I See It, and I Cut It

"Haaah~"

Violet let out a long, languid sigh and swept her gaze across the hall.

How dull.

Tedious. Boring. Violet lived in a near-constant state of ennui. Whatever she turned her hand to, she grasped it in an instant and left everyone else behind. Her talent produced a ceaseless stream of "correct answers," and the process of merely confirming answers she already knew never failed to bore her to tears.

Not that she hated her gift. She understood perfectly well that this boredom — this leisure — was a byproduct permitted only to exceptional people. And so she loved her boredom. That sense of tedium was what drove her to hoard information, to wall off every possible "variable," and in doing so, to hone her talent even further.

I'm already first here, aren't I~

Violet considered her classmates gathered inside the Training Hall. In the class ranking match, she had to take ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠first. The instant the privileges and speaking rights that came with first place fell into someone else's hands, the odds of a "variable" appearing shot through the roof.

To that end, she had carefully identified every incoming freshman who might become an obstacle. In this class, there were only two.

A glance.

At the edge of her vision: a girl with reddish twin-tails. Alice. And the man whose entrance had been so noisy, the one who'd been muttering at empty air — Jeong Jojun.

The former had outstanding talent as a shooter, so Violet had already prepared countermeasures. The latter had no information attached to him whatsoever, which meant he could become the single greatest variable in the room — and that had given her pause.

Watching Jojun mutter to himself with that vacant look on his face, then suddenly pull a sword from subspace and gape at it in wonder, Violet let out a small snort of laughter. All that worry about him had been wasted. After all, she couldn't sense so much as a speck of mana from the man.

Someone who didn't give off even a shred of mana was already locked in for last place. Everyone else in this class could already wield mana, after all.

That said...

Glance. Glance.

Alice's reddish twin-tails swayed as she kept sneaking looks at Jojun from across the hall.

So Alice has her eye on Jeong Jojun.

Violet filed the information away. That shooter was one of the important cards she intended to collect, and even the smallest scraps of intelligence were not to be neglected.

"First duelists: Jeong Jojun. Lee Shin. Step forward."

"Ooooh!!"

Jojun stared up at the board like it was the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen. Lee Shin, by contrast, calmly drew a holster from his subspace, strapped it to his waist, and didn't so much as flicker an expression.

It's already over.

According to the information Violet had compiled, Lee Shin ranked fifth in this class by raw skill. Barring a genuine mistake, there was no world in which he lost to Jeong Jojun. And Lee Shin had already composed himself the instant he drew that holster, holding his calm like a vice. The result was obvious.

Yaaawn~ Do I really have to watch this?

With bored eyes, she looked down at the two figures facing each other at opposite ends of the great circular platform that served as the arena.

Beep!

And the moment the whistle signaling the start of the match rang out — she couldn't believe her eyes.

"Whoa. Seeing it in person, the intimidation factor is no joke."

The place our homeroom teacher led us into was the Training Hall in Building B. An enormous domed ceiling soared overhead. A circular arena sat dead center, and a massive electronic board dominated one wall.

"The class ranking bracket is up on that board over there, so check it yourselves."

A mechanical tone chimed from the board, and a flood of names spilled across the screen.

"Huh? Player! You're up first!"

Angel fluttered beside me, jabbing a finger at the display. Following it, I found the text staring back at me: ROUND 1 — Lee Shin VS Jeong Jojun.

"Ah, well. Having the protagonist go first is a little much, don't you think~"

"Come on, Player! Just smash him. To. Pieces!"

Haaah. Even the gods have a nasty sense of humor. What about all the other classmates who'll despair the second they see my talent...?

"Wait. Hold on. I don't have a sword..."

Back in the game, I'd gone into this event without a weapon and had to detour through the gym to pick up a wooden practice sword as a sidearm.

"Hehehe... Player? A Swordsman? Swordsman? Your class is Swordsman!"

Angel had overheard my mutter and immediately started snorting with excitement, practically vibrating in midair.

"No way. For real?"

