The Black Fox of the Supernatural Ability Academy — Arena’s Reversal
Chayeon checked his schedule with a quiet sigh.
Attending lectures while seated in the classroom had always felt utterly boring, but this one finally promised something worth his time.
Every morning he rose for a run, finished his regular duties, and then hit the weights in his room—yet he craved something more, a deeper burn in his muscles.
Adaptation
<>
“Sitting through lectures isn’t my thing.”
His classmates in the same class were glowing with excitement, but he still couldn’t figure out what was so interesting about it.
At his age they should have hated studying more than anything, yet Chayeon had never felt that way—even now, not a bit.
“More than that, why a sword?”
Before the actual combat training began he had chosen his weapon, and per the Black Fox’s insistence he had picked swordsmanship.
It was flashy and straightforward, true, but he had secretly wondered whether something like a club or a long spear might have been more practical.
He had even considered a gun, yet the Black Fox had stubbornly chosen the sword.
<>
He couldn’t understand it.
Chayeon hadn’t even handled a kitchen knife.
Still, he had decided it must be the Black Fox’s mischievous quirk.
He wasn’t upset about the sword itself—after all, it was every boy’s childhood dream.
When he stepped onto the training grounds, the rest of the students had already arrived.
The teacher holding the schedule glanced at it, then shouted,
“Swords, spears, throwing knives, maces, blunt weapons, and any other special arms. Six categories. Move to the designated station for your weapon.”
Before the sentence ended, students scattered in every direction toward their assigned instructors.
Chayeon headed for the sword instructor.
Just as he had expected, the sword drew the most students.
There were several kinds of swords, but he would be using a curved one—once again according to the Black Fox.
He stood with a wooden training scabbard strapped to his waist.
First outdoor lesson.
Chayeon felt his pulse quicken.
What would he do here?
Build basic stamina, maybe?
Or perhaps just rehearse the stances he had only learned in theory?
He replayed the single theory class he had actually paid attention to.
When swinging from a ready stance, keep the path as straight as possible.
For the curved sword, staying within a thirty-to-forty-five-degree angle was essential; anything else would let the blade glance off muscle and bone.
And again…
“Today we’ll do real combat practice by pairing up for sparring.”
The instructor’s next words cut off Chayeon’s thoughts.
“Real combat? On the first lesson?”
He couldn’t help muttering the thought aloud.
The instructor turned toward him.
“True. You must be… Jeon Chayeon. You only just transferred, so this is your very first outdoor class.”
Chayeon realized his mistake.
For him it was the first outdoor lesson, but apparently not for the others.
“Hmm, then you’ll practice separately—.”
“Teacher, can I spar with Jeon Chayeon?”
A girl raised her hand and spoke with bold confidence.
Middle-school or high-school age, maybe.
Her glossy black hair shimmered in a turquoise light, and she wore a sleek white dress with a matching pointed witch hat, broom-sword in hand.
Even outdoors she looked every inch the “I am a witch” stereotype.
“Arena, sparring with you?”
“Yes, I want to teach her the basics through combat.”
It sounded arrogant, yet there was no bravado in her voice—only the natural expectation of a superior.
“Hmm… if it’s Arena, I suppose it’s fine. Go ahead.”
“Thank you.”
The instructor’s permission was all Arena needed.
She walked straight toward Chayeon.
“Hmph. I don’t know what supernatural ability you have, but a sword isn’t something to be trifled with. Show me what you’ve got.”
Chayeon looked her up and down.
‘What is this? Why start a fight right away?’
Golden eyes that drew every gaze, a uniform that screamed “I am a witch,” and a broom-sword as the main weapon.
The sheer impression had been enough to make him remember her name from the attendance list.
At the time it hadn’t been the foreign name he thought—three Korean characters.
Ah, he remembered.
“Lu Geumma. Nice to meet you. I’m looking forward to it.”
At that moment Arena’s face drained of color.
Her expression froze, then burned with pure hostility as she glared at him, body trembling.
