Chapter 29

There was a brief commotion, but it was quickly resolved.

The man who was dealing with Asha was carried to the infirmary, foaming at the mouth and shedding red tears between his legs.

Even with potions and healing blessings, his organs might recover, but the mental shock would likely leave him with some lasting issues.

Asha, who probably didn’t intend for this disaster, awkwardly laughed and wiped off cold sweat.

I doubt anyone will dare challenge Asha to a sparring match until graduation.

I, for one, won’t even mention the idea of sparring with her again.

If that mechanical charge had targeted below, even a defensive stance wouldn’t have helped.

It was practically an evil tactic designed to wipe out humanity.

The looks directed at Asha and me were now filled with nothing but fear.

“Ahaha… I messed up. I didn’t think about the height difference back home.”

“Well, at least no one will bother you anymore. Forever.”

Asha smiled, her eyes twitching.

—

Even though there was a casualty, the sparring continued as if this was just part of the process.

The first round didn’t have anything particularly noteworthy.

Damien swung his greatsword and sent his shield-bearing opponent flying, shield and all.

Edgar cast a healing blessing on himself and dragged the fight out until his opponent, exhausted from attacking, conceded.

Knut didn’t even participate in the sparring.

Damien had challenged him, but Knut refused. Maybe he’s wary of showing his hand too early.

Soon, the second round began.

Ophelia, who had been lazily chewing on a mana herb, tossed it aside and walked to the center of the training ground.

“That magician seems to be on your mind, Hersela?”

Asha spoke up, noticing my gaze. I nodded.

Of course, she’s on my mind. She’s an important character.

“Come to think of it, you were focused on her during the entrance exam too. Her name is… Ophelia, right?”

“Yeah, Ophelia. She doesn’t seem like someone with just average skills.”

“Really? Well, some people hide their strength. Everyone has their reasons.”

Ophelia Sigmillus. The second daughter of the Sigmillus Count family.

A child prodigy who manifested magic at the age of five.

Though her genius was evident in the past, her growth stagnated, and she’s no longer as remarkable.

She ranked 4th in the entrance exam—not too high, not too low.

She probably won’t change her attitude until she faces a real life-or-death situation.

Ophelia’s opponent was a young man wielding a long spear. He charged at her, spear aimed.

Ophelia lazily raised her left hand, flipped her palm, and clenched her fist.

With a sound like dozens of pebbles being crushed, the spear crumpled in all directions.

Then, with a flick of her wrist, the young man’s body bent in half and he was sent flying, collapsing to the ground.

Before he could even scream, Ophelia slashed the air, and another dull thud echoed as his body went limp.

He was clearly out of the fight.

Unlike the flashy spells of the top-ranked mages, Ophelia’s attacks were concise and precise.

“She’s definitely skilled. Not much of a spectacle, though.”

“She’s even more dangerous in one-on-one fights. You can’t even see her attacks.”

Attacks with no warning or visible signs—you’d have to rely entirely on your senses to detect them.

Whether it’s sensing mana directly or reading the flow of the air through touch, neither is easy.

After finishing her match, Ophelia pulled out another mana herb and glanced at me while puffing smoke.

She seems interested in me, but I’m not sure why. It’s not like she hates me—more like curiosity.

Soon, the second round ended, and it was finally my turn.

I walked to the center of the training ground with Milia.

Damien, unsure who to cheer for, just said, “Both of you, do your best.”

Not sure how that’s supposed to be encouraging, but Milia seemed to take it as support, smiling as she gripped her sword.

—

“Third round, prepare for sparring.”

Facing Milia, I drew the steel longsword I received from Nigel.

Dozens of sharp gazes bore into me, making my skin itch.

They want to know if the rumors about me are true.

The princess of the Ka`har tribe, who supposedly took down a dozen knights in an instant.

Whether the stories about my ferocity are real.

They’ll find out soon.

…Though I don’t plan to prove it against Damien’s childhood friend.

Well, with potions and healers around, a few scratches won’t matter.

I lightly rested my left hand on the blade and pointed it at Milia.

Milia held a narrow rapier in her right hand, her expression tense. A small round shield was attached to her left wrist.

A rapier and a small shield? Not the wisest choice against me.

I didn’t plan to use Imperial swordsmanship.

It’s not worth revealing my full strength against her—basic swordsmanship and brute force should suffice.

Everyone probably already knows about my physical abilities from rumors.

I glanced at the audience.

Sure enough, Knut was staring at me without blinking.

…He’s getting on my nerves. Maybe I should deal with him soon.

A bitter smile escaped me.

I fled the Ka`har tribe to the Empire because I hated their senseless slaughter.

Yet here I am, thinking about killing someone who has a legitimate grudge against me just because they might be a nuisance.

Am I really any different from them?

No.

I am me. I’m not Hersela of the Ka`har.

I’m Hersela of the Remnant Academy.

I won’t bear the sins of her past.

