A Single Flower of Flame

Marta Zieghart raced forward, Raon's instructions turning over in her mind.

"You and that defensive formation don't match well. Switching opponents would be best."

Hell no!

The second ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠he'd told her to run from her opponent, she'd spat a curse. Raon hadn't so much as flinched. He'd just nodded, as if he'd known she would say exactly that.

"Then I'll give you different orders. Shatter the formation."

"The formation?"

"Their barrier isn't perfect. It can't be. They're still Trainees."

"How is it not perfect?"

"They concentrated nine people's aura to stop you. That means the aura is moving around inside the formation."

"Then…"

"Right. If you exploit that gap, even with the strength you have left after burning through so much aura, you can break it."

A chill crawled down her spine.

What the hell is this guy?

Sitting there without moving, picking apart the enemy's weakness and handing her a strategy on the spot—what kind of monster was he?

"I want to win from the front, not by exploiting a weakness."

She didn't want to be steamrolled by Raon's words, so something other than what she actually thought came tumbling out.

"Sure. If you get your stamina back and recover your aura, you could win. You're that good. But right now?"

She had no answer. With her stamina and aura drained, she couldn't think of a single way to beat those stamina monsters.

"Like I said, this isn't a one-on-one duel. It's a team battle. Choose. Are you going to pick your pride for a victory you aren't even sure of, or are you going to pick the team's victory?"

Marta stood up without a word.

If this were the old me, I would've ignored that crap.

Back when she'd been overflowing with arrogance—before she'd lost to Raon—she would have kept swinging no matter what he said.

But she'd tasted defeat once already, and this time she might taste it again. Winning somehow was better than losing.

Dunn, was it?

In the distance she could see the one named Dunn she'd fought earlier. That rock-hard presence hadn't faded at all. She wanted to smash him with her fists right then and there, but she clenched her teeth and held it in.

"You came even knowing you can't win? How stupid."

"Keep running that mouth and you're gonna get hurt."

Just like the old me.

Marta kicked off the ground and charged at Dunn.

"Hmph!"

Marta didn't bring down the sword she'd raised. Instead she spread her sensory perception wide.

She could feel the 6th Training Ground trainees' aura flowing toward Dunn.

It's really slow.

Just as Raon had said. Because the aura was so massive, its movement was as sluggish as a caterpillar.

"Hup!"

Marta drew a deep breath and veered hard to the right.

"It's useless!"

Dunn twisted at the waist to block her path. The same setup as before—except for one thing.

Instead of mindlessly hammering sword strikes the way she always had, Marta brought her blade down toward Dunn's right flank, where the aura hadn't yet coalesced.

Sword crashed against sword, and a violent shockwave erupted. The impact sent Marta sliding back, but Dunn and the trainees' formation—which had stood as solid as a deeply rooted tree—heaved violently as well.

"Guh!"

"Kh…"

Dunn and the trainees groaned, scrambling to stabilize the swaying barrier.

Marta's eyes flashed like black pearls.

That bastard was right.

Just as Raon had said. The defense where the aura hadn't gathered yet was clearly weaker than everywhere else.

"So this really was the way to crack it."

A hollow laugh escaped her.

Because the strategy was too easy?

No. Because Raon Zieghart had spotted the weakness in that formation from the flag-planted base. Because that monster of a guy sent a chill crawling over her skin.

"Don't get cocky just because you gained the upper hand once!"

"Once? Bullshit. This is just the beginning!"

Marta roared and charged. She feinted an attack, then slipped left and drove her sword at Dunn's lower body—where he hadn't been able to shift his aura in time.

A ringing crash split the air. Dunn slammed his sword down fast, but his upper body lurched hard, and the trainees forming the barrier were flung sideways.

"It's over now!"

Marta unleashed a beast-like presence and charged at Dunn, whose formation had shattered.

Burren rotated the wrist holding his sword and lifted his head.

Decal, one of the most notable Trainees from the collateral lines, was glaring at him with savage eyes.

I lost last ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠time.

When Decal and seven trainees had charged at once, using the Sensory Sword that dismantled sword techniques, there had been no way to beat them. With the numbers gap, the others hadn't been in a position to help, so he'd just kept getting pushed back.

It was true they'd made a solid plan to take down the 5th Training Ground.

I won't just take it this time.

Retreating once was enough. Even if he went down, he was going to beat every last one of them into the dirt.

"The great Burren Zieghart, running away. I guess even the best can't handle a gang-up."

Decal grinned.

"This time, I hope you'll fight to the end like a proper swordsman!"

At his gesture, the trainees behind him swarmed in like a pack of rats.

"Haaaah!"

Decal himself drove into the center and thrust his sword. The eight blades weren't harmonious, but each one targeted the weakest opening.

"Huff!"

Burren drew up his aura and stepped into his footwork. He moved sideways like flowing water and unfolded the Manifest Sword Art. His blade curved toward Decal on the right.

"Now!"

"Press him!"

The trainees who'd learned the Sensory Sword dove in, aiming for the instant Burren's sword extended.

But that was the trap Burren had laid.

The training sword that had been aiming at Decal curved like a crescent moon and smashed into the wrists and chests of the trainees who'd come in.

"Gahk!"

"Aagh!"

In an instant, two trainees clutched their wrists and chests and rolled on the ground. Looking at their condition, they were out of the fight.

