12
Just like always, Stella, whom I had ‘coincidentally’ run into during morning exercise, approached me with an unusually serious expression that day.
“Senior Conrad….”
Seeing the slight shadow cast over her complexion, which had been bright as the sun, it seemed Stella had also heard the recent news about me.
“What is it?”
“…I’m sorry.”
“…Huh?”
I had expected words of worry, much like Lulu’s.
But what came from Stella’s mouth was, contrary to my expectations, not worry or concern—rather, an apology.
“All of a sudden?”
“I heard the news. That you are having an evaluation match with Dyke Osman, a fourth-year senior from my division.”
“Yeah, that’s how it shook out. And you don’t need to use respectful titles like ‘senior’ for that guy. You can just call him a bastard.”
“When I think about it, this happened because of me… so I am apologizing.”
At the point where I could not understand which part she was trying to apologize for,
Stella seemed to read my expression and continued the explanation on her own.
“Although I am a new student in the Swordsmanship Division, I still know the general atmosphere of the division through my teacher… my father.
Senior Dyke Os… I mean, that puppy person is a student under Professor Oliver. I also vaguely heard that he harbors a grudge over you rescuing me that day, and that is how the match with Senior Conrad came to be.”
It seemed that, since her father was a professor in the Swordsmanship Division, even news people wished to hide naturally flowed to Stella.
Rather than deny it further and make her worry more, I reluctantly admitted it.
“That’s how it seems.”
“If I had handled things firmly when surrounded by the seniors of the Swordsmanship Division back then, Senior Conrad would not have had to fight the ba… the puppy person in an evaluation match.”
“…If swearing isn’t your thing, you can just speak comfortably.”
It was a bit cute how Stella was forcing herself to obediently follow my words.
“And even if you had handled things firmly as you said, Professor Oliver’s target for venting his anger would have just shifted from me to you.”
“Even so, would I not have a better chance against this Dyke person than Senior Conrad?”
“What, you too think I’m going to lose?”
“Ah, no! Senior Conrad is an excellent mage, so I believe you will win! …Probably.”
“I don’t feel an ounce of confidence in your voice.”
Hearing my words, she avoided my gaze as if struck in a vital spot,
and immediately followed up with excuses for why she could not manage to sound confident.
“It is a swordsman and a mage, after all.”
Just as Stella said. A duel between a swordsman and a mage was fundamentally that uneven.
The standard by which one judges how great a mage is was not how quickly they could cast many types of magic in rapid succession.
It was how much destructive power the magic possessed when cast with sufficient time.
It was the common perception among mages that no matter what great archmage could use powerful magic, if the opponent was a close-combat class, they would find it difficult to deal with them.
Fast magic could not inflict fatal wounds, and by the time the chant for powerful magic was finished, the distance would have closed.
That is why parties were formed. To protect classes vulnerable to close combat, like mages or priests.
Perhaps, if it were a disorganized rabble of bandits with pathetic combat prowess.
Since they were students enrolled in the Academy, they would possess some level of skill, so they should be able to adequately deal with fast magic like Wind Blade.
Moreover, the reason I had been able to win in the back-alley battle last time was largely because I had time to prepare powerful magic through a surprise attack.
The fact that the opponents had not been wearing proper defensive gear had also played a part.
Conversely speaking, in this evaluation match, Dyke would appear having made every preparation.
Stella had seen and learned enough until now; it was only natural, in a way, that she thought I would lose.
“It’ll be tricky, just as you said. There is a fundamental difference in physical ability between a swordsman and a mage.”
“…….”
“But the fact that mages generally lose to swordsmen does not mean Conrad Perdalthos loses to Dyke Osman.”
“Yes?”
I had experience facing countless opponents.
I had experience facing foes so strong and dangerous that a frog in a well like Dyke could not even compare.
Of course, compared to back then, I lacked magic circles and my equipment was poor, but when facing someone of Dyke’s level, this much was not even a penalty.
In my previous life, I had been a mage, but I had not fought using only magic.
The moment I saw Stella’s face, the secondary weapon I had used back then naturally came to mind.
“Stella, sorry, but could you do me a favor?”
“Ah, yes! Please tell me anything!”
“It’s nothing much, but I was hoping to borrow a sword.”
In preparation for when my comrades could not protect me,
I had always kept a sword inside my cloak as a secondary weapon to protect myself.
“By all means! I happen to be wearing the best one I have with me right now….”
“I appreciate the thought, but not that sword.”
“Yes?”
Since she was about to lend me her own cherished sword at her waist, I stopped her immediately on that one.
“If you lend me that, what are you going to do for your own evaluation match?”
“…….”
“Besides, that one is too heavy for me to use. How am I supposed to swing something heavier than my own staff?”
“Then what kind of sword do you need?”
“Something much shorter and lighter than that.”
To Stella, who was making a bewildered expression, I added further explanation.
“You know, one with a blade slightly longer than the elbow. Light enough to swing quickly, and easy to carry.”
“You mean a broadsword!”
“Yeah, that. Do you happen to have one?”
Stella had been adopted into the Arwen family at a very young age.
Since she had been receiving instruction from Professor McDowell since that time, she would not have trained with a longsword from the start.
Before her body fully grew, she would have used a slightly shorter sword suited to her physique.
Of course, I was not certain she had still brought the sword from her childhood to the Academy.
Still, if possible, I wanted to borrow one of the weapons Stella had used.
Because the secondary weapon I had used in my previous life was also a sword received from Stella.
Like a talisman given by the goddess of victory.
“I happen to have brought the one I used in my childhood to my dormitory!”
Fortunately, just as I had expected, Stella seemed to have enrolled while bringing along the sword she had used as a child.
