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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Vine
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Despite the first-day brawl, everyone treated it as mere entertainment. Duels were commonplace. The boy’s family name, judging by their reaction, wasn’t particularly influential. The Seymours were far more prestigious. I doubted River considered such matters before accepting the duel.
Charles Fraser… I’ll remember that.
However, the look in his eyes after the duel, directed at both River and Amy, was unsettling. I’d keep an eye on him, just in case.
Like how no one intervened when recommended students mistreated exam entrants, no one cared about the outcome of a fair duel. It was the norm here. The strong preying on the weak, disputes settled through duels, even deaths resulting from such duels carrying no legal consequences – all perfectly acceptable in this world.
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The first day at the Academy passed without incident. This peaceful period would likely last a week. The first week was dedicated to introductions and course outlines, while the more astute students engaged in subtle power plays.
Most classes revolved around the Five Pillars, but ours was an exception.
“Lady Russell…! Where did she disappear to?!”
“I’ll check that way.”
After the first class, as everyone dispersed, the hallway was filled with commotion. My classmates were searching for someone. I didn’t need to ask who.
“They’re looking for you. Aren’t you going to join them?”
“…!”
Lucia peeked from around a corner, observing her classmates. Startled by my voice, she pulled me into a hug.
“Shhh…”
With our nearly 40cm height difference, my face was buried in her chest. A soft, plush cushion effectively muffled any sound.
This is… unsettlingly pleasant.
The pressure on my nose and mouth made it difficult to breathe. I took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet floral scent of her expensive perfume. The stark difference in our heights, coupled with her earlier comment about me being “small,” stung a little. But the luxurious embrace was too comfortable to resist.
She wanted me to be quiet. She was surprisingly good at hiding, despite her size. Our class was unusual because Lucia was extremely shy, fleeing from crowds. With their central figure missing, the students vying for her favor were in disarray. With the tiger gone, the foxes were fighting for dominance.
Having confirmed that her classmates had moved on, Lucia finally realized she was hugging me.
“…!!”
The comforting pressure vanished. Her face flushed as she realized what she’d done.
“This…”
She started to speak, but it was almost time for my spar with River.
“Yeah, whatever. I have to go.”
As I turned to leave, she grabbed my hand.
“Wait…!”
“Something else?”
She paused, seemingly searching for the right words, her head lowered. I waited.
“…Just once…”
She fidgeted, her face flushed, her breathing ragged.
“…Can I hug you again…?”
“No.”
I fled without looking back. Thus ended my first day at the Academy.
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Before dinner, I arrived at the training grounds where I’d met River earlier. She was already there, scimitar at her hip, a faint smile on her face. She rarely smiled, but she had worn the same expression during the duel.
That smile…
Her eagerness to confront injustice stemmed not just from her upbringing, but from a genuine love of combat. But such impulsiveness, combined with mediocre skill, was dangerous. She could easily get herself killed.
If she was the protagonist, I had to ensure her survival.
“You seemed so reluctant this morning. What changed your mind?”
“You’re too weak. You need to get stronger.”
“I’m weak?”
“Yes, you are.”
“I’m… weak… Interesting. How strong are you?”
“Not even comparable… Fine, to make it fair, I’ll only use the four basic stances. No special techniques.”
“Ha! You underestimate me…”
River assumed her stance. One leg forward, body lowered, sword slightly raised – a predatory stance, ready to pounce. The Wolf Stance, a fundamental stance in Imperial swordsmanship. Like a wolf baring its fangs at its prey, it was the foundation of all Seymour sword techniques. The boy from earlier, overwhelmed by her aggressive attacks from this stance, had quickly lost the duel.
I’ll make sure you never say that again…
I straightened my back, lowering my longsword slightly. The Serpent Stance, another fundamental stance, resembling a serpent stalking its prey.
The golden wolf lunged. Despite her speed, she chose a direct attack, aiming to break through my defense head-on, her pride seemingly wounded. Her scimitar, a curved blade ideal for slashing, remained poised for a mid-level strike.
She closed the distance rapidly, entering my longsword’s range. What would her next move be? We were almost within striking distance. She had to act soon. If she didn’t, it would be a simple thrust. A feint followed by a slash? Or the most common tactic, locking blades, controlling my movement, and targeting my arm.
