5. Sparring (1)
5. Sparring (1)
After finishing my morning preparations and sitting down, Isabel spread open a document folder. A piece of paper with today's schedule came down before my eyes. Common liberal arts, Basics of Imperial History, Etiquette class. Up to here, it was similar to what I had heard yesterday.
But there was one newly added item at the bottom.
Combat Practice.
I pressed the edge of the paper with my finger.
"And what's this."
"Starting today, there will be a combat practice class."
I was silent for a moment.
Combat practice class.
It was a setting the author had forced in to create events. The rationale that otherworldly monsters were pouring out from all over the unexplored frontier, and to stop them, they scraped together all kinds of talent and established the Academy.
It was wrapped up plausibly, but the intention was obvious. It's a device to make students fight each other, reveal their talents, pick out who deserves attention, and push them onto the stage.
It was the same in the original work. A world that sets up a school-life atmosphere but quickly makes lives cheap when needed.
"The Academy must be in a hurry too."
I muttered as I put the paper down.
"Postponing regular classes to check combat power first."
Isabel replied calmly.
"There is a dispatch mission scheduled for the end of the semester."
I narrowed my eyes.
"Already?"
"Yes."
"For freshmen?"
"Formally, it's a practice session. I heard it's far from the actual front lines."
Formally... Not even funny.
In the original work, such words usually couldn't be trusted. They said it was safe, but accidents happened. They said it was practice, but blood was shed. Because events had to roll that way.
I rested my chin on my hand and thought for a moment.
End-of-semester dispatch mission.
If my memory was correct, it wasn't a simple experience. It was the segment where the protagonist's party first went outside the school, and who was usable started to be seriously divided. It was only called practice, but in reality, it was close to selection. A place to separate the useful and the discardable.
And in such places, Roseline always stood out.
Normally, Roseline was quiet and didn't catch the eye easily, but when it came to scenes where she used her body, her gaze changed first. She hesitated little, and once she entered a distance, she pushed through to the end.
I slowly clenched and unclenched my gloved fingertips.
Serena's talent was the ability to handle thin threads. Thread. The power to connect, entangle, pull, and sometimes constrict. On the surface, it seemed elegant, but its nature was quite nasty.
It was a fitting ability.
"The class location."
"Second Training Ground. You need to move immediately after the morning liberal arts class ends."
"Other classes together?"
"Yes. I heard it's a joint session for all freshmen."
Joint.
Even more blatant. Gathering all the freshmen in one place to see at a glance who's good, who's pathetic, who stands out.
I flipped through the document again.
"The instructor in charge?"
"Today, it's written that an instructor from the Knight Order will be in charge. Probably means they'll check the basics."
"Or that they'll intimidate from the start."
"The possibility of both is high."
That was true.
"I've prepared practice gloves."
Isabel added.
I raised my gaze.
"You took care of it without me even saying."
"Because yeong-ae-nim doesn't like pulling out Thread with bare hands."
"Did it look like 'doesn't like'?"
"It was closer to 'dislikes'."
Learning one more thing about Serena.
"Good. Then, today's going to be annoying too."
"If yeong-ae-nim stays quiet, it might be less annoying."
"You never say hopeful things."
"I don't bother saying things with low feasibility."
The morning liberal arts class felt shorter than usual.
Words like the Empire's noble system or administrative districts flowed from the professor's mouth, but half the students' attention was already focused on the next class.
Well, a single mention of combat practice was bound to change the atmosphere. Especially among the noble children. What they learned was less important than who would be humiliated.
As the lecture ended, low voices spread here and there.
The Knight Order instructor is coming.
Practical skills from the start of the semester.
Isn't this going to be an evaluation?
Short, fragmented words leaked from all directions. Ambiguous sounds of anxiety or anticipation.
I closed my book and stood up. Among the students leaving the lecture hall, I saw Roseline's back. She was quietly slipping out from the window-side row. Her steps were neither hurried nor slow. It was the pace of someone trying not to stand out, yet my eyes strangely followed her.
So troublesome.
As I stepped into the corridor, Isabel, who had been leaning against the wall, straightened up immediately.
"I thought you were going straight to the Etiquette Room."
"The schedule changed. They say combat practice comes first."
"Without notice?"
"The Academy tends to abandon courtesy easily when in a hurry."
That remark struck me quite well.
"Supplies."
"Here."
Isabel handed me a thin cloth wrapper. Inside, a training uniform and gloves were neatly folded. The parts covering the back of the hand and wrist looked sturdier than usual.
"I've adjusted it so it won't block the flow of Thread."
I took the wrapper.
"Quite versatile."
"To handle yeong-ae-nim's messes, I have to be at least this capable."
"That actually sounds a bit insulting."
"Not 'a bit', it was quite blatant."
I let out a short laugh and walked toward the stairs. The corridor from the Main Building to the Training Ground was already filled with students. Expectant faces, tense faces, faces already brimming with confidence—all kinds.
"The reactions are interesting."
