Then a voice cut through the silence. "It's not nice to go into someone else's room without permission."
I turned slowly. The presence evaporated, but what stood before me was no less unsettling. Vibrant black hair is recognizable. The student from the other day?! My chest tightened. Black hair was common enough, yet I hadn't noticed him until now. His eyes were just as dark, and a fresh scar ran across his cheek, raw as if struck by something blunt.
A heavy silence fell. My mind scrambled. I forced myself to speak first, desperate to break the tension.
"Hi. I don't think I formally introduced myself. I'm Chloe Valastine. Nice to meet you!"
No reply. Only silence. Slowly, I tried to push the drawer shut behind me, hoping he wouldn't notice.
"..."
"And… you are?" I ventured.
"…Lycos."
"Well, if there's no problem, I'll be taking my leave."
"Wait."
I froze. Turning back, I found him suddenly close far too close. My breath hitched. I had never been this near to another male besides my father. My cheeks burned crimson.
"Do you have something in your eyes?" His tone was flat, unreadable. "You should probably get that checked out."
"N-noted!" I stammered, bolting past him.
Outside, I gasped for air, clutching my chest. His pressure still lingered, crawling down my spine like frost. "He barely said anything," I whispered to myself, "yet I already felt crushed under his presence."
At least… he let me go.
I sat against my bed, staring at the mess of things I still hadn't unpacked. I should probably deal with it soon, but my mind kept drifting back to him. I'm certain that was remnant.
Remnant. The word alone made me shiver. It's the subclinical form of corruption—when someone exhausts their mana flow to the point of turning into a corrupted human. Impossible, I told myself. The professors would have noticed something like that. Still… I had to stay wary. Morning arrived quietly, the sun streaming gently through my window. For once, nothing could ruin this peaceful moment.
–knock knock
"Ugh–"
–KNOCK KNOCK
"IM COMING, SHUT THE FUCK UP!" I shouted, crawling out of bed, hair sticking every which way.
I opened the door and froze. Lilia was there, her cheeks red, avoiding eye contact. My own face burned hot as I realized I was still in my undergarments.
–SLAM!
I rushed to my room, grabbed my uniform, and dressed as quickly as possible, throwing my hair into its usual messy style.
"I don't wanna talk about it," I muttered, spinning around to face her.
"Hehe, you're lucky it wasn't a boy instead of me," Lilia teased, a playful smirk tugging at her lips.
"Arena?" I asked, trying to shift my focus.
"Yeah," she replied, voice serious now. "Today is the joint training examination for the newcomers. We'll be facing off against the second years to test our strengths."
Every year, first and second years gather at the Citadel arena to see if newcomers are strong enough to enter properly, or if the results of the mana examination were just a fluke. I swallowed, trying not to let my nerves get the better of me.
This… this is it. No messing around now.
I grabbed my katana from its stand, slinging it across my back, and followed Lilia out the door. The air outside was crisp, carrying the faint scent of the lake and the Citadel's sprawling training grounds. Students of all ages filled the arena, the energy electric, the tension almost tangible.
I took a deep breath. Time to show them what I'm made of.
Many students gathered in the training arena, mostly first and second years, to spectate the examinations. Lilia and I found seats up at the front, giving us a perfect view of the action. I couldn't help but smile, a little sinisterly.
"Violent as ever, Chloe," Lilia murmured, her tone teasing.
The first duel was none other than the blonde-haired hero, Retsu. His swordsmanship was flawless, slicing through his opponent with effortless skill. He struck a pose afterward, charming half the female audience with his grin and confident swagger.
"Ugh, what a playboy he is, right, Lilia?" I whispered.
Lilia giggled softly, clearly impressed, but I felt a flicker of disgust. Something about the way he looked directly at me before walking off the arena left a sour taste in my mouth.
『Forced partial activation: Perfect Vision』
(Unbeknownst to her, Retsu had tried to ensnare me in a subtle spell but her Perfect Vision blocked the spell.)
The next rounds showed the so-called prodigies of the first year: Aria blazed across the field with her rare holy mana, Candice displayed exceptional swordsmanship, and Selina… well, Selina didn't show up for reasons unknown.
Finally, it was my turn. The arena seemed to shrink as all eyes fell on me, the weight of hundreds of gazes pressing down. My heart was hammered, but I forced myself to focus.
Who I was facing? Noland Reverb—the second son of the notoriously arrogant Reverb family. Rumors painted him as a spoiled brat who used his status to get what he wanted. Perfect.
I unsheathed my katana and assumed a simple sword stance. No fancy tricks. No unnecessary flourishes. Just raw, disciplined technique.
Noland sneered, turning to the referee. "Why do I have to fight a lowly commoner like her?"
The referee gave an irritated sigh, clearly tired of his whining. "Status doesn't matter. Fight."
I groaned inwardly at his arrogance, holding my stance. Before he could react, I dashed forward, closing the distance in an instant. Two clean, swift slashes forced him on the defensive.
Noland barely blocked them, his eyes widening in genuine fear rather than skillful concern. I pressed the advantage, relentless. One more strike, and his sword flew from his hand. A quick feint and a trip later, he was sprawled on the ground.
"Keuk!"
