Chapter 172: Fury — Interlude (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 172: Fury — Interlude (3)
The memory of thrashing Priestess Miya remained vivid in my mind.
There were plenty of reasons to second-guess myself—it was irrational and imprudent, especially with Alice lurking as an enemy.
But what’s done is done.
It had been unbearable. Even if I were thrown back into the past, I would do it all over again. I didn’t harbor a single shred of regret about defeating Miya.
Fortunately, White seemed relieved after hearing the news. The fact that I had actually won appeared to catch her off guard. However, it was difficult to predict how this would truly affect her; the duel with Miya had made her painfully aware of her own inadequacies.
I could only hope it served as a catalyst for her motivation and fueled her growth.
White decided to focus entirely on her recovery and forfeited all subsequent duels. A few other students in similar positions followed suit, needing time to mend. Consequently, the academy paired the remaining students with new opponents of similar skill levels.
The duel evaluations proceeded smoothly, as if the previous chaos had never happened.
‘Alice…’
Her interference, however, was becoming alarmingly intrusive.
I never expected her to visit White, let alone address me with pet names like “Baby” or tell me I was “as adorable as always.” Naturally, White and Merlin had grilled me for answers.
I gave them the only honest answer I had: “I have no idea why that senior is acting like that.”
Of course, I knew the real reason. She suspected I was the Nameless Hero and was likely trying to bait me, using her friendly demeanor to probe for a slip-up.
In reality, compared to Alice, the Nameless Hero was pitifully weak. But to the outside world, there was no one more fearsome or powerful. Thus, Alice was approaching with caution, masking her intentions behind her charms.
When I said I didn't know why she was doing it, I meant I hadn't expected her to be so relentless.
White and Merlin, however, jumped to their own conclusions, convinced the Student Council President had taken a romantic interest in me.
—Even the Student Council President… Senior Isaac is becoming more terrifying by the day…!
When White exclaimed that, my head spun. They already thought Luce had a thing for me. Now, the two of them were whispering behind my back, saying things like, “Is this a new rival?” and “This is getting interesting.”
To them, the situation where Alice appeared to have unilaterally fallen for me was nothing more than juicy gossip. They were like housewives hooked on a morning soap opera.
“Ha!”
An arrogant snicker snapped me back to reality.
It was the final day of the duel evaluations. I was lightly warming up on the grounds under the watchful eyes of the crowd. I only stopped when the vain blond noble, Tristan Humphrey, stepped up to face me.
“Typical. You’re the type who loosens up his body before his mind. There isn’t another freak like you in the Magic Department.”
As the person ranked just behind me, Tristan knew my fighting style well. I could feel his gaze—he meticulously observed and analyzed anyone stronger than himself, obsessing over how to take them down. His fixation was as heavy and uncomfortable as his stare.
“Really? I never thought about it that way,” I replied casually, tapping my shoulder with the Zhonya Staff.
Come to think of it, Ian Fairytale, who dreamed of becoming a magic knight, didn’t warm up before duels either.
Am I really the only one?
*
“…Enough small talk. Isaac, today you surrender that rank. This body, stronger than ever before, will deliver you a miserable defeat! Hahahaha!!”
Tristan let out a boisterous laugh like a third-rate villain, only to suddenly choke and descend into a coughing fit.
Having spent time in the same classes, I didn’t find him particularly bothersome anymore. In fact, I let out a small snicker. After all, I was just a nobody who had cheated my way to strength with a status window. It felt only right to take his challenge seriously.
I narrowed my eyes and tilted my head slightly. Grasping the edge of my round glasses, I pulled them off.
At that moment, an icy chill began to radiate from my body.
I concentrated.
Lifting my head, I locked eyes with Tristan, my gaze sharp.
“Come at me.”
Tristan smirked at my calm provocation. My cold mana began to bleed into the air, contaminating the atmosphere. He felt the frost pressing against his skin, a shiver racing down his spine.
He summoned a gale to counter my cold, his expression twisted with a raw desire for combat.
Soon, the referee signaled the start.
My ice magic clashed head-on with Tristan’s wind.
*
The judges and students watched the duel with their mouths agape.
Isaac and Tristan were locked in an exchange so intense it felt misplaced. This didn't look like a fight between mages from the Magic Department, nor did it look like a standard bout from the Knight Department. It was a hybrid of both—a whirlwind of combat techniques and spells.
There was no room for hesitation. Every movement was a calculation, every strike a prediction. They moved at speeds the naked eye could barely track, dodging and countering in a blur of motion. Pale frost and howling winds danced across the arena in a dazzling, violent display.
Tristan’s mana control was staggering. He enveloped himself in wind, using the momentum to move like a diving falcon. Such a feat required surgical precision; merely watching the strain of it was enough to make one feel nauseous. Every punch and kick he threw was backed by an explosion of pressurized air.
The spectators could only guess the sheer amount of effort—and physical agony—Tristan had endured to reach this level.
But Isaac was just as breathtaking.
He tracked Tristan’s high-speed maneuvers with ease, countering every strike with fluid grace. Even under the barrage of rapid-fire wind strikes, Isaac didn't falter. This silver-blue-haired student was the most improved genius of the first year—the man who had overpowered the Priestess of Horan.
He was a monster in his own right.
Thud—!
Isaac and Tristan traded blows simultaneously, both landing a punch on the other's face. It happened in a heartbeat; most students couldn't even tell when they had closed the distance.
