Warrior of Reversal

Beatrice declared the result of the duel.

As everyone had seen, the victory belonged to X.

When X recovered his sword, blood welled along Circe's cheek. The blade was no different from a famed sword, and it had left a cut where it touched her — in exactly the same place Lola had been wounded.

"Hh…!"

Circe's whole body shuddered at that tiny injury.

"How did you do that?"

The wound itself barely registered. What had shaken her was the duel — the entire course of it.

"How did you do that?!"

"Do what?"

"All of it! From the first second to the last!"

She had every right to be stunned.

X knew Circe's combat style down to the bone. He had watched it, and nothing else, all the way to the original novel's final chapter. He couldn't have forgotten it if he tried.

She fought exactly the way she did in her first appearance.

In the original work, Circe's debut was a magic sparring match against another student. The scene existed to hammer home that she was a reincarnated sage, and every line of it had been devoted to showing her fight with cold, intelligent spellwork.

When she opened with probes, she would have been reading my capabilities first.

So he had deliberately played the part of someone ordinary. A First-Circle mage who used his head a little — the absolute best a First-Circle could produce without drawing suspicion.

Then I waited until she committed to the grand magic.

The way to break that grand magic was to destroy the ice arrows that formed its circle. The moment those arrows moved, he only needed to shatter as many as the situation required.

Blind her with fire, then juice myself up.

The wall of flame had been for an information blackout. Behind it, he had used every last item from the unidentified gift box. Three stat-enhancement potions, downed in sequence. Magic-nullification oil, smeared along the blade. Presence concealer, misted evenly over his entire body.

His stats had spiked past 2.0 in an instant, and Circe had lost all sense of where he was.

Even that hadn't been enough.

Obscuring her vision was the key, no matter what.

He had needed one blow that would scramble what she was looking at and knock her into shock. That was why he had chosen Fireball.

But a First-Circle mage snapping off a Third-Circle Fireball at speed was not a reasonable feat. So he borrowed power from outside himself.

He had memorized the Fireball magic circle from the setting guide until he could recite it in his sleep. He was certain even a low-Circle mage could use it. He had kept studying even when he couldn't keep up with the magic curriculum. Reasons he could cast it were piled high enough to trip over. The Setting Editor had only been there to make it certain.

Circe, who knew none of this, was simply at her wits' end.

"What did you use to erase my magic at the end?"

"…What magic?"

"Don't play dumb! What kind of trick was that?!"

The Fifth-Circle Physical Reflection she had deployed as insurance had been wiped out by the nullification oil. He had known she always cast that spell as a safety net whenever she fought a warrior.

Explaining any of it would only earn him a Probability Penalty. He had no intention of saying a word.

"I don't know what you're talking about. You must have made a mistake."

"You think I would make a mistake with magic?!"

"You did."

X's gaze went cold and hard. He jerked his chin toward Lola.

She still hadn't been treated; she was pressing a white cloth to her cheek. Even so, her face was tight with worry as she watched him.

X looked from her to Circe, and his voice dropped to ice.

"You drew blood from a child, and you're telling me you don't make mistakes?"

"Th-that's…"

"Fine. Let's hear the excuse. You're so confident you never slip with magic — so there must have been a reason you had to make a kid bleed. There'd better have been. Otherwise this doesn't work."

The words were a cold blade, and they carved straight into Circe's conscience. She had nothing to say. No matter how she turned it over, it had been a mistake with no defense.

"A rather impressive result."

At Beatrice's voice, X sheathed his sword at once and offered her a proper bow. Beatrice studied him with open interest. A First-Circle defeating a Fourth-Circle was enough to startle anyone. It was an entertaining moment — but first, the result had to be announced.

"The victor will make one demand of the defeated. I swear upon my honor that this demand shall be fulfilled."

"You have my thanks, Princess Beatrice."

The words had barely left his mouth when the Status Window unspooled in a cascade.

…Jackpot.

Potion Addict he could live with. Warrior of Reversal and Reckless Duelist were a harvest beyond anything he had imagined.

Foie Gras becoming Reckless Duelist had stripped away the luck-down correction. And Warrior of Reversal granted a permanent stat increase. An ability that good. Which was exactly why it felt wrong.

…Isn't the Status Window supposed to be the thing that's attacking me?

The way Potion Addict was written and the way Warrior of Reversal was written were too different. As if two different people had authored them.

…What the hell is this?

He didn't get long to think about it.

