Counterattack
The mock battles continued.
Some fought to raise their rank.
Others fought to defend theirs.
A bloody struggle raged among the students.
Jerion Academy was a strict meritocracy.
Students with higher grades received more support and greater privileges.
Moreover, this place was a microcosm of the world at large.
A place where the children of high nobility and the heroes of the future spent their youth.
Making a name for oneself at Jerion Academy meant...
...making a name for oneself across the entire world.
Naturally, the students were desperate to climb the ranks.
Even the professors watched the mock battles with keen interest.
It was a time when the children's passion burned almost too fiercely.
And right now...
...someone was tearing across the arena.
Crack!
My fist slammed squarely into my opponent's jaw.
“Ugh... you... crazy... bastard...”
Knocked unconscious by a single blow, my opponent collapsed limply to the ground.
I had dragged him into a grueling battle of attrition all day.
In the end, he had exhausted himself, and the moment he faltered, I slipped past his guard.
The surrounding students turned their attention toward me.
“What rank was he just now?”
“Thirtieth.”
“...”
Before I knew it, the mocking voices had completely vanished.
In their place, a look of wariness began to settle on their faces.
An unstoppable winning streak.
I had already defeated seventeen students with my fists alone.
And every single one of them had fallen the exact same way as Millisen, my very first opponent.
“Is he a brawler?”
“But he barely even uses proper fist techniques.”
“Most of them just got worn down in a battle of stamina.”
“He's hiding his true skills on purpose.”
“His durability is insane, too. He took several clean hits but acted like it was nothing.”
The students were finally starting to analyze my abilities.
Which meant I had become a genuine threat in their eyes.
I've managed to drag things out this far using stamina and stall tactics.
But everything has its limits.
As my rank rose, so did the caliber of my opponents. Simply dodging was becoming increasingly difficult.
Just a moment ago, I had allowed several clean hits to land.
Thank goodness for Steel Skin.
Without it, some of those blows would have been devastating.
From here on, it's the mid-tiers.
The opponents left were those against whom cheap tricks wouldn't work.
And even with Steel Skin...
...there were some attacks it couldn't completely block.
Craaaash!
At that moment, an ear-splitting explosion echoed through the arena.
When I turned my head, I saw a green-haired boy with his hair tied back rolling on the ground in front of Isabel.
Rank 9, Gelond Basis.
“Ugh...”
Standing before him was a girl with fluttering honey-blond hair.
She held a crystal-shaped dagger in one hand and a longsword in the other.
Isabel Luna.
Unlike her usual self, she looked down at Gelond with cold, indifferent eyes.
In combat, Isabel was famously ruthless.
Though normally a bright and lovely girl...
...the moment she entered battle, she slipped into a state of hyper-focus that made her seem like an entirely different person.
Today, however, her edge was sharper than ever.
“Has Isabel gotten even stronger?”
“I heard she's been heading to the training hall alone lately.”
“She's going to climb even higher.”
The other students murmured in awe at her display of skill.
Isabel had always been among the top ranks.
But after Lucas's death, she had lost all motivation, causing her rank to steadily slip.
Today, though...
...she showed a completely different side of herself.
She was back to her prime—and then some.
An aura even more formidable than before radiated from her.
Isabel turned her head.
Her sun-like golden eyes locked onto mine.
Deep within them, a fierce fire of hatred smoldered.
The reason she had reclaimed her strength and grown so powerful...
...was glaringly obvious.
She wanted to crush me utterly and force an apology for my insults toward Lucas.
That was her sole driving force.
Burning bright, aren't we?
I was actually grateful for her intense motivation.
It meant I had successfully given her a new purpose in life.
Keep growing like that, Isabel.
And while you're at it, let that grudge grow even deeper.
Taking a brief breather, I caught sight of the first-years holding their mock battles nearby.
In the distance, a girl with monstrous, absurd strength was swinging a massive greatsword.
The Greatsword Ironclad, Aisha Bizvel.
A student who had rushed her was struck by the flat of her greatsword and sent flying through the air.
Having barely managed to break his fall, he landed on the ground and stared at Aisha with a pale, terrified face.
But Aisha, her long dark-blue hair whipping around her, only wore an even more intense, battle-hungry expression.
Normally, she was a disciplined and hardworking girl, but the moment she gripped her greatsword, a switch flipped in her head.
