The Ruthlessness of Seniors
In the Monster Ecology class, there's a tradition called Newbie Hunt, where second-years hunt first-years. First-years aren't allowed to interact directly with second- or third-years right away; there's a deliberate delay before they meet. This even includes "repeating first-years," who are excluded from certain school events. The reason? "They already know what happens."
First-years at the academy are pushed far harder than you'd expect. And for good reason—quickly responding to various situations is the most essential skill for survival. In a world where magical beasts or bandits could pop out of nowhere, or a crazed murderer or undead could lunge from an alley, you need that edge. Above all, reacting swiftly to sudden crises is vital for navigating society.
That's why the original academy emphasizes these skills above everything else. During the School Training Camp, even third-years can participate under heavy restrictions. You'd see second-years swarming to beat down first-years and steal their points for promotion. But it could also go the other way—a clueless second-year charges in, trips up, and hands a promotion chance to a first-year. It's an event packed with variables.
First-years don't know about the "no spoilers from seniors" rule, so they're clueless about the ordeals ahead. Still, once they experience the training camp and adapt, things should get better bit by bit.
...Well, for this year's first-years, Witchcraft might be worse than any event. Thanks to hidden events like these, academy graduates can at least handle themselves as one full person—not just getting stronger, but learning to cope and survive. That's why even commoners get scooped up by noble houses if they graduate.
Multrenung, split clean in half, dissolved into light and teleported away.
I've said it a million times: students almost never die at the academy. The only exception might be a Witchcraft.
Even if a hero draws the holy sword and stabs with full power, no student would die. Greatsword Idiot immediately grasped the situation unfolding at the current Training Camp.
Normally, second-year seniors would form up and hunt first-years. Or maybe cooperate to take down magical beasts, or just beat up other second-years. Greatsword Idiot hadn't expected "third-years" here, though.
His opponent was none other than this empire's emperor-in-waiting, personally appointed and trained by the former hero: the Next-Gen Hero.
Even if third-years outclassed them in build and strength, surpassing a hero was no easy feat. Grade difference: first-year. Age difference: who knows, but she's an elf... digging into age would be foolish. And trained by the previous hero? Questioning her strength is laughable.
Still, as a guardian house heir, sizing up her power shouldn't be hard.
...That's what he thought.
He'd enrolled in the academy dreaming of seeing his admired hero. His family permitted it because she was still young and inexperienced. She'd learned plenty, handled much...
But the response? "It's too crude, half-baked?" A critique that stabbed like a dagger to the heart.
This was a magic sword once wielded by a hero. Even a replica—this prolonged fight felt unfair.
He wasn't inexperienced against strong foes, but was a hero really this level?
"Your form's good, swordsmanship decent, weapon solid—but you're the problem. Out of five stars? Two?"
She might generously bump it to three. Virtus Vivi, senior with aura flowing through her hand like a blade, casually deflected his greatsword while speaking.
Her eyes weren't even on him—lazy swings, half-hearted responses.
"Big moves? Your tells are obvious."
With those words, invisible ultra-high-speed slashes grazed his thigh, armpit, and side simultaneously. The sword qi flung from afar lacked killing intent, hostility, even fighting spirit—too late to notice.
"Aw, don't take it to heart. You're like a textbook. Properly trained? But that's just effort. True swordsmen have talent... they see the world differently."
Even now, she predicted his sword qi without looking, just from shoulder and arm cues. Spot on, textbook counters for swordsmen—he gritted his teeth.
She used one hand on purpose, mimicking a dagger grip to parry. Not blocking, but precisely hitting the force center to flick it away lightly.
Greatsword's weight, his raw power, reach—overwhelming offense. To a third party, it'd look like Greatsword Idiot was dominating the hero with brute force.
Reality? Utter misery.
Dimensional Slash or big tech? He had to pose, breaking flow. She cut it off before he started.
Fluid combos? She sliced the flow like water. What more needed saying?
──Kiiiiing!!
"Body Enhancement Magic? And Divine Magic too? Talented—imitating the Hero Trust, the Crimson Warlock?"
Not just swordplay—he wielded magic and divine arts too. Bottom of the class academically, but top-tier in combat.
Greatsword Idiot gripped his Vorpal Weapon Replica tight, hoisting it high overhead.
"【Heavy Strike—Vertical Cleave】─!!!"
The War God hero's technique that felled the Demon King and split continents. Pure downward chop, no flair—basic mastery at its peak, a lesson in itself. How close could he, trained from birth in his house, replicate it? He was confident he could cleave an island.
Kwagagagagak──!!
A massive slash roared across the ground, scorching and slicing smooth through the island from heat. Debris poured into the light-devouring darkness, collapse rumbling after.
Announcements rang: other first-years caught in the arc, eliminated.
His most destructive trump card. Barely a fraction of the original, yet his life force bottomed out. Muscles froze heavy. Furnace heat erupted inside, steam rising. Mouth open, no breath—just smoke.
Blood trickled from his nose. Greatsword Idiot finally understood parrying and returning his own strike full-force.
"Sword's crying—even a replica's a waste... explains the Collector nickname?"
"Sh..."
Full armament, transformation, every ounce of power poured out. The cost? His own technique's devastation reflected back, shattering his sword.
