Below Passing Grade
Once you become thoroughly accustomed to subcultures like fantasy games and web novels, you can spot a third-rate villain at a single glance just from the look on their face.
First, they look either inherently sleazy or disgustingly arrogant, constantly trailing an entourage of lackeys. And to top it off, they pick fights with protagonist-tier characters at every conceivable opportunity.
I had no idea whether I qualified as this world's protagonist or not, but even setting that aside, someone meeting at least two of those criteria stood right in front of me.
Letting out a tired sigh, I asked, "What is it? I'm busy, so could you get straight to the point?"
Right on cue, one of the lackeys barked out:
"How dare a mere commoner...!"
"What, does magic deliberately swerve around nobles in an exam venue? Don't you know that commoners and nobles are all the same inside the academy?"
The sharp, biting tone that completely clashed with my cute appearance was a pure adventurer's instinct. Adventuring was a profession where appearing weak meant getting devoured whole, so for someone like me—stuck with an adorable face—projecting strength was an involuntary reflex. Without even bothering to hide my distaste, I furrowed my brow and glared at them.
Guys like this were the most useless sort. Not particularly strong, roaming around in packs, and flaunting their aristocratic titles simply because they had nothing else to boast about. And when a battle turned sour, they were always the very first to cut and run.
If they had any actual skill to back it up, I wouldn't have minded as much. But even if all eight rushed me at once, they didn't pose the slightest threat. Deeming them unworthy of another breath, I turned my back.
"Why, you little bitch...!"
"If that's the only line you know, I'll be on my way. I wouldn't want to be disqualified for being late, after all."
"Hold it right there, girl."
"Well, whatever you have to say is bound to be completely predictable, so I'm leaving. If you've still got something to say, feel free to follow me."
The reason guys like this swarmed around me was simple. The person who defeated Yelena Frost—the top scorer of the freshman class—happened to be an easy-looking commoner. The duel on the sparring grounds had been far too advanced for ordinary first-year students to grasp; in their eyes, it probably looked like I had merely played defense before getting lucky. Their delightfully dimwitted logic likely concluded that taking me down would make them the strongest in the academy.
Plus, my current appearance was rather pretty, so they probably harbored some pathetic thought about trying to hit on me, too. To scum like them, commoners were nothing more than playthings beneath their feet.
"Can't even utter a squeak in front of Yelena, despite her being a grand duke's daughter," I muttered under my breath, stepping straight into the teleportation circle.
The Academy Northern Forest was thick with lush foliage. Stepping into the vibrant, living heart of the woods, I felt the soft spring of the loam beneath my boots and inhaled deeply. The crisp scent of grass, the cool murmur of distant water, and the lively chirping of birds filled the air—an environment intimately familiar to any seasoned adventurer. A faint, pleasant smile touched my lips as my hand settled naturally around the hilt of my sword. The mental fatigue chipped away by those third-rate pests before entering the teleportation circle melted away.
"...It should be somewhere around here, if I remember correctly."
My drop location was remarkably fortunate. The hidden dungeon in the Academy Northern Forest lay quite close to where I had landed. With the mana barrier gradually constricting the boundary over time, I had worried about landing on the opposite side of the map, but it seemed those fears were unfounded.
Reaching a small clearing with light, easy strides, I halted, turned around, and spoke into the trees:
"Honestly, should I call this bad luck, or good?"
"..."
Silence answered my gaze into the bushes. Resting my palm against my sword hilt, I clicked my tongue internally. Landing near the dungeon was great, but having those same fools teleported nearby was an annoying nuisance. My expression hardened; the last thing I wanted was to waste precious time here.
"I already spotted you. Stop wasting time and come out, will you?"
"Insolent little commoner wench."
"..."
I stared them down in silence.
There were eight in total. Judging by their uniforms, they belonged to the Swordsmanship Department, yet every single one of them stood in an awkward, lopsided stance. Their centers of gravity were completely off; their sword hands jutted far too far forward while their torsos leaned cowed into the rear. It was the quintessential stance of rookie adventurers who, terrified of getting cut, reflexively thrust their blades out like shields. Flaunting unearned bravado while surrounded by such pathetic underlings... Who was calling whom insolent?
Feeling my mood sour by the second, I channeled mana and snapped back:
"Commoner this, wench that... You've got quite a mouth on you, don't you? Within Arcana Academy, aren't we all supposed to be equal students?"
"Hah! Who actually abides by such hollow rules?"
"So you gang up in a swarm just to corner a single girl? What's your point? If you have something to say, spit it out."
"Word is you beat the top scorer."
The leader slowly unsheathed his blade. Befitting the head of this little pack, his form was relatively standard—tolerable, even, for a first-year student.
Of course, that was strictly by freshman standards.
His suffocating arrogance undermined whatever fundamentals he possessed. A posture choked with affectation was riddled with fatal openings.
