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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Mod7
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Beep—
The signal sounded, and Leon’s figure blurred as he charged, a diagonal slash aimed from his upper right to my lower left.
I rolled out of the way, conjured a shortsword, and lunged.
I swung horizontally, aiming for his midsection, but he parried, his sword a blur of motion.
A sharp pain in my gut. He’d kicked me while blocking.
I rolled twice, scrambled to my feet, and barely managed to conjure a shield to block his next attack. The hastily created shield shattered.
“…Is that all?”
“…”
“…I suppose I shouldn’t expect much from a commoner who spent 50 days holed up in his room.”
He taunted me, advancing again. I retreated, creating throwing knives and hatchets, hurling them at him.
But Leon was a skilled swordsman, one of the strongest in Class A.
Clang! Clang!
He deflected my projectiles as if they were mere pebbles, steadily closing the distance. He moved with the practiced ease of a seasoned warrior.
“…Pathetic. Are you sure you belong in Class A?”
If I were in my prime, I could have easily defeated him in hand-to-hand combat. But this body had only undergone 50 days of training. It was no match for someone who’d trained since childhood to be a knight.
‘Retreat.’
The chase continued. I kept throwing projectiles, desperately trying to keep him at bay, but the difference in stamina was undeniable. He’d trained relentlessly to become a knight. My 50 days of training were nothing in comparison.
“What’s wrong?! Tired already?!”
He taunted me, but it wasn’t just fatigue. I was running low on mana, having continuously conjured weapons. He, on the other hand, was relying solely on physical strength.
‘This isn’t working…’
I hadn’t expected to tire so easily, but I hadn’t anticipated his relentless pursuit either. I stopped dodging. It was a waste of energy.
“Haha! Out of breath?!”
He charged, a smug grin on his face. He must have sensed an opportunity. Mana flickered around his sword, his eyes burning with the desire to crush me.
“…Funny, I feel the same way.”
“What are you mutteri—Gah!!”
Thud—
I punched him in the throat, deflecting his sword at the last moment. A counterattack, using his own momentum against him.
“Gah… Cough, cough…”
He choked, collapsing to his knees, gasping for air. The sight was immensely satisfying.
“You… little brat…!”
“Who are you calling a brat?”
Close combat was disadvantageous for me, but I wasn’t so unskilled that I couldn’t handle a single, enraged teenager. I wouldn’t have survived this long if I couldn’t.
“I’ve dealt with far worse than you.”
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Leon was winning.
He was sure of it.
Like most people, he hadn’t considered the possibility of defeat.
‘There’s no way I’d lose to a nobody like him… Heh.’
His opponent was Jenison, the disgrace of House Reinhardt, a talentless fool who’d relied on his family name to defile the honor of Class A.
There was no way he’d lose to someone like that. Jenison’s swordsmanship and magic were inferior to his own.
Thud—
“Ugh…”
That certainty began to crumble the moment he stepped onto the training ground.
Thwack—
Pain had a way of shattering illusions.
Crack—
His thoughts clouded, his reasoning vanished, his body moved on instinct.
Crunch—
A skilled assassin never missed an opening.
“Gaaah!!”
Leon flew backwards, the agonizing sensation of shattering bones coursing through his body.
He’d been raised in the lap of luxury, shielded by his family name. He’d never experienced such pain.
Terror gripped him. Terror of the pain, of the damage to his body.
“Get up.”
A voice. He looked up and saw a pair of black eyes staring down at him. Cold, bottomless pits.
“You… bastard… You were hiding your strength…!”
“…You’re still conscious enough to wonder about that?“
I really am rusty, I guess.
Another blow landed before he could process the cryptic remark.
The pain was excruciating, but he forced himself to swing his sword. He couldn’t accept defeat at the hands of this nobody.
He saw the cuts on Jenison’s body, inflicted by his own sword, and smiled faintly. Then…
“H… How…?!”
He gasped, staring at the sight before him.
“What’s wrong, third-rate swordsman?”
Leon’s sword was stained with blood, but Jenison’s body was unmarked.