Swordsmanship was like playing a fighting game with your own body. Hesitation meant defeat.
River’s scimitar moved. Having anticipated her action, my longsword moved simultaneously.
-Clang!!
Our blades met.
“One point.”
Her scimitar, blocked by my longsword’s crossguard, left her neck exposed to my blade. I could have inflicted a fatal wound with a little more force. Her initial move was a feint, attempting to change her attack trajectory mid-swing. Reading her intention, I shifted from the Serpent Stance to the Wolf Stance, raising my longsword to intercept her scimitar and simultaneously aiming for her neck. She had expected to score a point, only to find herself on the receiving end.
“You’re not going to end it here, are you?”
“One… more…!”
Having realized the futility of a direct confrontation, River switched tactics, utilizing her superior mobility. She circled outside my longsword’s range, feinting left and right, before attempting a thrust from my blind spot. It might have worked against an opponent of similar skill…
But the opening was a trap. Her scimitar sliced through air as my longsword gently tapped her shoulder.
“So, do you still think you’re strong enough to challenge me?”
“Ugh…!”
Her expression contorted slightly. Two exchanges were enough for her to grasp the disparity in our skills. Yet, driven by pride, or perhaps a desire for confirmation, she continued.
“Ha… ha…”
The pattern remained the same. No matter what she tried, the moment I moved, the match was decided. A late-starting, first-arriving sword, a technique only possible with complete understanding of the opponent. It was frustrating for River, who relied on preemptive strikes. Her family’s secret swordsmanship, countered by simple, fundamental stances.
I couldn’t discern her intentions. Was she seeking experience, clinging to a sliver of hope, or simply refusing to acknowledge defeat? But her relentless attacks confirmed my suspicion – she possessed the tenacity of a protagonist. In this world, unwavering determination and self-justification were the keys to success.
“You can become much stronger than this.”
We continued sparring without any formal declarations. The duel was over. I was merely indulging her. It was time to move on to the next stage.
“My goal is to get you to high-Expert level before the end of this semester.”
“Ha… ha… High-Expert? That’s just below Master… Is that even possible?”
Her scimitar missed again. Her footing faltered, perhaps from fatigue, and she stumbled. I caught her with my right arm.
“It’s up to you. Why wouldn’t it be possible?”
Our bodies were close. Supporting her small frame, I turned my head, and her flushed neck was right before my eyes. I sniffed.
It wasn’t intentional. It was just there, so I sniffed. She was drenched in sweat, her breathing heavy. Despite the exertion, there was no unpleasant odor. A refreshing citrus scent.
“…!”
She pushed me away, creating distance.
“W-w-what…!! Why did you sniff my sweat?!”
“It was right there. It smells nice. What perfume do you use?”
“I… I don’t use perfume!!!”
Flustered, she accused,
“Disciple or not… are you after my body?!”
“Are you crazy?!”
Her face crimson, she fled the training grounds faster than she had during our spar.
What a misunderstanding…
But she smelled nice. I could easily catch her, but I simply watched her go.
Now, let’s take care of the other matter.
As dusk settled, masked figures gathered at the foot of the hill near the dormitories. They wore no student brooches, and each carried a menacing weapon.
“Remember, blonde hair, amber eyes.”
The leader reiterated their target’s description. The others nodded. Their chosen location was the only path between the training grounds and the dormitories. They hid in the bushes, waiting for River’s return.
“Young Master, isn’t this… a bit much? She’s a noble too…”
“The Frasers always repay their debts! I won’t tolerate being humiliated by that Southern cur!!”
The leader, removing his mask, revealed his face. Charles, defeated by River earlier.
“We’re simply having a ‘duel.’ She chose to fight alone when we offered a six-on-six match. What happens after is our right as victors.”
“I wonder what that cur’s flesh tastes like.”
“When is she coming? I’m getting impatient.”
The masked figures were all students he’d gathered. The son of a viscount from his family’s retinue, an aspiring knight who entered through exams, a friend who tagged along for the fun – all drawn to his petty revenge scheme.
“She should be passing by soon… Curfew is approaching, so she’ll have to return!”
“Hmm… I see.”
No mercy then. I emerged from the shadows.
“Who are you?!”
“Doesn’t matter. Here’s the thing… River isn’t coming this way.”
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