"Hup!"

Burren's sword didn't stop. He stepped through the Garam Footwork, shifted position, and brought the Manifest Sword Art down again. At the large motion using his entire shoulder, three trainees instinctively stabbed at the opening.

Got you.

Burren's blue eyes flashed. His elbow bent smoothly and mercilessly drove into the approaching trainees' chests.

A single sword strike sent three of them flying.

"Guhk!"

"Ugh…"

The one at the end managed to stand, but two were already unconscious.

"Th-this!"

Decal chased belatedly, but Burren had already stepped aside.

"Wh-what is this?! Mixing in feints all of a sudden!"

"That's right."

Burren wrinkled his nose.

I didn't think mixing in feints would change things this much.

The Sensory Sword wasn't a systematic technique—it relied on instinct. Trainees who hadn't yet completed it had no choice but to take the bait and flail at feints.

But how did that guy know this?

Raon clearly hadn't moved from his spot. Sitting still, looking down on the entire situation—his senses and knowledge gave Burren goosebumps.

Marta's probably feeling the same thing.

Marta fighting down below was surely thinking the exact same thing.

He's like an onion.

Just when you thought you knew Raon, he showed another side. Peel him and peel him, and he was still something new. An onion of a guy.

"It's not over yet!"

"Haaaah!"

Decal gritted his teeth and charged. The remaining three trainees rushed in with him.

Burren thrust his sword forward. The power was strong, but the motion was large enough that several openings were plainly visible.

"It's a feint. Ignore it! Huh?"

Decal's eyes flew wide. He'd tried to ignore it and press in, but the trajectory of Burren's sword strike didn't change.

"This one's real."

"Th-this!"

He switched to defense too late. A tremendously powerful sword strike sent Decal flying backward, his training sword shattered.

"This match is already over."

Burren looked at the remaining trainees, his blue eyes gleaming.

"We've won."

As long as that monster was here, the 5th Training Ground couldn't lose.

"Wh-what is this!"

Metoon's eyes bulged so hard they looked ready to pop as he watched the 6th Training Ground trainees start getting pushed back on all fronts at once.

"What's going on?!"

One place getting pushed back he could understand. But the top, the center, and the bottom—all three were being driven back. And by opponents they'd already beaten once.

"I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠told you. It's not over yet."

Rimer, lying sprawled beside him, yawned in the most infuriating way possible and muttered.

"What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything. Raon did."

"What?"

"Before you were watching, Raon gave those kids some advice. And it worked."

"A single piece of advice from a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mere Trainee changed the whole situation like this?"

"Not a mere Trainee. Raon's advice."

Rimer smirked and pointed at Raon, who was guarding the flag alone.

"There are trainees who don't follow Raon, and some who even dislike him, but they all trust his martial prowess and his judgment. After today, they'll probably follow him like the voice of a god."

"Mmm…"

Metoon groaned. If that was true, it meant Raon had earned their trust. But more surprising than the trust itself was that his advice had landed so perfectly.

"What kind of advice was it?"

"Curious? If you're curious, a gold coin… ah, I get it."

Rimer waved his hand at Metoon's mercilessly hardened expression.

"First, up top…"

He told Metoon the advice Raon had given the trainees.

"Insane…"

Metoon's fingers trembled.

How can a Trainee give advice like that?

It was a perfect strategy with nothing to throw away. But even more astonishing was that he'd identified the opponent's weaknesses from that far away using only his sensory perception.

Rimer was right. The arrogant one wasn't Raon. It was himself.

Raon had every right to claim his senses surpassed Kane's.

However.

Metoon looked down at Kane, who had started to move, and smiled with conviction.

The match isn't over yet.

Raon, sitting beneath the flag, opened his eyes.

They're all doing well.

He'd suppressed his presence, but he'd left his sensory perception wide open to watch the battle. He smiled faintly as he withdrew it.

Burren, having broken Decal, was driving the Sensory Sword trainees like a storm, and Marta had shattered the formation and was beating down the remaining trainees.

And Runaan…

She was locked in an ice-rink duel with a high-ranking trainee from the 6th Training Ground.

Well. Doesn't matter.

She didn't look like she'd lose, so it was fine.

Now then…

Raon stood up. As he loosely loosened his body, the bushes rustled, and a swordsman with blond hair and blue eyes appeared.

Kane Zieghart.

The top student of the 6th Training Ground—a direct descendant two years older than himself—revealed himself.

I figured as much.

They were being pushed on every front, and Raon hadn't revealed his presence, so there was only one direction that guy would move.

To take the enemy's flag.

"So you were here after all. Raon Zieghart."

Kane bit his lip. He didn't look surprised—he'd expected it to some degree.

"I didn't think you'd cast a spell on the trainees. I heard you weren't recognized. Guess that was a false rumor."

He slowly drew the sword at his waist.

"But this is where it ends."

"Ends?"

"I heard your aura is fire-attribute."

With those words, crimson flames blazed along Kane's blade.

"Unfortunately, my aura is the highest-grade fire attribute, and my aura capacity is beyond that of a full-fledged swordsman. By elemental advantage, you can't beat me."

"Elemental advantage, huh."

Raon smirked and drew his sword. The energy of the Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames, which had been dyeing the blade red, bloomed into a small flower.

"This family sure talks a lot before a fight."

Raon declared it with eyes the same color as the flame.