"I don't know what dirty trick a commoner girl like you used to defeat the top scorer, but it won't work on us."
"So, stripping away all that posturing, what you're saying is that eight boys are teaming up to jump one girl?"
"Why, you...!"
"Well, fine by me. Small fry like you wouldn't frighten me even if there were eighty of you instead of eight."
By human limitations, unless one was a superhuman at the level of a Swordmaster, a person could only track and parry from one direction at a time. Normally, outnumbered combat was something to avoid at all costs. But that rule applied exclusively when the opposition moved as a unified organism. Against gnats clinging to minor nobility—first-years who barely even knew how to grip a hilt properly—I wouldn't flinch if an entire truckload of them showed up.
With a thin smirk, I adjusted my grip on my sword.
"Go on then, take your shot. It's not like you'll actually die, right?"
In this exam, taking a critical blow to a vital point automatically teleported the victim outside the boundary. There was no real danger of death. Emboldened by that safety net, the pack began creeping forward, steadily closing the distance.
I leveled a cold glare ahead, tightening my grip. As my perception accelerated, the world around me slowed to a crawl.
The clash began with the simultaneous rustle of boots launching off the turf. The leader's battle cry dissipated meaninglessly into thin air as eight trajectories converged on me from every flank.
In that identical instant, the blade sleeping in my scabbard flashed forth in a streak of silver—at a velocity none present had the reflexes to perceive.
Clang—!
A crisp ring of clashing steel rang out, and the blades of the two boys lunging recklessly at the vanguard were flung skyward.
"Huh?"
Their haphazard coordinated assault fractured into pieces in a single exchange. The two disarmed students shattered into particles of light and vanished. Before the survivors could even process what had transpired, I shifted my grip.
Panic rippled through their ranks, tearing wide apertures in their formation. The seasoned eyes of a Gold Tag adventurer did not miss the fracture.
A light step clicked against the ground, and my body shot forward like an arrow. Snatching the arm of an unlucky student who had only just regained his senses, I twisted his wrist with a flat, emotionless expression.
With a sharp clatter, his sword tumbled to the earth, his face contorting in agonizing horror.
"Aaaaargh?!"
"Quit exaggerating."
The boy's shriek clashed against the girl's icy cadence. The faces of the remaining five darkened in dread.
"Damn it, swarm her all at once!"
"U-Ugh..."
"Shit...!"
I deliberately refrained from finishing off the incapacitated boy. Fear was a poison that clouded judgment, and the sight of a comrade writhing in helpless agony was the quickest way to gut their will to fight.
"Kuh, how dare a filthy commoner... Do you have any idea who I—"
"Don't care."
Slashing across one of the lackeys blocking my path, I casually deflected a thrust aimed at my throat. Even Yelena Frost, the daughter of a Grand Duke, had acknowledged her defeat and pushed herself to grow stronger. What gave these nobodies the gall to wave around their empty titles?
Brushing aside stray thoughts, I raised my blade to parry a ferocious horizontal cleave.
Clang! Sparks flew with a violent screech of metal.
Wait?
My strength stat should have been superior, yet the arm bearing the impact shuddered slightly. An abnormal surge of mana radiated from the leader. Damn it, was he a Stigma bearer?
"Now's our chance! Strike!"
Seizing the opening, the rest of the gang rushed in from every angle. A smug grin spread across the leader's face. Short of taking flight into the clouds or sinking into the earth, attacks converging from all four directions were impossible to evade.
"Might've actually been in trouble if I didn't have a Stigma of my own," I murmured.
I triggered my Stigma without delay.
My body dissolved into ink-black particles as my vision inverted. Up and down, left and right blurred into indistinct abstractions, and the surrounding scenery stretched out like warm taffy.
"Gaaah?!"
"Aaaargh!"
"Ghk?!"
"Urgh...!"
A half-beat later, a chorus of dull, heavy impacts echoed out. The result of a reckless, blind dogpile with zero consideration for follow-through was utterly disastrous. Looking down at the heap of boys who had crashed headlong into each other and sprawled onto the dirt, I muttered:
"I had some slight expectations since you bragged so much about being nobles, but you're well below passing grade."
"You... little wench—"
Thwack.
His words cut off right there.
The instant before my blade could pierce him, the system registered the lethal trajectory and teleported him straight out of the arena. It was obvious he would have just spouted another generic villain cliché anyway, so why waste time listening?
"Phew..."
Exhaling a light breath, the tension washed from my features. Judging by the sun's position, it was still morning. I needed to enter the dungeon swiftly before the arena's boundary contracted.
"Still, it was nice to stretch my limbs a bit."
Murmuring quietly, I set off toward the hidden dungeon—entirely unaware that drawn by the racket of combat, someone had quietly fallen in behind my trail.