The Storm Strikes Twice
“Very well. Kyle of John Nassen. In place of that fellow from earlier, I challenge you to a duel!”
The words that left the noble freshman’s mouth.
Specifically, the part that said, I challenge a John Nassen to a duel.
That alone left everyone so stunned that not a soul could speak.
What did he just say? A duel challenge to a John Nassen?
I misheard that, right? No? Then is this some new method of suicide?
Poor guy. Even as a freshman he ought to know about that incident.
The exact thoughts differed from person to person, but one thing was certain.
Challenging a member of John Nassen to a duel… he was digging his own grave.
That silent scream was shared by nearly everyone present.
Of course, there were also more than a few students who thought otherwise.
Those who had not been present when the young lady of John Nassen brought a storm down upon the Academy, or those who simply shook their heads and dismissed the stories as exaggerated nonsense.
And the noble freshman who had just challenged Ian belonged squarely to that latter group.
All that talk about John Nassen’s martial power is nothing more than an elaborate device to prop up the Imperial family’s authority. How could a person do any of that without even using mana? Impossible!
The noble freshman was confident in his skill, in his swordsmanship.
This was neither arrogance nor vanity. It was a precise assessment of his own level.
He was not quite genius material, but he was certainly excellent.
It was that very swordsmanship that had gotten him into the Academy in the first place, was it not?
Meanwhile, Kyle had approached Ian and begun explaining the situation.
At first there seemed to have been some friction, but a female student soon stepped in to mediate.
She was a classic beauty with striking violet hair that left a lasting impression.
“…Understood.”
The conversation finished; Ian finally nodded and stepped back.
A faint trace of dissatisfaction still lingered on his face—that much was unavoidable.
Yet that dissatisfaction seemed secondary to the fact that Tisha was currently gripping his wrist.
“Let’s begin.”
Having received the right to duel in Ian’s place, Kyle stepped forward.
The noble freshman looked him over for a moment before speaking.
“Where is your sword?”
“…Sword?”
“Yes. A duel requires a sword.”
The reason he had mentioned a duel to Ian in the first place was because Ian was also a swordsman.
Among those who fought with blades, a challenge could never simply be refused.
He had therefore assumed Kyle was a swordsman as well—yet no matter how he looked, there was no sword in sight.
“…Does it, uh, absolutely have to be a sword?”
“What are you talking about? How exactly do you plan to duel without a sword?”
As he explained, a sudden suspicion made the noble freshman ask,
“You don’t… actually not know the rules of a duel, do you?”
Surely he wouldn’t have stepped forward without even knowing the rules.
He stared at Kyle with that thought—and it appeared he had hit the mark.
“….”
“….”
“…You truly don’t know? Really? This isn’t a joke?”
“I might not know, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t emphasize it so much.”
At Kyle’s answer the freshman wanted to shout:
Not “I might not know”—if you don’t know, then why the hell did you step into a duel in the first place?
“Stop playing around and grab a sword already! If you don’t have one, at least borrow one!”
Kyle let out a low ugh and walked back over to Ian.
Some conversation passed between them, but it clearly wasn’t going smoothly.
Sparks of tension flickered between Kyle’s outstretched hand and Ian’s shaking head.
In the end Tisha stepped in once more, snatched Ian’s sword, and handed it to Kyle.
The utterly incredulous look Ian shot Tisha was merely a bonus.
“….”
I told him to borrow someone else’s sword, not to forcibly snatch it…
The noble freshman found himself wondering whether he really ought to duel the man standing in front of him.
“Let’s get started already.”
“…Fine. Then let’s clarify the terms. If I win, I will receive a proper apology. If I lose, I will acknowledge my shortcomings and restrain myself.”
“If I lose, I will apologize together with Ian. If I win, Ian will apologize alone.”
Kyle’s victory condition sounded a little strange, but at this point it hardly mattered.
Each had set the terms of victory and defeat; the duel itself had been agreed upon.
All that remained was to throw themselves into this clash of pride with everything they had.
Ssssst—.
The noble freshman opened the distance and began carefully probing Kyle.
…What is he even doing?
Full of openings. Kyle’s current stance could only be described as riddled with openings.
The way he stood facing an opponent, the way he held the sword—everything was painfully clumsy.
Is this his first time facing an actual person?
He had heard the rumors that the people of John Nassen were always thorough about self-discipline.
But that self-discipline was ultimately nothing more than training for self-satisfaction.
Those who obsessed over such things often proved useless in real combat.
The John Nassen family—the ones the Emperor himself had had to step in to make bow their heads.
Yet the Empire’s age of conquest had already been over for nearly thirty years.
The John Nassen of the old days might have been different, but that generation was gone.
What remained were merely people who trained without knowing a thing about anything else.
Just like that Kyle standing awkwardly in front of him right now!
In that case, I take the initiative. If it’s an act he’ll block me immediately; if it’s real he’ll open an even bigger gap. Either way I lose nothing.
Having reached that conclusion, the noble freshman gripped his sword and charged at Kyle.
What reaction would he show? How did he intend to face him?
“…Huh?”
A bewildered gasp slipped from the noble freshman’s lips.
Kyle had simply driven the sword he was holding straight into the ground.