Knut’s grudge is against Hersela’s crimes, not mine.

For me, it’s just an unfair venting of frustration.

So, if you’re going to be my obstacle till the end, I guess there’s no choice.

…I’ll have to kill you.

I can do anything to survive.

I steadied my troubled mind and tightened my grip on the sword hilt.

Soon, Kal-lain’s command echoed.

—-

“Haaah!”

Milia, charging towards me, had a desperate look on her face.

The ground she stepped on slightly caved in as her body shot forward.

The blunt tip of her sword, coated with hardening slime, aimed to pierce my chest.

But it was still too slow.

I swung my longsword sideways and easily deflected it.

Milia, losing her balance, staggered and was pushed back behind me.

Twisting my waist, I swung my left arm towards my back.

Milia barely blocked it with her shield, groaning as she was pushed back. Her arm trembled violently.

Seriously, she’s ridiculously weak. Is this the level of a junior knight?

I sighed, shifting the cigarette in my mouth to my left hand.

“Haah. Why don’t you just give up?”

“Not yet!”

Gritting her teeth, Milia thrust her sword repeatedly. A flurry of silver streaks poured down.

It looked so slow that it seemed more like snowflakes than a rain of strikes.

Stepping forward, I swung my sword diagonally.

Kaaang-!

The streaks disappeared, and her arm was flung into the air.

I kicked her exposed abdomen.

“Keuk!”

Milia let out a choked groan and fell backward.

“I’m saying this for your own good.”

Beating you up doesn’t really benefit me.

“Keh, keuk…keh…! Shut up…!”

Spitting out blood, Milia coughed for a while before gritting her teeth and using her sword as a crutch to stand up.

Haa… It’s better to finish her in one strike.

I put the cigarette back in my mouth and placed my left hand on the sword hilt.

If I overwhelm her in one strike, she won’t be too shocked by her own weakness.

She’ll just think I’m beyond the level of a freshman, like Damien.

My thrust, faster than she could react, pierced her shoulder.

“Kyaaah!”

A spurt of blood shot out.

Armor or hardening slime, none of it matters.

If the blade gets dull, I’ll just pierce through anyway.

On the tip of the sword protruding from her shoulder, chunks of flesh clung, red and mangled.

“Kuh, ugh…! Uwaaaah!”

Milia, screaming in pain, gritted her teeth and grabbed my longsword, trying to counter with her own sword.

Yeah. At least she’s got some fighting spirit.

I tilted my head to dodge the thrust and grabbed Milia’s right arm.

A crushing sound echoed as my vice-like fingers clamped down on her arm.

Her right hand went limp, and the sword she was holding fell to the ground.

Milia’s mouth opened wide in agony.

I barely suppressed the instinct to punch her in the face.

If I did that, Milia would be beyond recovery.

And I’d probably make an enemy out of Damien.

Pulling the longsword out of Milia’s shoulder, another spray of blood soaked my face.

The metallic smell lingered in my nose, and the heat ran down my cheek to my collarbone.

Milia let out a single groan.

“Take a nap for now.”

I lightly struck her temple with the hilt of my sword.

Milia’s eyes rolled back, and she collapsed limply to the ground.

Blood pooling from her shoulder, her body twitched in spasms.

…She’s not dead, right?

—-

Milia was also taken to the infirmary.

Compound fracture in her right arm, and some of her shoulder muscles were torn.

But with proper treatment and rest, she should recover in about a day.

Feeling a bit concerned, I scratched the back of my head and glanced at Damien.

“Uh… you okay? I just sent your childhood friend to the infirmary.”

“Don’t worry about it, Ha-shal-leur. She’ll be fine in a day. Milia did her best, so she’ll understand.”

Such a clean and straightforward attitude, befitting a future hero, but isn’t that a bit too casual for someone who just severely injured your friend?

…Well, if you say so.

Damien, still a bit worried about Milia, asked Kal-lain if he could visit the infirmary.

Kal-lain thought for a moment before allowing it.

Probably because Damien had already finished his own sparring.

Asha, having come up with a new idea, went back to the special observation room.

Is that really okay? What kind of special admission student is she?

—-

I wiped the blood off my face, spat out the soaked cigarette, and lit a new one.

The students’ horrified looks were somewhat satisfying.

This is effective.

If I repeat this a couple more times, I can definitely instill some fear.

After the third group’s sparring, they said we could have free sparring for the rest of the morning if anyone was willing.

Then I’ll take down two or three more.

No need to hold back like with Milia.

The problem is whether there’s anyone bold enough to fight me…

Looking around at the freshmen, most of them avoided eye contact.

This is troublesome.

Then, I locked eyes with Ophelia.

Ophelia, chewing on a cigarette, nodded once and walked towards me with clicking steps.

What’s this? Ophelia at this point wouldn’t usually seek attention like this.

“You there, the Ka`har woman, your name was Ha-shal-leur, right? The princess of Ai-shan Gi-or.”

Ophelia spoke to me.