Departmental Showdown (4)

Whoa, that was close. I really thought I was done for. Turns out the title of Magic Tower Lord's prized disciple isn't just some empty label after all. Who would've guessed she'd have an ace up her sleeve even in that situation?

If I hadn't poured every last drop of my mana into shielding myself in a panic, I'd be the one flat on my back right now.

"Aren! You bastard, how the hell did you beat Neriel Marit?!"

"Whoa, I couldn't even breathe watching that."

"Thanks, Aren...! I really had no face left to show the team... It's all thanks to you."

Thud, thud.

As I trudged off the stage and reached the team, They all stared at ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠me, their faces filled with emotion.

"No big deal."

Clap!

I shrugged lightly and raised my hand, and they slapped it like they'd been waiting. Ow, that hurts like hell. No wonder they're from the knight class—their palms sting like crazy.

"...Ah."

As I tried to lower my numb hand, my eyes met someone else's. It was the Bronheim duke's daughter, who'd come right up beside me.

She started to raise her hand but hesitated, then lowered it like it was nothing.

"My apologies. I forgot."

"...No problem."

Clap!

So I quickly raised mine again, and she gave it a light slap. Even the ice queen of a duke's daughter does her part without holding back. No skimping allowed.

Flutter.

"......?"

As we pulled away from the high-five, something suddenly draped over me. What the—? I turned to check, and there was the duke's daughter, wrapping her own cloak—draped over her shoulders—around me.

"Put it on."

"I'm fine..."

"I'm not."

"......"

I was gonna refuse since there were spare clothes in the waiting room anyway, but she pushed so stubbornly that I had no choice but to accept her kindness.

Only then did she smile in satisfaction.

"It worked like a charm, didn't it?"

"Yeah. As expected from the secret technique you taught me—super effective."

Pommel toss.

When I first heard about it, I thought, What kind of secret technique is that? But the duke's daughter always has a plan. She must've seen way further ahead than a scrub like me could.

Of course.

"You just got lucky with the situation. Still, Neriel Marit is impressive as ever. Cloaking herself in mana to offset the impact like that."

"That's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠why I loaded it with mana and threw it, figuring she'd do exactly that."

"Lucky indeed. Any other student, and you'd have put a hole through their head."

Oh, right. I hadn't thought that far—figured it was do-or-die with that one shot, so I dumped all my remaining mana into it. Like she said, if it hadn't been Neriel Marit, it might've ended in tragedy.

Hearing my classmates and seniors alike chanting my name from all around, I savored the moment before finally leaving the arena.

＊

"Whoa! Underclassman, you were amazing as always?"

"......"

After finishing the first match and heading back to the waiting room for a bit, a familiar face showed up out of nowhere.

"Hey, isn't that look a bit rude? I'm your senior, you know..."

"So why'd you come here?"

With Siel sunbae appearing unannounced, everyone except the Bronheim duke's daughter quietly slipped away. Does ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠this big shot not realize how people react when she pops up without warning? Or does she know and have some bigger agenda?

"To cheer on my proud underclassmen, of course. I'm the student council president."

"So why come all the way to the waiting room? Cheering from the stands would've been enough."

"It was such an awesome match. Isn't it proper to go congratulate the players in person and shower them with praise?"

"Sigh..."

I wanted rest more than praise right now. And speaking of praise, why's she ignoring the other four? Too tired to complain, I just leaned back in my chair.

"So, how's it feel to snag a win from the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Magic Tower Lord's promising disciple?"

"Feels good. Especially that moment when her face twisted up before she passed out—pure thrill."

"Ahaha! See, underclassman really has a nasty personality."

The one who drags me into accounting—er, vice president duties—every day without fail. As if a troublemaker like her has room to talk. She's no slouch in the nasty personality department herself.

"Anyway, thanks for the great show. As thanks, your senior will pat your head!"

"No, I don't need th—huh?"

She suddenly lunged to pat my head, so I tried to pull away. But the moment her hand grabbed my hair, a surge of vitality enveloped my whole body. My eyes went wide.

Could this be...?

"Shh."

As I stared up at her in shock, she pressed a finger to her lips and winked.

"You did great too, underclassman. Your moves were insane! Even the second-year knight class kids were impressed."

"Is that so?"

Then she casually walked over to the duke's daughter and started chatting like nothing happened. Is this okay? The student council president personally casting recovery magic on a student about to compete in the next match.

- It's fine, don't worry.

"......?!"

I eyed her back with a nagging unease when a voice echoed in my head. It was Siel sunbae's.

- It looks bad if it seems like I'm favoring someone due to schedule conflicts. Just showing fairness as student council president. No need to overthink it.

Ah, got it. But why only on me? The duke's daughter ended her match in one hit, fine. But the others had pretty intense fights too. Was I just the worst off?

- Oh, and... was patting your head too much? I heard guys get sensitive about that.

As my doubts lingered, her voice slipped into my head again. Hearing someone who acts first and thinks later sound so timid was kinda funny. If she'd thought that far ahead, why pat my head in the first place?

