Protagonist (1)

"Shion, that just now……."

"The victory conditions have changed, yeah."

The entrance exam rules were originally set in stone once established, never to be altered. But there was an exception ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠clause that could be invoked if the exam dragged on too long—for the convenience of the faculty and cadets, supposedly. Of course, that was just the official line. In reality, it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was because the difficulty had been cranked up to hellish levels.

I swallowed a boiling grunt of frustration.

Either way, we had to play by the new rules for now.

Far off, the peak of Daybran Mountain came into view. At the summit fluttered a flag emblazoned with Arsen's crest. Whoever claimed that flag took first place.

In the original story, the protagonist had arrived first and snatched it. But now that the game had become reality, there was no guarantee things would follow the script.

Take Iri, for instance—she was already proof of that.

With the difficulty jacked up to hell, the final enemy would likely be Serin Anette, but before then, someone else could grab the flag and steal first place. If that happened, the rewards would go to the wrong person. My cozy retirement plan would go up in smoke right alongside it.

"According to the broadcast, tons of people are gonna swarm the mountain, right?"

"We gotta go too."

"Do we need to head there now? Isn't it a bit early?"

I pointed at the forest instead of answering.

A gray mist was rising thickly through the woods, blanketing the entire grounds.

"Touch that, and you're done."

The ominously swirling gray fog. A blatantly obvious warning, like the organizers shouting, "Step here and you're out."

Through my Watcher's Eye, I could see it was a type of barrier. Dense flows of mana intertwined tightly. Only the one who set it up would know the exact mechanism, but touching it meant instant elimination, no exceptions.

The rule change felt downright vicious in a way. Fights hadn't been breaking out much, so they were forcing encounters. Simple method: gradually shrink the exam area.

The jagged mountaintop hadn't been touched by the fog yet. The whole peak would eventually be shrouded, but to survive even a little longer, everyone would have to climb up.

The surviving cadets would either get swallowed by the fog or scramble up the mountain for safety. They'd naturally ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠converge at the summit. Chaos would erupt, and only one would remain in the end.

Or maybe someone would snag the flag even sooner.

"What kind of rule is this? Forcing us all together……."

"Rules are rules. Gotta follow 'em."

No choice right now. Defy them, and you're out.

The one silver lining: I knew exactly where the fog was spreading.

As Iri said, it wasn't so urgent that we had to bolt straight for the top. Still, time to raise some alarms.

The battles from here on would be fiercer, messier. A half-hearted mindset wouldn't cut it. To win, you had to get ruthless.

The sole survivor would be the toughest bastard—the one who got back up after falling, who kept slamming into the wall until it broke.

I knew exactly one guy like that: Kyle Ivanstair.

…But first.

"Iri."

"Yeah?"

"…Got a favor to ask."

Her eyes lit up as she heard me out.

"Yep! Got it!"

…And off she scampered into the underbrush.

Honestly, I worried if she could handle it alone, but if things went south, I could ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠cover her from range. With the exam area shrinking, nowhere was beyond my Telescopic Vision.

I headed toward the rocky outskirts of Daybran Mountain.

The rocky zone. Site of the fiercest clashes, littered with traces of man-made destruction.

I approached one boulder deeply scarred with sword marks. Clear water trickled from a crack in the stone.

I carefully cupped some in my hand and brought it to my lips.

Just a 40-minute buff, but more than enough to wrap up the entrance exam.

…The entrance exam rules had suddenly changed.

The flag towering at the mountain's peak came into view. She magnified her vision with magic.

'That must be the flag we're supposed to snatch.'

The red flag bearing Arsen's emblem remained untouched by any hand.

The cadet who claimed it would take first. Did that mean everyone else got eliminated?

Probably. Just look at the fog rising from the woods everywhere.

Everyone but first place would get devoured by it.

Lara expanded her view, scouting Daybran Mountain. First, the rocky zone. The two cadets locked in fierce combat had retreated to different areas.

Thud!

A dull thud echoed nearby. The ground beneath Lara's feet trembled.

"Wh-what was that? Out of nowhere!"

The source was below the cliff. About ten meters down, several cadets were tangled in a brawl.

With the exam nearing its end, fights like this were breaking out everywhere.

Lara had gone solo without a team, dodging most skirmishes. Her strength reserves were intact, her mana brimming.

She raised her staff.

Four opponents, all geared for close combat. Spears, swords, axes clashed wildly.

No one bothered glancing up at the cliff. Blades were thrusting at their faces—no time for that.

"Now's my chance……."

She could strike without being spotted.

She'd fallen out of the rankings while recovering mana. Time to climb back.

