The club fair ended.
There was no further interference from the House of Count Luna.
Instead, Professor Flavia, having finished reviewing the blueprints, made a proposal.
For this one time only, she would take into consideration their active review of the technology in question, so when he contracted with the House of Count Luna, he was to view the price in a positive light.
It seemed she had deliberately chosen only the most difficult words, but the summary was simple.
Hand over your technology for cheap.
It meant they had failed to crush him through tyranny, but still wanted to upgrade their core technology.
Ian said he accepted the House of Count Luna’s offer for now and signed the contract.
Not only was a small amount of money still money, but the contract itself would also serve as proof that he had received the House of Count Luna’s review.
Ian signed a total of four contracts during the club fair.
Unlike ordinary engineers, who signed two contracts at most, he had signed as many as four contracts with major houses.
The Southern Coalition Army pretending to be the House of Count Sinis, the House of Count Luna, the House of Duke Dyke, and finally, the Imperial Family.
Aaron contracted with him while looking toward the future expansion of core-related technology, and Princess Saya requested that a holographic shooting-assist function be added to the all-direction monitor.
That was for Ian to handle.
In the end, Ian’s original plan—to put the other members of the engineering club at a disadvantage—had succeeded.
Not only had the giant core in the middle of the grand auditorium drawn an enormous amount of attention, but contracts had been signed with the north, south, east, and Imperial Family respectively.
They had only been signed at the club festival for now, but it was only natural that further contract requests or requests related to follow-up research would come in afterward.
Ailey’s core had returned as well, so the rest was for Ian to handle.
And I had to focus on what I needed to do.
After the second semester began, the frequency of my sparring matches with Aaron during Friday simulation class decreased.
Because Professor Zeke had marked me as his personal responsibility.
Just like that day in the first semester when he beat the hell out of me, he kept beating me up, saying he would raise my sync rate.
The screen turned on, I dodged, failed to dodge and it went dark, the screen turned on, I dodged, failed to dodge and it went dark, tried to counterattack and it went dark, rolled and it went dark, failed to change thruster direction and it went dark.
Attempting a counterattack, beyond merely fleeing, was an entirely different level of action.
“Huh.”
Kakakak.
“Ho.”
I don’t know how I did it.
The moment the hidden blade scraped across Professor Zeke’s core armor, Balmung stopped moving and stared at me.
“So you’ve finally reached Aaron Dyke’s level.”
Something about that assessment gave me chills.
It was like the tone of someone whose target had been achieved right on schedule according to his plan.
No way.
Surely not.
After the simulation ended, Professor Zeke gathered the cadets who had been training in one place and opened his mouth.
“Some of you may not know this, but starting from the second semester, all exams will be conducted as squad battles. No, since the scale is smaller than a squad, you can think of them as team battles.”
My world collapsed.
“The team leaders for each team have been selected from the cadets ranked up to thirtieth. The top twenty will form teams of three, while the remaining ten teams will be composed of four members. The remaining one hundred will take a separate individual exam.”
I was ranked twenty-eighth.
I had become a team leader by almost barely making the cutoff.
If I’d known this would happen, I would’ve ranked thirty-first.
As the murmuring grew louder, Professor Zeke raised his hand.
The cadets instantly shut their mouths and fell silent.
“Naturally, if a team has four members, it will have a much greater advantage when engaging a team of three. Therefore, we will balance the teams’ power based on ranking, and the teams with four members will be matched against teams whose leaders are among the top ten.”
At the same time, Professor Zeke’s eyes turned toward Aaron and me.
“For example, Cadet Deep will be matched against Cadet Aaron. Do you understand the explanation?”
I understood.
I just couldn’t accept it, fuck.
“Any questions?”
At the same time, Levan shot his hand up.
“If we made it twenty-five teams, wouldn’t every team have four members?”
“Because I felt like it. Next question?”
“Why are the remaining one hundred taking a separate individual exam?”
“Based on first-semester grades, the half that doesn’t necessarily need team battle records has been separated.”
Then separate me too.
I’ll curse you. Professor Zeke.
Since there’s nothing I can do anyway, I’ll at least curse you.
***
I forget sometimes, but professors must have graduated from the academy too.
Then don’t they know that the more people there are in a group project, the higher the chance that some freeloader will be mixed in?
