"Young Master Roen! W-Wait for me!"
Garfield's voice reached me, punctuated by the sound of his ragged, heavy breathing.
Thud, thud, thud—.
The Ishtal training grounds were packed with students sprinting along the painted lanes. Instead of answering Garfield, I focused on maintaining my pace and steadying my breath.
"Hoo. Hoo."
Over a hundred students were currently running laps on the orders of Verdandi, the Basic Swordsmanship professor. It was a grueling elimination race: only the top ten finishers of each lap would be excused. The rest had to keep going.
In the worst-case scenario, one could end up running more than ten laps around this massive field.
'My current rank is around eightieth.'
With my natural physical stats, I would have been struggling at the back with Garfield. However, I had anticipated this and come prepared with body-enhancement items. There were no rules stating we couldn't wear artifacts to class, after all.
Thanks to the various artifacts I had equipped, my physical prowess was now on par with that of an average man. It was the only reason I was able to maintain my current position.
"Hoo."
I kept my breathing rhythmic and controlled as I observed the group ahead of me. The lead pack was—and this was only a slight exaggeration—already half a lap ahead. I watched them with a sense of genuine reverence.
'…They're nothing short of monsters.'
To think they were moving that fast based on pure physical ability, without any magical assistance. This truly was an academy for elite knights and warriors.
If I had to pick the most outstanding individual from that lead group, it was undoubtedly Freya. She charged ahead of everyone else like a goddess of the battlefield. Her movements were flawless, her gaze unwavering.
Given Freya's skill and grades, she didn't even need to attend a basic lecture like this. But she was famous for never missing a single swordsmanship-related class. It was likely due to her diligent nature—she approached everything with absolute sincerity, always seeing her duties through to the end without a word of complaint.
Well… the fact that her older sister, Professor Verdandi, was the instructor probably had something to do with it, too.
In any case, breaking into the top ten among those monsters was impossible for me. My best strategy was to maintain a moderate pace, let the first few groups finish, and then sprint at the opportune moment. I'd probably have to run another five or six laps, but I'd just count it as my daily workout. I had skipped my morning exercise today, anyway.
I was running smoothly, keeping my eyes on Freya and the lead group, when it happened.
"…!"
Thump—.
Someone shoved my shoulder hard from behind as they pushed past. The impact was forceful enough to be clearly malicious.
"Ugh."
I nearly lost my footing, but I quickly planted my hands on the ground and kicked off to regain my balance.
Fwip—.
'Which bastard was that?'
After righting myself, I looked ahead. The guy who had pushed me was glancing back over his shoulder.
"Hmph."
He shot me a mocking smirk before speeding up—a clear sign that the collision had been intentional.
To dare pick a fight with me, Roen, so openly… he must be tired of living.
…Or so I'd like to say, but given the nature of Ishtal, there were many here for whom fists spoke louder than laws. These were the children of the continent's various martial families, great and small. With their belligerent personalities and the physical prowess to match, minor scuffles like this were common. Just look at Garfield getting into a random fight on the street earlier.
Of course, that didn't mean I was going to let it slide.
'I know who he is, anyway.'
The student who had provoked me was named Handol Hendrick. He held a deep grudge against Roen. He wouldn't stop at just a shoulder check, so I'd have to find the right opportunity to deal with him decisively.
'I like to fatten them up first.'
Prey is always tastier when it's plump. For now, I calmed my irritation and continued running without a word.
*
"Good work, President."
"Thank you."
Like the exemplary Student Council President she was, Freya was the first to cross the finish line. Having completed her run, she headed to the covered rest area to catch her breath. Her adjutant handed her a water bottle, and she drank from it slowly.
"Hoo."
After a drink of cool water, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and turned her gaze toward the students still circling the field. It was a death rally where the top ten finishers were excused each lap, while the rest were forced to endure.
As her eyes scanned the crowd, they eventually settled on Roen.
"…"
In the end, despite her warning, Roen hadn't withdrawn from the swordsmanship class. Not only had he shown up, but he was participating with unbelievable earnestness.
Roen was running among the students without a single word of complaint. She felt like she hadn't seen him run since they were children. It was a wonder he could even keep up in his physical condition.
As Freya watched Roen silently lap the field, a complex mix of emotions swirled in her eyes.
'Why?'
What change of heart had made him sign up for this class and push himself so hard? And why, back then, had he thrown himself in front of her to save her?
No, there was a more fundamental question. Why had the boy she knew from childhood turned into such a scoundrel in the first place?
One question led to another, tangling together until they cluttered Freya's mind.
"…"
But Freya had already given him his last chance, and he had not responded. She had already made up her mind. After watching the training grounds for a moment longer, Freya closed her eyes.
*
After the death rally finally ended.
"Haaah— Haaah—."
Garfield was sprawled on the ground like a wrung-out dishrag, gasping for air. My final rank was 68th, while Garfield had claimed the glorious last place in the rally. Then again, I was almost impressed he managed to finish at all with that physique. It was surprising, to say the least.
Verdandi, however, looked at Garfield with an expression bordering on contempt and gestured with her chin.
"Trainee 99. Stamina is the foundation of everything. Nothing can be achieved without it—not academic success, not the fruits of training, and certainly not the results of research. If there is anything you wish to achieve in life, build your stamina first."
"Y-Yes, ma'am."
"Medics. Take him to the infirmary."
At Verdandi's command, the medics who had been waiting on the sidelines loaded Garfield onto a stretcher and carried him away.