His pride shattered, yet he wasn't done. Gritting his teeth, he scrambled to his feet.
"Where the hell do you think you're going!" he growled.
"I guess someone doesn't know how to take a loss," I replied, voice calm, almost bored.
Before he could regain his stance, I struck again—this time with a kick aimed at the one spot no man wants touched. He collapsed immediately, hands clutching in pain, his face contorted into a mix of agony and humiliation.
The arena went silent. The spectators were frozen, stunned by the unexpected turn of events. Noland's scornful arrogance had been completely obliterated in a matter of seconds.
I sheathed my katana and took a step back, satisfaction curling in my chest. That'll teach him to underestimate a commoner.
Noland had to be carried off the arena on a stretcher, groaning in pain, while I returned to my seat. The spectators dared not speak, and the atmosphere felt heavy with awe. One way to establish dominance clearly, I had made my mark.
Now, the audience buzzed with anticipation for the next duel: the prince's match. Whispers spread like wildfire.
The prince stepped into the arena, radiating nobility. In his hand was the kingdom's treasure, the king's blade, a golden sword encrusted with a jewel at its center, passed down through generations. The sword wasn't just a symbol; it was said to amplify the wielder's mana, granting exceptional but balanced buffs. Today, he wielded it not to cheat, but to display status.
Across from him, Lycos stood silent and gloomy, the same black-haired boy I had encountered before. His eyes were dark, unreadable, and his weaponry unconventional: a flintlock in his right hand and a short-barreled musket in his left. The firearms were modified, looking nothing like standard issue weapons used by city guards or soldiers.
Students whispered nervously. "Black hair… isn't that a sign of a bad omen?" one murmured. "How unlucky for the prince."
The referee raised his hand, signaling the start.
The prince sneered first. "What an unusual setup. Surely you understand the limitations of firearms?" His disdain dripped from every word. "Perhaps you should forfeit now spare yourself humiliation, and leave with whatever dignity you can salvage."
Lycos tilted his head lazily, his tone indifferent. "Blah, blah, blah… let's begin already."
The prince's brow furrowed in irritation. With a flash, he lunged forward, sword pointed at Lycos.
Lycos calmly aimed his musket.
–Bang! Bang! Bang!
The prince barely managed to block the bullets, each one shattering on impact.
"Keuk!" he grunted, startled. "Impossible… a musket should only fire once before reloading!"
High above, the Author leaned forward, a smirk playing across his face. His creation, Lycos, was performing exactly as intended. Lycos was exceptional, a wunderkind whose mastery of mantra a rare internal energy similar to mana set him apart. While few students, roughly three percent, could even access mantra, none matched Lycos' precision, power, or resonance. Though he lacked conventional mana, his internal energy compensated.
The prince gritted his teeth, undeterred. It doesn't matter. I can still win.
He dashed forward again, sword gleaming. Lycos mirrored his previous tactic, musket raised.
–Bang! Bang! Bang!
The prince parried each shot with skill, closing the distance. Lycos then adjusted his stance, gripping the stock of his musket with both hands. The prince swung his sword in a wide arc
But Lycos blocked it effortlessly. The musket shimmered faintly, enveloped in a subtle, pulsating dark blue glow.
Mana? No… this isn't mana… it's mantra!?
I felt a chill run down my spine. The boy I had dismissed as quiet, reserved, and perhaps ordinary, was anything but. His body flowed with energy unlike anything I had ever seen, internal force manifesting through his unconventional weapons. I watched, captivated and admittedly, a little worried.
Lycos pointed his flintlock straight at the prince's face. A low-pitched, piercing, energy-laden shriek echoed from the weapon, reverberating through the arena. The prince's eyes widened in terror he could already sense his fate.
Staggering, defenseless, he muttered under his breath, "I… I'm going to lose… How could I, the prince of Unicrest, lose to someone with black hair!?"
–zzzzzZZT
Lycos' voice rang out, calm and precise. "Mantra Art: Simeío Kenó."
–KABOO!
A massive, dark-blue energy beam erupted from the small musket, striking the prince squarely in the chest. Flames licked his clothes, burning his hair and clothing. He didn't die, but the sheer force and intensity left him writhing, heavily injured, barely able to move.
The crowd fell completely silent, eyes wide in shock. The prince… defeated… by someone with black hair…?
He was eventually carried off the arena on a stretcher, groaning in pain. Murmurs and whispers filled the air as the spectators slowly dispersed, stunned by the unexpected outcome.
Lilia and I left the arena together, weaving through the dwindling crowd.
"That boy… using firearms like that… I've never seen anything like him. Who is he?" I asked.
Lilia paused, lips curling into a smirk. "Lycos. I met him the other day… you kind of barged into his room."
Her smug expression, hand covering her mouth, immediately set off alarm bells in my mind. That face… the one I had seen too many times. Scheming. Mischief. Trouble.
"This can't be good," I muttered under my breath.
"Oh, how felicitous of you, Lilia!" I shot back, cheeks blazing red.
She giggled, teasingly. "What's that supposed to mean?"
I dug my fingers into my hair, flustered beyond words.
She simply laughed. "Keep doing that and you'll go bald, you know."