Beatrice von Iron, Eighteen Years Old
Beatrice von Iron. Eighteen years old. The only daughter of the Iron count family and the next head. A martial family that had put down roots for three generations in the mountainous region to the west of the empire. Strictly neutral, siding with neither the imperial faction nor the noble faction. They had a stubborn straightforwardness unique to a house that solved everything with a single sword rather than political dealings. Her gaze was locked straight on Reina, who was lying with her head in my lap.
Beatrice's eyes blazed with pure competitive spirit and hostility: "I will defeat the empire's greatest sword."
Damn, talk about bad timing. Is she here to pick a fight and demand a duel right now? I felt my neck stiffen reflexively and stopped the hand that had been stroking Reina.
If that bundle of murderous intent pulled out her sword here, it was only a matter of time before my precious resting spot turned into a crater.
"Cadel, why'd you stop?"
Reina, her face buried in my lap, just stared blankly at my still hand.
Reina had no interest in other people. Whether they shot killing intent her way or burned with rivalry, she didn't care.
"Your Highness, please wait just a moment."
I spoke to Reina as I peeled my back off the bench backrest. Before a campus violence incident (disguised as a one-sided massacre) could erupt, I planned to send this martial girl packing under the authority of the student supervisor.
But Beatrice's strides toward the bench suddenly froze solid about five meters in front of us.
"……?"
The heavy wooden training sword slung over her shoulder thunked to the ground. Her eyes, always sharply alert, began trembling wildly, as if she'd witnessed some unbelievable mythical sight.
Beatrice's gaze was fixed on my hand resting atop Reina's head.
I watched her expression change in real time, feeling a growing bewilderment. The fiery determination in her eyes flashed to shock in an instant, then flooded with an indescribable, massive "shock." Her tightly pressed lips quivered, and she muttered gropingly into the air.
"The... the monster of Astrea... is that defenseless...?"
I could almost hear the crude gears in her brain whirring furiously. In the world of warriors, the strong only bowed their instincts to those overwhelmingly superior. Her gaze slowly shifted past Reina, who was nuzzling into my touch, to me—the one calmly holding that monster's leash.
"That utter silence, without even a hint of presence... What realm has he reached to handle the incarnation of slaughter like a puppy...!"
The competitive fire in Beatrice's eyes toward Reina melted away like snow, replaced by a blind, intense awe directed at me.
Alarm bells blared in my head that something had gone terribly wrong.
"Um, Lady Iron? I think you've got the wrong person..."
The moment I urgently opened my mouth to clear the misunderstanding—
Thud!
Beatrice dropped to her knees on the rough dirt ground. This wasn't a casual bow. It was the heaviest, most formal knightly salute, reserved for an absolute liege or lifelong master.
The noise of the outdoor training ground felt distant, as if fading into the void. Beatrice, her forehead pressed to the ground, bellowed in a resonant voice honed by diaphragmatic breathing.
"Beatrice of the Iron family! I am deeply moved by your overwhelming control and martial might that has perfectly tamed the empire's greatest sword!"
"......Huh?"
"Please take this unworthy sword under your wing! Master!"
I froze in my awkward pose, still holding the handkerchief I'd been using to wipe sweat.
Master? Control? Martial might? My already tattered mentality, worn down from dealing with a chuunibyou black dragon patient moments ago, now had a deranged martial arts disciple from some wuxia novel shoved into it.
"What are you? Cadel's mine! Who're you calling master?!"
Reina shot up from my lap, unleashing terrifying killing intent at Beatrice. But Beatrice lifted her head with a resolute expression, facing Reina's malice head-on.
"For the master's teachings, I will gladly overcome even your trial (duel), Grand Duchess!"
No, I wasn't teaching anything. And I sure as hell wasn't giving any trials.
The empire's top two martial girls snarled at each other, their wavelengths completely off, fueling their hostility. In the stifling heat at the center, I clutched my face with both hands and screamed silently.
Class 1-1 of the first years. In this cursed delinquent containment facility, there wasn't a single normal person.
Crack, crunch! Ignoring my profound despair, the air around the bench began warping grotesquely with a shriek.
Centered on Reina's toes as she rose from my lap, a chilling, heavy purple mana swirled outward. The midday sun paled as the temperature plummeted, and the gravity field under our tree shade fluctuated wildly.
"Daring to hit on Cadel without my permission? I'll rip you apart."
Reina's clear purple eyes flashed brighter. Her voice wasn't her usual whine—it was a beastly growl, like a curse.
Whoosh! An invisible, massive gravity blade scraped the ground, slamming down on Beatrice's shoulder.
Any ordinary first-year cadet would have foamed at the mouth and passed out from the sheer pressure, or suffered full-body fractures and vomited blood.
But Beatrice von Iron was different.
"Nngh...!"
A pained groan escaped her lips, but she never lifted the knee she'd planted on the ground. Thick sweat poured down her jaw like rain, and the veins in her neck bulged to bursting.
Propping herself with her rough hand on the ground, Beatrice endured Reina's murderous gravity magic through sheer physical strength and willpower forged purely in training.
"As expected... the empire's fiercest beast! Such savage hostility!"
Even before this overwhelming power gap, Beatrice's eyes burned not with fear, but ecstasy. She gripped her fallen wooden sword with trembling hands, forcing her bloodied lips into a grin.
"But! In this sacred moment before my master, do you think your mana will break my resolve?! I'll prove my worth by overcoming this trial!"
