Academy’s Genius Swordmaster-Chapter 15: Practical Exam (3)

Chapter 15: Practical Exam (3)

Navirose opened her mouth without picking up her sword.

“Yeah, three times. Just like the tricks you showed.”

Upon hearing the words “three times,” Ronan swallowed nervously. Navirose’s insight was precise. He had used the same technique he used to shatter Marya’s sword before.

“At an unimaginable speed, you struck twice, and then deliberately slowed down for the final strike. You’re quite bold, to think that no one could read your sword’s movements.”

Ronan remained silent. The reason for slowing down the speed of the final strike was simply because he was worried it might hurt himself, but that wasn’t very important. The sound of his heart pounding seemed to echo in his head.

Read my sword? My sword?

After staring at him for a few seconds, Navirose nodded quietly.

“I’ll remember your name, Ronan.”

Kratir opened his mouth only after she returned to her position. He too had noticed Ronan’s secret, but he didn’t bother asking further questions.

Kratir bid farewell to him with the same benevolent smile as when he first met Ronan.

“Well done, Ronan. But I have a question for you, old as I am.”

“Yes?”

“Why do you want to enroll in Philleon?”

Ronan blinked at Kratir. Unexplainable tears were flowing through the crescent-shaped eyelids.

“Just like everyone else, I want to learn.”

“Learn, you say. Learn what?”

“Um…”

Learn what? Ronan’s words trailed off. The sudden silence made the examiners chuckle and raise their heads.

Ronan was facing Kratir, but his gaze lingered beyond Kratir’s pupils, lost in the scenery. Giants descending and a torrential downpour over corpses. The final request of the General who had shown him the future.

Finally, Ronan’s mouth opened.

“By doing my best.”

“Hmm?”

Kratir raised an eyebrow. Ronan didn’t offer any further explanation. After a brief pause, Kratir smiled faintly.

“…I see. Go back safely.”

Ronan bowed his head in farewell. Thud. As he left the exam room, the door closed.

****

“By doing my best.”

Kratir mumbled to himself as he slouched into the chair, utterly puzzled. No matter how he mulled it over, it was an incomprehensible phrase. The deep gaze that seemed too profound for his age also caught his attention.

“Profound indeed.”

Kratir eventually gave up on finding an answer. It wasn’t what mattered right now.

“Phew… I’m relieved that this is Philleon.”

“Why is that?”

“Because there is no better place for him to be in other than Philleon”

Kratir nodded, concurring with Navirose’s agreement.

The inquisitive Kidocan couldn’t hold back his curiosity and asked.

“Um, what’s happening right now? Navirose and… Did that boy use some kind of trick?”

The former Grand Swordmaster had aimed her sword at the examinee, now a Swordmaster himself. The Archmage, a Circle 8 mage and the headmaster, sat in the same spot, yet they didn’t prevent her actions.

It was an incident that was difficult to explain. Most of the examiners, including Kidocan, still hadn’t fully grasped the situation.

“A trick, you say… Well, you could see it that way.”

“What do you mean…”

-Thud!

At that moment, the head of Madros Kyeong fell to the ground. The flicker in his eyes, visible through his helmet, faded away.

The astonished examiners gasped and exclaimed in shock.

“Whoa…!”

“Ugh…!”

The head and body were separated, yet there was no sign of a new sword wound. The knight who had tested countless examinees for over a century had found eternal rest. Kratir murmured softly.

“That talent… if it’s not a trick, then what else could it be?”

“Ugh, it’s so bright.”

As soon as he exited the examination room, a brilliant spring sunlight poured down. Ronan raised his hand to shield his eyes from the intense glare.

The enchanted exit led to Philleon Academy’s grand plaza.

“Ronan! Over here!”

At that moment, a familiar voice called out to Ronan. Even amidst the crowd, Marya’s figure was hard to miss.

In her hands, she held cups of raspberry juice mixed with ice. Marya approached quickly and handed Ronan a cup.

“Took you quite a while, didn’t it? Wasn’t I supposed to go next?”

“Yeah, something happened.”

“Something? What was it?”

Ronan nodded. He recalled the events that had taken place in the examination room.

The woman known as Navirose was much stronger than he had imagined. Even if he had been at his best, he doubted he could have countered her sword.

“I couldn’t even cut through the armor…”

Moreover, He hadn’t managed to breach Madros Kyeong’s armor either. It was due to him striking three times that he managed.

The thin seam connecting the head and the body had been made of mana, which was a great relief.

“I only managed to damage it a little bit. I still have a long way to go.”

