Week 3 PvP (1)

Every new student at Dragon Slayer Academy had, at some point or another, been called a genius or a prodigy.

Two weeks after enrollment, however, was more than enough time to learn that above the one who runs, there is always one who flies.

The placement PvP had sorted them into tiers three hundred points at a time, and even within those tiers, winners and losers emerged. The dungeon clearance was no different — plenty of students were sure they'd posted the best result they could, only to look up at the rankings and find the space overhead crowded with names.

Then there was the [Formidable Foe] of the week-2 dungeon clearance. Few had faced the Executioner head-on and brought it down the way Seo Ye-in and I had; most were too busy running for their lives. Being chased around by the very goblins they'd always laughed at was a first in most of their lives. Frightening, certainly — but more than that, it left a filthy taste in the mouth.

And that, too, was exactly what the Academy intended.

'If it stings, get stronger. That's all there is to it.'

Thus provoked, the students threw themselves into the Training Center, re-fitted their gear and skills, sought counsel from club seniors — each pursuing growth in their own way. But without a clear guide to follow, there are always limits to how far you get alone.

Could the faculty solve that problem for them? Individually, every one of them was an A-Rank practitioner, true — but their classes were fixed. A warrior cannot teach a mage, and an archer cannot coach close-quarters combat. And with dozens of students assigned to each teacher, time was a serious problem in its own right.

Hence the existence of Mentoring at Dragon Slayer Academy: top-ranked third-years and distinguished alumni invited in to provide a form of tailored instruction. It was rarely one-on-one, granted, but at the very least it wouldn't stretch to one-against-dozens.

Lee Sudok kept up his explanation, pointing at the [Mentoring Application Form].

"You will each hold your own position on mentoring. The choice to apply is left to the individual. Only those who wish to may fill out and submit an application."

Some sects and families did not permit their members to receive instruction from outsiders, and others simply wanted to prove themselves on their own — such cases were far from rare. So mentoring was never forced on anyone, and participation in this first round was not especially high. But they would come to understand, little by little. The widening gulf between those who received mentoring and those who did not.

'Skipping this would be leaving points on the table.'

Certain skills and traits could be acquired or trained far more easily through mentoring. For someone as desperately short on skills as I was, every single one counted.

'And I have quests to clear, too.'

Besides, even if there turned out to be nothing to learn, the mentoring-related quests were not to be missed — their rewards were every bit as juicy as the ones from the weekly PvP and dungeon clearances. All things considered, it paid to ride the wave.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Applications close within the week. If you're torn, play this week's PvP first and decide afterward — you have time. And the rules happen to suit that purpose well."

Lee Sudok slid naturally into introducing this week's PvP.

Everything else was identical, with a single new rule added: 2 versus 2.

"Cooperation matters, just as it did last week. This week, however, the objective is different."

In the dungeon clearance, the goal had been 'destroying the totem,' so some students had fought the Executioner and some had not. This time, with the objective being to take your opponents down, fighting in sync was non-negotiable. And the opponents would be two students of roughly your own caliber.

"Fight enough 2-on-2 matches, and you may well uncover weaknesses that never showed themselves in one-on-one combat. Shoring up those weaknesses is another benefit mentoring provides. Give it careful thought over the week."

Most of the students, true ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to Lee Sudok's advice, looked ready to at least wade into this week's PvP before making up their minds. Meanwhile, a few of us — myself at the front of the line — were already filling out our applications without a shred of hesitation.

The question floating up on the A4 sheet before me was a single line. Write an answer beneath it, and the letters dissolved on their own, replaced by the next question — which, in turn, reshaped itself to fit my previous answers.

And so on. It felt roughly like a personality test, and it played a major role in diagnosing each student's tendencies in fine detail and pairing them with the most suitable mentor. I finished the form in no time and submitted it the instant class ended.

"……."

Lee Sudok stared at me for a moment with unreadable eyes. He always looked at me as if I were hiding some ulterior motive — for the life of me, I couldn't imagine why. But plenty of other students were lining up to hand in their forms as well, so he turned his gaze away before long.

Apparently he'd been watching me the whole time, because Go Hyeon-woo asked the moment I returned to my seat.

"Brother Kim, you have already applied for this thing called Mentoring?"

"The sooner you decide, the better. What about you?"

"I am not yet convinced. I should look further into the matter before deciding, I think."

"Then let me take that worry off your hands. Just apply."

At the snap decision, Go Hyeon-woo's eyebrows climbed.

"That is a bold claim for you to make, Brother Kim."

"It is. You won't lose a thing — I guarantee it."

"Would you care to explain?"

"Apply, and a top-ranked third-year or an alumnus gets assigned as your mentor. From where you stand, that's a senior master of the arts. When else is a chance to learn from someone like that going to fall into your lap?"

