Duel, O Maiden

Always the same café. Always the same Americano. The stares as if beholding something bizarre were still there, which was a bit unpleasant... but even including that, it was the usual daily routine.

"Lieutenant Konstantia."

...Or it should have been.

"Shall we mix our tongues?"

"......?"

I blankly stared at the woman across the table, holding her coffee cup. She was short for a woman. But she didn't give ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠off a frail impression. Maybe because her body was reasonably toned, though not overtly so—or perhaps due to the heroic aura of an Imperial Army captain. Yael Jeffrison, with her blue hair tied to one side as always, spoke those words in a very matter-of-fact tone.

She'd become a regular at this café too, so we occasionally ran into each other here. Even today, with just one day left until the entrance and opening ceremony.

So we'd been chatting idly about this and that as usual when she brought up this topic.

...Naturally, this wasn't a confession like 'I'm actually a lesbian, so I want to deep-kiss you passionately.' She, Captain Yael, was a magician, and a magician's greatest weapon was their tongue and voice for chanting. So translating that statement for a martial artist would be something like "cross swords" or "clash blades." It was simply a request for a spar, with zero sexual connotation.

"I'm sorry, what did you just say?"

"I asked if you'd mix tongues with me."

Of course, understanding it rationally was one thing, but hearing a beautiful girl say something like that was profoundly depraved in itself. Pretending I hadn't heard, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I made her repeat it once more before setting my glass down on the table.

"So, you're saying you want to spar."

"Yes, exactly. Though your main duty is playing instruments, your official position is teaching assistant, isn't it?"

Captain Yael added that there might be times when you'd assist in teaching students, then took another sip of her coffee.

"I can usually demonstrate for the students on my own, but depending on the movements or spells, having a proper opponent to respond makes it easier to show effectively."

"In other words, you need someone to receive your attacks, and you want to test if I'm suitable for that role."

"Receive... That's a perfect way to put it. Yes, that's what I think."

Even teaching basic self-defense has its limits without a partner. It's far better and easier to understand with a real opponent than flailing at empty air.

"And this is personal curiosity as well. I wanted to experience what it's like to face that forerunner—the divine word."

"It's not that impressive... but if that's what you want, Captain, I'm fine with it."

I nodded. I had nothing better to do than loiter in a café anyway, and bluntly rejecting a proposal made for the students' benefit felt wrong.

"Then let's move. It'd be great if the training ground is free."

I shoved the last piece of cake into my mouth whole, wiped my lips with a napkin from beside me, and drained my cup. Captain Yael watched me with what seemed like awe before belatedly pulling herself together and standing.

"So, how should we do this duel? Just a simple friendly spar?"

We chatted lightly as we headed back to the academy.

"How about a classical magic duel?"

"Um... Captain Yael, didn't I mention I'm from the martial track?"

"Yes, I know. You're a martial artist, not a magician. You just wield magic outstanding enough to overwhelm most magic knights."

"It's just parlor tricks. Nothing more than crudely dumping out rotten mana."

I shook my head at her praise. Honestly, all the high evaluations I got were thanks to the goddess's perks. I just bulldozed through with the overwhelming aura she gave me. And in this world, mana was basically synthesized by expending aura. That incidentally gave me an overflowing mana capacity too.

Forerunner or divine word—it was all just cheap tricks exploiting those perks...

...By the way, which perk is responsible for all this aura, really?

A sudden question brushed my mind. It was a puzzle I still hadn't solved after three years since reincarnating.

The goddess had given me three extra perks: one, exceptional physical abilities; two, tremendous stamina; three, translation function and minor ability adjustments. All could arguably apply here. Or maybe it was synergy between factors.

Of course, I shelved the question unresolved again, unable to reach a clear answer. Our footsteps had already brought us to the academy gates before I could dwell on it.

Captain Yael Jeffrison straightened her clothes slightly. Her casual wear from the café wasn't suited for dueling, so she borrowed training clothes from the field. Changing back into her uniform would waste time anyway.

...Everything was fine, except the size was a bit off, digging into her thighs. The curse of good proportions on a short frame: match the height and the thighs don't fit, match the thighs and the height doesn't.

What's a bloomer anyway?

But more nagging was Lieutenant Konstantia's muttered incomprehensible word upon seeing her.

Whatever.

Yael quickly shook off the stray thought. Neither mattered right now. Instead, she spun her short magic wand in her right hand to loosen her wrist. Then, fixing her gaze ahead, she saw the woman standing there in her impeccably dressed uniform, as always. Propped on the ground with a cane of ebony-like hue, gripped by a gloved hand.

Crossbow school magicians' wands were usually about a cubit long. But Yura Konstantia's was easily over a meter. It wasn't just for aiming spells; it aided her daily mobility too, naturally.

"Ready?"

As she looked at the lieutenant, the woman met her eyes and asked.

"Yes. Ready."

"Then... yes."

Yura nodded solemnly, then pulled a coin from her uniform pocket... and tossed it skyward.

It spun high, reached its apex, then fell back under gravity.

And soon—clink.

At that instant, both pointed their canes at each other. Without pause, their lips began moving, chanting spells laced with mana.