No, I never asked you to prove anything! Please don't do this in front of my bench!
If this dragged on even a minute longer, this peaceful tree shade in the corner of the training ground would turn into a blood-soaked slaughterhouse.
I summoned the cool persona of a ten-year veteran student supervisor.
"Your Highness."
The voice piercing my lips wasn't the gentle one that had stroked Reina's head moments ago. It was emotionlessly cold and rigid, pure formal speech.
"......Huh?"
Reina's shoulders twitched as she prepared to lunge at Beatrice. I stood, gripping her shoulder firmly with one hand.
"I clearly warned you during class not to unleash your power recklessly or damage surroundings. Have you already forgotten my words?"
"N-no... Cadel, that's not it, she started—"
"Retract your mana. Now."
At my suppressed, firm command, the oppressive gravity field vanished like a lie. Reina, who had bared beastly fangs ready to tear Beatrice's throat, tucked them away and became a cowed puppy clutching my sleeve, glancing nervously.
With Reina deflated, I looked down at Beatrice, still kneeling and gasping raggedly.
"And Lady Beatrice von Iron."
"Y-yes, Master!"
Beatrice snapped upright like a spring, bellowing her response.
I suppressed the fatigue rising in my neck and hammered home the facts with polite but pointed noble speech.
"You've badly misjudged the person. I'm just an ordinary low noble youth with no martial might or mana to teach anyone. Asking a disciple of someone even Professor Asher officially recognized as an 'exempt outsider'? Is charging into someone else's sweet rest time and dropping to your knees on sight an Iron family tradition?"
I logically appealed to my incompetence(?), trying to uproot her absurd delusion. But Beatrice's eyes, far from regaining reason, grew slick with shock and fanatical worship.
"M-Master's profound humility is yet another great lesson for me!"
Suddenly, Beatrice slammed her forehead into the ground with a bam and shouted.
"For daring to disturb Master's rest with my crude hostility, I accept the sin gladly! Please don't cast me out—give me my first trial! Be it bones shattering or flesh burning, I'll endure gladly and follow in Master's footsteps!"
Aaah, no good. Logic doesn't work on this musclehead.
Tristan's chuunibyou could be ignored or fled, but this hot-blooded martial fanatic's delusion, screaming for trials like she'd commit seppuku any second, couldn't be shaken off physically.
Fine, a trial. If that's what you want, I'll give you one and shove you far away.
I sighed deeply in resignation and pointed toward a weathered wooden training dummy at the far end of the training ground, a dizzying distance from our bench.
"If you insist so much, very well. Here's your first trial."
"Command me!"
"Go to that wooden dummy at the end of the training ground, set your sword aside, and perform exactly ten thousand perfect basic straight punches with your bare hands. This will test the limits of your foundational stamina and mental fortitude."
"T-ten thousand?!"
"Yes. If your form falters even once, or if you return to my side before completing them, never show your face to me again. Understood?"
Mindless grunt labor. And an absurd one at that, stripping her of her sword—her swordsman's pride—and forcing bare-handed repetition.
To hit ten thousand would take her all day, at least until tomorrow morning, nowhere near me.
I hoped she'd rage at the ridiculousness and leave, or collapse from exhaustion.
But Beatrice lifted her head, hot tears streaming from her eyes like waterfalls.
"......Aah!"
She wiped her thick tears with a trembling voice.
"Set aside the sword and ten thousand bare-handed punches...! I see. Abandon my shallow self reliant on tools like the sword, and rebuild from the essence of the body and breath's basics—a profound, deep intent! Awakening me from the arrogance of forgetting fundamentals amid flashy swordplay!"
No, I just wanted to shove you far away because it's a hassle.
"I'll remember, Master! Even if my bones crumble, this Beatrice will perfectly deliver ten thousand punches before returning! Wait for me until then!"
Beatrice reverently placed her training wooden sword at my feet, bowed her head deeply once more, then sprang up without hesitation and sprinted toward the distant dummy.
"Hup! Ha! Hup! Ha!"
Moments later, faint kiais echoed from the far corner as Beatrice punched the air, sweat pouring.
She was really going for ten thousand.
I stared blankly, alternating between the crude wooden sword left before the bench and Beatrice's resounding punches slicing the air.
Chuunibyou zealot Tristan, and now hot-blooded martial disciple Beatrice. Another line added to my misunderstanding harem(?).
Haa.
I leaned back against the bench with a sigh of resignation.
That was the moment.
Slide.
A familiar weight pressed into my side. Reina. She glanced expressionlessly at Beatrice's direction, then burrowed into my arm, pressing her cheek against it like nothing happened. Her dragon leather-gloved hand quietly gripped my sleeve.
I closed my eyes gently.
"Cadel."
"Yeah."
"That girl coming back?"
Reina's voice held no warmth. Unclear if it was a question or a warning.
I answered without opening my eyes.
"Who knows."
"She can't."
"We don't decide that."
Reina gripped my sleeve tighter. A low, dissatisfied hum escaped her.
I didn't pull her hand away.
The kiais from the training ground corner drifted faintly on the wind. Hup, ha. Hup, ha.
What would happen if that blood clot finished ten thousand and showed up again? I didn't know yet.
But one thing I knew: it'd be exhausting.
Sigh.
I placed my hand on Reina's silver hair and began stroking slowly, mechanically.
Tension melted from Reina's shoulders.
Hup, ha. Hup, ha.
The kiais didn't stop even after a long while.
It was a quiet afternoon, sunlight gently settling over the bench.