She said nothing. Just held up four fingers.

I knew those four magic characters by heart.

"Inventory."

A grid of squares bloomed into existence — six by six. And sitting in the top-left corner was a sword-shaped icon.

No way. Is that an exclusive weapon?

"Khuhk—!"

Tears welled up and blurred my vision. So this is what the Swordsman class is. They just... hand you a sword. For free.

Back in my day, you had to clear a mountain of quests just to get a sword, and even then it was nothing but a sidearm...

I tapped the icon with a fingertip, and the information unfurled.

"Huh?!"

The instant I saw that sword, I couldn't help the noise that came out of me. This thing was broken. Ridiculously, outrageously broken.

It raised a base stat by five. Five! To put that in perspective: my Strength is currently 10, which means I can't crush a rock in my bare hand. Bump it by a single point and I can pulverize stone with grip strength alone. You feeling the difference yet?

"Hey, Angel. Does this even make sense? It's got ATK +5 as a bonus effect."

"For real? Wow! They must be trying to slap a huge advantage onto the Swordsman class, huh?"

"Why do you look like you're hearing this for the first time?"

Something about that felt off.

"Ah, well, I create the privileges you'll receive going forward. I don't actually know the details of settings that have already been placed like that. Hehe..."

"Whatever. Doesn't matter."

I pulled the iron sword from my inventory. The weight settled into my palm — clean, balanced, flawless. True to the name, there wasn't a single thing to complain about in the grip or the heft.

Wait. They're just giving away a weapon this good?

The more I thought about it, the fishier it got. A weapon with these specs was something even a shooter or an ability user wouldn't see until at least Chapter 3.

"Hey, Angel. Isn't this ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠just a free win? I can still get that Causality stuff even like this, right?"

"Yep! However you slice it, as long as you clear this world's Demon King, you'll walk away with plenty of Causality!"

If they kept handing out rewards like this, even hard mode would be a cakewalk. Something was wrong. Suspicion coiled in my gut, thick and uneasy. Even if they stacked a +10 Swordsman privilege on top of the starting stats, this weapon felt like it had crossed a line it shouldn't have.

"Hehehe... whatever. Free wins are the best."

The springy, satisfying grip of the blade in my hand washed the suspicion right out of me. Come on. A god-tier game being god-tier is just how it is. What's the problem? They're openly saying they'll push the Swordsman class — having nasty suspicions about that is what's wrong here.

From this day forward, Swordsman is a noble class. You lowly shooters and ability users can eat dirt.

Beep!

The board chimed, and my name rang out across the hall.

"Ooooh!"

"Player! Fighting! Fighting!"

Flutter flutter — at some point Angel had produced a pair of cotton-ball pom-poms and was waving them in both hands, cheering me on with everything she had.

"Okay! Let's do this!"

With this sword, I can free-win anything. Hahaha!!!

I stepped up onto the circular arena. A small badge scattering motes of gold light drifted down from above and settled against my chest with a soft ping.

"That badge takes the damage in your place, so don't worry about getting hurt! And the moment that badge shatters, that guy loses!"

Our homeroom teacher called down from the spectator seats through a megaphone.

"Both students, stand facing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠each other at opposite ends of the arena."

Step. Step.

I took my place at the far end and met Lee Shin's eyes.

"Oh."

Calm, settled, unreadable. And that holster at his hip told me everything else I needed to know. Shooter.

"When the tone sounds in three seconds, you begin."

He drew his pistol from the holster and eased the muzzle down. Classic low-ready. I matched him, sliding my left foot back and loading my weight onto the right — a drawing-cut stance.

Gotta open with something that hits hard.

Focus. Let's see this properly.

Beep!

The deep mechanical tone hit my ears, and he moved. First thing to watch: the eyes. A shooter always looks precisely at the spot they intend to hit before they fire. He was aiming near my right chest. Pinpointing the exact location was hard — but that was fine. After the eyes, a shooter keeps showing you the rest.

