and collapsing once it was over....
If her father were still alive, all this praise would surely be directed toward him.
Therefore, Ivan could never forgive the Evil One who had taken her father away. And so, she absolutely must never be defeated.
But it was then.
"Huh? What's this...?"
The eyes of a knight cadet next to her went wide. He suddenly buried his face in the newspaper and began meticulously scrutinizing it, letter by letter, as if in disbelief.
"What's suddenly gotten into this guy? Can't read... wait?"
Ludvil, who had approached beside him, had eyes that were just as round. Finally, their mouths fell open.
"The Magic Department draws attention by selecting a representative through a systematic process...."
At the single mention of the Magic Department, the chaotic atmosphere of the training grounds instantly subdued.
"...Confident of victory in the combat events? What the hell does that even mean? Am I understanding this correctly right now?"
"Now that I look, there are a ton of articles about the Magic Department. What's this?"
The sound of clinking cups and laughter vanished at once. Soon, only the sound of turning paper pages filled the inside of the training grounds.
"...Well, fuck. What's with these bastards?"
Ludvil crumpled up the newspaper into a ball, breaking the silence.
Using that as a signal flare, everyone began making their own comments.
"Fucking arrogant. Are they just begging for a beating?"
"Who is this representative making them act so cocky? Let's see."
Soon, everyone's attention focused on the Magic Department's 'representative'.
"Plan... Hey, seems like he's just a commoner?"
"A commoner? Did they all collectively get cursed or something? You know, that thing they like. Illusion? That one."
While criticism toward the Magic Department rained down, someone tilted their head and spoke up.
"This guy's background is a little unusual, though. Says he enrolled as an F-Grade but got chosen as the representative this time."
"That's not unusual, that's just... Hey. Don't tell me. Is it that?"
As if something had just occurred to him, a knight cadet hastily continued.
"Did he make a contract with an Evil One or something? Mages do a lot of Soul Contracts. If you think about it that way, doesn't everything fit? It even explains why they're so confident."
A Soul Contract.
At those words, a momentary silence fell before Ludvil suddenly smacked the cadet upside the head.
"Have you lost your mind?"
"Ack!"
"Do you really think a representative vetted by both departments, judged by the professors, and even checked by the Chancellor would be a Contractor?!"
Then, Ludvil subtly added with his mouth shape.
'Don't talk about Evil Ones in front of Ivan!'
That was when it happened.
"I will take my leave first."
Ivan gathered her outer coat. Her face was more serious than ever before.
An expression that seemed as if she could cleave through anything, no matter what it was.
Ludvil carefully opened his mouth.
"Ivan, are you okay?"
Ivan nodded quietly and gathered her sword. She felt she needed to stop by another training ground immediately.
She must never lose.
But if she were to, she would also accept it humbly. She would trample over thousands and hundreds of defeats and victories to rise up, and at last gaze upon the totality of the Code of Chivalry....
Ultimately, she would become the Sword Saint capable of crushing all Evil Ones.
Therefore, if.
In the one-in-ten-thousand chance.
If her opponent were an Evil One....
Never, ever would there be any forgiveness.
◈
— Kaplan.
A clear, transparent voice, utterly devoid of falsehood.
That delicate tone tortures my reason. Nearly enough to provoke impulse.
— This time too... you won't tell me, will you?
I feel déjà vu. I know this situation.
— It's okay. I believe in you.
The words she once said to me, back when I shouldered everything alone.
— You'll prove it in the end, just like always.
Looking back now, it was advice squeezed out of whatever courage she could muster.
— You're Kaplan. The Märchen-Rank Great Mage, Kaplan.
Or perhaps, a clinging.
An awkward sense of wanting to share something together, whether joy or sorrow.
Affection.
As she leans against the window frame, the wind sweeps her white hair. The strands, sparkling like silk, wrap around her face so completely that her front profile remains unseen.
I know for a fact that if she were to turn around, I would meet those golden eyes, akin to stars pouring down like a hailstorm.
Rising from my seat, I approached her.
One step, then two.
Just as her form was close enough to grasp, she vanished like smoke.
"...."
At the same time, I opened my eyes.
Of course, that woman does not exist in this world. The violet rays of sunlight draping through the curtains announced that a new day had dawned.
Meaning, I had a dream.
A dream, is it.
"It seems my discipline is lacking."
A dream is nothing more than the mind's tantrum, editing the experiences of reality to its own taste and replaying plausible delusions.
The fact that my sleep quality was poor enough to remember a dream meant my body had not been sufficiently fatigued.
In any case, the day of the Physical Festival had dawned.
Outside was unusually quiet. I had woken up earlier than usual.
I had no intention of falling back asleep or sitting around blankly. I hastily washed myself clean and stepped outside the dormitory.
The sun had just begun to peek out, wrapping the campus grounds in a pale, hazy aura. The Academy was veiled in the calm before the storm.
'......A dream.'
The memories from just before interfere, intruding upon my mind and vision, which ought to be clearer than ever.
I forcibly cleanse the inside of my head, which threatens to become a mess. A mage ought to be indifferent to both internal and external stimuli.
It was likely just a brief delusion.
A mere irregularity, a moment of defeat against the crashing waves of drowsiness.
I steadied my breathing. Starting from the heart, I sent mana flowing through my entire body—from the major blood vessels to the minute capillaries at my fingertips and toes—awakening my sharpened senses.
I exhaled lightly. Perfect. I shall be swayed by external stimuli no longer.
"Perhaps the mind follows the body, growing green once more."
I brushed off the unpleasantness of having felt awkward emotions with an uncharacteristically awkward mutter to myself.
Composing the mind and body of a complete mage, I walked further across the campus grounds. Before the Physical Festival began, I intended to meditate at the training grounds and inspect my mana.
"Ah, Sir Plan!"
It was then that a voice, as pure as a white cloud, caught hold of my ankles.
"Good morning!"
I heard the pitter-patter of running footsteps.
"Sir Plan! Have you eaten breakfast?"
Turning my head, I could see it.
Hair white as light... and soft as silk. Golden eyes so brilliantly radiant that continuing to stare would leave one blinded.
"In honor of the day the Physical Festival is held, I have come out to greet you!"
It was Yushia, standing before me with a proud look on her face, patting her chest with a thump.
"Have you eaten breakfast?"
"Not yet."
"Oh dear, I was told by my mother that one must always eat breakfast!"
I averted my eyes from Yushia and continued to move my feet.
I will meditate. No, I must.
"Ah, where are you going?"
Trailing after me closely, she smiled brightly.
"To the training grounds."
"I see. I shall accompany you! Did you experience any discomfort last night?"
Discomfort, is it.
Yushia was looking at me as if she desperately wanted an answer, her hands clasped into tight fists. I looked down at those sparkling golden eyes, then averted my gaze.
"I was troubled."
Normally, I would have clicked my tongue and displayed visible annoyance.
But, for some reason.
"Oh.... Is that really true? In what way! How dare anyone trouble Sir Plan!"
A faint smile formed at the corner of my lips.