For a moment, he had forgotten. The General hadn’t given him one last chance simply because he was strong. It was his inexplicable nonchalance that was his advantage.

Ronan finally realized his own weakness. But he wasn’t frustrated.

Taking a deep breath, Ronan downed the juice in one gulp.

“Hey, slow down. Sip it slowly.”

“Phew… that’s better.”

“Huh?”

The liquid trickling down his throat cooled his body’s heat slightly. After chewing through the ice as well, Ronan spoke.

A deeply resonant voice flowed from him.

“I feel like I can become stronger.”

He saw a path ahead. A compass-like starlight.

It was a pleasant thought, so Ronan smiled.

“What are you saying, out of the blue?”

“Exactly as I said. By the way, turn your head a bit.”

“Huh? Huh?”

Suddenly, Ronan reached out and lightly pinched Marya’s chin. It was to check the spot where she had been hit by Deiarian.

Marya’s face flushed as Ronan’s hand drew near, her breath hitching slightly.

“Eeek.”

“Well… fortunately.”

Ronan adjusted his angle slowly while gently patting Marya’s cheek. Though a reddish hue marked the path his fingers had taken, thankfully, there seemed to be no injury.

Marya regained her senses belatedly and shook her head vehemently.

“What, what’s gotten into you! All of a sudden!”

Ronan shrugged, as if he couldn’t believe it himself.

“I said I’m checking your injury.”

“Wh-who told you to check it!”

Marya took a step back. Her left cheek was red earlier, and now her right cheek was flushing too.

“Tsk, you’re being so unnecessary…”

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?”

With each step Ronan took forward, Marya took a step back. Their odd behavior, reminiscent of a theater performance, drew the crowd’s attention.

Then, an angry shout rang out across the square.

“Stop right there! You commoner girl!”

It was a familiar voice, one that carried a hint of rage. Simultaneously, both Ronan and Marya turned their heads to the source of the voice.

Standing there was Deirian, his skinny frame dressed sharply in his clothes, trembling with barely restrained fury.

“Oh, you changed clothes? And you have some skills too.”

Ronan whistled, causing Deirian’s eyes to briefly meet his. Deirian flinched but continued to march decisively toward Marya, pointedly ignoring Ronan.

Marya, back to her noble demeanor, lowered her head politely.

“What seems to be the matter, Lord Deirian?”

“What’s the matter?!”

The passersby who had been drawn to the commotion halted in their tracks. Ronan watched Deirian while crossing his arms.

Even though Deirian seemed aware, he didn’t immediately raise his hand.

“You’re saying this now? After four years of what you did to me! I’ve never suffered such humiliation in my entire life!”

“Seems like he’s not going to let it go just because he slapped a girl.”

“Of course not! If you think paying the price for that little slap is enough…”

“But really, what did the girl do wrong to merit this from Lord Deirian?”

Deirian froze for a moment. Marya spoke up.

“What?”

“Even the fact that the Lord’s sword suddenly shattered into pieces, or that his underwear flew away like a dandelion in the wind, I know nothing about it. Why is Lord Deirian, a descendant of a prestigious family who holds a position in the Empire, taking out his frustrations on a mere commoner?”

“Wh-what’s the…!”

“If I have committed a crime, all you should do as a high-strung noble is to comfort her.”

Marya’s demeanor was polite, but she presented a starkly different aspect from before. If she had been purely focused on maintaining noble manners back in the waiting room, now it felt like she was speaking words she genuinely wanted to convey.

Ronan clicked his tongue internally.

“Now that he’s got nothing to lose, he’s lashing out. Anyway…”

In any case, Sen was a pseudonym. Deirian failing the exam was an established fact.

He had blown his last chance this year, so there would be no more encounters between Marya and him. She really was a merchant’s daughter down to her bones.

“It was truly regrettable to see you enter the examination room in undergarments. For the distinguished descendant of the Mirodin family to commit such an unthinkable act as humiliating a pitiable commoner like me… it’s truly appalling.”

She spoke in a restrained manner, but her voice carried far. Marya interpreted the misfortunes Deirian had experienced one by one, like a commentator narrating a chariot race.

Laughter erupted among the spectators.

“But don’t give up hope. Bold actions might have their own charm. Perhaps as a sincere gesture, I hope to see Lord Deirian at the induction ceremony.”

“Th-this…! Ridiculous…! Unbelievable…”

“Right, you should wear pants that day.”

“Wahaha!”

A thorn had been struck. Ronan brushed his bangs aside and laughed.

