Picking Fights as Naturally as Breathing
Aisha Bisvel. The top first-year student in the Martial Arts department, a warrior of immense caliber. And right now, she was kneeling before me, her head bowed low.
"I-I am so incredibly sorry! I had no idea anyone was here."
The greatsword that had nearly cleaved me in two was a weapon Aisha had accidentally sent flying. Though I had been startled initially, I had already calmed down. Aisha, on the other hand, still seemed utterly panicked by the fact that she had almost decapitated someone.
"It's fine. You can stand up. I'm not hurt."
First, I needed to calm her down. I had no idea what the other students would think if they saw us like this. Yet, Aisha refused to budge from her deeply bowed posture.
"I am deeply sorry! If there are any issues, please find me and bill me for the damages. I will pay every single cent. I am truly, deeply sorry!"
Was Aisha always this excessively apologetic? Since the game's story had revolved entirely around Lucas, I didn't know the personalities of the underclassmen in precise detail.
"I'm really fine. Not a scratch. More importantly, how did that greatsword end up flying over here anyway?"
Aisha flinched. Seeing her reaction, my curiosity was piqued. Was there some unspeakable reason? However, Aisha must have decided that hiding the truth from the person she had almost killed was dishonorable. Keeping her head bowed, she mumbled her response.
"W-Well... I was doing the windmill, and it slipped from my hands."
I blinked. The windmill. In other words, Aisha had been spinning round and round like a top while holding a massive greatsword. For someone known as the "Iron Man of the Greatsword," who always carried a heavy, stoic presence, imagining her shouting something like "Hurricane Spin!" was honestly a bit disillusioning, if not outright absurd.
Well, it does sound like fun.
There was a primal joy in holding something heavy and spinning around with it. The only catch was that it was a game most people outgrew in childhood. Aisha seemed painfully aware of this, as her ears flushed a bright crimson. Her head buried itself even deeper, looking like a rabbit trying to squeeze into its burrow.
"P-Please... I am truly sorry, but could you keep this a secret?"
"That's not particularly difficult, but..."
Come to think of it, Aisha was only seventeen. At that age, teenagers often did stupid, random things on a whim. And they were also at the age where they felt immense embarrassment afterward. Considering her age, it was entirely understandable.
"Ah, that reminds me."
A good idea popped into my head. I almost blurted out her name before catching myself. We weren't acquainted yet, so I shouldn't know her name. I had to be careful.
"What is your name?"
"I am Aisha Bisvel, a first-year."
Pretending not to know things I already know is exhausting.
"I'm Hanon Airey. I just transferred into the second year yesterday."
"Ah, so you are my senior!"
"Well, you've been at the academy longer than I have, Aisha. So technically, you feel more like the senior here."
"M-Me? A senior?"
Aisha's eyes darted around, clearly not hating the sound of being called a senior. It was actually quite cute—if you ignored the massive greatsword buried deep in the ground right next to her.
"Do you train here every morning, Aisha?"
"Ah, yes. It's part of my daily routine."
How diligent. Rain or shine, Aisha trained here every single morning. Knowing this fact well, a smile formed on my face.
"Would you mind if I joined you for training?"
"For training?"
"Yeah. I want to build up my strength a bit."
In the Flame Butterfly Chapter, there was a concept of stats. If you repeated certain actions or mastered specific abilities, your stats would naturally rise. Unfortunately, no status window popped up in front of my eyes. One day, I had tried shouting every system command I could think of, starting with "Status Window," but nothing appeared.
Since this has become reality...
I concluded that while the status window itself didn't exist, the underlying concept of stats still did. This had been confirmed by several incidents I experienced before transferring to the academy.
Repetitive actions and mastery of specific skills definitely increase stats.
Even if I couldn't verify it with my eyes, my body could physically feel the difference.
Then again, that's technically how the real world works too.
To be more precise, there was a distinct sensation of breaking through a wall. Furthermore, I was certain of one more thing in this world.
In this world, talent is simply the speed at which your stats increase.
The stronger one's innate affinity for a certain field, the faster the related stats would rise. Therefore, training was crucial. My greatest asset was my stamina. To function as a member of the Martial Arts department, I had to increase my combat capabilities by any means necessary.
And the mock combat exam is only a few days away.
To fill Lucas's shoes, combat ability was an absolute necessity. Aisha, dubbed the "Iron Man of the Greatsword," possessed top-tier skills among the first-years. And I knew exactly what her primary stat was.
Stamina, just like me.
Aisha's unique trait, Iron Man. Training with her would undoubtedly yield results.
"A t-training partner..."
Despite the potential hassle of my proposal, Aisha welcomed it with visible enthusiasm. I felt her eyes sweep over my body in an instant. Her expression was exactly like that of a gym rat sizing up a complete newbie who had just offered to be their workout buddy.
"……Are you absolutely sure you want to train with me?"
Aisha asked with a slightly worried face, but the corners of her mouth were twitching upward, sending a sudden chill down my spine. Her eyes were terrifying. Her breath seemed heavy. She had the look of a seasoned veteran about to devour a fresh newbie. Did I make a mistake?
But it would be a waste to let this opportunity slip away.
"Yes, I'm counting on you."
I decided to just go for it. Aisha clenched her fists tightly.
"Excellent! If I can help you with that, then I would love to!"
"I'm glad to hear that."
Her gaze was still incredibly intense, but at least I had gained a reliable training partner.
"Y-You... what do you think you're doing?"
I froze at the sound of a familiar voice. Turning my head, I saw a girl dressed in light casual wear, as if she had just stepped out for a brief stroll.
She had honey-blond hair that called to mind the bright sun. Beneath it, there should have been a face as radiant as a sunflower. Instead, what met my eyes was a pair of hollow, dark-circled eyes and messy, unkempt hair.