Yura Konstantia's cane was unusual, and her stance inevitably quirky. She raised the long staff horizontally near her side, hugging it lightly—something an Earth reincarnate might call "hip-fired aiming," but with no guns or gunpowder on this continent, Captain Yael didn't know the term.

Yael's stance was textbook by contrast: arm extended horizontally from the shoulder, staff laid flat, aimed at the feet. Feet weren't a vital spot, of course. But injury there was debilitating—you'd flop helplessly. Fine for non-lethal suppression.

Assuming the opponent was below a certain level.

On the battlefield, a broken leg didn't stop attacks. Grab a nearby rock, infuse aura, throw—easy check. Magicians even more so.

Ideally target above the feet, but in this situation—a classical magic duel—calculations shifted. Born from intent to duel purely with magic, no tricks: no aura, no divine arts, no red jade or talismans. Even "feet leave initial position = disqualification" to minimize physical prowess. Touching ground with anything else = instant loss.

Still, body use wasn't forbidden. Leaning back to dodge projectiles favored those with strong "core strength." Konstantia could probably bend parallel to the ground.

But even she couldn't dodge foot-targeted spells. Attacks there demanded block or counter. Thus, in classical duels, targeting feet was most orthodox.

Konstantia aimed her long cane at Yael's feet too. Only chanting voices echoed as they targeted each other's soles.

In real combat, Yael would've charged to suppress before completion. Effective tactic—why martial artists beat magicians one-on-one.

But immobile now, it was just boring to watch: magicians staring down, chanting.

Especially classical duels devolved into such standoffs. But beneath lurked fierce mind games and feints—what Yura might call "frame traps in a fighting game": analysis, calculation, judgment, decision.

Chanting's core was beat—no speeding beyond set pace, however urgent. Spot opponent's spell from chant, deduce its "length."

Then math and mind games. If your spell finishes first, win. But if yours takes 15 seconds, theirs 10? Defend differently or cancel for new spell.

3 seconds to realize? Need spell ending in 7 or less. Opponent switches shorter or counters, then retaliates.

Classical duels: endless such judgments. Can't spam short chants—weak power means opponent tanks and counters stronger.

Captain Yael opened with 1st Circle shockwave. Perfect for "knocking feet loose." Good cost-performance for length. Orthodox staple.

Safe meant well-countered, but...

...not what Konstantia chanted. 2nd Circle earth wall. Deforms ground into obstacle. Not tall, but crouch behind without lifting feet or touching elsewhere? Legal.

Fortify defense, then bombard leisurely. Common tactic. Longer chant flaw, but confident legs tank one hit.

Unless opponent chants certain lethals.

Shockwave was one such. Switch plans if spotted.

But Konstantia's chant continued. ~3s hers, ~9s Yael's. Yael's hits first, blasts Yura away in 6s.

Normally.

Krunch!

"......■■."

Ground quakes lightly. Floor warped up near Yura's hips.

Then Yael finished—intangible shockwave whooshed a beat late, smashed into obstacle, scattered.

...That's the forerunner.

The forerunner's divine word. Pre-chant magic. Captain Yael Jeffrison inhaled deeply.

Yura's chant still ongoing. 5s to final phrase.

"—Beyond the sky, far, so far away, where clouds drift from."

Language changes rename objects, lengths vary. Rarely equal. Korean "effort" vs. Japanese "doryoku" (sans long vowel). ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Sentences amplify differences.

Question: How does my perk—auto-translation—handle length gaps?

Three years ago, Eski Jeongnyeong kidnapped me to her unit, fascinated by it. We tested extensively since. Answer found.

Basically, speech speeds/slows to match actual utterance time. Works hearing too.

Why "basically"? Clear exceptions exist.

Magic chanting in spell tongue: prime exception. Perk reflects intent somewhat. But chanting prioritizes beat above all.

—Thus, no speed adjustment during casting. I finish and activate early, but others see/hear me still chanting.

Ridiculous to foe: "activate before chant ends"—theoretically impossible. Plus, disrupts timing reads.

Even knowing my quirk doesn't help. Need one cast to gauge exact timing.

"Beyond the sky, far, so far..."

Effect accelerates cumulatively. 5s early finish = 5s free mouth sooner. In seeming 5s chant tail, start new one.

Same spell? +5s more, total 10s gain. Third: 15s, fourth: 20s... Gap widens endlessly.

"......!"

Transparent ice lump formed at my cane tip, arced wide sideways. 2nd Circle, frost clump. Heavy curveball—left or right. Direction via chant phrase; catch it or luck-based dodge...

But if you can't hear the chant?

"......Hoo."

Captain Yael hopped over the calf-targeting ice, sighed. Her defensive shockwave flew opposite, slicing air.

She walked over with a wry smile.

"So that's the famous silent casting. Absurd."

"I'm the surprised one. You're the first besides one other to last this long in a classical duel..."

No flattery—pure truth. Rules force length/timing mind games, but I'm a blatant cheater.

Silent casting needs ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠cumulative spare time for memorization; usually they drop first.

Heroes live up to hype.

"Enough to teach, right?"

"Enough... The most absurd question I've heard."

Captain Yael stifled a chuckle.

"I'll recommend you upstairs—want to take a lecture?"

"If others can replicate it, maybe."

Can't be helped then. Yael finally burst into honest laughter.