Yeah, I've been on the receiving end of that before.
Remembering our sparring session before the mock battles, I let out a wry smile.
Just watching her swing that thing made my ribs ache in sympathy.
“Rank 29, Seron Parmia. Rank 30, Hanon Airey.”
As I watched Aisha finish off her opponent with her greatsword, the assistant instructor's voice called out.
My name had been called.
Turning my gaze, I saw a girl step out from the group of girls who constantly badmouthed me.
She had burgundy hair tied in a high ponytail, a headband pushing back her bangs to expose her forehead.
She wore clothes slightly too large for her petite frame, seemingly to emphasize her cuteness.
One of the quartet that constantly slandered me.
Seron Parmia.
The moment our eyes met, she let out a haughty huff.
“What are you looking at, you burnt sweet potato?”
Oh?
A burnt sweet potato? What kind of insult was that?
She stepped onto the arena stage first.
“Get him, Seron!”
“Teach that jerk a lesson!”
“You're dead meat, Hanon!”
The crowd in the spectator stands was incredibly noisy.
Bathed in their cheers, Seron wore a smug, triumphant expression.
“Don't think your cheap tricks will work on me. You'll get yourself killed, Sweet Potato,” she warned.
She was warning me that trying to wear her down through a battle of attrition, like I did with the others, wouldn't work.
Besides, I already knew her nickname.
Seron the Unlucky.
She was born under an incredibly unlucky star.
Not only did bizarre accidents constantly drag down her rank during mock battles, but...
...some inexplicable misfortune seemed to plague her daily life, frequently landing her in the infirmary.
Whoosh!
At that moment, Seron drew two axes from her waist in a single, fluid motion.
Her talisman magic was the real deal.
Her actual skill level was far too high to be stuck in the lower-middle ranks.
In fact, her stats are the highest among the quartet.
But as I said...
...she was incredibly unlucky.
“Yeah, I know.”
I walked over to the weapon rack at the edge of the arena and pulled out a piece of equipment.
Seron's eyes widened slightly as she watched me.
I had chosen only one thing.
A shield.
Up until now, I had fought completely unarmed.
Seeing me pick up a shield now made her brow furrow in frustration.
All the data she had gathered on me from my previous fights was now completely useless.
It was a perfectly natural reaction.
“Do really think a shield is going to change anything?”
Stepping onto the stage, I met her incredulous gaze.
“I didn't have a choice.”
I raised the shield slightly.
“Your forehead is so shiny it's blinding me. I needed something to block the glare.”
Twitch!
A prominent vein throbbed on Seron's forehead.
“What did you just say about my forehead?!”
For someone who loved cheap provocations, she was incredibly easy to provoke.
Simple-minded, really.
“Begin!”
Here she comes.
The moment I sensed her movement, my shield moved reflexively.
Claaaaang!
With a deafening clash, Seron's axe slammed against my shield.
Despite her petite appearance, Seron possessed monstrous strength, and the impact of her axe sent a heavy shockwave through my arm.
“For Bel!”
Shouting Isabel's nickname, Seron's eyes flared with anger.
“I've hated you ever since you started running your mouth!”
Clang!
I blocked another swing of her axe with my shield.
Twisting her body mid-swing, she seamlessly transitioned into a rapid succession of talisman-infused strikes.
“Now I see you for what you really are!”
Sssss!
A hissing sound ignited from the edge of her axe.
Instantly, a burst of flame erupted, wrapping around the edges of my shield.
It was Seron's unique trait.
Ignition Axe.
Boom!
With a loud explosion, I was forced back a step.
Her Ignition Axe triggered an explosion upon contact with its target.
The faint scent of gunpowder tickled my nose.
My arm tingled from the shockwave of the blast traveling through the shield.
“Just turn into a burnt sweet potato already!”
Springing forward, Seron used her flexible body to unleash a relentless barrage of attacks.
Each time, I raised my shield to absorb the blows.
My feet steadily slid backward.
I immediately saw through her intention.
She was planning to push me completely out of bounds.
Since mock battles have a ring-out rule.
It was a solid tactical decision.
But as I said, Seron was incredibly unlucky.
Just before I was pushed off the edge of the arena...
...I took my first step forward.
Seron's eyes instantly caught the shift in my stance.