“Why is she acting like this?”
Chayeon felt confusion rising.
Suddenly Arena shouted at the top of her lungs,
“Don’t call me that name!”
Lu—the surname she had inherited—Gold—the meaning of her name—and Geumma—drawn from the characters of her Korean name.
That was her Korean name.
Her parents, who loved horses, had given it to her themselves.
Arena had never disliked the name… until she realized it sounded like another word.
Every student in the class knew how much she hated it, which was why no one ever dared utter those three characters in her presence.
Yet here she was.
“Arrogant little brat.”
He had touched her sore spot.
In broad daylight.
Unforgivable.
“Ready stance.”
Arena drew her training sword.
Her aura was razor-sharp.
“I’ll break that arrogant chin of yours!”
“Why the sudden rush?”
Chayeon’s careless words only fanned her anger.
“I- I…!”
“I’ll show you how it’s done!”
Whether she was shaking or not, Chayeon drew his sword with a lazy swing.
He still didn’t understand why he was angry.
“I can’t read a teenage girl’s mind. Let’s just focus on the spar. First stance….”
He barely managed to find his remembered stance.
Arena closed in instantly and slashed without mercy.
Clang!
A starburst of sparks exploded right in front of his eyes.
His scalp burned.
“What?”
Reflexively clutching his head, he staggered back.
When he looked again, Arena stood close enough to touch.
“Hmph. I was just lightly probing.”
Lie.
She had closed in with every ounce of strength and swung with full power.
As expected, Chayeon stood dazed while her sword slammed into his head.
“If that had been a real sword, I’d be dead.”
Arena smiled triumphantly, then launched straight into another charge.
“As expected!”
Clang!
“You have nothing!”
p>
Clang!
“Arrogant!”
Clang!
“Looking down on me!”
Clang!
“You have nothing!”
Clang!
Arena’s sword hammered Chayeon’s shoulders, arms, legs, abdomen, and head in rapid succession.
Chayeon tried to close the distance, but her swift, precise swordsmanship left him completely on the defensive.
“Why is she acting like this?”
He felt her emotions building, yet nothing about her registered.
He had no memory of her ever being arrogant, and the idea of someone so short looking down on him was absurd.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Her sword was smooth and fast—textbook technique—yet the blows lacked real power.
“Hey, hey, we need to stop this!”
“It’s brutal.”
Other students began murmuring as they watched Arena unleash one-sided violence.
The instructor noticed and tried to halt the match.
Clang—
The moment Arena’s sword sliced toward Chayeon’s waist, he finally blocked it for the first time.
“Eh?!”
She hadn’t expected any defense.
Chayeon exhaled in relief.
‘Finally giving up?’
But the instant he relaxed, Arena swung with even more ferocity.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Her sword blocked again and again.
“Her sword feels heavier than before.”
She had probably grown tired from the earlier onslaught.
Chayeon thought that, yet Arena’s swordsmanship had only grown sharper.
“What is it? I can see it clearly.”
The movement of her feet.
The shift of her center of gravity.
p>
The preparatory action before the swing.
The angle she would take.
At first her attacks were so fast they were almost invisible, but they slowly became clear to him.
The subtle rotation of her elbow, the precise wrist angle, the shoulder’s use, the twist of her waist—
Every detail registered.
In the storm of her assault, Chayeon absorbed her techniques in real time.
“What?! Why aren’t my attacks landing?!”
As his strikes continued to be parried, Arena grew frantic and redoubled her speed.
Yet no matter the direction or angle, her blows were always blocked.
Chayeon dismantled her sword with effortless grace.
The more she attacked, the more desperate Arena became.
“This can’t be! This can’t be! This can’t be!”
Her composure shattered.
Chayeon had left a tiny opening while parrying with minimal motion.
“Should I strike without hesitation?”
He hesitated.
If he went in now, he could hit her neck, eyes, head, or stomach—anywhere with lethal force.
She had bullied him so far; it was only fair she pay the price.
