"…I forfeit."
The young man looked at me with distaste, then told the referee as much.
As he left the dueling ground, his eyes were full of lingering regret for the Student Council President's seat—and resentment aimed squarely at me.
'Tch. That's what you get for dabbling in your House's tax evasion.'
The forfeit of that 3rd-year student from the Gryunhild Viscounty was only the beginning.
"Meaningless duel."
"I withdraw."
"Congratulations. I'll step aside here."
A parade of forfeits unfolded.
The snares I'd laid in advance had cleanly cut down nameless weeds one by one.
"…So in Group A, everyone but you has chosen to step aside."
Of course, there were always weeds too stubborn to wilt, even under poison.
A young man with long black hair tied back, clad in an elegant blue Eastern-style robe, fixed his sharp gaze on me.
"Was this your doing? You're the one who ordered Wolmyeong Sohyeop to act like this, weren't you?"
From his forceful tone, a name slipped that I couldn't ignore.
Wolmyeong—that was Theodor's Eastern name.
'So Theodor paid him a visit, huh.'
The prestige of the Treha Ducal House wasn't for nothing.
Several Eastern students had indeed been "persuaded" into withdrawing by his so-called "recommendations."
But of course, not everyone bent to threats.
This one, a fellow Eastern student and the 2nd-year Valedictorian, had instead used those threats to trace the chaos back to me as the culprit.
"I've no idea what you're talking about."
"Don't play dumb! I heard from my classmates about your secret meetings with Wolmyeong Sohyeop. To use such underhanded tricks…!"
Unlike the "Golden Class" of 1st-years, his generation was considered barren, without remarkable talents.
Colt Borg was the lone flower that bloomed in that wasteland.
As Valedictorian, his grades spoke for themselves.
"Nothing to find."
"Impossible! No nobleman exists without skeletons in their closet. The only one like that is Lady Luciana…."
"The Borg Count House is famed even in the East for their integrity and uprightness. I doubt you'd find any dirt there worth exploiting."
His personality mirrored his House's—unyielding. Even the Moonlight's intelligence network had found no weaknesses.
"Don't think everyone will dance to such cheap tricks. Even if the Academy looks the other way, I won't forgive it!"
"Hah. A champion of justice, are we."
In truth, he was the greatest threat to Luciana's bid for Student Council President.
A rival I had to eliminate at any cost.
With a crooked grin, I flicked my dagger.
"I hear you're the 2nd-year Valedictorian. Well, the ones I met from your year during the Exchange Duel were… disappointing, to say the least. I do hope you won't let me down again."
2nd-years?
They'd been a bunch of weaklings we trampled.
You're no different.
Of course, Colt wasn't dense enough to miss the provocation in my words.
"…In the East, we teach respect between elders and juniors. Allow me to drill it into you."
"I look forward to it."
No matter how stubborn the weed, if ripped out root and stem, it withers all the same.
'You'll never sit on that throne. That honor belongs only to Luciana.'
I'd make sure of it—personally.
Luciana and Theodor were versatile all-rounders, adept with many blades.
Colt, however, was cut from the same cloth as Leicia.
"Urgh!"
"Talked a lot earlier, but maybe you're just a big mouth."
The katana.
Devoting himself solely to that one blade, Colt had honed his swordsmanship to Valedictorian level—and it was deadly.
'No openings at all!'
The katana's strength was its lack of weakness.
Its reach fell short of the spear.
Its power lost to the greatsword.
Its speed trailed the dagger or rapier.
Yet precisely because it lacked flaws, it was terrifying in real combat.
Even now—its moderate range, not long but not short, was a constant wall against my dagger's close rush.
Each time I lunged, his blade cut me off with sharp precision.
"Compared to Wolmyeong Sohyeop, you're easier. You only fight one way."
"…Heh. I could say the same about you."
The katana was the epitome of fundamentals.
So too was his style: a complete set of textbook responses to the dagger.
Left foot forward—powerful horizontal slash.
Right foot back—near-instant thrust.
Each move designed to counter short-range weapons like mine.
'Which means I can predict them—and exploit them.'
A bad matchup, but not hopeless.
If I knew his next move, I could simply dodge it.
"Even crude skills like Naryeotagon, once honed, become formidable. The world is vast indeed—to think there are fighters like you."
"…Don't belittle my god-given evasions, sir. Not when you haven't landed a clean strike."
"Naryeotagon and pride—rare sight in the East. Amusing."
With a scoff, he stepped back deliberately.
"Still, you have skill. Few 3rd-years could parry my blade so well."
"Ah yes, thank you kindly for the praise."
I brushed it off lightly.
But he pressed, voice grave.
"Which only makes me wonder. With such ability, why resort to underhanded schemes to force others out?"
"…Pardon?"
Didn't expect him to actually compliment me.
