Come at Me
The inter-class tournament.
As I'd said before, this was a heavily event-driven scenario, perfectly suited to an academy story. It wasn't the kind of cutthroat competition where classes tore into each other like animals. The vibe was closer to a school sports festival — warm, festive, almost cheerful. You got to watch every class show off their skills, grab something delicious from the food trucks the school had brought in, and even pick up perks from the famous guild masters who showed up in droves. A festival day, basically.
"Nngh..."
I rolled my shoulders back and loosened up.
There were no hidden resources or items to grab in this scenario. So I had exactly one job.
Collecting Causality.
Draw as much attention as I possibly could and farm that Causality. My goal was to stockpile enough by the time this scenario ended to unlock a new class.
"The gym uniform's actually pretty decent."
Our class had gathered on the field behind Building B, all of us wearing the newly issued PE uniforms. Black base with gold embroidery — the design was solid, and the fabric didn't feel half bad either.
"You look just like one of those promising young martial artists from a wuxia novel, Player! It really suits you!"
"That so?"
Angel was standing beside me, giving my look a big thumbs-up. Well, even I had to admit this black gym uniform paired pretty well with the sword at my hip. Haha!
"Are you talking to yourself again?!"
Up ahead, our homeroom teacher was chewing on a ballpoint pen, giving me a look that said she was thoroughly sick of this. She wasn't in her usual suit today — she'd come out in a gym uniform too. The top looked a little tight on her. She wasn't quite on the Chairman's level, but those enormous breasts were making their presence known with zero subtlety. Pretty damn sexy.
The mature allure of a voluptuous woman. I could get used to this.
"Jojun."
Alice's voice, right next to me.
"Uh... y-yeah?!"
Feeling vaguely guilty, I snapped my head to the side.
"How do I look? Does it suit me?"
Alice clasped her hands behind her back and leaned forward, striking a pose. That lovely sight earned her the same warm smile and thumbs-up Angel had given me.
"Perfect."
There wasn't an outfit in the world that wouldn't look good on Alice. If clothes didn't suit a face like that, it would be a crime against fashion.
"Alright. Starting today, every other day, afternoon classes will meet here on the field behind Building B for practice."
Our teacher let out a weary sigh and picked up her faculty notebook. The inter-class tournament was two weeks out, so that meant roughly six training sessions.
Training... that made me think of Cheonghwa, who'd been practicing with me every afternoon for the past few days. Thanks to my painstaking efforts, her control had improved a little — but she was still basically unmanageable.
What the hell even was that "black lightning"?
When I'd fought the Flame Fiend with its absurd fire affinity, I could still manipulate at least a portion of the flames. But that black lightning? I couldn't feel even a fragment of it. I'd even tried Spirit Ground, just in case. Same result.
Whatever that electricity was, it didn't belong to the natural world. It was something else entirely...
"First things first, we need to set up formations for the tournament. Shooters to the left, ability users to the right."
The teacher's voice snapped me out of my thoughts as she waved her hands like she was shooing birds. The class split to either side like the parting of the Red Sea.
And there I stood, alone in the middle.
The teacher looked at me, sighed, and said,
"Fine. You stay right there."
"Yes, ma'am!"
I answered with gusto.
What's the crime in being unique? When everyone else says yes, having the guts to say no — that's what makes a man.
"Alright. Shooters, split into sniper rifles, SMGs, and shotguns. Ability users, split into DPS, healers, and tanks."
The kids milled around talking it over, and before long they'd formed seven lines. Naturally, I was one of those seven lines all by myself.
"Good. Now I'll assign the ranks. Rear line: healers and snipers. Mid line: SMGs and DPS. Front line..."
She paused, glancing at me, then continued.
"...tanks and shotguns."
Huh? Where am I in that?
"Teacher! Why am I not in there?!"
This kind of unjust tyranny has no place in a democratic society! I shot my hand up and lodged my protest.
"You just go off on your own and cut everything down."
"Come on, teacher, I want to experience teamwork too!"
Even when I'd cleared this scenario in the game, I'd been off on my own causing chaos. And now I had to do it again? This was genuinely unfair!
The teacher scratched her head and said flatly,
"So where do you want to go, then?"
"The front line, obviously!"
A swordsman's romance is charging the front, cutting down enemies as they come, and pushing forward.
"If you're on the front line, none of your strengths will come into play."
Her tone was unusually serious.
"What?"
At my questioning look, she dropped the usual bored expression and explained, enunciating every word.
"Matching your pace to a slow front line and entering with them is a waste. You operate like a midfielder — offense or defense, you attach yourself wherever you judge it's needed."
She chewed on her pen once more, then added,
"Someone at your level can handle that much."
I'd always thought she ignored me because she couldn't be bothered, maybe even because she disliked me. I never imagined she'd been thinking about me this seriously.
"Understood!"
If she was sending me off alone because she trusted me, not because she was shutting me out — I could accept that. From this moment on, I was a one-man guerrilla midfielder.
The name is ridiculous, and I love it.
"Alright, line up in the ranks I just assigned. Of the six remaining sessions, four will be separate drills by rank, and two will be full-formation practice."
Oh? So I get to train separately? See, the teacher really does think I'm special.
I looked at her with shining, grateful eyes. She looked back with an expression that said don't you dare.
"You're not thinking I'm going to give you private lessons, are you?"
"You're not?"
I was a formation unto myself, after all.