A thick, metallic taste flooded his mouth. Blood climbed his throat and spilled over his lip. He recognized the symptom for what it was — and what was coming with it.

"Are you insane?! Did you do that on purpose?!"

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Lola rushed in and seized his arm. Worry had been written all over her face since the fight ended. Now it broke into something close to horror.

"What were you going to do about the Rebound?!"

Only then did he understand.

The mana roads — the channels that ran through his body like blood vessels — began to burn. Unmanageable mana was tearing through them, and the destruction started from the inside. The Rebound had begun.

"Kh—"

He could force himself to ignore the pain of his whole body being shredded. He could not ignore his body slipping out of his control.

"Aaaah! X! X!!"

Strength left him. He went down. All he could do was cough up the blood that was trying to close his throat.

Circe, who had watched the whole thing, twisted her face and spoke.

"What were you thinking, using Third-Circle magic. Rebound can turn you into a cripple for life if it goes wrong."

He had known that from the setting. Knowing it and living it were not the same thing.

So this is Rebound…

Too late, he regretted underestimating it. The pain was so total he thought he might die of it on the spot. His body split along every seam and blood began to run. As it left him, cold took the rest.

"Kehkh…. Khuk…."

"Stay with me! I'll go get a potion…"

"Rebound can't be healed even with an elixir. It's the price being paid. All you can do is pray the price isn't too steep."

Circe had come closer. She looked down at X as he coughed blood, and for some reason her eyes were complicated. Her pupils shook hard — then she squeezed them shut.

"…Make your demand as the victor before you die."

The demand had already been decided.

"There's only one thing you do first when you've done something wrong."

"…What?"

She hadn't understood. X dragged up every scrap of strength he had left and said it again.

"I need to hear the word sorry come out of that mouth."

"…You did all this just to get an apology?"

"Not to me. To her."

A trembling hand pointed at Lola. He glanced at the scab already forming on her cheek.

"If you're going to act your age, then act like a damn adult…. What did these kids who are just starting to learn ever do to deserve a fight to the death…"

"You've been calling me an adult since earlier…. What are you talking about?"

Ah. That line was a slip.

But it was already out. He had no strength left to say anything more. His eyes were falling shut.

If I'm lucky, I can endure the Rebound. It's only Third-Circle magic. There's still hope…

In that instant, something arrived to crush the hope flat.

…Well. I was being that obvious. Getting caught was inevitable.

He had expected a penalty. That much didn't surprise him. He hadn't expected it to take this shape.

Still. I'm not just going to take it lying down.

A method that had occurred to him at the very last possible second. He tried it once. Fortunately, it worked.

It worked, except—

Look at that price. You piece of shit Status Window…

X finished the final edit.

Then his consciousness went out.

Several hours after the duel, in the dark of night.

Circe's private dormitory room.

She sat with a grave face, bouncing one leg in a restless, anxious rhythm. A single sentence kept echoing through her head.

If you're going to act your age, then act like a damn adult…

The unease around those words would not leave her. It wasn't only what he had said. It was the way he had treated her — as if he already knew exactly who she was.

He fought like he'd predicted every move I would make.

The assumption was absurd. Treating it as coincidence was equally absurd. She sank into the thought and hunted for a possibility that could hold, and one answer surfaced.

…Don't tell me. Another reincarnator?

It was the only explanation that fit. If X were a reincarnator, all of it would make sense — and not just any reincarnator. Someone who knew Circe's combat methods well. Someone from the previous life's hero party.

She herself had already reincarnated. The chance that someone else had done the same was more than enough.

No. That's impossible.

If it were true, Circe was staring at a catastrophe.

A reincarnator who used sword and magic together, and who knew Circe's fighting methods. In all of history, there had been only one such person.

Protego…?

If that were the case, the situation was already past the point of no return. It would mean the hero of the previous life was dying of Rebound — and not from anything else, but from a fight that had started because of her own mistake.

"I have to check…!"

Circe's face had gone bloodless. She hurried toward the academy's intensive care ward, where X had been taken.

She arrived at the door a moment later and looked through the small window set into it. X was lying inside, surrounded by machines and magic circles, receiving the most advanced treatment the academy could offer — thanks to the princess who had been present as a witness.

As long as he's alive, we can figure something out…

She reached for the door. Her hand stopped.

A girl was asleep, slumped over the bed beside him. Her eyes were swollen nearly shut. Her blonde hair was a wreck, as if she had been tearing her hands through it. She had clearly been holding that post for a long time.

The moment Circe saw her, the door grew heavy. She could not bring herself to go to that girl's side.

