The Mock Combat Exam and the Bathhouse

Tick. Tock.

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In the quiet classroom, the scratching of pens was pierced by the relentless ticking of the second hand, urging the students onward.

This was the final written exam of midterms—the last question on the Fundamentals of Tactics paper. Instead of the knife I used to twirl out of old habit, I spun my pen in lazy circles while wringing every last drop of thought from my brain.

The point value alone made it weighty, and being the final question only made it more vicious. The Slenia Gorge Operation was one of the most infamous failures on record, so papers analyzing it already filled entire shelves—written by experts far sharper than any academy student. But that wasn’t what the professor wanted. The real meat of the question was the second half: my own opinion.

Truth be told, one-on-one combat and ambushes were my specialties. Mass battles and grand strategy? Not so much. Two months of academy lectures had filled in a few blanks, but I still lagged behind the rest of the class. So I decided to write something that would at least catch the professor’s eye.

My answer: “Send in the Hero.” What else was there? In front of a Hero, everyone was equal—one clean hit and you were done. The gorge forced any attacker through a narrow choke point, so a small elite force was ideal. Why stop at elite? Just drop one Hero in and call it a day. Sure, political rivalries and the Hero’s actual location at the time made that impossible, but that wasn’t my problem. I padded the rest of the page with enough half-coherent nonsense that even I couldn’t tell what I’d written.

Besides, practical scores mattered more than written ones. Whatever I lost here, I could make up on the field.

Another reason I could scribble so carelessly was that I’d already given up on the top scholarship. With a monster like Cielian—who somehow topped both written and practical—sitting in the same class, first place was a pipe dream. Still, full tuition coverage didn’t require the top rank. All I needed was the title of Sword Master or Archmage. Simple, right? Simple… and murderously hard.

So I aimed for the smaller scholarships instead—dorm fee waivers, tuition exemptions, that sort of thing. The only reason I could afford to be this relaxed was the Boss’s generosity. I bowed my head once more toward Magic Building room 707. Silently, of course. Doing it out loud during an exam would get me a zero for cheating.

“Aah~ I totally bombed that test~”

The moment the final written exam ended, Anne—who had turned in her paper first—plopped down beside me and Cielian with a dramatic groan.

If anyone else had said that, I might have wondered whether they were fishing for compliments. With Anne, no wonder was required. She had, in fact, bombed it. That wasn’t an insult; it was a fact known to me, Cielian, Yuri, and the entire class. Straight facts!

“Ahaha… Still, the stuff I told you would definitely be on the test actually showed up, so that’s something.”

Yuri knew the truth too, so she just patted Anne’s slumped back in consolation. While Cielian had been tutoring me, Anne had been getting lessons from Yuri.

Anne, you freeloader. You got a free question out of that.

“What!? There was something like that!?”

Ah. I had overestimated her.

“Anyway, thanks to Ciel I think I did pretty well. Same deal next time!”

“Of course. Anytime.”

As kind as ever. Come to think of it, every study session Cielian glued herself to my side and focused only on my work. When did she study for herself? Her self-scored results were perfect across every subject. Was this the bare minimum required to be a Hero?

“So all that’s left is the mock combat, right? Perfect~ I’m definitely making up for it there!”

The sunken Anne had risen from the depths. Sure, her brain was a little… lacking, but her practical scores sat firmly in the top tier.

She and Yuri were exact opposites: Yuri excelled at written work and struggled in practicals; Anne crushed practicals and floundered on paper.

“Come on! Let’s go already!”

Anne bolted ahead, and the three of us hurried after her toward the next exam site.

“The exam will be taken one at a time. There are ten stages total. You begin at stage one and advance one stage with each clear. Since every student faces different monsters, going later offers no advantage. Those who are ready, step forward.”

“I’ll go first!”

Before Professor Den—who taught Understanding of Magical Beasts—had even finished speaking, Anne’s hand shot up and she strode out.

“Very well, Anne Klein. Come forward.”

Because we were fighting illusion-magic monsters, wooden practice swords weren’t required. Anne had brought her real weapon.

Scrape. Scrape.

The massive blade dragged across the stone floor with a harsh grinding sound. She wasn’t being rude on purpose.

In her hands was an absurdly huge greatsword. Even the wooden practice sword she’d used in sparring had been taller than she was, but this thing made that look like a toothpick. It had none of the gleam a proper blade should catch in the sunlight; calling it a giant club would have been more accurate. The edge still looked sharp enough to cut, though. The weight alone should have been crushing, yet the tiny Anne hauled it along as if it weighed nothing.

Standing in the center of the arena, she looked almost giddy at finally holding her true weapon again.

“Before we begin, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠let’s give a round of applause to the two hardworking magic-department teaching assistants. Their illusion magic is rock-solid, so you needn’t worry about real injuries. That said, if you overestimate yourself and push too far, it will count against you—so keep that in mind.”

Clap clap clap clap.

The two assistants bowed once to the professor and once to us. Their faces told another story. Dark circles thick enough to see from across the field, movements drained of all life.

“All right, Anne Klein? We’ll start immediately.”

At Professor Den’s signal the assistants poured mana into the prepared magic circle. Three goblins appeared. Without knowing the full difficulty curve, I couldn’t decide whether stage one was easy or hard.

The goblins still cackled and threatened Anne, looking so real it was hard to believe they were illusions.

Slash!

Their threats meant nothing. Anne closed the distance in a blur no greatsword should have allowed and cut all three cleanly in half with a single swing. Illusion or monster, I almost felt sorry for them.