At the same time, the thought of hurting a young girl still lingered.
“It doesn’t even hurt that much.”
The first blow had been the worst; the rest barely registered as pain.
“Just knock her out lightly.”
Deciding that, Chayeon stepped forward and swung his sword at her outstretched hand.
Clang!
His blade connected with her palm, sending her training sword spinning through the air to land on the ground.
“…”
Arena stared blankly into space.
Thinking the spar had ended, Chayeon turned to leave.
“W-wait! It’s not over yet!”
He looked back at her red face full of anger.
“T-this is…! I-I just got too carried away and let my guard down!”
She picked up her sword while giving a meaningless excuse.
“You look like you’re getting tired.”
“Wh-what?!”
“Ah.”
“I keep thinking out loud again.”
Arena’s face burned even hotter.
“Don’t get cocky just because one attack landed!”
Arena leaped again.
No wasted motion, clean approach.
Clang!
But the result was different.
Chayeon blocked her attack without even breaking a sweat.
Even after repeated attacks, Arena’s sword never reached Chayeon’s hair.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
“There it is… the opening.”
Her horizontal swing had an unstable center.
Chayeon lightly stood his sword against hers.
Clang—
Arena’s sword slipped from her grip and clattered to the floor.
“…”
“Oh.”
The instructor watching from the sidelines let out a soft sigh of admiration.
“T-this isn’t right! Again! Again!”
“You look exhausted. It’s completely different from before.”
“Wh-what?! Stop pretending to be considerate now and fight properly! Again!”
Chayeon had only spoken because he genuinely thought she was tired, yet Arena’s temper only flared higher.
Again and again she retrieved her sword and challenged him, yet the same result followed.
While Chayeon parried with light movements, he eventually struck her hand, wrist, or even knocked her legs out from under her.
Each time her sword spun uselessly through the air or she fell in an undignified heap.
At first many had thought him cruel for humiliating her, but now the dust-covered girl looked pitiful.
“Hah…!”
“Are you okay?”
Arena’s once-white uniform was now stained and wrinkled.
Chayeon, on the other hand, hadn’t broken a sweat and still looked perfectly fine.
“This… this is impossible! You! You were hiding your true strength on purpose!”
Arena pointed her sword at him, voice trembling with fury.
“No, I wasn’t.”
Chayeon scratched his head.
“You should be more humble. No matter how tired you are, if you couldn’t handle someone who’s only been practicing for the first time today, that means you’re not as experienced as you think. It’s too early to call yourself a teacher.”
The cruel words, spoken without thinking, gouged at Arena’s heart.
“Beginner?!”
The word swirled in her mind.
Beginner?
She was still a first-year, yet she knew far stronger students existed.
She had held a sword since childhood, worked diligently for half a year after admission, and believed in her own talent—yet she was called a beginner?
While possessing such skill, she had deliberately deceived him.
“Hic… ugh…”
“Eh?”
Arena’s eyes, burning with murderous intent, suddenly filled with tears that spilled like chicken droppings.
“Hic… ugh… waaaaah!”
Finally she began sobbing like a child and ran off without another word.
“What… what just happened?”
Chayeon stared blankly at her disappearing figure, stunned by the sudden turn of events.
<>
At the perfect moment, the Black Fox added with a sarcastic tone.
After class, Arena was summoned to the instructor and scolded.
She had taken a beating in the spar—though she had actually done far more hitting—yet she had left the class on her own.
She had no excuse to offer the teacher.
“It’s humiliating!”
But the words still echoed:
“Someone who’s only been practicing for the first time today—”
“You don’t seem that experienced, either.”
“Calling herself a teacher—how ridiculous!”
Chayeon’s actions were unforgivable for reasons far more serious than embarrassment.
Deception, humiliation, mockery.
He had planned every bit of it from the start.
Yes, that was exactly what had happened.
“Jeon Chayeon… I will never forgive you! I will definitely make you pay for today’s shame! I swear it!”