Defiance (2)
“……What?”
Before coming to the academy, the only targets for my Battōjutsu were the occasional bandits who rarely showed up.
So every time I practiced drawing my blade alone under a tree, I’d fantasize over and over about someone coming along to take my draws.
But now that the fantasy had become reality, the emotion surging through me wasn’t joy—it was utter bewilderment.
Is this guy insane?
Aside from the slight tremble in his body from tension, his eyes weren’t bloodshot, and he looked perfectly normal no matter how I sized him up.
But his actions were anything but. No matter how dimwitted the fool, after witnessing what happened at the class assignment ceremony, how could anyone in their right mind challenge me?
“Fine, whatever. A duel, right? Then follow me.”
I had no idea what idiotic motive drove this nonsense, but turning down a fight that came knocking was no way for a Battōjutsu practitioner to live.
Hand resting on the hilt of Youngta—ready to draw at any moment—I rose from my seat.
As I headed out with the madman and his posse trailing behind, Jessica blocked our path.
“W-Wait just a minute! What do you idiots think you’re doing so casually?!”
“Idiotic? Yeah, challenging me is pretty idiotic.”
“Urgh…!! The biggest idiot here needs to shut up!!”
“What’re you talking about? I’m the smartest one here.”
Not only in academics, but as the wielder of Battōjutsu—the most efficient, ultimate sword art—wasn’t I the smartest by default?
Jessica, well aware that no words could pierce my flawless logic, turned to the vermin and snapped.
“What’s the meaning of this outburst?! You know this is an S-Class area—no one but S-Class students allowed?!”
“Jessica… stepping forward for my sake…!”
“This isn’t for you—I’m just sick of the noise since the start of term, so shut it!!”
The man who’d challenged me—clearly a lower noble than Jessica—cowered especially before her as he replied.
“W-We know full well! But to expose this man’s cheating, we had no choice!”
“Cheating?”
“Me?”
What the hell was this guy babbling about? A mere sub-baron like me, with barely two coins to rub together, cheating?
He seemed thoroughly mistaken, but clearing it up would mean no Battōjutsu. So I grabbed the fool by the scruff of his neck.
“Wh-What?! Let go!!”
“Save the bullshit for later. Let’s go.”
Battōjutsu before the misunderstanding clears! With that singular resolve, I dragged him by the scruff toward the exit.
“I said wait!!”
Jessica darted ahead through a side door, arms spread wide to bar my way.
“Out of my way, Jessica! Don’t stick your roll-bread hair where a Battōjutsu master treads!”
“If you’re gonna spout nonsense, just shut up! And you!! You said ‘cheating,’ so you must have clear proof, right?”
“Yes! He was confined for three weeks and barely did half his required spars! Yet he’s in S-Class?! Obvious cheating!”
“Sparring is just one way to judge student skill! And if you’ve heard the rumors, you know why he was confined!”
“Uh… this dragging on? I wanna Battōjutsu already…”
“Quiet! If you’re so desperate, go practice your draws in the corner until we’re done!!”
“Hiiing…”
I released my grip on the scruff obediently, and the fool—free at last—blurted to Jessica.
“Rumors are just rumors!! And what happened at the assignment ceremony? He must’ve blackmailed Teacher Peter with some dirty trick!!”
“What bullshit…”
Even if I asked what that ‘dirty trick’ was, this clown wouldn’t have an answer.
The more foolish and incompetent people were, the less they solved problems head-on—preferring delusions that suited them when things went south.
If they truly believed there was injustice, they should’ve gone to the academy staff first—not here.
“Even if that were true, it’s for the academy to handle—not you lot! Go home!!”
“B-But…!!”
The leader-looking guy wore a dissatisfied scowl, but his posse hesitated—likely cowed by Jessica’s family prestige.
This is turning sour…
If it kept up, they might bail, and no Battōjutsu for me.
No choice. Silently circling behind Jessica, I unleashed a full-force palm strike—a Battōjutsu chop—toward her nape.
“Kyak!!”
Her head snapped from the hand-blade’s impact, and with a short shriek, Jessica crumpled unconscious.