Lara quietly wove her spell, muffling the chant. A magic circle bloomed in the sky. The air hummed, but the din of clashing weapons drowned it out.

A wide-area spell. Advanced magic: Blizzard.

Droplets in the air sharpened into deadly icicles.

Target: the brawling group below. No need for precision—she blanketed the entire fight zone.

'Now.'

The moment Lara opened her closed eyes—

Whoosh!

Dozens of icicles plummeted vertically.

"What the—?!"

"Who's there?!"

Ice blades rained down like arrows. A few cadets looked up, but too late—the icicles were already upon them.

Beams of light shot up here and there. One-shot eliminations.

The survivors crawled on the ground.

She'd toned down the power, so few were reverse-summoned outright.

Lara didn't bother finishing them off. She just watched through magnified vision.

"Not there……."

She checked the cliff base just in case. No Gallion.

A strange sense of relief washed over her. Whether he'd already been eliminated or was climbing the mountain, she didn't know.

'The flag.'

If first place was his goal, there was only one place he'd go.

So if she waited by the flag, he'd surely—

A sudden unease hit her. She turned, and a sword slash whistled in.

Whoosh!

Clang!

"What?! Out of nowhere!"

Lara barely ducked. Pure luck.

The thrust sword slammed into the ground harmlessly.

A girl with light pink hair gripped the hilt, staring at Lara.

Not one from below the cliff. No murderous intent, just clear eyes fixed on her.

Battle royale meant attacking each other was fair game, but being on the receiving end of a sneak attack didn't feel great.

The girl readjusted her grip and leaped high, slashing down.

Clang!

A heavy overhead strike. Lara's barrier flared up just in time.

She blocked it—barely—but another attack was incoming.

Her body reacted before her eyes could focus.

"Say something first!"

"Iri de Sugamond!"

A horizontal arc. Lara dropped her barrier and backpedaled, nearly tumbling.

Her precious cadet uniform was caked in dirt, but better than taking that blade.

"Why attack out of the blue?!"

She snapped in frustration.

"I got orders to stop you! Said you're the biggest wildcard!"

The girl declared it boldly. No room for negotiation. Just weapons clashing.

"Who from?!"

"Secret! He's my benefactor!"

Boom!

Before Lara could raise her barrier, Iri closed in. Lara parried with her staff.

But it wasn't a strike she could block. Her knees buckled involuntarily.

Innate strength gap—unwinnable. She wasn't sliced only because the staff held.

"Your benefactor's the only important one?! What about mine?!"

"Yep! Super important!"

Ting!

…But she couldn't lose here.

If she reached the summit, she might run into Gallion—if he was still in. Return the ring, wipe the slate clean. Throw in a line about not underestimating Steelhiden, and it'd be perfect.

Thankfully, the staff was sturdy. A few blocks wouldn't dent it.

She shoved the slash away. Mana was slowly building. Thanks to the ring from her benefactor.

She had to win this fight to return it.

Lara glared resentfully at Iri. Iri just grinned back.

Made her even more annoying.

"Then……!"

As Lara aimed her staff, something jolted her body.

Bang!

A gunshot, a beat late.

Pure luck saved her from elimination. A stray bullet hit her pouch and ricocheted.

…The mangled slug clattered to the ground.

"Shooting from wh—?!"

Before the second shot, Lara wrapped her body in mana reinforcement. Barely any mana left—maybe good for one or two hits.

Still better than getting pierced.

Bullets hammered the reinforcement but couldn't penetrate, dropping powerless.

Spent casings piled up.

"……!"

Then, unease. She had two opponents now. But Iri was gone.

Wary of unseen sword strikes, Lara scanned sharply. She spread her mana wide, resonating with the air to pinpoint foes.

"Found y—!"

But the intruder wasn't Iri.

A man in bizarre foliage camouflage leaped in. The odd getup threw her off.

"W-wait a sec!"

Pistol in one hand, dagger in the other. He unleashed a barrage.

She trusted her reinforcement—then the dagger pierced it.

Crackle!

Mana burst apart.

'Why the hell…?'

It wasn't that weak—why a mere dagger?

As the question flashed, he shoved the pistol in her face.

"Sorry, bear with me a bit."

That voice felt familiar—nah, just imagination?

"W-wait!"

Bang!

No hesitation. The gun fired.

She couldn't even finish her sentence. A flash, then whiteness.

When Lara opened her eyes again—

"Huh……?"

She was back in Georged Hall. Eliminated cadets lounged around.

Her legs gave out, and she collapsed.

"I… got… eliminated?"

Overwhelming disbelief and exhaustion.

Someone approached.

No energy to even glance.

"Yes. Lara Steelhiden, eliminated."

"……."

The instructor declared it in a flat tone.