"……!"

Martial artists were, by nature, a closed lot, rarely sharing their techniques with outsiders — but with mentoring as a pretext, that wall could be quietly dismantled. Even just trading words about the martial arts, or a few friendly spars, would yield no small gain.

"Indeed. Then it is something I must do, without fail. My thanks for the counsel."

Nodding, Go Hyeon-woo set about his form without a hitch. Warrior, martial artist, Phantom Blade...

Meanwhile, Seo Ye-in lay sprawled across her desk, turning only her face to watch us. Annoyance was already written all over it — I felt as though I'd received her answer before I'd even asked the question.

"Not doing it?"

"Yep."

"Why?"

"Annoying. Sleepy..."

'Yeah, that tracks.'

Seo Ye-in still had a long list of skills and traits left to master, which made mentoring all the more important for her. But I didn't bother delivering a lecture. However little interest she seemed to take in anything, she was, beneath the surface, fiercely competitive. A week of PvP would make her realize it on her own. And if it didn't, I'd do the persuading then.

"By the by, Brother Kim," Go Hyeon-woo asked, diligently writing his way down the form, "with whom do you intend to fight this week's PvP? If you have not yet decided..."

"Let's team up this time. How's that [Core] coming?"

I had assigned him homework: reach C-Rank [Core] by the end of this week. That way, if things ever came down to a contest of mana, he wouldn't be brushed aside without so much as a fight.

Go Hyeon-woo's smile turned sheepish.

"To my shame, it is not yet done."

"I'd rather wait until it's finished. How much longer do you need?"

"Wednesday. No — by tomorrow, I shall have it complete without fail."

"Fine. One day I can ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠spare."

A day was easy enough to fill with [Wind Force] practice. Besides, with a little more effort, I figured I'd be crossing into C-Rank myself.

Then Seo Ye-in, who had been rubbing her cheek against the desktop, suddenly spoke up.

"Can't I do it with you too?"

But since Go Hyeon-woo had raised the matter first, I asked his intentions with a glance. And Go Hyeon-woo, for his part, turned to me with a question of his own.

"Did you not say we must play at least four matches this week?"

"Yeah. Four."

That was one more mandatory match than in week 1 — the Academy's way of lending a semi-forced hand to students still on the fence about mentoring. These were duo matches, after all. Wouldn't one of the four or so end in a one-sided stomp? And wouldn't that wake a competitive streak the student never knew they had? And wouldn't there be this convenient system called mentoring, waiting right there? In any case: four matches, mandatory.

Go Hyeon-woo made his proposal.

"How about this: Young Miss Seo and I each pair with you for two matches apiece?"

"Works for me."

"And what say you, Brother Kim?"

The two of them, having settled it between themselves, turned to me at the same time — because without my sign-off, the whole arrangement would come to nothing. Not that the proposal held a single downside for me. Instead, I added one condition.

"Pairing with me twice each is fine, but play your other matches against different opponents."

Teaming up with unfamiliar students for a match or two was the only way to build any experience in that area. Seo Ye-in and Go Hyeon-woo nodded.

"Got it."

"I am glad we have reached so amicable an accord. Then let us all meet again tomorrow."

Go Hyeon-woo left for the faculty office to submit his application. After that, I suspected, he would do nothing but grind his [Core] in the Special Training Room straight through until tomorrow.

I turned to Seo Ye-in.

"Shall we head over too?"

"Yep."

On the first day of week 1, the Arena had been quiet enough for the flies to hold a convention; today it was buzzing with a decent crowd of students. The biggest reason was that 2-on-2 PvP had multiplied the variables. You might have a read on each fighter individually, but there was no way to measure what two of them added up to until you actually crossed blades. So the prevailing logic ran: we all have to play four matches anyway — clash once, win or lose, and revise strategy from there.

Seo Ye-in and I took turns scanning our student IDs, and the terminal began its search for suitable opponents.

Matches involving two or more participants were paired by average score. Seo Ye-in's and mine averaged out to roughly 539, so our opponents would be a duo hovering near that mark.

A moment later, names and scores printed themselves across the alert window. They were names I remembered well, and a wry laugh escaped me.

'Well, well. Her again.'

Funny, the way fate keeps recycling acquaintances.

We rode the teleportation circle down into the arena. My vision swam, and a violent wind came rushing out to greet us — a grassland whose gales swept this way and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that without a moment's rest.

"……!"

Far across the field, a red-haired girl and an armor-clad boy stood as a pair, their eyes fixed on us — and the girl's gaze burned with particular intensity.

A rising star of the Magic Tower Association, proudest of the Four Major Factions. A fire mage sworn to the Ruby Magic Tower. ...And the one who had suffered a humiliating defeat at my hands in the placement PvP.

It was Hong Yeon-hwa.