Departmental Showdown (1)
"The day of the interdepartmental showdown has finally arrived. Today, we put aside A, B, and C classes—we unite as one Knight Class to cheer on our representatives. Got it?!"
"Yes!"
Early in the morning, Professor Azela had gathered all the students in the classroom and was firing them up. Her gaze swept over the room before locking onto me. She stared right through me, observing intently.
"Aren."
"Yes."
I figured she had something to say. Sure enough, Professor Azela called my name with a satisfied smile.
"I heard the story. You personally challenged Neriel Marit from the Magic Class, right?"
"That's right."
The opponents were supposed to be announced at the arena, but it was too late to change anything now, so I confirmed it bluntly. The room immediately buzzed with murmurs.
"What? You challenged Neriel Marit?"
"Aren, are you insane?!"
"Even so, Neriel Marit is a bit..."
"That guy's the one who took down over twenty people single-handedly during class placement exams. You want to face her?"
Since I was the C Class rep, they probably assumed I'd be up against another C Class student from Spirit Class. And yeah, for the Spirit Class matchup, I'd likely draw someone from my own C Class. But from the start, I'd decided to join this showdown to give that narcissistic purple-haired punk a proper thrashing.
Of course, my classmates—who had no idea about any of that—probably saw me as suicidal.
"Quiet down!"
Professor Azela silenced the guys who were on the verge of demanding a switch-up in an instant.
"You idiots. Is that any way to act as students of the honorable Teleos Academy? Instead of cheering on a comrade challenging the strong..."
"......"
"That's the attitude of a knight, a swordsman, a martial artist! Instead of spouting useless advice, use it as an example and learn from that resolve!"
No, I didn't exactly go in with such grand ambitions, I thought. I just pointed her out because I wanted to beat the crap out of that narcissistic purple-head.
It felt like I'd somehow betrayed Professor Azela's expectations, leaving me a bit sheepish.
"Well, there's no guarantee Aren will lose! The guy who saved the princess, no less!"
"Right! We should just cheer him on. Besides, you think the Grand Duchess picked Aren for no reason?"
"Aren! If you come back having lost, you're dating me!"
Anyway, Professor Azela's scolding must've sunk in deep, because they quickly switched gears to send cheers my way. Who the hell was the one slipping in a confession amid all that? I knew it was a joke, but it still sent a chill down my spine. Now I had even more reason to win—no matter what.
＊
So this was the Astronomical Plaza, where the interdepartmental showdown was about to kick off. It was huge. I'd never seen it in person, but it rivaled the Colosseum from photos in my past life. Rumor had it that the era's top astronomers and architects had built it to channel the blessings of every constellation at once.
"Come on, folks! It's back this year—the highlight of the showdown! Don't just watch—test your instincts!"
"This year, we're doubling payouts for anyone who nails the MVP pick! This isn't an everyday chance!"
Betting pools even here, huh. They wouldn't take gold, of course—just koel, the academy's pocket money and currency. I'd heard koel could even be quietly exchanged for gold on the down-low, making it practically real gambling.
"Hey, who'd you bet on?"
"Magic Class, obviously. They've got the Magic Tower Lord's disciple, Neriel Marit."
"Idiot. Even with her, they'll only snag one win. You gotta go balanced like Knight Class. Plus, they've got the Bronheim Duchess."
"Ugh, morons. That's why you lose. Everyone knows Spirit Class has the edge at the bottom. And their top student this year is famous too."
And right in front of those betting stands, self-proclaimed experts were at it as always—arguing whose pick was right, whose was wrong, on the verge of throwing punches. Made me think the academy was just another place full of people. Gambling's inevitable wherever humans gather, I guess.
Honestly, I was a little tempted myself, but unfortunately, the sign blared: 'Participants in the showdown prohibited!' Probably to prevent match-fixing. Surprisingly strict.
"Are you interested in such things too?"
Had I been staring too intently? Silvena Bronheim, waiting with me for entry, asked with evident surprise.
"Eh, yeah. Looks fun. Isn't that part of the event's charm?"
"True enough. If I weren't a rep, I'd have thrown down a small bet myself."
Oh ho, didn't peg her for the type interested in betting stands. Thrill-seeker, huh?
"Who would you have bet on, Duchess?"
"Knight Class, naturally. And for MVP..."
She trailed off, glancing down at me with a smile.
"I'd bet on you, of course."
"You're overestimating me."
"You're the one undervaluing yourself. If I lost to you, what does that make me?"
"Tch, can't argue with that."
She phrased it as her loss, but that was just our first spar—pretty half-hearted. After that, it was close, like 50-50 or me edging 4-6 to 3-7. Her real combat experience and sword aura control made it hard to dominate. No wonder she was the original heroine.
"So, who do you think will win?"
"Textbook answer? Knight Class for the win, you for MVP."
"'Textbook' means your real thoughts differ a bit."
Damn, sharp as ever—this was why I couldn't stand perceptive grand duchesses. I gave an awkward laugh and looked away.
"Busted?"
"I won't take offense, so be honest."
In the military, that line meant 'I'm braced, so spit it out.' But she didn't seem the type to flip-flop, so maybe I could level with her.
"Alright—Spirit Class for the win, and MVP to our Lady Tiabel."
"Ho, loyalty to your charge? Admirable."
Not exactly, but Silvena smiled, pleased. Then a voice cut in out of nowhere.
"...Aren, were you talking about me?"
"Oh, Lady Tiabel."
"It's been a while, Roze Tail."
"Bronheim, you're well."
Speak of the devil—there was our lady, leading what looked like the other Spirit Class reps.
"Nothing much. We were chatting about the betting pools—who we'd pick."
"So how'd my name come up?"
"I'd bet on you for MVP. That's what we were saying."
Our lady always brimmed with quiet confidence. She'd puff up with something like 'Hm, Aren has good taste!'—I could already picture it, and a grin tugged at my lips as I looked at her.
"...No way. Me for MVP? That's impossible."
Her reaction was off, somehow. Too self-deprecating, excessively so. Normally, even without full confidence, she'd at least say 'If I try hard, who knows?'
"Lady Tiabel, everything okay?"
"Yeah, nothing's wrong. Anyway, it's about to start. We should head in."
She tried to brush it off with a smile and slip away, but she couldn't fool my eyes. We'd spent too much time together for that. I could tell it was a forced, fake smile.
But calling her out here would've been awkward—might sour the mood with everyone around.
"Lady Tiabel."
"Yeah?"
Instead of following, I called out from a distance. As she half-turned, I flashed a grin and gave her a thumbs-up.
"I'll cheer loud. Give it everything—you can beat anyone. I believe in you."
"......"
Her eyes widened. She seemed to have words bubbling up, lips parting and closing. Thoughts crossed her face—she glanced at the sky, then the ground.
But in the end...
"Heh, so I'd have to beat Bronheim too? Weren't you rooting for Knight Class, Aren?"
She snapped back to her usual self, if just for a moment—a childlike, innocent smile with a teasing jab.
"Well now. A Spirit Class spy after all? This could stir some controversy."
"No, that's not—"
Silvena picked up the joke quick, turning it back on me. One cheer for my lady, and suddenly I was a Spirit Class spy.
"Anyway, thanks, Aren."
As I scratched my head awkwardly, Tiabel's voice came again—this time lighter, more upbeat.
"I'll definitely win."
With that vow, she turned and walked off. Watching her back, I smiled too.
Of course she will. Our Lady Tiabel? I'd gone straight for Theo during placements not just because he was the protagonist—but because I knew she could beat anyone.
So yeah. She wins. No doubt. Our Lady Tiabel will win.