"I don't have time for that. When I'm explaining something, just mix into whatever line you want and listen."
Wait. Did she just leave me to rot because she couldn't be bothered? The serious side she'd shown a moment ago was starting to look pretty suspicious.
"Alright. Front line, peel off first. The rest of you..."
She was scribbling something in her faculty notebook with her ballpoint pen when—
BOOM!
A massive explosion suddenly erupted nearby.
What the hell?
I turned toward the source of the sound. It was coming from another class that was sharing the field with us. A huge crater had opened up near those kids, and a girl was slumped on her knees in front of it — apparently the one who'd caused the blast.
ZZZT—
Black lightning rippled across the surface of the crater. The moment I saw that, I knew who she was.
Cheonghwa.
"What's going on?"
Our teacher frowned and strode toward the epicenter. Our class naturally followed behind her.
"Hey! How many times do I have to tell you?! I said no!"
The closer we got to Cheonghwa, the clearer a man's irritable voice became.
"I... I'm sorry."
A voice steeped in self-loathing and helplessness. It was a world apart from the brighter tone Cheonghwa had developed while training with me.
"Ugh... ha! Fine, whatever, just get out of here!"
The man clicked his tongue and jabbed a finger at Cheonghwa. He was covered in muscle, looked older — obviously a teacher. He turned his back on her like he couldn't stand the sight, muttering "fuck" under his breath.
I was certain of one thing. The Cheonghwa I'd come to know — fierce-looking as she might be — was not a kid who deserved to be cursed at.
And this so-called teacher was swearing at her?
"Hey. What's going on here."
Our teacher strode right up to the male teacher and addressed him.
"Ah! Teacher Lee."
The man turned, wearing an unpleasant smile.
"I asked what's going on."
She frowned, irritation creeping into her voice as she asked again. The man grinned slyly.
"Oh, you know. Our student here wouldn't listen, so... well. This happened."
"What did you tell her."
The man flicked his hand at her dismissively, like he wanted her to mind her own business.
"This isn't even your class, Teacher Lee. Don't worry about it. Why make extra work for each other?"
"Hey."
For a moment, the air itself hummed.
"I said, what happened."
She locked burning eyes on the male teacher and asked once more.
"Wait! Wait!"
His easy expression vanished. He threw his hands up and spoke quickly.
"I'll talk. I'll talk, okay?"
The humming in the air settled. That must have been our teacher's ability. I didn't know what it was, but if it was enough to make that guy fold, it had to be something serious.
"Geez, Teacher Lee, you really do stick your nose in everything."
Our teacher just stared at him in silence. Eventually the man conceded, his tone sullen.
"I was just going to put that kid in her own separate formation. That's all this was. She's a pretty special case, so she needs managing."
Huh? That's what they did with me.
"..."
Our teacher looked down at Cheonghwa, who was still crumpled on the ground. Cheonghwa's head hung limp. All she could do was keep repeating that she was sorry.
Fuck.
I didn't know the details, but I was sure that bastard's idea of "managing" wasn't the good kind. Management in name. Ostracism in practice.
Our teacher kept looking at Cheonghwa for a long moment, then said,
"Every student participates in the inter-class tournament. Every teacher deploys every student where they'll be most effective and prepares accordingly. You don't even know the basic rules?"
"Look, Teacher Lee..."
He started to trail off, about to add something, but one look at our teacher's stone-hard expression and he gave up.
"Fine. Let's be honest, Teacher Lee. You're not doing this for that kid. You just want to sabotage our class however you can, don't you?"
"What?"
Our teacher looked incredulous. The male teacher started raising his voice.
"Come on, you know it's true. Our class president and vice president are already talented enough to get scouted by major guilds. You can't just start interfering like this because you know you don't have a chance."
"Hey. You—"
Our teacher bit down hard on her pen, about to say something, when I cut in.
"Excuse me."
The male teacher turned toward the unexpected interruption. He looked at me with an annoyed who the hell are you expression — then spotted the armband on my right arm and smirked.
"Ah, so you're that rumored one-and-only Swordsman? No wonder Teacher Lee's class president is acting like this."
He snickered like he understood everything. The sheer disgust I felt for this man was more than I could swallow.
"Hey, you piece of shit."
"?"
He tilted his head like he hadn't heard right. I said it again.
"You fucking piece of shit."
The revulsion had boiled over. I couldn't keep the words down. This kind of garbage — people who didn't know a damn thing about someone and still tore them down, acting like they had the right to assign a person's "worth" and judge them however they pleased. The worst kind of trash. The same kind that had carved my heart to pieces in my previous life.
"Has this little shit lost his mind?! Who the hell do you think you are, cursing at a teacher?!"
"Me?"
I ground my teeth and answered.
"I'm the talented little shit who can wreck that class president and vice president you're so proud of. What are you gonna do about it."
In my previous life, people like him had hurt me endlessly. Made me suffer endlessly. I'd clawed my way through it and stood back up. But Cheonghwa taking that same pain right now — that was too much.
So I'd carve them out myself. Trash like him.
"Come at me, you fucking bastard. Hell, you can jump in too, you dogshit son of a bitch."
And I could afford to go in this reckless. Why? Because our Chairman — my mother — happened to be the principal. If it came down to it, I'd just tattle.
"FUUUUCK!"
I couldn't contain the explosion of rage. The curse tore out of me at full volume. The male teacher stared at me, his eyes screaming what the hell is this kid, looking thoroughly rattled.