Overthrowing the Bottom Feeder
The mock battles were conducted based on first-year grades. First, the opening match pitted students against opponents of equal standing according to grade statistics. If a student lost here, they would fight someone with a lower rank than the opponent they had defeated in their previous winning match. Conversely, if they won, they would face a student with a higher rank.
If a student accumulated a total of three losses, their final grade was recorded, and their mock battle immediately ended. As an exception, if a student was judged unable to continue fighting during a match, their ranking was finalized right then and there. On the flip side, there was no limit to the number of victories. In theory, if one kept winning, they could climb all the way from the very bottom to challenge the top student. However, for a winning student, a single defeat meant the end of their run.
No matter how you look at it, the goal is simple. The mock battle had only one true purpose: to push the strong to the top.
The grand auditorium of Jerion Academy filled my vision. Expanded by spatial magic, the vast hall was packed to the brim with students. Since students from every department had gathered, it was only natural for the place to be overflowing.
"I'm so nervous."
"This time, I'm definitely raising my mock battle rank."
I could hear the students murmuring to one another. Of course, no one spoke to me. Instead, I felt a sharp, stinging gaze boring into my back.
Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Isabel glaring at me. She had declared that she would crush me in this mock battle. She was probably burning with determination.
Go ahead and burn as bright as you want. Because that fire wasn't going out anytime soon.
"Ah, testing."
Just then, the second-year martial arts professor, Veganon Mercia, stepped onto the podium. Today, she actually looked presentable. Seeing her dressed properly in her uniform, a first-year standing behind me let out a soft gasp of admiration. Veganon's melancholic, beautiful face was perfectly suited to stealing the hearts of young students. Our professor certainly had the looks, after all.
However, the second and third-years knew all too well that there wasn't a single melancholic bone in her body. That expression was simply because she hadn't been able to drink yesterday, making her depressed. What a textbook alcoholic.
"I am Veganon, the supervisor for this mock battle. Since your performance here will be highly influential in future group assignments, I expect all of you to give it your absolute best."
Perhaps because she was sober, she sounded remarkably normal today. But I knew better. I knew what kind of ridiculous nonsense was about to spew from her mouth.
"Let me make one thing clear: do not drag things out half-heartedly against opponents you can easily beat."
Hearing her next words, the students looked puzzled, not quite grasping her meaning. The third-year martial arts students sighed, while the second-years quietly covered their faces in embarrassment.
"If you drag it out to three losses, the mock battles will just take longer. And that means I get to go home late."
She was a professor whose mind was entirely occupied by clocking out. Well, going home is important, I suppose.
"That is all. Assistant instructors, guide the students."
With that, she stepped down from the podium. Already accustomed to Professor Veganon's antics, the assistants quickly led the students away. The areas for the first, second, and third-years were rapidly partitioned.
There were forty-eight students in the second-year martial arts department of Jerion Academy. Originally, they had filled the fifty-student quota, but during their first year, three students—including the protagonist, Lucas—had been wiped out, reducing their numbers. Thanks to my enrollment, the count was maintained at forty-eight. In other words, the second-year mock battle rankings ranged from 1st to 48th.
My goal was the upper ranks. At the very least, I had to break into the top ten. The problem is... I had only transferred to Jerion Academy upon entering my second year. That meant my previous grades were non-existent. My current mock battle rank is... 48th. Dead last.
"Pfft, it's a battle of the bottom-feeders."
"Since someone has to lose, it might as well be the transfer student, right?"
"Staying at the very bottom suits him perfectly."
The sharp, biting whispers of the girls reached my ears. Ever since my direct confrontation with Isabel, their backstabbing gossip had grown worse by the day.
At first, Isabel had been too busy fuming at me to pay attention, but she flinched as she realized how vicious their gossip had become lately. I saw her raise a hand, attempting to stop the girls who were taking things too far. Soft-hearted as she was, she probably found it difficult to watch her friends slander someone else on her behalf.
"Don't worry about it."
I spared Isabel the need to step in. The moment I spoke, the girls' sharp gazes snapped toward me. Looking right back at them, I let my lips curl into a smirk.
"I'll make sure every single one of you ends up beneath my feet anyway."
"What? He's seriously such an arrogant bastard."
"Oh, just try it!"
"Ha! Unbelievable. There's a limit to how arrogant you can be!"
At my blatant provocation, they hurled insults at me. If they wanted to hate me, I might as well give them a proper reason to.
"He's short, and his personality is trash."
Sorry, but insults like that don't faze me at all.
"Hmph, I bet he's never even had a girlfriend in his life."
Son of a... Who said that? Hitting below the belt is foul play. I didn't know who muttered that last part, but when I fought them, I was absolutely not holding back.
As I steeled my resolve, my eyes met Isabel's. She looked startled for a moment before her brow furrowed into a deep scowl. She had probably been trying to stop her friends from badmouthing me, only to be dumbfounded when I went out of my way to draw all the aggro myself.
"That goes for you too, Isabel."
I threw a cheap provocation her way as well. She stared at me blankly for a moment, her scowl smoothing out. A deep seriousness settled into her eyes.
"If you lose to me today, you will take back the horrible things you said to Lucas and apologize. Without fail."
I let out a snort.
"Not going to happen."
While the other girls continued to hurl curses, Isabel remained silent, her gaze fixed on me. Her eyes quietly drifted down to my scarred hands. Unlike the others, Isabel was sharp. She had likely realized that I was a far more formidable opponent than I let on.
[MATCH 1]
48th Place: Hanon Airey vs. 47th Place: Mirizen Aventi
Right on cue, the assistant instructor called out our names. I answered and stepped forward, just as another student approached from the opposite side. He was a fellow second-year in the martial arts department. Mirizen.