As expected of a master of talisman magic, her reaction time was superb.
But it didn't matter.
Thrusting forward off-beat, my shield slammed directly into her axe.
Clack!
The force of her axe and the momentum of my shield collided head-on.
The impact sent both the axe and the shield rebounding in opposite directions.
Their forces had completely canceled each other out.
But Seron didn't just carry one axe.
Her talisman magic utilized dual axes.
The axe in her other hand lunged viciously toward my completely exposed torso.
Absolute certainty of victory flashed in her eyes.
Just before the blade could bite into me...
...I thrust my left arm directly into its path.
Seron's eyes went wide.
Even though the weapons were enchanted by the academy to prevent lethal cuts...
...her weapon still possessed the Ignition Axe trait.
A direct hit could easily blow my left arm clean off.
Even with top-tier healers standing by, it was an incredibly reckless move.
Grit!
But a fight was a fight.
Seron didn't hold back, putting all her weight into the strike.
She was determined to teach me a painful lesson.
And then, her axe struck my arm.
BOOM!
A massive explosion ripped through the air.
A clean hit.
Just as triumph flared in Seron's eyes...
...a hand shot out from the billowing smoke and grabbed her firmly by the collar.
Seron's eyes nearly popped out of her head.
“Wh-what?!”
A gasp of sheer disbelief escaped her lips.
And for good reason—this was the very arm her Ignition Axe had just detonated against.
Even if it hadn't been blown off, it should have been shattered and mangled.
Yet here I was, completely unscathed, holding her by the collar.
Her brain momentarily short-circuited.
But her body moved on pure instinct.
Pulling her weapon back in a flash, she swung it down toward the arm gripping her collar.
BOOM!
Another explosion erupted as the Ignition Axe went off again.
Just as she thought my arm would surely shatter this time...
...her body was suddenly hoisted high into the air.
Pure terror filled Seron's eyes.
My arm was still perfectly fine.
As I said, Seron was incredibly unlucky.
After all, she had the misfortune of running into me in the early stages of the mock battles.
The trait I had obtained from the Empress of Steel.
Steel Skin.
Steel Skin granted two primary effects:
Mitigating physical and slashing attacks...
...and absolute fire immunity.
To pierce my Steel Skin, one would need a heat source far greater than the dozens of Essence of Fire I had consumed.
Seron's Ignition Axe didn't even come close.
The shield had merely been a decoy to trick her into thinking her attacks were working.
Having fallen hook, line, and sinker, Seron was completely helpless as I slammed her down onto the arena floor.
CRASH!
Smashed hard against the stone floor, Seron's limbs stiffened and shot straight up into the air.
A moment later, they slowly went limp and fell back down.
Her body trembled weakly.
“H-hic... ugh...”
A pathetic whimper escaped her lips.
She shivered uncontrollably, looking like a small animal that had just been hunted.
Seeing this, I lightly shook out my left arm.
Even with Steel Skin, it wasn't like I felt absolutely nothing.
I had resorted to this trick because I ran into a skilled opponent sooner than expected, but it wasn't a tactic I could abuse.
Step.
I took a step toward Seron.
“Ugh... h-hic... ah!”
Seron struggled, flailing her limbs in a desperate attempt to get up.
But after being slammed into the ground with my full strength, there was no way she could stand on her own.
The arena lights cast a dark shadow over my face.
Watching me slowly close the distance, Seron shivered in absolute terror.
“D-don't... stay away!”
All of her previous bravado had completely vanished, replaced by a panicked, terrified shriek.
I stared down at her for a brief moment, then let out a smirk.
“Oh, I'll go. Right now.”
Time to taste the burnt sweet potato.
I raised my fist without a shred of mercy.
“N-no! Stop!”
My fist plunged straight down, striking Seron square in the face.
Crack!
Her body convulsed once before going completely limp.
Her slender legs, curled up pathetically, no longer held any strength.
“Winner: Rank 30, Hanon Airey.”
The assistant instructor's brief declaration echoed as I raised my head.
The students, who had never expected Seron to be defeated so brutally, were struck completely dumb.
The expressions on the remaining three of the quartet were particularly priceless.
I locked eyes with them.
It was a silent warning: If anything, your turn will be even worse. You won't be any different.
Take a good look at just how terrifying a burnt sweet potato can be.