With this, all preparations to catch the Swordsmanship Division’s mad dog were complete.
? ? ?
In one of the Academy’s Swordsmanship Division training grounds.
“Hoo, hoo….”
The rough breathing of a burly man.
And each time that man swung his sword, bursting sounds that rang out filled the Swordsmanship Division training ground for over two hours.
BANG. As the rough bursting sound echoed once more, another stone golem was shattered.
The number of stone fragments already piled at the man’s feet was so great that one could not even guess how many golems had been felled.
“That brat… he’s fucking crazy….”
The black-haired mage with a dark blue cloak draped over his shoulders.
Recalling that man’s face, rough curses as crude as his body burst from Dyke’s mouth.
“Guess he rushed in without fear because he knows he’s gonna die anyway?”
Originally, he had planned to beat him moderately and let it end.
Whether his juniors were hurt or not had merely been an excuse.
Just the thought of being able to beat a mage instead of a swordsman, unlike usual, had put him in a sufficiently pleasant mood.
However, the Magic Division junior he had met thinking he would just size him up was more arrogant than imagined.
He made Dyke pour effort into preparing for an evaluation match, something he would not normally have done.
To be exact, it was closer to a different act than training, but.
“…This is just right.”
Dyke brought his finger to the blade he held and smiled in satisfaction.
It was a blade dulled from cutting down dozens of stone golems.
It had become a weapon so far from lethal force that it could be considered closer to a club than a sword.
“He was probably thinking it would end with death prevention just by getting cut.”
Originally, Dyke had planned to torment Conrad ‘until he died.’
He had planned to beat him just enough to relieve stress, then finish by cutting him with the sword and teleporting him to the church.
Dyke Osman considered that mercy.
The arrogant junior he had met a few days ago made even that shred of mercy disappear.
“If he ran his mouth carelessly, he has to pay the price.”
Now Dyke’s goal had changed greatly from the beginning.
He planned to mobilize every method his head could conjure to torment Conrad Perdalthos,
and dulling the blade to eliminate its killing power was also one of the plans he had prepared.
“I’ll make him beg and plead for me to kill him instead.”
Imagining Conrad’s face being cut endlessly by a sword that would not kill,
Dyke Osman laughed as though his mouth would tear.
? ? ?
Stella finally appeared on the evaluation match stage I had been watching while waiting for my turn.
As it was her first evaluation match, she took a ready stance holding her sword with suitable nervousness.
She was preparing to face off against another second-year student from the Swordsmanship Division across from her.
“…….”
Including Stella’s match, only two matches remained.
The number of matches until I stood on that same stage.
“A-are you okay? Don’t be nervous…. O-of course, you said you’d win because you prepared something, but still, absolutely don’t let your guard down….”
“Why are you trembling more than me?”
“I-I don’t know either, you idiot….”
As my turn to go out drew closer, Lulu’s body, waiting next to me, trembled more and more greatly.
For someone who stuck by my side claiming to cheer me on, she seemed to be barely holding onto her sanity in the tension.
Well, it was still better than nothing.
“I’m going to win, so don’t worry.”
“W-who said what? I believe in you too, okay? Huh?”
“For someone who says that, your whole body is shaking like a sewing machine.”
“…It’s just a little cold, that’s all.”
It was April, already past even the late spring cold snaps, so it could hardly be called cold, but.
While passing the time with such idle chatter with Lulu, before I knew it, Stella’s first evaluation match since enrollment had ended.
Stella, having felled her male opponent, found my gaze and waved her hand with all her strength.
I also waved back at her in greeting and prepared for my evaluation match that would soon arrive.
“I’ll be back.”
“No one’s going to say anything to you even if you lose, but still, win if you can.”
“You’re stating the obvious.”
“Because honestly, I don’t want to see you getting beaten by a bastard like Dyke.”
It was encouragement filled with sincerity.
I nodded silently to Lulu and moved toward the bottom of the spectator seats.
? ? ?
The moment I entered the duel arena, hundreds of gazes moved toward me at once.
It was the real highlight of today’s evaluation matches. Moreover, since the stage was the Swordsmanship Division’s duel arena,
it was only natural that attention focused on me, who was practically an outsider.
I was also the only Magic Division student appearing in the Swordsmanship Division arena.
“What, isn’t he from the Magic Division?”
“I thought he’d forfeit, but he really came out.”
“Doesn’t he value his life?”
The students each muttered as they looked at me, creating a disorderly atmosphere.
“Long time no see, Conrad.”
Dyke, walking over while smirking from the opposite side, still had that detestable face.
“You done getting ready to be beaten?”
“…….”
“I’ll give you credit for showing up instead of running away. I didn’t know you were so desperate to die.”
“…….”
“Did you turn into a mute with honey in your mouth because you’re so scared? Where’d that arrogant attitude go?”
It was amusing; I left him babbling because he was not worth responding to, and he unfolded his imagination all on his own.
“Senior Mad Dog, I think you would suit being a priest more than a swordsman.”
“What nonsense.”
“Seeing how you run your mouth nonstop. I thought you might have far more talent for chanting prayers instead.”
Dyke’s mouth, which had seemed like it would chatter endlessly, closed with only those final words left.
“You’re dead meat.”
As if there was ever a time he was not going to kill me.
Seeing him react to such childish provocations one by one, his mental age must have been around ten at best.
“Both sides, ready!”
The supervising professor’s voice came from outside the arena.
After widening the distance sufficiently to match the ready positions,
I inwardly began preparing the first wordless magic I would use.
“Begin!”
With the voice signaling the start of the evaluation match, a two-meter-tall colossus lunged at me.
Come at me, you mental ten-year-old.