At the continent-spanning slash's descent, she pierced its center, stabbing and slicing. Hand-chopping a sword—unbelievable feat, eyes wide in disbelief.
The slash's power was immense, but just a fragment. Greatsword Idiot suffered the swordsman's ultimate humiliation: his own tech reflected, sword destroyed.
And her verdict? Even fake, a waste on him.
"Oh, right—we've met before, junior?"
"U..gh...."
"No sword talent, so I ignored you, probably?"
Words no admired senior should say before a fan who'd enrolled for her. She smiled casually, wounding without intent—just pure fact.
"Ugh...!!"
Teeth clenched. Sword broken, but greatsword—blade remained. Power focused, unyielding swing.
Even if intent to cleave her—
"Eh, done. Seen enough."
"Persistence passes, but sword talent? Regrettable."
Bored, yawning face—she caught the incoming greatsword barehanded, halting it.
Reflection realm: borrow foe's push to stop? Stuck like space-frozen, couldn't advance or retreat—pathetic wriggle.
"Still, as senior... magic next? You shoot bows too? Need distance?"
Realizing she'd pushed too hard as senior, apologetic smile. How humiliating for a swordsman—her talent, hero-chosen, couldn't empathize.
Thus—crushed pride's rage voiced by another.
"With the next hero's personality like this, the nation's dignity plummets."
No consideration for effort-makers, light toss—but overflowing killing intent. Ephemera Flash's ambush grazed as Virtus dodged, hair sliced.
"Top student!"
"Noisy fight—nuisance?"
Resting first-years swept up—like to Wiyu, scolded Greatsword Idiot. Then smoothly shoved hero aside, seizing flow.
Ching! Ching!
Swinging blind, batting invisible—Ephemera.
"As expected of the imperial knight house head!"
Didn't expect a first-year batting all invisible slashes—praise, applause for skill matching hype.
Response: sneer.
"If this is a hero, you won't last long, senior."
Pushuk—cheek split, blood burst.
"So slow, yawning level."
Sliced hair, cheek. Spared vitals out of senior respect—smiling Ephemera.
Thrilled by taunt, Virtus dove in.
"Hits hard!!"
"Ugh...!"
Like Wiyu's "imaginary friend" incident—real "sword talent" clash?
Ephemera never drew against first-years.
...No need; faster than magic or bullets.
Even now, her swings blurred past Greatsword Idiot's eyes.
Virtus deflected, but shoulder gashed, waist scarred, thigh bleeding.
Even next hero couldn't fully parry—razor-sharp, blinding speed.
If she drew fully? Only Wiyu Witchcraft survives first-years.
"Hey!! Can you go all-out???"
"Rude against a hero not drawing holy sword."
"Haha!! You talk fun!!"
Bam bam bam!!
Escalating sword clash. Soon, blades not meeting—clashing invisible somethings, repelling, cracking earth.
"──Wanna enjoy more, but one more to see?"
"Ha?"
Mid-fight whim. Plenty fun, but time precious—odd excuse. Raised hand—Sword Rain from the Heavens filled sky.
"Your speed dodges all—?"
Swords poured like hail, no regard for direction.
Could bat all, even behead hero—but Ephemera lacked legs to leap; "injured" illusion?
"Why?! Not dying, so ditch—!"
"Too much, telling first-year top, knight house head sworn to protect, abandon friend?"
Ephemera, pierced protecting Greatsword Idiot—porcupine. Gasping, Virtus cooed "sweet kid"—grabbed one sword.
Greatsword Idiot thrust shield—but sliced shield and both.
Messages: Top Student and Greatsword Idiot eliminated.
"No way...!"
Knew top's monster strength—Beatus and first-years panicked.
"What monster splits land half?"
Not crediting Greatsword Idiot. Unclear chaos, raining swords?
"Wiyu! Harden up!"
Beatus grasped first—shouted pre-impale.
Wiyu Witchcraft, recognizing repeat, gulped watching friends vanish.
"Bye, junior. Meet again soon?"
Virtus descended stairs of swords from sky. Wiyu crossed arms defensively—
Puk puk puk──!!
"Guhk...!"
Harden futile—swords pierced body lamely. Black smoke seeped wounds.
"Ah, witches and heroes bad matchup?"
Like divinity vs. evil—laughing Virtus raised sword.
Must counter...
"Weird. You handle swords best... why not use?"
Kaoru-senpai said: think different. Once cut, always cut—fatal ability. Shamelessly harden to "not cut." Hard, though—can't imagine evading hero's blade.
──Then junior, do what you're good at. Fights are instinct.
Kaoru's advice flashed—Virtus's sword dove.
Ching──!!
Gracefully parried—elegant swordsman interposed.
Summon, familiar, manifest too. Proficient there.
Can't swing sword in woman's body? Have "friend" swing instead.
"[I can't let you bully my friend one-sidedly.]"
"Heh? New style."
"[Is it?]"
Gigachad Zard traced circle, flicked hero's sword—rapier raised casually behind back.
She mimicked pose, but froze at hole-riddled blade.
"[To me, you're weaker than friend—bully setup.]"
──World's way.
Clear voice, cheerful taunt signal.
Two swords cleaved light.