"Ugh. He's heavy."
He was so large that even with four people carrying the stretcher, they were visibly struggling. As he was being hauled off, Garfield gave me a weak little wave.
Don't wave at me while you're being stretchered off, you idiot.
Verdandi watched the departing Garfield for a moment before addressing the rest of the class.
"Alright. Now that we've finished our physical conditioning, we will move on to basic swordsmanship training. Everyone, draw the weapons you brought with you."
This basic swordsmanship class was a three-hour hardcore session. The run was just the warm-up; the real training was about to begin.
*
Following the death rally, we endured two hours of sword forms and grueling martial arts drills. Finally, the intense session was nearing its end.
Verdandi looked over the exhausted students and announced, "Finally, we will conduct simple sparring matches using the techniques we learned today. Volunteers will receive extra credit."
"I'll do it!"
At Verdandi's words, a male student shot his hand into the air. It was Handol Hendrick, a large, black-haired youth. The same guy who had pushed me during the run.
He was the son of the Hendrick family, vassals to the Gunhilds. His family was led by the infamously rough and bold Balkan Hendrick, known as the 'Black Axe.'
As he stepped onto the sparring platform, his crooked, hooked nose caught my eye. I suddenly recalled a piece of trivia: the young Roen had actually broken the guy's nose while they were playing as children.
It was strange how I could recall such a trivial detail. But the short, one-line tips that pop up on game loading screens, like [Did you know?], have a way of sticking in your head. This was one of those.
In any case, he clearly hadn't provoked me for no reason.
"Very well. Trainee 21. You will be awarded extra credit."
"Instructor. Instead of extra credit, may I nominate another student as my sparring partner?"
"You may nominate someone, but you will need their consent. Who is it?"
As if he had been waiting for this exact moment, Handol pointed a finger directly at me, standing at the very back.
"I nominate student Roen Devalis."
His declaration caused an immediate stir. Every eye in the place turned toward me.
"…"
I had expected him to pull something like this. His earlier provocation had been a setup for this moment. He probably thought I'd find it hard to refuse a public challenge in front of so many people, but he was mistaken.
The original Roen never gave a damn about his reputation.
As the students, including Freya, waited for my answer, I spoke clearly.
"I refuse."
I flatly rejected the offer. My sharp refusal prompted Handol to shout provocatively.
"Are you even a man? Have you no spine? If you have even a shred of honor, come out and fight me!"
"Honor, you say…"
Spoken like a true son of a martial family. I shrugged and continued.
"I don't have any honor to speak of. Everyone at this academy knows that."
Roen, the academy's worst scoundrel. This body was associated with nothing but infamy and disgust, not honor.
"However," I looked at Handol and smiled faintly, "I am at least honorable enough not to challenge you, a swordsman, to a magic duel."
"Pfft."
"Heh heh."
My comment was met with snickers from around the training grounds. The students were reacting to my jab at Handol's cowardice—challenging me, a mage, to a physical duel.
Handol's face flushed a deep crimson at the unexpected counterattack.
"…You bastard!"
Unable to contain his rage, Handol yelled, but his outburst was cut short.
"Handol. Watch your tongue. I will not tolerate any more of this behavior. Step down."
"Grrgh."
Silenced by Verdandi, Handol clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white. He bit his lip, his glare fierce.
"Since the situation is not ideal, I will demonstrate the forms myself. Freya, come up."
Handol stomped off the platform, and Freya silently walked up to face Verdandi. With Freya's appearance, the tense atmosphere dissipated. After a magnificent duel between the two sisters, the swordsmanship class concluded on a high note.
Clap, clap, clap—.
Thunderous applause erupted. I, too, clapped, adding my small contribution to the sound. The swordsmanship class was over, but for Handol and me, things were just getting started.
*
A deserted alleyway.
"Did you really think I'd just back down like that?"
Ishtal, with its rows of gray buildings, had many secluded places like this. I had deliberately chosen this route for my way back, and just as I'd expected, Handol had followed me.
"Of course not."
I turned around with a relaxed smile. The alley, already dim, grew even darker as his large frame blocked the light. I looked at Handol, who stood in my way, and asked, "So, do you have some kind of grudge against me? I can't seem to recall."
Other than crushing his nose as a kid, I genuinely didn't know. I truly couldn't remember, but he seemed to think I was feigning ignorance to provoke him. He ground his teeth.
"…I've been waiting for a day like this. The day you'd set foot in Ishtal without Ciel."
'Ciel?'
Right, Ciel was Roen's escort—an all-purpose maid who was also a master of hand-to-hand combat. It seemed Handol had been waiting for an opportunity when Ciel wasn't around to protect me.
But she was just a physical obstacle. There were still plenty of reasons why he shouldn't be messing with a Devalis.
"So. Can you handle the consequences?"
Aslan, who had even cut off my allowance, wouldn't make a move over something so trivial, but that was an internal family secret. From the outside, no matter how much of an outcast I was, I was still a direct descendant of the Devalis family. Even if this was just a fight between students, the fallout wouldn't be easy to handle.
But Handol just grinned as if he had powerful backing.
"Don't you worry about that. There are plenty of powerful people who'd love to see you taken down a peg."
Crack—.
He cracked his knuckles and slowly approached me.
"Well, well."
So it had come to this after all. I let out a soft chuckle and set down the bag and training sword I was carrying. Then, I raised a hand and beckoned to him with a single finger.
"I'll take you on. Come at me."