Isabel Luna. The childhood friend of the protagonist, Lucas, and one of the main heroines.
Looks like she couldn't sleep again last night.
Ever since Lucas's death, Isabel had suffered from severe insomnia, unable to get a decent night's rest. Consequently, her once-bright appearance was now shrouded in gloom. She had likely stepped out for a walk, unable to endure her sleeplessness, only to run straight into me.
Her eyes were wide with shock. Only then did I realize the situation we were in.
Aisha was still kneeling before me with her head bowed. I had left her be because she refused to stand up when I asked, but to an outsider, it looked like a second-year boy forcing a first-year girl to kneel. It was, without a doubt, a terrible look.
Normally, I would have cleared up the misunderstanding immediately. The problem, however, was that the person standing before me was Isabel.
"Ah, w-wait! This is..."
Realizing the misunderstanding, Aisha tried to explain, but I stepped in front of her, cutting her off. Instead, I glared at Isabel with cold, arrogant eyes. This was an opportunity—a perfect chance to tank Isabel's affection for me.
"She caused me trouble, so I made her apologize. Is there a problem?"
"What?"
Isabel stared at me blankly. She had clearly expected an explanation, so my shameless defiance caught her completely off guard.
"I suffered damages, and I received an apology. I don't see how this concerns you, Isabel Luna."
In the Flame Butterfly Chapter, addressing someone by their full name was a form of warning. A warning not to meddle in things that didn't concern them.
Isabel's lips parted slightly. Soon, her eyes burned with pure disgust as she glared at me, her fists clenching tightly.
"You... you really are a piece of trash."
"I find your reaction puzzling. I merely received an apology I was owed. Just like yesterday, you really love sticking your nose into other people's business."
"How is it meddling to get angry when you insulted Lucas?!"
Isabel screamed in fury. No one at the academy had likely ever seen her this angry, given her reputation as a bright, sunflower-like girl. Even I had only seen her this enraged when Lucas returned from some reckless, dangerous stunt. But right now, I needed this anger more than anything. I had to draw out her emotions.
"Then what exactly were you to Lucas?"
Isabel froze.
"Were you siblings? Or perhaps lovers?"
"……We were friends."
Isabel glared at me, her expression demanding to know what was wrong with that. I didn't say a word. I simply let a look of utter disgust wash over my face.
"Birds of a feather, I suppose."
Whoosh! In that split second, Isabel's fist stopped mere inches from my nose. The wind pressure from her punch rustled my hair. She was terrifyingly fast. I had trained in boxing and hand-to-hand combat for a long time, yet my eyes could barely track her movement. She was, after all, one of the absolute top-tier students in the second-year Martial Arts department. Her physical capabilities far exceeded human limits.
"I believe I told you,"
Isabel's voice was low, dripping with murderous intent.
"Never to insult Lucas again."
I stared quietly at her fist. If that punch had connected, I would be rolling on the ground right now. This was Isabel's final warning.
"Then prove it."
I lightly tapped her fist away with my hand and met her gaze.
"Prove whether your friend's strength and his death were in vain or not."
Isabel slowly lowered her fist. A fierce, burning resolve—one that hadn't been there before—now smoldered in her eyes.
"The upcoming mock combat exam."
She brought up the practical exam that was just around the corner.
"I'm going to beat you to a bloody pulp there. Let's see if you can still run your mouth like this then."
How typical of Isabel. Anyone else would have started a brawl right then and there, fueled by rage. Yet, she chose to settle it officially in the mock exam. Even in her fury, her innate kindness prevented her from recklessly throwing punches outside of designated dueling grounds.
"I'll tell you this in advance—Lucas was far stronger than someone like me."
I watched Isabel's retreating figure in silence. Only when she was out of sight did I finally let out a long, heavy breath. Whew, I felt like I was suffocating. My face felt stiff from holding that cold, hostile expression for so long.
But a mock exam, huh?
The exam was right around the corner. A hollow chuckle escaped my lips.
At this rate, I'll have to put my plans into motion much faster than expected.
Otherwise, Isabel really would tear me apart.
"U-Um, excuse me..."
I suddenly remembered that Aisha was still standing there.
"Ah, sorry. I dragged you into my mess."
Perhaps because my casual apology contrasted so sharply with my previous cold demeanor, Aisha looked utterly bewildered, struggling to reconcile the two versions of me.
"……Senior, are you and Senior Isabel on bad terms?"
Aisha asked cautiously. Since Isabel was quite famous among the second-year Martial Arts students, even a first-year like Aisha knew of her.
"As you can see."
It was a complicated situation.
"I see... It must be complicated."
"If you're worried about getting caught in the crossfire, you don't have to train with me."
I had no intention of forcing her to train with me if it caused her trouble. But when I said that, Aisha vigorously shook her head.
"No way! We made a promise! I am a woman who always keeps her word!"
What a reliable girl. Despite her tall stature, Aisha fidgeted with her fingers.
"Besides, I don't think you're the type of person to act like that without a good reason, Senior Hanon."
"You barely even know me."
"Call it a woman's intuition."
I prefer the edible kind of persimmons, but sure.
"Alright. I'll be in your care for our training, Aisha."
"Yes, of course!"
"In that case... could you please stand up now?"
"Ah."
Aisha sprang to her feet, her face flushing bright red. Towering over me, she bent down slightly to dust off her knees. For a split second, her collar slipped, drawing my eyes toward a rather heavy area, but I quickly forced my gaze further down. There, I saw her knees, stained a deep crimson. Had she been kneeling all this time until her knees turned that red?
"U-Um, also... *cough*... Senior, when should we start our training?"
Aisha's eyes sparkled with anticipation. Her breathing was incredibly heavy. ...Did I make a terrible mistake?