I subtly shook my head at Siel sunbae, who was looking at me anxiously. Only then did she relax, her lips curving up. Hate to admit it, but she's hard to dislike.

＊

Finally, preparations for the second match wrapped up, and the knight class and spirit class reps entered the arena.

But in this vast stadium, Tiabel's eyes locked on just one person.

Aren, watch over me.

Watching him take down even Neriel Marit, Tiabel had felt a swirl of emotions. Anxiety that she might never live up to protecting him. A sense of self-loathing that no matter how hard she tried, she'd never catch up.

But she'd decided to blow all those negative feelings away in this one match. By beating Silvena here, she'd reclaim her confidence as someone worthy of protecting him.

- Ooooh!

The announcer, the crowd—everyone gasped in awe. Sending out their top ace as the vanguard? Some even predicted the winner of this set would clinch the match.

"Best of luck, Roze Tail."

"You too, Bronheim."

The two shook hands politely on stage before retreating to their lines.

"Fighters, to your positions. Match... begin!"

The referee dropped the flag, signaling the start.

Silvena's right hand went to the sword at her waist.

Whoosh!

"That was...!"

"I-is it over already?!"

Her figure vanished from sight, reappearing behind Tiabel. The same elusive movement from the magic class match earlier. The crowd sensed the verdict, but Silvena knew better.

As expected.

The sensation at her fingertips was too shallow. Turning, she saw a thin, translucent blue barrier around Tiabel.

- Nee-hee!

A cute blue spirit peeked out from behind Tiabel's neck like it was confessing. It was Rirua, the water spirit Tiabel commanded.

"Water Veil!"

"She blocked the sword with that?!"

"A first-year already at that level...!"

The crowd finally caught on, exclaiming in shock. Water Veil is a signature water spirit technique, highly versatile. Typically used to gather moisture into mist for obscuring vision. But a skilled spirit mage like Tiabel could condense it into an invisible, high-density armor coating her body.

"Ngh...!"

But it was such an advanced technique that even Tiabel couldn't fully block Silvena's strike. Wincing at the sharp pain in her abdomen, she quickly stood.

- Kyau!

A cute lime-green creature popped out above her head. Selphin, Tiabel's favorite wind spirit friend.

"Selphin, if you please."

- Woo!

Whoosh!

A massive gust roared to life at her words.

Slash! Whoosh!

And it wasn't just wind. Invisible blades forged from mana hid within.

Impressive.

Silvena narrowed her eyes as huge gashes scarred the stage and her clothes frayed. A fearsome technique, but it couldn't evade her battle-honed instincts.

Here.

Swoosh!

Silvena's form vanished from Tiabel's gaze again. But that wasn't why Tiabel's eyes widened.

What is she thinking?

Moving that fast amid a rain of invisible blades was suicidal. But Silvena wouldn't act without reason.

"Rirua!"

- Nyuu!

Sensing danger, Tiabel ordered Rirua. The spirit bounced up and spread fine mist-like droplets using Water Veil.

No matter how fast, you can't dodge every one.

Pop!

Behind me!

Feeling droplets bursting in her blind spot, Tiabel spun. Her spirits and eyes followed.

Sure enough, Silvena was there.

Whoosh!

Water jets and mini whirlpools surged from Tiabel's sides toward her. Or would have, if Silvena's body hadn't misted away just before impact.

"Miss! Behind you!"

"......?!"

Aren's urgent voice rang out, unconcerned with classes—just desperate for her win.

"Sorry."

But when Tiabel turned, Silvena's face was already inches away.

Phantom Flash. A Bronheim secret technique: explode mana at your feet to instantly flank the enemy.

Tiabel had missed that one move.

Thud!

"Guh!"

Silvena's fierce fist slammed into Tiabel's gut. The impact sent her tumbling to one knee, body trembling.

It wasn't a sword, but packed with full mana power—too much for an undefended spirit mage.

"Kuhk!"

She tried to steady herself, but couldn't even stand—vomiting bile onto the stage instead.

Looking down at her despairing form, Silvena spoke coldly.

"It's over, Roze Tail."

Quit now—no need for more.

Tiabel wasn't too foolish to get it. She just...

Aren...

Couldn't give up, seeing Aren watching her desperately from afar beyond Silvena's shoulder.

- If it's you, Miss, you'll beat anyone. I believe it.

- Thanks, Aren. I'll win for sure.

She'd sworn it before him, fueled by his cheers. While watching him sleep battered in a hospital bed, swallowing tears alone. Promised to protect him next time, to become stronger than him so he'd never get hurt again.

No, I can't lose here.

She denied reality, but her body wouldn't move.

Isn't there a way? Some greater power to beat Bronheim...

Her mind looped the thought like a broken doll. Then, as it filled her head, a memory flashed by.

- I'll await the day you call me, young spirit mage.

That's it.

Doesn't matter what comes after. Even if it fails. Just the sliver of hope that it could win, that it could give her the power to protect Aren.

"■■■■■--!"

She'd pry that door open if she had to.