Wearing a slightly loose uniform and carrying a timid air, he was known by his nickname: "The Eternal Last Place, Mirizen." Where there is a first place, there must also be a last. Anywhere else, he might have shone brightly. But in Jerion Academy, a gathering place for absolute geniuses, mediocre talent only yielded bitter results.
"T-This time, I'm escaping the bottom."
Mirizen steeled his resolve as he looked at me. Having finally escaped being dead last to claim 47th place, his desperation not to lose it was palpable.
"Begin the match!"
The moment the assistant instructor signaled the start, Mirizen drew his sword. With grim determination, he charged straight at me. Here he comes.
I tilted my head back, dodging the sword thrusting in a straight line. The blade flashing past my eyes was dangerously close. Even if he was the bottom of the martial arts department, he was still a talent who had gained admission to Jerion Academy. The trajectory of his sword was remarkably stable.
His strikes followed one after another, relentlessly pursuing me. Each swing carried a heavy weight. I focused entirely on dodging. Footwork I had mastered long ago naturally unfolded from my toes. My eyes tracked his body and the hilt of his sword, instantly calculating the exact movements needed to evade.
"He's just scurrying around like a rat."
"Ugh, how pathetic. He talked all that big game just to do this?"
The girls watching with disapproval jeered. Although they quieted down quickly after a warning glare from the assistant instructor, the mocking smirks on their faces didn't fade so easily.
Naturally, I had no time to pay attention to them. I've sparred with Aisha, but... this was my first real battle where victory was absolute. Because of that, I needed to acclimate myself to combat. To climb higher, I would have to face much stronger opponents. I needed to draw upon my past experiences even more.
Climbing from the very bottom is an opportunity for me. Evasion. Again, evasion. Evading, and evading once more. My footwork grew tighter, and the margin of my movements shrank. Vikaman's body was exceptionally well-suited for physical movement. I wasn't even out of breath. I had spent every single morning training to death alongside Aisha, who possessed monstrous stamina. Combined with Vikaman's innate physical conditioning, it created an incredible synergy.
"Pant, gasp!"
On the other hand, Mirizen was now swinging his sword with a tearful expression. Sweat poured down his face like rain, and his blade began to wobble. No matter how well one handled a sword, it meant nothing if it never hit the target.
"I will..."
Desperation filled his eyes.
"Win and..."
Mirizen's sword swung once more.
"...climb up!"
His desperate yearning to escape the bottom erupted in every strike.
Watching our fight, the students began to frown one by one.
"This is terrible."
"At least fight him properly!"
"There's an obvious difference in skill, so what is he even doing?"
Despite the assistant instructor's warnings, the students couldn't bear to watch any longer and shouted out.
"Since when did our class become filled with such idiots?"
At that moment, a male voice cut through the jeers. The students turned to look, finding a young man whose massive build seemed out of place among his peers. Despite his rugged, muscular physique, he had surprisingly delicate features. He stood with his arms crossed, watching our battle. It was Gaidon, ranked 3rd in the martial arts department.
"That guy declared he's going to climb to the top."
Looks like he noticed.
"The way he's fighting right now means he is dead serious about targeting the upper ranks."
He barked at the other students.
"And yet you're spouting nonsense about 'fighting properly' or 'skill gaps'?"
This was an academy built for the sole purpose of becoming strong. In such a place, telling someone not to look down on the weak was nothing but utter nonsense. What Jerion Academy demanded was power and the ability to wield it. Inside the Demon Palace, pleading with an Apostle to go easy on you because you were weak wouldn't do a damn thing.
"Any of you running your mouths right now won't have a right to complain when you get beaten by him later."
Consequently, those who understood this stopped insulting me. Even Isabel watched the battle in silence, wary of the possibility that I might climb all the way up to face her.
"Haaah!"
Mirizen swung his sword once more. His blade no longer carried the power it had at the start. The countless strikes he had thrown in his desperate bid to win were now only hastening his defeat. I understood the desperation in his eyes. Being labeled the "eternal last place" utterly shatters one's self-esteem.
But I was sorry. I was more desperate than anyone else.
If I don't climb up... this world, which has already careened into a bad ending, will only plunge into an even worse tragedy.
So, I... will win.
I stepped forward.
Thud!
Stamping my foot against the ground, I finally stopped evading. Mirizen's faltering sword grazed past the side of my head. At the exact same moment, my body lunged forward, slipping past his guard.
Mirizen's stamina was completely depleted. Furthermore, because I had done nothing but evade until now, he had grown accustomed to my defensive posture and couldn't react to an immediate counterattack. That split-second opening—I didn't miss it and closed the distance.
These arms had been forged through rigorous physical conditioning and muscle training. I threw a punch with all my might. That alone was enough to make it a lethal weapon.
Crack!
My fist, sharp as a spear, drove squarely into Mirizen's abdomen.
"Cough?!"
With a choked gasp, Mirizen's body folded in half. Simultaneously, I tucked my right arm and swung my elbow.
Smack!
My elbow connected cleanly with his face.
The moment Mirizen staggered, blood spurting from his nose, I swept his leg with my right foot. In a fluid, seamless motion, he was sent crashing to the floor. As he scrambled to push himself back up, I mercilessly drove my knee forward.
Crack!
My knee slammed directly into his rising chin.
Under the devastating impact, Mirizen collapsed backward. Although this was my first time in an unregulated fight, my body moved far more easily than I had expected.
Thud.
Mirizen lay motionless on the ground. A heavy silence fell over the watching students.
Amidst the quiet, I turned to look at the assistant instructor, who gave me a nod.
Winner: Hanon Airey (48th Place)
New Rank: 47th Place
"48th Place Hanon, victorious."
I became 47th.