As I tossed out the remark, Isabel replied beside me.
"Because in noble families, many are waiting for the moment when hierarchy is sorted by skill rather than words."
"It's not that they like it; it's more like they sniff it out and swarm."
"There are indeed many faces hoping others will make mistakes."
Combat practice was a place to see skill, but also a place to watch weaknesses. Who couldn't properly hold a sword, who got scared, who was more useful than expected. A place where first impressions formed at an absurdly fast pace.
And such places were usually disadvantageous for someone like Roseline.
Weak background, no connections, an easy-looking face. One mistake, and they'd bite right in.
Of course, Roseline had overturned all those gazes.
Just before reaching the entrance of the Training Ground, I slowed my steps for a moment.
"Isabel."
"Yes."
"Roseline will be here today too."
"If it's a joint practice, there's no reason for her to miss it."
"Right."
The answer was short, but the back of my throat unnecessarily dried up.
Isabel quietly added.
"Yeong-ae-nim."
"What."
"Don't stretch your hands too far today."
I swallowed a laugh.
"Saying that even before the class starts."
"Because yeong-ae-nim's Thread leaves a lot of trace once it's entangled."
"I know."
"That's why I'm saying it, since you do it even more knowing."
Isabel really knew too well what I would do.
The Training Ground was wider than I thought.
Below the semicircular spectator seats, a training ground with evenly spread sand stretched out, and on the walls, practice swords, spears, shields, and target boards were arranged.
Students had already gathered several. They were in simple training uniforms instead of school uniforms.
I also changed in the locker room and came out. A black training uniform cut simply so as not to hinder movement. Much lighter than the formal uniform, comfortable for wrist and arm movements. I also changed my gloves. The practice gloves Isabel had prepared preserved fingertip sensation while firmly holding the back of the hand.
In the center of the Training Ground, the instructor hadn't appeared yet, but students were already sizing each other up. Even just by who stood next to whom, calculations could be felt.
I roughly scanned through the crowd and spotted Roseline at one end.
Roseline was also in training uniform. Standing in unadorned attire, her lines were even more distinct. Her hair was tied low, and a practice sword was in her hand.
The posture gripping the handle was not that of a first-timer. There was no excessive force, and the tip of the sword didn't shake aimlessly.
And our eyes met.
This time, she didn't look away first. She seemed surprised, but she looked straight at me. She was tense, but closer to not backing down.
I didn't like that a little.
At the same time, I wanted to see a bit more.
What a lousy feeling.
"Everyone, gather."
A low, rough voice cut through the Training Ground.
All eyes turned to the front. A man who appeared to be the Knight Order instructor walked to the center. He was tall and well-built. A long scar ran from his left cheek down to his chin. Even before introductions, his presence pressed down on people.
"We won't have long greetings today."
The instructor looked around at the students.
"First, I'll see if you can hold a sword, use magic power, or if you're the type to freeze in fear. The Academy is a place to nurture talented kids, not a place for hand-holding strolls."
More blatant than I expected.
The students' expressions hardened little by little. On the contrary, some faces had eyes burning with excitement. The type already thinking only of looking good.
The instructor alternately pointed at a stand set up on one side and the measurement area.
"Those who use close-combat weapons, to the left. Ranged weapons, to the right. Magic operation types, to the back measurement area. Those who act like they can do both will be verified for both today. If you're unlucky, you'll be standing a long time."
The air inside the Training Ground stirred slightly.
I slowly shifted my gaze to the back. Where the magic measuring devices were set up.
"Troublesome."
As I muttered, Isabel retorted from outside the railing.
"But yeong-ae-nim has no intention of hiding."
"Nothing good from hiding either."
"The way you reveal it is the problem."
Instead of answering, I loosened my wrist once. Beneath the glove, my fingertip sensation calmly awakened. It felt like my body remembered first. Serena's talent was definitely closer to this side. A body that connects the moment you extend your hand, knowing the direction to wrap.
Just then, the instructor spoke again.
"After the basic measurements, we'll go straight into sparring. I'll decide the pairs. Forget about buddying up with your friends to fool around."
The atmosphere sank further.
Bad news. If the instructor decides the pairs personally, the variables become greater. I couldn't know how far the original plot would be pulled forward. I walked slowly to one side of the Training Ground, maintaining an indifferent face.
But inside, I wasn't so indifferent.
The moment Roseline stands out in combat comes quite quickly. And those who witness such a scene usually become one of two things: either they see Roseline anew, or they become irrationally more annoyed by her.
I didn't know which I would become yet.
The instructor lined up the students in a few rows and scanned their name tags. His gaze moved here and there, then paused briefly. And sooner than expected, my name was called.
"Serena Argent. Step forward to the measurement device."
I took a step forward.
Then the second name fell.
"Roseline Vellois. Step forward to the swordsmanship measurement line."
The air inside the Training Ground felt like it stopped for a moment.
I looked at the instructor, then slowly turned my head.
Roseline was looking at me at the same moment.
Today too, the quality was bad from the start.