His shoulder lifted as he brought the muzzle up. I shifted my left foot and rolled my weight with it. The force he'd raised from his shoulder traveled through his elbow and into his wrist. And right before the trigger broke — the faintest tremor in his finger.

That was when I drew.

CLANG!

A heavy shock slammed through my grip. The hand holding the sword was driven backward.

"Huh?"

Something was wrong. That wasn't a cut. That was a hit.

I snapped my eyes to the blade — and nearly screamed.

"Oh no!"

The beautiful spine of my sword was dented inward.

"Ack! No! My sword!"

Th-this thing is precious!!!

The sword-damaging criminal across from me was staring with his eyes blown wide, apparently just as shocked that I'd blocked the shot. But hang on. What was that just now? It had traveled far faster than any ordinary bullet.

Don't tell me.

"Mana bullet?"

Whether she'd heard me or not, Angel's voice carried from the stands: "Player! That's a mana bullet!!"

What? A kid whose name I didn't even know in the game can fire mana bullets from the jump? Something was seriously off here.

Lee Shin, rattled, dropped back into a low-ready. Taking that stance again was obvious. He was lining up another mana bullet.

"Good grief."

Unbelievable. To think my brilliant opening strike would get wasted like this. A little heat was starting to rise in my chest.

Bang!

Lee Shin fired again. This time, I cut it. No matter how fast it was — once I already knew what was coming, I could cut it.

A sharp, tingling sensation raced from my fingertips into my palm.

Cut it.

This one was certain.

Thunk.

As if to prove my senses right, the sound of a split bullet burying itself in the wall behind me rang out. Then — silence.

Without a word, I slid the reverse-gripped sword back into its scabbard, arranged the coolest expression I could manage, and looked toward the spectators on my left.

Ahh... those stunned faces. Delicious. Especially Violet in the back, her mouth hanging wide open — it was such a perfect expression I wanted to take a picture.

"H-how...?"

I said it in a flat, casual tone, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Kyaa. Great line.

"Nngh—!"

Lee Shin clenched his teeth and fired. No ready stance this time — just a raw shot. Regular bullet.

Slash.

"Th-that's impossible..."

Watching his round get carved apart a second time, he stared at me with despair written all over his face. It's not impossible. Not for me.

Oh! A new ability. I should wrap this up fast and go check it out. Focus. Back in the fight.

In my vision, Lee Shin loaded force into his wrist again.

He's shooting.

I timed it, drove off the balls of both feet, and flung myself sideways. His round carved through empty air. The instant my feet hit the floor, I launched straight at him in a dead sprint.

Lee Shin whipped the muzzle around and sprayed fire.

Two shots, left side.

Double Tap — a shooter's bread-and-butter. Simple enough. Push the blade up to cut the first, then drop the wrist hard and carve through the second.

"Uwaaaah!!!"

By the time I'd closed to point-blank range, Lee Shin was screaming, the gun trembling in his hands. The composure from the start of the match was gone. Those eyes were nothing but raw terror.

That was already the end. Once a shooter's calm breaks, their life is over too.

I cut cleanly through and crossed behind him.

Crack!

The golden badge on his chest shattered on cue.

And what a swordsman does at a moment like this is obvious.

Whirl. Whirl. Slide.

A stylish spin of the blade, then home into the scabbard. Nothing more.

"Th-that's impossible..."

Thud.

Lee Shin collapsed to the floor, crushed under the weight of it. Ahh. This composition. The swordsman delivers the slash, and the one who took it crumples to the ground. I have wanted to do this for so long.

Khuhk—!

Something swelled in my chest, bright and overwhelming, ringing out from my heart. Yes. This is what a swordsman is.

"Kyaa! Player! That was so cool!"

From the stands, Angel fluttered and cheered at the top of her lungs. Ahh, like this~ exploding with coolness right from the opening match.

I turned to look ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠over my classmates, wearing the most magnificent expression I could assemble. And the thing that stood out more than anything else was Violet — her mouth hanging even wider than before.