The judges leaned forward, eyes wide.
Boom——!
Ice and wind mana detonated from their clashing fists, delivering punishing blows. Their combat styles were eerily similar. The resulting explosion of cold energy sent both boys reeling. They were flung to opposite sides of the arena, tumbling across the stone floor.
Crack!
Isaac conjured a block of ice behind him to catch his momentum, preventing himself from being thrown out of bounds.
Whoosh!
Tristan used a burst of wind to right himself, snapping his head up instantly.
Both stood panting, staring each other down from across the grounds. Tristan, blood leaking from his mouth and nose, let out a merry chuckle. “Heh, not bad at all!”
Isaac wiped the blood from his own nose. His usual gentle demeanor was gone, replaced by a mask of frigid determination.
They both gritted their teeth and charged again.
“What on earth are those kids…?” a middle-aged female judge muttered, her voice trembling as she flipped through their records. “Tristan’s combat style has completely transformed since last semester. Even I couldn't pull that off… How hard must he have pushed himself?”
“It’s Märchen Academy,” the elderly male judge beside her replied with a smile. “A place where the geniuses among geniuses and the freaks among freaks gather to clash. There’s nothing strange about it.”
“Even so, those two are a different breed of genius compared to someone like Luce Eltania, who relies on overwhelming raw power. That’s surprising enough, but Isaac… that boy might be the craziest student in this entire academy.”
The female judge turned her gaze back to the fight. “Is this record even right? How can a Grade E—the literal weakest rank—possess this kind of mana? He defeated a Grade S opponent and handles these invisible exchanges as if they were second nature…”
“It’s a peculiar sight, isn't it?” the male judge chuckled heartily. “The reason I haven't been able to retire at my age is exactly because of students like them.”
Isaac and Tristan’s magic and fists collided—the culmination of countless hours of training.
Bleeding, vomiting, crying, fainting… days spent drenched in sweat, muscles seizing with cramps, pushing forward with every ounce of their fading strength. They poured all of it into each other.
“Look at them. Truly… isn't it a heart-pounding spectacle?”
The female judge fell silent, lost in thought. Wrapped in such intense wind magic, Tristan had to be in agonizing pain by now. But he didn't stop. He had grown accustomed to the pain long ago. Instead, he laughed through it, using his bravado to drown out the suffering.
Isaac remained hyper-focused, his eyes never leaving Tristan’s silhouette.
Whoooo————!
Clatter————!
*
Kwaah————!
After baiting Tristan into a specific movement with [Rock Avalanche], Isaac followed up instantly with [Frost Wave]. Closing the distance in a flash, he unleashed [Frost Explosion], detonating his ice mana to end the fight.
The arena was swathed in a swirling mist of cold. Isaac’s breath came out in white plumes, whisked away by the lingering wind. The ice encasing Tristan shattered into faint blue particles.
Frozen to the bone and battered, Tristan collapsed onto the stone floor with a heavy thud.
“Duel over! Class B, Isaac wins!” the referee shouted.
Cheers and applause erupted from the stands. The students were electrified by the display of grit and skill they had just witnessed.
As the medical team rushed out with a stretcher, Tristan coughed up blood, barely clinging to consciousness.
“Not yet… not yet…”
With trembling hands, he tried to push himself up, but the backlash of his wind magic finally hit. His strength vanished, and he slumped back down. He had overloaded his system.
Isaac looked down at him silently.
Tristan kept trying to rise, falling back every time. Saliva and blood trailed from his mouth. The memories of his training were the only thing trying to lift his body—the desperate, unglamorous chronicle of a boy chasing the dream of becoming a great wizard.
Isaac closed his eyes and sighed softly.
To offer a hand now would be an insult to Tristan, who had chased him through blood and sweat. Pity would be a poison. There was only one thing left to say.
Isaac opened his eyes and spoke in a sharp, mocking tone.
“I won, Tristan.”
At those words, Tristan stopped struggling. Only then did Isaac turn his back.
“I’ll collect my evaluation later,” Isaac told the judges before putting his glasses back on and walking away.
The medical team rushed past him. Isaac didn't look back.
Suddenly…
“Ha!”
The sound of Tristan’s confident chuckle echoed behind him. Isaac paused, glancing over his shoulder.
“S-Student Tristan! You need to stay down!”
“Don't move!”
Tristan, propped up by the medics, refused to lie on the stretcher. His face was a mess of blood, but he was grinning. His laughter was wet, gurgling from the blood in his throat.
“Indeed… I acknowledge it…! For now, you are stronger than me…! But!!”
His voice took on that familiar, third-rate villainous edge. He lifted his chin, flashing an arrogant, bloody smile.
“If that’s all you’ve got, it won't be for long! Soon, I will crush you!! Hahahaha!!”
Tristan laughed until he choked, coughing violently as blood splattered the floor.
He understood now. He felt the weight of the agonizing training Isaac must have endured to climb from the bottom of Grade E to where he stood now. If he couldn't beat Isaac, it was simply because he hadn't worked hard enough.
To surpass him, he would have to bleed more. He would have to sweat more. No matter how frustrating it was, he had to keep moving.
Isaac gave a small, genuine smile, turned his head, and continued walking.
Tristan’s laughter eventually faded as his eyes rolled back, and he finally lost consciousness.