Deirian’s face was redder than it seemed humanly possible, and he raised his hand. He pointed at Marya, trembling as he shouted, “I, the third son of Count Mirodin, challenge you to a duel!”

The crowd buzzed with astonishment. It wasn’t just any duel, but a “sacred” one, which made it even more surprising.

The deeply ingrained tradition, explicitly stated by the Imperial law, was not something to be spoken of lightly. It involved engaging in a battle, risking not only oneself but also one’s family’s honor.

Regardless of social status, the loser had to fulfill one demand unconditionally from the winner.

This was going too far. Ronan raised his arm and asked a question.

“Wait a moment, I have a question. I inserted a handkerchief into your underwear, but why are you challenging a girl to a duel?”

“You, you’ll pay for that separately!”

Deirian shouted with a trembling voice. Understanding the situation, Ronan let out a sarcastic laugh. It was astonishing that even someone who probably hadn’t fully grown his beard yet could be so shameless as to behave this way just because of a girl.

“Are you scared of me? Just playing around with the girl because she’s an easy target?”

“Th-That can’t be it! It’s because the consequences of deceiving me are much greater!”

“Right, I can endure quite a bit, but you really can’t. Let’s do it, the duel.”

“G-Get away from me! Don’t come any closer!”

Spitting on his palm, Ronan approached. Deirian stepped back in panic. Marya, who had been observing them all along, stood between them.

“Both of you, stop.”

Ronan gestured with his eyes for Marya to quickly step aside. Blushing and flustered, Marya turned her back. She performed a light curtsy towards Deirian.

“Miss Sen, I accept the sacred duel.”

The three of them moved to an open area outside the Philleon grounds. An old man who seemed to be Deirian’s servant acted as the witness for the duel.

“Young master, what disgrace is this? Starting a quarrel with commoners isn’t enough; now you’re challenging a sacred duel. If your family were to find out…”

“Old man, shut up! Do you know what I’ve been through?!”

“I can guess to some extent from your current state, but…”

He snatched the longsword from the old man’s hand as if disarming him. The old man, sighing deeply, spoke dryly.

“Very well, then let me explain the rules of the sacred duel. You must accept the outcome unconditionally…”

A tedious explanation ensued. Marya closed her eyes and placed her hands on both scabbards. The crowd surrounding the field watched, and Deirian grinned ominously.

“This cursed girl….I will make you regret accepting the duel.”

He intended to erase Marya’s blunder during the practical exam. With the proud swordsmanship of the Mirodin family, even a tough girl like her could be turned into an easy opponent. He wouldn’t have to worry about controlling his strength.

“…That’s it. Do you both pledge to honor the time-honored tradition?”

“I pledge.”

“I do.”

Soon, the explanation concluded. The old man raised a handkerchief high above his head. The moment the handkerchief dropped, the duel would begin.

Facing each other, the two assumed their stances. With a soft metallic sound, the blades of two swords were drawn from Marya’s scabbard. She smiled faintly.

“Lord Deirian, I wish to express my gratitude in advance.”

“…Gratitude?”

“For granting me the legal right to knock you around.”

“What?”

At that moment, the handkerchief slipped from the old man’s fingers.

The duel has begun.

In an instant, Marya lunged forward, spinning her body as she swung her sword.

-Clang!

“What… what’s…?”

It was a fierce strike reminiscent of a wild gust of wind. Deirian hastily lifted his sword to parry, narrowly managing to defend himself, but it wasn’t particularly effective.

Thud!

The back of Deirian’s shoulder was struck by the resounding flat of Marya’s longsword.

“Ugh!”

“Never show your face in front of us again.”

Marya whispered. Deirian’s eyes widened as if they were about to pop out of his skull.

The spectators let out a gasp at the sound of bones breaking.

“These are my demands.”

Deirian, who had collapsed to the ground, let out a newborn’s wail.

“S-Stooooop!!!”

“Young master!”

It was a sound that only a person with their collarbone finely shattered could make. Deirian, writhing on the ground, had soaked the center of his pants in a dark stain. The handkerchief he had been fumbling with fell to the ground.

“W-We’re a bit late with the greetings…”

“Hmm?”

With an indifferent air, Marya turned around, leaving Deirian sprawled on the ground. Ronan, who was applauding with a satisfied expression, gave her a sly grin.

While scratching her cheeks, she reluctantly opened her mouth.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, miss.”

Deirian’s wail echoed in their ears for quite some time. The two of them then made their way to the Philleon Tower 4, where the magical examination was to take place. Marya, who burst into laughter at Ronan’s joke, no longer held back her smile.