Catching her before she hit the floor, I brushed past the stunned vermin and reentered the classroom.
“Hey, half-baked Sword Saint girl!! Hold Jessica for a sec!!”
“……Pardon? What did you just—urk!!”
I tossed the limp Jessica to Rain, who caught her full-body in flustered panic.
“…I had my suspicions, but you truly aren’t right in the head.”
“When have you ever seen me act normal? And look how sweetly I’m keeping unconscious Jessica from face-planting.”
Plenty normal, if you asked me.
Anyway, should’ve done this sooner—instead of wasting time.
“Now then…”
Turning back to the gawking idiots—still staring slack-jawed at fainted Jessica and Rain—I grinned.
“Shall we go play?”
*****
Leaving the S-Class building, we arrived at the arena I’d once used to train those seniors.
Here, any mishaps could be written off as sparring accidents.
No matter the precautions, minor fractures or lifelong handicaps happened in training.
“Before we duel, one thing to confirm. Your goal is to beat me and claim an S-Class spot, right?”
“No! Our goal is to condemn your vile deeds…!”
“Hey, it’s just us here—be honest. Not a single thought of that crossed your minds? Purely here to right my wrongs?”
Cornered, the leader and his backdrop cronies averted their eyes guiltily.
“If admitting it’s too hard, let’s say ‘hypothetically.’ If I lose, one S-Class spot opens, yeah?”
Beating an S-Class student didn’t guarantee promotion.
But it’d skyrocket your evaluation in the next exam—promotion all but assured.
Losing to a non-S-Class, meanwhile, tanked your rank. Effectively, the fighters swapped grades.
“That won’t happen, but say it does—one spot. You’re seven.”
“……So what’s your point?”
“Point is, only one spot. Pick: weaklings first one-by-one, or all at once fair and square.”
“What?”
One spot, many claimants—those were the options.
First choice: last victor claims it. Second: whoever lands the final blow rises.
Which would these fools pick?
I didn’t care either way. Sequential or all-out—both perfect for Battōjutsu.
Arms crossed, awaiting their choice, the leader suddenly snickered.
“Trying to weasel out like that?!”
“Weasel?”
“Yeah! Planning to blame a loss on the numbers, huh?! Typical coward with a sneaky art like Battōjutsu!!”
“……”
Life was singular, the most precious thing in existence.
Why did people toss it away so lightly?
“Not talking? Guess I hit the mark!”
“…Quit your crap. If you think so, you first. No weapon? Grab one quick.”
I hadn’t planned to kill—the venue forbade it—but a clean return was off the table now.
Chin toward the rack, he dashed over, snatching a shortsword smaller than Youngta and a shield.
“Sword-and-board?”
Fitting for a fool daring to mock Battōjutsu—a gay-ass combo.
Bet he totes an eco-bag every weekend for one-nights…
Poor Youngta, forced to touch such a body—I could cry.
Oblivious, the smug homo stepped forward proudly.
“You’ll regret picking me!”
“Then I’ll make you regret skipping last night’s feast.”
“What?! Nonsense—what the—charging!!”
“‘Charging’? That’s the moan you make with your boyfriend, fucker.”
He lunged, swinging full-force—or so he thought.
To me, it was slo-mo.
“You joking…?”
I pinched the blade mid-swing toward my shoulder—thumb and index.
“……Wh-What?”
Manga scene made real; cold sweat beaded on his cheek as realization dawned.
Twist harder—the sword snapped with a crisp crack, half the blade limp.
“……”
Handle slipped from his dazed grip.
“……My turn.”
An old saying: the mouth calls calamity, the tongue cuts flesh.
Without tasting it himself, he’d repeat the mistake.
Sorry, Youngta.
Truly sorry to make you touch this homo.
Apologizing inwardly a thousand times, I unleashed Battōjutsu at his mouth.
No need to cut—the sheer shock ripped his lips, shattering pearly whites against Youngta.
“Ugaaaagaaah…!!!”
Pig-squeals with spraying blood and tooth shards.
Gruesome, but satisfying.
“Should’ve stuffed yourself yesterday.”
Now only gruel for you.