The duel paused for a breath as he scolded me.
"Why hound others into surrendering?"
"Hmm. And is that a problem?"
"…What?"
Like any Eastern martial-obsessed youth, his brain seemed filled with nothing but sword forms.
I tapped his forehead.
"This is the Central Continent. The Academy gathers nobles from everywhere. Managing your weaknesses, avoiding pointless clashes with Ducal Houses, planning for the future—that too is politics."
He grimaced at my words.
"The Student Council President stands at the pinnacle of students. If you cling to such methods, no one will support you."
"I don't care."
Why would I?
It's not like I plan to be President myself.
But then he struck a nerve I couldn't ignore.
"Do you think your liege, Lady Luciana Speda, will approve? That she'd condone victories tainted with cowardice rather than honor?"
"…What?"
Luciana—who valued family and honor above all.
In my obsession with securing her the presidency, I'd overlooked this angle.
"You see? Your way is wrong. Even your liege couldn't accept it."
"…Hah. Can't beat me with the blade, so you rattle my mind. Impressive."
I admitted it.
I'd failed to consider what Luciana herself would think.
She would hate such methods.
But—she had changed.
"You know one side of her, not both."
"What do you mean?"
"Lady Luciana may be a knight who pursues honor, yes. But before that—she is the daughter of a Duke."
Unlike you, who knows only the sword.
She knew how to wield both blade and fan, aura and tongue.
"My liege would never deny me. She'd respect that such methods exist."
"…You speak with certainty. If she's as the rumors say, she'd despise it."
"Rumors are all you know. I've served at her side."
No more talk was needed.
I trusted Luciana, as she trusted me.
'Luciana's likely tied up in her own match.'
She wouldn't be watching here.
So it was fine to show a glimpse of Frostmane instead of Hans Byron the retainer.
"Hold it!"
As I closed into dagger range, Colt—as always—retreated with wary counters.
Had I kept to evasion, I'd be locked down, struggling.
"Wha—?!"
"Not working out as you expected?"
The katana sought perfect form.
Shake its foundation, and balance collapses fast.
For example, destabilize the ground beneath him.
"You—you can use magic?!"
His voice wavered as the Swamp spell turned the floor to muck.
"Yes, rare indeed to wield both Aura and magic. Surprised you didn't know."
I'd shown it in other duels already.
So he hadn't studied me properly.
While I had him pegged down to the last detail.
Not just his techniques from the original story—everything.
"All that information on opponents?"
"Of course. You need it to plan responses."
"Even those who've already forfeited? Waste of time—"
"Anything can happen. What if they change their minds in spite? You prepare for everything."
I had memorized the skills, weapons, and personalities of every candidate.
All of them.
"Tch. Surprising, but no matter. I'll end this now."
He cloaked himself in Aura, forcing free of my mire, katana raised.
Blue Aura flared at his back, radiant and sharp.
'Practically advertising a big move.'
Still, I knew what was coming.
As a major figure, Colt Borg's signature technique was no secret.
Issō.
A katana draw technique, unleashing extreme speed in a single devastating strike.
Its power rivaled a boss monster's blow.
Truly worthy of the word "finisher."
"Don't be mistaken. You're not the only one with a Unique Skill."
I mimicked the one who best wielded ice magic.
Not her appearance—that'd reveal too much.
Just her sharp tone.
[Unique Magic: Mask of a Thousand Faces activated]
[Borrowing the likeness of 'Liura Caspera']
[Low synchronization—skill efficiency reduced]
It wasn't her full might, just a pale imitation.
But enough to prove—I could wield elemental magic.
"Wh-what…?!"
Sword styles all relied on stable footing.
The katana especially faltered without it.
When a wall of ice erupted under his feet, that flaw was laid bare.
Issō was powerful, but unstable. Its greatest weakness.
"…Even if you thwart my Unique Skill, you think your dagger can pierce this blade?"
He ground his teeth, still trying to hold me off.
But his stance was already shattered.
He was wide open.
—Clang!
His katana spun into the air and buried itself in the arena floor.
"…I concede."
Hands raised, Colt declared his loss.
"The winner of Group A in the Student Council Presidential Selection Duel—Hans Byron!"
The referee's voice echoed through the grounds.
"By the True Dragon's grace, I have reached the humans' land…."
But no trace of the lowly Succubus could be found.
"Hmph. So she's groveling in hiding. But even this—my Lord foresaw."
From within his robe, he drew out a crystal orb.
A magic tool, crafted when the Queen had surrendered her horn.
"Tch. Made by that wench. Disgusting. But useful enough, for now."
The artifact traced the symbol of her authority.
Following its lead, Revine pressed on.
[Road to the Academy]
Behind him, his tail swayed.
A signpost for first-timers pointed ahead—silently seeing off the demon on his way.
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