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“H… How…?”
“What are you talking about?”
“What trickery did you use?!”
He pointed at the torn fabric of my clothes, his voice laced with disbelief.
He must have felt the sensation of cutting flesh.
In this world, there was no easy way to heal wounds. Modern medicine and technology didn’t exist.
Attempts at healing often made things worse. There were only two ways to heal without causing further harm, and only one that required no special tools or materials.
“D… Do you… Do you know how to use holy power?!”
Holy magic.
The power of the gods I’d come to loathe.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I would never use such power. I hated the gods more than anyone.
“Don’t lie! Do you think I’m blind—”
“I created it.”
“What…?”
“I created it.”
He stared at me, one corner of his mouth twitching upwards. He thought I was insane.
Understandable.
Creation magic seemed like it could create anything, but it wasn’t that simple.
You needed to understand the principles and composition of the object you wanted to create. And it consumed a lot of mana, making it unsuitable for combat.
‘That depends on the user.’
I’d lived longer than most. I’d been a science student in the 21st century, and later, a scientist who conducted experiments on the human body. I knew anatomy.
I might have forgotten some things, but I’d had plenty of time to refresh my knowledge. Fifty days was more than enough.
And if I was unsure about something, I could always experiment on myself. My wounds healed quickly, and if I made a mistake, I could create a potion. Self-inflicted injuries were nothing compared to the torture I’d endured.
“You… bastard…! You’re nothing but a disowned halfwit…!”
“…I don’t want to hear it.”
I didn’t want to listen to his pathetic ramblings. He could barely stand.
I snapped my fingers, activating the massive magic circle I’d subtly etched into the ground with my feet while retreating. The circle connected to the numerous throwing knives and hatchets I’d scattered around the training ground.
“W… What is…?!”
Ignoring his bewildered cry, I opened the bag I’d brought with me.
“What’s that…?”
Five scrolls tumbled out, each inscribed with a magic circuit I’d created.
“What are you planning?!”
Rip—
I tore the first scroll, Weight Enhancement. Leon stumbled, his knees buckling.
“W… What… Ugh…”
He struggled to stay upright. I tore the second scroll, Reverse Gravity.
The throwing knives and hatchets I’d thrown earlier rose into the air. Leon’s eyes widened in disbelief. He tried to stand, but his legs wouldn’t cooperate.
I tore the third scroll, Imbue: Dispel.
The projectiles, now imbued with dispel magic, would ignore any magical defenses. I grinned and tore the fourth scroll, Enhancement.
Shink!
The sound of sharpening blades. The nicks and scratches from their impact with the ground vanished, their edges becoming razor-sharp.
“W… What are you going to do?!”
“Be quiet… Can’t you just die peacefully?”
I savored his fear as I tore the final scroll, Mana.
The mana I’d depleted creating the projectiles surged back. Enough to power the massive magic circle beneath my feet.
I placed my hand on the ground, activating the circle.
Everyone present understood its effect as the dozens of airborne knives and hatchets hurtled towards Leon’s head.
The circle’s effect: Homing. The target: his head.
“W… Wait! Let’s talk…!”
“…Die, Leon Benil.”
A rain of steel descended upon the academy training ground.
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The flurry of blades, reminiscent of a battlefield, filled the spectators with terror. Only one person moved.
Professor Oliver, fearing for Leon’s life.
‘I have to stop this! He’ll die!’
He rushed onto the training ground, but the projectiles were already hurtling towards him. He instinctively knew he couldn’t stop them. Despair washed over him.
Clang! Ting! Ting!
‘Ting?’
He froze, listening to the sounds coming from within the cloud of dust.
A sudden gust of wind cleared the air, revealing the scene.
Jenison, radiating killing intent, his face contorted in a grimace.
Leon, sprawled on the ground, whimpering, the effects of the weight enhancement spell still lingering.
And a woman with shimmering platinum blonde hair, standing gracefully amidst the chaos.
The Headmaster of the academy, one of the empire’s most powerful mages.
Ruine Descartes.
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man fuck the academy head intervening.