A Name I Could Never Forget
The entrance examination grounds of Gloria Imperial Academy — this was the practical examination hall, where the third phase of judging was underway.
An extension of the second phase's specialty examinations, this was where students who had applied under the swordsmanship specialty gathered to settle their bouts in tournament format. Here, blades actually crossed, and the point was to verify just how accomplished a swordsman each candidate truly was. More than the outcome of any given match, the examiners watched closely for the swordplay each candidate employed, how skillfully they put their mana to use, and any other exceptional talents they might reveal.
Seated in groups of three facing the dueling rings, the examiners studied the candidates and filled their assessments into the scoring sheets.
Clang! Clash!
Broa sat on the waiting benches, watching the other candidates' sword duels. She was one of the candidates who had applied to this year's entrance examination under the swordsmanship specialty.
That's not how you swing a sword. In a spot like that, he should be sinking his stance lower — and if he'd read the timing and cut in on the offbeat, he could have subdued his opponent with ease.
The skill of the other applicants was laid bare before her eyes. And little wonder. She was the Hero's daughter. The Empire's hero — the man who had held back the Demon King's army and helped bring the Continental War to an end — was her father.
Too slow. If it were me, I'd have dodged already and struck the enemies on either side three times apiece.
She had learned the sword from her father. The swordsmanship the ordinary candidates put on display struck her as tedious and dull.
Daddy told me the world is full of strong people and I must never grow arrogant — but I haven't seen a single soul stronger than me.
She smirked to herself where no one could see. She knew she wasn't supposed to sneer at another's skill, nor let her guard down rashly. Humility was what her father had always stressed. The world is wide and the strong are many, he would say — just because you learned from me, you must never look down on others.
But what was she to do when they genuinely looked weak? In all her travels from the eastern reaches of the Empire to the Imperial Capital, she had never once laid eyes on anyone stronger than herself. The lout who picked a quarrel in an inn's tavern, the mercenaries who scoffed at her abilities, even the dangerous wanted criminal she happened to cross paths with — every one of them had been weaker than she was.
At this rate, I doubt any of this will count as training.
Her father had wished for her never to live beneath the halo of being the Hero's daughter. It was a name that invited insufferable pride, and he had wanted her to stand on her own without shouldering his fame. And so, without breathing a word to any of the Academy's officials, she had applied for the entrance examination under the identity of an ordinary commoner.
The Empire's Third Prince. The Order's candidate for sainthood. And the like. Her name appeared nowhere on the list of candidates the Academy officials had their eyes on.
All of those worries were for nothing after all, heh.
Her father had always frightened her with talk of how she was a frog in a well — but Broa had arrived at a realization. She was strong. Trained directly by the Hero himself, there would be few in this world who could defeat her.
Shall I challenge the Empire's Swordmaster next?
In her head, the picture was already complete — graduating at the top of the Academy, all the way to challenging the continent's Sword Saint. She had startled everyone with her mana in the first phase, and in the second, no one had cut down the straw dummy more splendidly than she had. Her conviction that she was strong was a confidence grounded in evidence.
She was watching the other candidates' bouts with that giddy heart when—
Murmur, murmur.
A faint noise began drifting in from far away.
Zzzt.
Some inexplicable, skin-crawling sensation pierced straight through her heart. Broa hastily whipped her head to the side. A vast and monstrous presence was bearing down on the examination grounds. Without realizing it, she clenched her hands, and her arms began to tremble.
I arrived at the practical examination grounds and looked around. Ignoring the candidates collapsed and fainting nearby, I searched out the examiners — the humans huddled together in threes at the edge of the dueling ring, marking their scores. I addressed them.
"I am Demesis, Second Prince of the Draikna Kingdom. No doubt word of me has already reached you. Am I to proceed with the examination straightaway?"
At some point, the examiners had come down from their chairs and were kneeling. In this examination hall, there was no one who dared lift their head and look upon me. The examiners, too, let their gazes fall naturally as they answered.
"Y-yes, Lord Demesis! We were instructed to cause you no discomfort whatsoever. We shall proceed with your examination at once — no waiting required!"
With an air of deep gratitude that they might test me at all, the examiners respectfully escorted me to the arena. They kept a distance of five meters from me. No one could approach any closer than that.
"A t-tournament. It is a t-tournament format, my lord. B-but for you, Lord Demesis, we shall make a special exception and call your opponents forward one by one — no waiting in line!"
These were examiners who had sat in stately composure until I arrived; now they stammered and shook with fear like servants begging pardon for a wrong. I had never once shown anger, yet they drew out each word with painstaking care, all the while gauging my mood.
"The, the first opponent is... Broa, a candidate from the eastern provinces."
"Eeek!"
The moment the examiner called the name, a shriek rang out from one side. I glanced over to find a female candidate in her seat, swallowing back a groan. Deep, vibrant brown hair; a striking, pretty face. She was dressed as an ordinary adventurer, but her evenly toned figure stood tall and straight, and for some reason my gaze kept drifting toward her.
"M-me? Me, me, my lord?"
She pointed at herself with a finger, confirming it all over again. I focused on her more intently than before. That woman — she had not fainted. Ordinarily, when I so much as turned to look, people could not even breathe; she was stammering, but her senses remained her own.
