Footprints (4)
Three swords clashed, spewing sparks.
The hulking guardian wielding a massive greatsword collided fiercely with Jenice.
[‘Bentin Corteo.’ Served long in the main family's patrol corps, honing real combat experience as a magic swordsman. Now working for a branch family, it seems.]
Word had it his swordsmanship was 6-star, magic 5-star.
In other words, middling.
He hadn't distinguished himself in either field.
But put another way, it meant his primary style was unpredictable.
‘Then dragging it out could work.’
Guardians had two intervention chances and a 30-second limit.
Decart seemed to have summoned Bentin Corteo as his second.
The first during the pursuit of me.
The second to land a hit on me—and he'd burned both chances.
[He's pretty pissed at you.]
‘Looks like it. That footprints plan must've really gotten under his skin?’
Anyway, guardian vs. guardian meant a short fight by necessity.
It was that intense a clash.
Watching Jenice whirl her twin blades, I realized something.
"Target's movements are excessively fast."
"Sword forms difficult to discern precisely."
Even the Transcendent Eye struggled to parse her sword forms—she moved that fast.
Crouched low, she battered her foe at tremendous speed, her twin blades leaving blurred afterimages that shredded the air.
‘Silver Wolf Squad.’
Her swift blade work evoked the Rnab family's famed assassination unit, potent enough to come to mind unbidden.
Bentin Corteo gritted his teeth in response.
"Attack spell ‘Shadow Slash’ in use."
Enhancing his swordplay with magic, seeking combat edges.
True to form as a magic swordsman, he countered with a haste spell on himself.
A dozen exchanges flashed by in the blink of an eye.
Tatata-tang!
“……!”
In an instant, Bentin's blade plummeted to cleave Jenice's skull.
A killing blow brimming with lethal intent.
Then Jenice's form stretched long, as if pulled taut.
A technique I knew well, surprisingly.
"Evasion technique ‘Serpent's Time’ in use."
It had existed even 500 years ago.
Devised by one of the Allmaster's disciples, it earned rave reviews and was disseminated across the entire expedition force.
That it survived the expedition's annihilation...
‘How was it passed down?’
Meaningful, in many ways.
Clear of the attack range, Jenice's eyes flashed ferociously.
“Die!”
Her lethal strike dove under his chin, aiming for his heart.
Cold sweat beaded on his brow.
Worried about remaining time?
"Defense spell ‘Coagulation’ in use."
Jenice's assault halted against an ice-gathering barrier, yielding a dull shockwave.
But she wielded two blades.
Pop!
A follow-up targeting his throat.
He barely twisted his head, but couldn't dodge the cheek gash.
Blood spurted from the deep wound; struck, Bentin staggered.
Thus, guardian and participant stood bloodied side by side.
[About 30 seconds up...?]
Hierniorn muttered.
Simultaneously, the man's form vanished.
Jenice's decisive victory in the brief clash.
Summoned a beat later, she even had time left.
Her icy gaze turned to Decart.
“How dare you against our young master...”
Time seemed to freeze.
No technique or spell, yet the air chilled bone-deep.
Even I shivered at the vicious killing intent.
[If your nanny's from the Silver Wolf Squad, that's nothing. She had the fearsome ‘Shan Meitz’—most terrifying of the Five Evils—as her master, after all.]
Whether Jenice truly hailed from that notorious assassin unit remained unknown.
But she clearly feared not the sight of blood.
“Urk...”
Unable to withstand the pressure, Decart crumpled to the floor.
Even after Jenice vanished, her 30 seconds spent, he couldn't rise.
That brutal an aura.
“Get up.”
“......”
“Get up, I said.”
I nudged his leg with my toe; Decart yanked something from his bosom.
A keenly honed dagger.
Pathetic to me.
“I-I need to stand out today. You're direct lineage—the deans will go easy on you. Branch families like us...”
“Dunno. I see it differently.”
I flicked my finger at the bloodied, babbling Decart.
A simple telekinesis spell.
That alone made him drop the dagger—he was that broken.
Something caught my eye.
“Look at that. Does he stand out 'cause he's branch?”
“What...?”
I pointed at the ceiling; Decart dazedly looked up.
There, the first second-exam passer announced.
The guy who'd placed third in the first exam.
This time, submitting the Return Token first to claim top spot.
I memorized the name before speaking again.
“This place is fair to everyone. That's why you got second.”
“But academy selection is...!”
“By scores. Sure, becoming family head's different—but today, ace the exam.”
“Th-that's...”
“Right?”
Paranoia.
The Kirchheis family exalted traitor Ulfrik as holy hero, grew arrogant, even slighting spirits.
But as a pinnacle house, they never wavered on prioritizing ability.
“Damn it...”
Pierced to the core, Decart muttered darkly.
He'd thought grabbing my ankle would profit him big—but got nothing.