While I was mulling it over, I suddenly understood.
I tried to imagine Professor Zeke suffering because of some useless teammate in a team battle, but I couldn’t imagine it at all.
He would just push that freeloading Titan forward as a meat shield, then advance and cut down the entire enemy team by himself.
After all, I had yet to see anyone with the title of professor who wasn’t a genius.
“Ah, Alang.”
The one saving grace was that there was someone I knew among my teammates.
“Better to be on Deep’s team than on the team of someone I don’t know well.”
“Th-that’s kind of you to say.”
“Well, I did owe you one in the west.”
Alang was absolutely not the type to freeload.
We had been on the same team during the previous joint training as well, and even then, he had performed the role he was capable of above average.
“Th-this person is…”
“Ah, I’m Rob. A commoner. I watch your sparring videos all the time!”
“Your rank is…”
“121st. Not a rank I can brag about, though.”
Conversely, this one was new to me.
Even if we were in the same pilot major, there were as many as two hundred first-year pilot cadets.
Of course there would be people I had never seen before.
I wasn’t trying to discriminate against people by status, but if he was a commoner below the top hundred, there was a high chance he had entered the academy through luck and perseverance rather than skill and talent.
If he was lucky and diligent, then he probably wouldn’t freeload or ignore messages.
And lastly, this one.
He was a familiar face.
“What are you looking at?”
“I was wondering if you weren’t going to introduce yourself.”
“What, are you mocking me? You already know who I am.”
Joshua Otto.
I would rather he had been someone I didn’t know.
Fuck.
When he took the midterm exam with me, he had been a fairly average talent in the middle ranks, but now he was 157th.
It meant that after experiencing one defeat, he had suddenly broken and plummeted straight downward.
No, perhaps it meant Joshua Otto’s talent had only ever amounted to this much.
Piloting was fundamentally talent.
It was different from operators, who could study if they lacked judgment, or engineers, who could at least buy what they lacked in software knowledge.
Hard work could never surpass talent.
He was baring his teeth at me, but I could sense it to some extent.
That strangely dispirited, unwilling feeling, as if he wanted to just get carried along by someone else.
Originally, that was the atmosphere I should have been giving off.
Low self-esteem.
Belatedly, I remembered what Levan had said.
The karma system was not limited only to character settings at the start of the game.
It could be added or removed at any time depending on behavior during play.
This was not a game.
It was only natural for a person to gain or lose certain tendencies based on experience and life.
Kaya had said it.
The House of Viscount Otto had meager talent for piloting and meager talent for tactics.
Born into a house with that meager talent, he may have lived his life endlessly trying to prove himself.
And then he had lost to a lowborn he had denied, without landing even a single effective blow.
“Why are you looking at me like that? What, because you beat me once, are you pitying me now?”
“That’s a bit harsh—”
“Stay out of it, commoner.”
“No, they say everyone is equal in the academy.”
“You believe that? Are you an idiot?”
That was why he was antagonizing me and pushing me away.
I was troubled.
Could I really do anything properly with Joshua Otto?
At times like this, I regretted the fact that I had never gone to university.
If I had gone to university, I might have known what to do when there was a troll in a group project like this.
No.
He was a troll.
I didn’t know how to handle university group projects, but I knew exactly how to deal with a teammate trolling in Titan Core.
“Are you ignoring me right now? Huh?”
Especially when they picked a fight first, acting as if they were the most unfortunate person in the world.
“Stop picking fights.”
“I wasn’t talking to a naive, stupid idiot.”
Or when they ruined the mood by swearing at a teammate who was trying to improve the situation.
“F-fine.”
“What?”
There was only one method.
“We’re a t-team anyway, so the three of us should do our best.”
“You little—”
Joshua Otto rose from his seat.
“Bastard—”
“Hup.”
At the same time, I kicked the table.
“Gak!”
Joshua Otto, struck directly in the stomach by the table, rolled across the floor.
A few people nearby murmured and looked over, but I didn’t feel burdened.
More than that, I felt incredibly refreshed.
With trolls, you just don’t feed them.
Do not feed the idiot.
It absolutely wasn’t because I had always wanted to try kicking a table like Ian had, at least once in my life.
Really, it wasn’t.
Probably not.
“You were this kind of person?”
Alang looked dumbfounded.