“Next!”

Anne shouted, clearly unsatisfied. Speaking of which—Anne, even if they’re from another department, those assistants are academy graduates. Using casual speech with them… She must have been so fired up by real combat that she couldn’t see anything else.

The assistants didn’t care. They summoned the next monster at once.

“Next one, please!”

After catching my breath and confirming I was ready, I called out to the assistants. The monster I’d just dropped was a salamander—stage eight. That put me even with Anne’s clear. Cielian, of course, had already cleared stage ten for a perfect score.

Even if I stopped now, second place in the class was locked. But I still had more left in the tank.

As the last challenger of Class 1, even the exhausted assistants showed a flicker of renewed energy as they summoned the next illusion.

What appeared was a massive steel bear. Its trademarks: absurd defense and raw, crushing power.

Clang!

The beast closed the gap with impossible speed for its bulk and swung. I blocked, and the sound of steel on steel rang out.

Taking a hit like that head-on was suicide, so I let the force throw me backward and bled off the impact.

The steel bear closed the distance again in a heartbeat and swung once more.

Whoosh!

I ducked; a vicious wind passed over my head. Illusion magic or not, every sensation felt terrifyingly real.

I coated my blade in Aura and slashed at the bear’s exposed belly.

Clang!

Aura that could slice through rock still wasn’t enough to pierce the steel bear’s hide. Looking closer, though, a hairline crack had appeared across its abdomen.

Enraged by the wound, the beast went berserk.

Thud!

This time I couldn’t dodge. A blow to the ribs nearly blacked me out. The illusion even reproduced pain; the steel bear’s monstrous strength almost made me drop my sword.

It’s only a mock battle—did they really need to make the pain this authentic?

I clenched both my fading consciousness and my sword hilt and braced for the next attack.

Cielian had already taught me how to handle a steel bear. The simplest method was fire magic. In exchange for its steel hide, the creature was fatally weak to heat. Even without a direct hit, the residual warmth cooked it from the inside until it simply died. Older specimens sometimes dropped dead on hot days. A crystal-clear weakness.

If this had been a magic-department exam, the stage rating would have been one or two lower regardless of the monster’s raw strength.

Unfortunately, the person swinging a sword right now couldn’t use fire. I didn’t know magic at all.

So I chose the next-best plan.

I danced around the rampaging steel bear’s blows, obsessively targeting only its abdomen. Clang. Clang. Every time my Aura-coated blade struck, the crack widened.

And finally—

Crack!

A finishing thrust shattered the hardened hide and drove straight through the heart.

Monster or not, a pierced heart meant death. The steel bear dissolved into glittering dust that scattered into the air, confirming the kill.

I’d only taken one hit, so from the sidelines it might have looked clean. That single blow had nearly ended me. A second slower to recover and the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠follow-up would have finished the job.

Risky or not, I’d cleared stage nine. Second place behind Cielian was now guaranteed.

For the record: Cielian had cleared stage ten, Anne had challenged nine and fallen to a bad matchup, and Yuri had passed three before forfeiting.

Only stage ten remained. If my turn had come before Cielian’s, I would have tried it.

“I forfeit.”

I stepped back without greed. It wasn’t that I lacked competitive fire. Even a failed attempt would still leave me tied for second. The reason I didn’t push was simple.

“A wise choice. Honestly, even I didn’t expect anyone to clear stage ten when I designed this exam. As expected of the Deretia family.”

It was because of the fight I’d just watched. Cielian had breezed through stage nine and, of course, challenged ten. What appeared was a demonkin.

Being an illusion, the summoned demonkin probably didn’t even have a name, let alone a title. Even so, it was far beyond what a first-year should casually defeat. A demonkin was still a demonkin.

If my ribs hadn’t been throbbing from the steel bear’s punch, I might have given it a shot. In my current state I’d be crushed before I could react. This was still my limit.

Cielian, of course, had dismantled that demonkin with ease. Her Aura and physical specs were only a notch above mine at best. Yet her sword moved with machine-like efficiency, dismantling the summoned foe without a single wasted ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠motion.

“Everyone, excellent work on the midterms. Rest well over the weekend, and I’ll see you in the next class!”

Professor Den’s words set off a cheer. Some students headed straight for the dorms to catch up on sleep; others clustered in groups and left the academy grounds to blow off steam.

Naturally, I was with Ciel, Anne, and Yuri.

“Urrrgh! All right, how about we hit the after-party?”

Anne stretched with a bizarre groan and spoke first.

“El, anywhere you want to go?”

Yuri turned the question to me.

“Hmm? I’m pretty wiped… but just heading back to the dorm feels a little anticlimactic.”

Come to think of it, the café Ciel and I had visited last time was nice. Maybe we could all go there?

“More importantly, El—how’s the spot where you got hit?”

“Huh? Oh, it’s fine. Since the pain was just magic, it vanished the second the exam ended.”

“But it still hurt when it landed, right? Are you sure you’re okay?”

Ciel really was too kind for her own good. Of course, the Ciel who held a sword was anything but kind.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. What about you, Ciel? Anywhere you want to go?”

“I’m happy anywhere as long as it’s with you, El.”

No one else offered an opinion, so I was about to suggest the safe café when Anne struck first.

“Then we’ve all worked up a sweat—how about we all go there?”

I had no idea where “there” was, but no one else had a better idea, so we simply followed Anne.

And the place she led us to was—

“Wait! This is a bathhouse!!!”