Then he clenched his fist and slowly drew his shoulder back.
What the hell is he doing?!
This was completely, utterly different from any duel he had ever imagined.
As if it weren’t enough that he had already been insulted by some strange commoner named Ian,
now even this northern barbarian’s descendant of a southern count was doing something that bordered on provocation.
It was a miracle he wasn’t already grinding his teeth in fury.
And that rising heat was more than enough to pour explosive power and speed into his body.
I was going to hold back, but forget it. I’m going all out for real.
Thinking that, the noble freshman swung the sword in his hand with all his might.
*
It wasn’t as though he had never held a sword. He had gripped one a few times back in John Nassen.
But he had never once received systematic sword training.
Yes. The Kyle who had stepped into this duel in Ian’s place was, in truth, someone who had no idea how to swing a blade—
a complete beginner among beginners when it came to swordsmanship.
“Why don’t you take up a sword or a spear? Is that what you’re asking?”
He had once asked his father, and his older brother, that very question.
Why did they spend every day training with iron yet never practice handling actual weapons?
He had been so curious that he asked, and the answer he received was truly something else.
“Because our bare hands are enough.”
When he first heard that reply, he had honestly been dumbfounded.
If the other side came at you with spear and sword while circulating mana, they could produce several times the force.
How on earth were you supposed to oppose that with nothing but your hands?!
No matter how sturdy a body might be, a sharp edge would still slice it to pieces!!
“Kyle.”
As if they had read their son’s—their younger brother’s—inner turmoil,
Kyle’s father and Kyle’s older brother had each gripped his shoulder and spoken.
“We are John Nassen. Even if we don’t know how to wield something, even if we have never wielded it before, we will eventually wield it all the same. Therefore what we need is only the foundation that supports it.”
What that was even supposed to mean, Kyle still did not understand—then or now.
The rest of the family all nodded along; why was he the only one who couldn’t accept it?
Perhaps it was because he was a transmigrator, because some part of him still recognized that he was not originally from this place, and that awareness interfered.
It was the same now. He had half-forcibly taken Ian’s sword,
but never mind swinging it—even holding it properly felt incredibly awkward.
On top of that it was far too light; handling it seemed like it would be tremendously difficult.
You needed a certain weight to whip a weapon around, and this weight felt no different from holding a pen.
It would be of no help whatsoever. It would only get in the way.
So Kyle simply drove the sword he was holding into the ground.
Murmurs rose from the students on every side.
Given that he was doing this in the middle of a duel, the reaction was only natural.
But Kyle ignored all of it and focused on one thing alone.
They won’t make an issue of this, right?
The one who had caused the duel was Ian, not him.
The one who had issued the challenge was the noble freshman, not him.
He had merely tried to stop it and, for certain reasons, ended up taking the duel in Ian’s place.
And given the insulting remarks that had been made, it could easily be called legitimate self-defense.
‘Weakling,’ he said.
Those words from moments ago still rang in his ears. They were burned deep into his mind.
His stomach churned and rolled so hard it refused to settle.
If he stayed like this he felt he might actually cause an incident; he was starting to frighten himself.
And then he had even heard the shocking line, “Birds of a feather flock together.”
That he was on the same level as Ian. That he and that aggro-generating craftsman were birds of a feather.
This had crossed the line—no, it had crossed it the John Nassen way.
Being called weak… fine. Let’s say I can barely let that slide. But…
Even so, goddamn it, being called the same level as Ian was just not okay.
That “birds of a feather” line—no matter how he thought about it, he could not accept it!
“Hup.”
Staring straight at the noble freshman charging toward him,
Kyle drew his arm all the way back and then drove his fist forward.
CRAAAAASH!!
*
A woman poured tea and offered the cup forward.
Someone with hair that looked like gleaming silver mixed with the color of a lake accepted the tea.
Given the woman’s status, the mere act of serving tea should never have been possible.
But the guest who had come today was more than worthy of it.
“Heeee! The aroma is wonderful! Thank you so much!!”
“When the Saintess herself pays a visit, this much is only natural.”
Slurp—.
After taking a few sips of tea, the woman slowly opened her mouth.
“I hear you’re headed to the Academy.”
“Ah, yes! That’s how it turned out.”
“For what purpose?”
“Well… does every action really need a purpose?”
At the Saintess’s words the woman murmured, “I suppose that’s true.”
“Don’t get lost once you’re there, you hopelessly directionally challenged Saintess.”
“Don’t worry! I’m not directionally challenged anymore! More importantly, there’s an interesting piece of news—have you heard?!”
“What news.”
“Something that happened at the Academy two days ago. Apparently a freshman shattered a sword with his bare hands!”
“What, some kind of sword-breaking demonstration? What a strange thing to do.”
“No, not a demonstration—a duel!”
“…A duel?”
“Yes. The sword wasn’t just standing there; it was flying at him edge-first from the front, and he punched it head-on! Like this—crash!—and broke it clean.”
At that, emotion finally bloomed across the previously expressionless woman’s face.
“That freshman. Tell me more about him in detail.”
Yulika Sebastian Lovisa de Lottringen, Fifth Princess of the Empire.
It was the first time the woman who had never shown interest in anything but strength itself had ever asked about a man.