Worse, left a wreck.
“Now I'm...”
“Out of options. What can you do like that? Should've asked your guardian for a heal first.”
“......”
Decart hung his head, speechless.
I eyed him steadily.
Truth was, when this kid showed up bloodied, an idea had sparked.
Time to propose it.
“Hey.”
“...?”
“Listen close. Saying it once.”
First place.
His name boldly there.
Lumil grinned.
‘Perfect.’
His second exam done, yet Lumil lingered near the submission point.
Not just to gauge the situation.
For more.
‘Kirian'll return soon. Gotta delay his submission as long as possible.’
Unlike Decart's brute pursuit, Lumil was fundamentally different.
Young but cultured as a mage, he knew how to handle superiors in skill.
Don't aim too high.
‘Rig a hallucination trap between shelves. That'll do.’
Just block Kirian from rankings.
Nothing more desired in this second exam.
Then footsteps from the shadows.
‘Him?’
Lumil swiftly gathered mana.
Then released it.
“...Lumil.”
“Oh, Mihaden bro?”
Mihaden, who'd tasted bitterness in the first exam and skipped the Kirian-check plan.
He approached steadily, Return Token in hand.
Lumil stepped aside with a smile.
“Good. You taking second's fine. Go on.”
Mihaden grasped the gist.
Lumil, already first, schemed anew to shove Kirian out.
Far smarter than Decart.
“......”
“What? Go already.”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
Passing Lumil, Mihaden submitted to the tomb spirits.
The scoreboard updated.
Huge growth from barely passing the first exam.
But Mihaden didn't stand idle.
Like Lumil, he moved again.
With his own reasons, slipping back into the shelves' shadows.
‘Kirian.’
Same name in mind.
I strode swiftly between bookshelves.
The ceiling scoreboard updated then.
Mihaden's second place; Hierniorn grumbled.
[Tch! Hoped that punk'd fail this time, but he scraped through. Shame.]
The guy who'd ambushed me with a knife—lingering grudge made sense.
Me? No thoughts.
Didn't care who ranked.
‘Might reclaim first myself.’
Planned to coast the exam, but Decart's bloody arrival sparked a good idea.
One way to squeeze above set first and second.
Submit another Return Token.
[You'd get an advantage then—probably time reduction.]
Hierniorn backed my plan.
About 10 years back, similar exam; top submitter turned in two tokens, boosting score hugely.
Got 30 minutes shaved off.
‘So even late submission's fine. Plenty chance to retake first.’
Thus, I swayed Decart.
To snag his assigned token too.
Location only in participants' heads, but easy to learn.
“Choose. Flunk like this, or one more shot.”
“What?”
“Hand over your token spot. I'll waive penalty for your guardian's attack. Refuse, I'll boot you out best I can.”
“...!”
Deal laced with bargain and threat.
I pressed Decart masterfully.
“Don't even think of tricking me. Futile. You'll regret big. Direct blood here—even crushing a branch like you ain't hard.”
Mix truth and lies; child's panic was easy prey.
Decart pondered, then nodded.
Revealed spot, clinging to pride.
“Next time we meet, won't go easy. Got it?”
“Can't hear you. Too weak?”
“Damn you...”
Thus, two tokens secured.
Luckily, Decart's near mine.
Medal like large silver coin, his name etched clear.
[Recycled old ones from 10 years ago, just re-engraved. Tomb spirits slack off too, huh.]
Now fetch mine.
Time plenty.
But shadows below shelves, someone waited.
“...Kirian.”
Shadow a head taller than me.
Familiar silhouette.
“Mihaden?”
“Yeah, me.”
He blocked the path.
I sighed, gathering mana.
‘Fight again? Annoying.’
But no.
Mihaden tossed something abruptly.
A new Return Token.
‘Nassr Seniorad’ engraved—stranger's name.
“What? This?”
“Some guy jumped me just now; took it. Foreigner, looks like.”
“Why give me?”
“Repay that debt. Submit two. Bonus points likely. Trap ahead—detour opposite. Later.”
Done talking, Mihaden vanished.
Alone, I scratched my head.
“What's with him?”
[Hates owing you that much.]
Hierniorn chuckled; I paused.
This meant...
‘Three tokens to submit?’
Tomb center.
Spectator stands in uproar.
Ceiling scoreboard anomaly again.
New first place.
Oddly, slower than prior first Lumil's.
“Why's the later time first?”
“Glitch?”
“Kirian's again.”
As spectators buzzed, details unfolded.
Personal Record: 1:24:50
[+] Submitted another's token—Time reduced: 30min
[+] Submitted another's token—Time reduced: 30min
Total: 24:50
Bonus-fueled rank reversal.
Unprecedented, an hour ahead; all stirred.
Amid it, Rohbark quietly curled his lip.
“Hm...”
Faint, but unmistakably a smile of meaning.