X's words caught her by the wrists and would not let go.

There's only one thing you do first when you've done something wrong.

The instant she understood what he had meant, Circe let go of the door. She had realized she had no right to be there.

"Student Circe."

Someone called her from the corridor.

"…Professor Amanda."

"Why are you here? Planning to settle a score while Student X is in critical condition?"

Amanda's gaze was ice. On any other day Circe would not have given it a second glance. Today was not any other day.

"No. I simply came."

"Don't expect me to look kindly on someone who staged an unauthorized duel in my class. Your class conduct grade is an F. Any objections?"

"…None."

A grade like that didn't matter whether she received it or not. But what Amanda said next was not so easy to ignore.

"Student X participated in the duel as well, so an F for him is unavoidable. I had intended to take mitigating circumstances into account, but an order came down from a senior professor. A Disciplinary Committee will be convened. And the committee will move to expel him."

"Expel him?"

"Congratulations. He was a student you couldn't stand, wasn't he? Now you'll get him thrown out of here, just as you wanted."

No. That had not been the idea.

"Whether he dies as he is, or lives only to be expelled — no matter what miracle occurs, nothing but hell awaits him. What a cruel fate."

She had never meant to take it that far.

"Kirke Odyssey. Personally, I would hope you'd become someone who takes responsibility for her own actions. You're not a child, after all."

"Responsibility…"

"I don't believe there's anything more to see here. I only hope I won't be hearing an obituary from my first class…"

Amanda left her with that cold look and turned away.

Circe stared through the door and murmured to herself.

"Responsibility…. Responsibility…"

What did responsibility even mean?

She had given her life to save the world, and even that had not been enough. Bearing every last consequence of that work had been Protego's role.

But Protego was not here now.

Or he was in that room, dying.

Circe took her hand off the door.

The only thing she could do now was step away from it, and go back the way she had come.

"Kehkh—"

Consciousness surfaced. The Status Window snapped into place in front of his eyes, and the messages that had stacked up while he was under unspooled in a rush.

They really don't quit.

A ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sigh came out on its own. The stats he had nearly killed himself to earn had dropped again. The fact that he hadn't been left actually crippled was, at this point, something to be grateful for. Base stats could be bought back if it came to that.

At least Intelligence made it to 1.5. I'll take that.

There was something he needed to check first. He pulled up the system messages from before he had gone under.

"So the price of 'somehow' was having my stats wrecked? I nearly died grinding those up…!"

Worse than the stats was the hundred thousand points he had burned. A hundred thousand points was how many base stats he could have bought. The waste of it sat in his chest like a bruise.

Forget it. I'm alive. That's what matters…

He dismissed the Status Window and registered, for the first time, the sheer number of magic circles and machines wrapped around him. The room was some kind of treatment ward. He turned his head — and nearly jumped.

What's she doing asleep here?

Lola was slumped over his bed, fast asleep. The swollen eyes told him everything he needed to know about why she was there. For all her usual manners, she had a deeply affectionate streak.

That aside, he needed to take stock of the situation. First he read the papers left beside the bed.

So it came to this after all.

He had thought Beatrice's encouragement of the duel might have been enough to keep him clear. With a little luck, it wouldn't even have been an F. Then again, with his Luck stat looking like that, he supposed it couldn't be helped.

Even so, there had been gains. Enormous ones.

He thought back over every Probability Penalty that had appeared so far. Over the titles paved with nothing but negative effects. Over the way those entries were written.

Writing soaked in malice, every word of it.

Then he thought of the high-rank titles.

Writing that actually sounds like common sense.

And then the fundamental question.

Probability Penalty doesn't even make sense to begin with. You could argue almost anything into or out of 'probability' depending on how you framed it. It feels like someone is slotting these in to fit the situation.

There was only one conclusion the evidence would support.

Someone is interfering through the Status Window. That someone hates me, and they are trying to kill me.

Take that as a premise, and another conclusion followed.

They can't interfere freely. There are rules in the way. If they could do whatever they wanted, they'd have slapped me with something like 'hold your breath for one day or die.'

So who was 'that someone'?

This existence that had been trying to kill him with open malice from the moment he possessed this body — who were they? A goddess? An Evil God? The Demon King? Some vast thing beyond all of those?

No. Why would any of them be hostile to him? More than that — they had no reason.

Then who did have a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠reason?

What if they knew me from before I possessed this body?

There was only one answer.

The author. Elysia.

He grasped the identity of his true enemy.