"Yes, Broa. You are Lord Demesis's first opponent. It is merely the order of the draw, so p-please, take your place."
Watching me anxiously, the examiner ushered Broa along.
"Nnngh."
Arms drawn in tight, trembling, she stepped out onto the dueling ring.
"Hmm."
I studied the woman standing across from me in minute detail. Three meters between us. To remain standing there, hale and whole, at this range — neither fainting nor crumpling — was remarkable. Were there many applicants like her at the Imperial Academy?
"Y-you must not harm your opponent under any circumstances. You are only to demonstrate your own swordsmanship."
The examiner drove the point home through gritted teeth. Apparently I looked ready to tear my opponent apart then and there. Summoning his courage, he pleaded for the safety of the bout. I gave him nothing but a nod.
"N-now, we shall begin the match."
He proclaimed the start of the practical examination. Everyone held their breath and watched our bout.
"Ugh... what do I do... Daddy..."
On the verge of tears, Broa raised her sword. Perhaps invoking her father lent her strength, for she kept murmuring Daddy under her breath.
She raised a sword against me?
I regarded her with curious eyes. It reminded me of the assassin who had once slipped into my bedchamber and raked at me with a dagger. That she harbored the will to oppose me at all was extraordinary in itself. I waited, gladly, to see whether she could bring herself to strike me.
"Ngh, nngh, nnngh."
I could watch, in real time, her mind warring against the fear. Her face burned scarlet, the strength had drained from her legs, and her wrist shook without pause — yet somehow, she managed to lift her sword.
"Hyaaap!"
In a true fight, she would never have loosed such a clamorous battle cry. But as though she were battling not me but herself, she shouted with all her might and swung her sword.
Shwoosh. The sword swept past me, spent of all force. She had meant to strike me, but as though her instincts had refused outright, the blade cleaved the empty air at my side. I had not moved an inch. There had been no need to. That single swing had demanded everything she had, and she collapsed face-first onto the floor, frozen mid-follow-through.
"Waaah! It's scary! Huuwaah!"
At last, the tears burst out of her. She wept with genuine, wrenching sorrow. Unable, it seemed, to muster the nerve to attack me again, she never lifted her head. Great droplets of tears came pouring down. I deliberated over whether I ought to raise my sword and attack her in turn. I had done nothing at all. Broa, entirely of her own accord, had tried to strike me and collapsed from exhaustion. By the spirit of the examination, I was meant to demonstrate my swordsmanship as well — but in this state, I could not bring myself to attack.
"V-victory for Lord Demesis!"
"But I did nothing at all."
"Magnificent swordsmanship!"
The examiners rushed onto the ring and hurried Broa away. I had won by doing nothing more than standing there.
"N-next opponent is the son of a baronial house from the central provinces..."
"I can't do it! I forfeit!"
"In that case, next is a swordsman from the southern provinces."
"W-wait! Don't run away!"
The baron's son, named as the next opponent, gave up in short order, and the swordsman from the south bolted from the examination grounds altogether.
"Next is..."
"Aaagh!"
As though the examiner were reciting a register of souls bound for hell, the candidates shrieked with every name he called.
"Very well. We shall record all remaining candidates as forfeit victories for Lord Demesis."
Without having swung my sword once, I had defeated them all. I did find myself wondering whether this could truly be called an examination.
"Th-that will be quite enough!"
There I stood, rather at a loss, in the dueling ring, when a procession of people arrived at the examination grounds. Among them were Alex, whom I had seen at the first examination hall, the examiners from the second hall, and others besides.
"Th-this is no examination! We cannot test Lord Demesis! We are halting the examination!"
"Halt the examination, you say?"
The man who stepped forward to explain announced himself as the chief coordinator of the entire entrance examination. Having heard the proceedings from the examiners of the first and second halls, he resolved to discontinue my examination.
"We have contacted the Headmaster directly! Lord Demesis need not sit the regular examinations! Though there is no precedent for such a thing, we shall settle your special admission through an audience with the Headmaster!"
What is this 'special admission'?
"It means entering the Academy without sitting the examinations! We shall escort you to the Headmaster personally, Lord Demesis!"
And with that, the chief coordinator led me off toward the Headmaster's office at the Academy. I had expected my audience with the Headmaster to come only after the entrance examinations; I had not imagined it would take place this soon.
The examination grounds, in the wake of the being called Demesis. Everyone breathed sighs of relief, as though they had escaped death by a hair's breadth. Could they even begin to explain to another soul what they had witnessed? Demesis had been present only briefly, yet the air hung as silent as though a ferocious battle had just been fought.
"Sob, hic, sob..."
Broa was still crying. The moment she had faced Demesis across the dueling ring kept returning to her. It had felt like flailing before a savage beast that could tear out her throat and kill her in a single bite. Her whole body felt flayed bare, and the fear that kept seeping into her left her limbs trembling.
"Hic, hic, waaah..."
She had been a frog in a well. She had never seen a person so terrifying — never even imagined one. Had the Demon King her father once faced been like this? At the sheer, overwhelming scale of the despair and terror she had actually come face to face with, she swallowed her tears in broken sobs.
Demesis. A name she would never, ever forget.