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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Chaos
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Kaspar’s wooden sword slashed sharply towards Chrom’s head.
Years of training, combined with a physique honed by a privileged upbringing, gave his thrust a power unmatched by any amateur mercenary.
Crack!
A crisp sound of wood striking wood echoed.
It was the sound of Chrom’s wooden sword, held in his right hand, swinging upwards and intercepting Kaspar’s blow.
The impact knocked Kaspar off balance, and Chrom’s kick landed squarely in his exposed abdomen.
“Oof!”
Kaspar doubled over in pain, stumbling backward as Chrom looked down at him with an indifferent gaze.
Lotto, the country boy from Sphero, thought,
‘What am I witnessing?’
He had never thought Chrom was weak.
His exceptional marksmanship, his composure in any situation, his ability to utilize his tools effectively…
But Lotto had always considered Chrom’s strength to be that of a strategist, someone who made the most of limited resources and exploited his opponents’ weaknesses, not a brawler who engaged in direct combat.
But then what was this scene unfolding before him?
“Y-you baaaastard!”
Kaspar, a head taller than Chrom, charged forward with all his might, swinging his wooden sword.
Each time, Chrom’s sword, moving a beat later, would intercept Kaspar’s blow and deflect it, leaving him open for a swift and merciless counterattack.
This had already happened several times.
“Huh… well, now. Was that guy always that skilled?”
Crow stroked his chin, looking impressed.
Blocking and counterattacking sounded simple enough.
But what Chrom was doing was far more than that.
He was deliberately letting his opponent attack first, then intercepting with a later, yet faster, strike.
This required not only speed, to hit the target before the opponent’s attack landed despite moving later, but also immense strength, to disrupt Kaspar’s posture with a direct counter instead of simply deflecting or parrying.
And more importantly,
“…Wow, he’s going all out.”
Pino murmured.
As she said, Chrom hadn’t initiated a single attack since the duel began.
He simply reacted to Kaspar’s attacks, counterattacking with even greater force.
Upon closer inspection, Chrom hadn’t even moved from his starting position.
Kaspar roared,
“You bastard! Are you mocking me?!”
He couldn’t comprehend the situation.
Although he had used the format of a duel for appearances, in Kaspar’s mind, this was an execution.
He was the judge, the executioner, and Chrom was merely the condemned, begging for mercy.
So how had things turned out this way?
Chrom’s expression remained unchanged despite his outburst.
Enraged by Chrom’s impassive silence, Kaspar charged forward, but his attack was easily blocked, and a sharp counterattack landed on his left shin.
“Gah…!”
A searing pain, as if his bone had shattered, shot through his leg, and Kaspar instinctively clutched it and collapsed to his knees.
Years of training under his father’s strict tutelage kept him from dropping his sword, but his right arm trembled uncontrollably.
Despite not receiving a single direct blow to his arm, the cumulative impact from the clashes had pushed him to his limit.
Even with Kaspar completely vulnerable, Chrom remained motionless.
And the humiliation of his opponent not even bothering to press his advantage was more agonizing than the pain coursing through his body.
“Fight me properly, damn you! How dare you, how dare you—!”
Chrom didn’t react to his hateful glare or his venomous screams.
Chrom remained silent, while Kaspar, despite his growls, couldn’t bring himself to attack.
Some of the onlookers finally understood Chrom’s intent.
‘That’s ruthless.’
Although Kaspar would never admit it, his loss of momentum, his reliance on words instead of action, spoke volumes.
Kaspar was afraid.
His all-out attacks were easily countered, met with powerful counterattacks that inflicted pain but stopped short of incapacitating him.
Chrom’s intention was clear.
He wouldn’t give Kaspar the easy out of being defeated due to injury or unconsciousness, the “I fought well, but I couldn’t help it” excuse.
Kaspar could either continue his reckless attacks and suffer endlessly, or admit defeat despite being able to continue fighting.
This wasn’t just about winning or losing; it was about breaking his opponent’s will to resist.
As the standoff continued, Chrom’s demeanor grew calmer, while Kaspar’s screams gradually weakened.
Kaspar’s eyes darted around frantically.
‘This can’t continue, this can’t continue!’
He hadn’t fully grasped Chrom’s strategy.
But the murmurs and increasingly strange looks from the audience made it clear that he couldn’t stay like this.
He couldn’t admit defeat.
But he couldn’t attack either.
Then—
‘This is all your fault!’
A faint red glow emanated from Kaspar’s body.
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Several students, noticing the change in Kaspar, widened their eyes in surprise.
“Enhancement?! Is he insane?!”
Mana was a versatile power, a stepping stone to transcend human limitations.
A mana-enhanced body could break a large tree with a bare fist or run faster than a wild beast.
Unlike magic formulae, which required creating external structures, or healing, which required specific techniques, enhancement was intuitive and simple, achieved by focusing or activating mana within the body.
But it was a double-edged sword.
Because it directly affected the user’s body, losing control could lead to severe consequences.
The Academy hadn’t yet taught the students enhancement techniques.
Only a few, who had learned secret family arts, knew how to use it properly, including Kaspar.
Therefore, using enhancement against Chrom, who presumably had no such knowledge, was as dishonorable as using a real sword in a wooden sword duel, if not more so.
Even if he won, no one would acknowledge his victory.
But Kaspar, blinded by pain and humiliation, no longer cared.
“Raaaagh!”
Kaspar shot forward like an arrow.
His speed was unbelievable, considering his previous state, and his sword, swinging towards Chrom’s head, was filled with murderous intent.
Several students tried to intervene, while others closed their eyes, anticipating the impending disaster.
Amidst the chaos—
“Well, I didn’t expect anything to go smoothly in this crazy Academy.”
—as if anticipating this, Chrom’s sword, glowing with blue mana, shattered Kaspar’s weapon.
“What…? Gah!”
Chrom, adopting a baseball-like stance, struck Kaspar in the gut as he stared in disbelief.
Up to this point, it was similar to before.
But this time, the attack didn’t stop.
Thwack!
“Ugh!”
Thwack!
“Gasp!”
Thwack!
“Ugh! S-stop! You insolent—Agh!”
Thwack-thwack-thwack!——
As if his previous attacks were mere child’s play, a merciless barrage followed.
Kaspar, initially attempting to retaliate, could only scream in pain.
He foamed at the mouth and lost consciousness, but Chrom uncorked a potion from his pocket and poured it down his throat, then sprayed another over his body.
Slap!
“Gasp!”
Kaspar’s eyes snapped open at the sharp sting on his cheek.
He saw Chrom looming over him and struggled in panic, but Chrom simply resumed the beating without a word.
“W-wait! The duel is already—”
“Just like you can’t apologize on someone else’s behalf, you can’t surrender for them either. Don’t worry, I have plenty of potions. Unlike someone, I don’t intend to kill my opponent in a duel.”
Kaspar’s friend, who had initially tried to stop him, attempted to intervene again, but Chrom’s words silenced him.
He was right.
Kaspar’s attack had clearly been an attempt on Chrom’s life.
The cycle of beating and healing repeated three more times before Kaspar finally broke.
“M-mercy… p-please…”
A garbled plea for surrender escaped his swollen, bloodied lips.
Chrom poured another high-grade potion over him.
Kaspar, now clean and unharmed despite his tattered clothes, trembled before Chrom, who said,
“So, where’s my apology?”
“…”
Everyone, including Kaspar, stared at Chrom with horrified expressions.
Just like having two eyes was abnormal in the land of the one-eyed, in this mad Academy, a madman was a model student.
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