MLWP 13

Chapter 13

Most students who took the transfer exam entered through a recommendation.
To be disqualified in such an exam meant something far worse — permanent expulsion, with no chance of re-enrollment at the Academy.

Fleure, her face slightly pale, slowly raised her hand.
“As her sponsor, I would like to say—”
“There’s no room for debate.”

Even as Riman spoke, Sillia only tilted her head in silence. To some, she might have seemed intimidated into keeping quiet, but there was not a hint of fear in her expression.

She didn’t come here to throw away the opportunity she’d been given.

Lifting her chin, Sillia spoke casually.
“I don’t think I’ll be disqualified.”
“Stop making excuses!”

She didn’t even glance at the fuming Ingram. Beneath her hood, her lips curved faintly.
“I’m applying as a magic swordsman.”

“……”

A heavy silence fell again — not an ordinary quiet, but one full of confusion. No one seemed to understand what she’d just said.

The last magic swordsman candidate was that bastard, Ilrod, wasn’t he?

That was one of the reasons Ilrod had been so famous.
A magic swordsman candidate — the first in decades. Because of him, the Academy’s rules had been rewritten.
He should’ve been the one to establish the foundation for magic swordsmanship training long ago.

But since he’d gone into seclusion in this lifetime, that role had fallen to her.

“I applied as a magic swordsman at registration,” she continued, her tone almost sing-song. “But they told me the Academy doesn’t even have a magic-swordsman division anymore, so there’s no such exam.”

Her light, melodic voice sliced through the silence.
“So they said I should just take the swordsmanship test instead. If I want to use both sword and magic, I can go ahead and try both, they said.”

The clerk at the counter had looked at her as if he’d seen everything there was to see in the world before telling her to apply for the swordsmanship test.

“…You’re really going with that?”

Of course, Sillia understood the tone and expression behind that question. The staff had all smirked and whispered behind her back, sizing her up.

That was what being a magic swordsman meant — trying to master both mana and swordsmanship was far from easy.
Most ended up mediocre at both, fading into obscurity without ever accomplishing anything.

But—

That won’t happen to me.

She was sure of it.
With this cursed ability, it was inevitable. She’d seen him soar to greatness using this very same power.

And as expected—

“Actually, I should thank you for proving I used mana,” she said coolly. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t be recognized as a magic swordsman candidate.”

“My lady, you don’t seem to understand. Using magic during the sword test is—”
“I know. If someone uses enhancement magic on themselves or their weapon, or manipulates results with a mage’s help, that’s automatic disqualification. But…”

When Sillia put emphasis on the word manipulate, Ingram flinched noticeably.

“I didn’t use that kind of magic. I already signed a written agreement stating that if I used enhancement magic during the exam, I’d accept immediate disqualification.”

Riman Jaykal’s face began to stiffen.
He clearly wanted to argue — but to do so, he’d have to accuse Ingram Phillips alongside her, and his conscience seemed to stop him.

He can’t do that, can he?

The man who hadn’t reported it in the first place wouldn’t dare accuse the Phillips family now.

And besides, Sillia hadn’t said anything wrong. All she’d done was pour her mana into the puppet to return it to its original state. She hadn’t tampered with it or tilted the odds in her favor.

Riman knew it too, which was why he hesitated to press further.

It was Princess Marcella, seated among the royal spectators, who finally spoke.
“Continue the exam.”
“Your Highness?”
“It’s been a while since we’ve had a magic swordsman candidate, hasn’t it?”

She smiled — a pure, innocent girl delighted by a new spectacle.
Even the tall attendant beside her looked excited, grinning as he nodded eagerly.

Everyone else, caught off guard, could only exchange awkward glances. No one dared object to a princess, so when Ingram’s face turned red with frustration, he could only sputter,
“Who knows if she’ll just tamper with the puppet again!”

Sillia answered immediately,
“Then how about we settle this with a one-on-one duel instead?”
“You dare mock me—!”
“Are you afraid?”

She tapped her wooden sword lightly against the floor.

Ingram stared at her for a moment, then a vile grin spread across his face.
“…Of course not.”

His eyes hardened.
“You’ll regret this.”

That cruel gleam — she recognized it. It was the same look nobles often wore on the battlefield when they used soldiers as disposable shields.

Sillia almost laughed. She had a fair idea why his attitude had suddenly changed — she’d asked Juline about him after Cronnell mentioned the princess’s fiancé.

“Ingram Phillips? Youngest son of the powerful Marquis Phillips. Their family dominates the northern and western borders — their influence is enormous.
The heirs have already claimed politics and diplomacy, so they’re grooming him as a military man.”

“And his skill?”
“Intermediate. They say he’ll be promoted to Advanced soon.”

“Advanced leads to Master, and then knighthood… so he’s talented.”

“He used to attend Ahaim Academy — lots of skilled swordsmen there. He probably transferred to the Royal Academy because Ahaim’s rankings are harsher. If he rises faster here, he’ll gain more attention in society.”

“…Society?”
“The kingdom’s been peaceful for decades. Other nations are too busy with their own civil wars. Even monsters haven’t appeared here in ages.”

“……”

“With no real enemies left, sword rankings are mostly about social prestige now.”

She remembered that conversation vividly — and couldn’t help a bitter smile.

And when the monsters finally did appear, they were the first to die.

Memories she’d forced from her mind flickered painfully back — faces, screams, the suffocating moments when she couldn’t save them.

And Ingram’s weak killing intent only made them sharper.

Sillia asked suddenly,
“Lord Ingram. Have you ever cut down a person?”
“Trying to change the subject?”
“You look like you genuinely want to kill me, so I’m curious.”
“Afraid already? You could always forfeit — or send your patron, Lord Diamand, to fight as your black knight instead. I hear the hero who slew a monster would be a worthy opponent.”

His grin widened, smug and mocking.
Sillia’s own smile was calm, almost gentle.

“No, really. Have you ever laid your blade on a human body?”
“What—”
“Have you ever had to end a dying comrade’s suffering with your own hands?”

His expression twisted, confused.

“In a chaotic battle where friend and foe are mixed, have you ever heard the order to cut everyone down without distinction — and couldn’t bring yourself to obey?”
Her tone held no anger, no emotion — only the simple, quiet curiosity of someone who had lived through it.

“So that’s what this is,” he said coldly.
“You’re not afraid — you’re trying to intimidate me. How insolent.”

He looked her up and down with open contempt — at her worn clothes, her unpolished appearance.
“A novice who’s never even held a real sword, pretending to lecture me about war.”

Unlike Ingram, who had proven himself at Ahaim Academy, Sillia had no record of swordsmanship training. Her boarding school didn’t even teach combat.

To others, she must’ve looked like an amateur. Maybe that was why they’d placed her in Ingram’s test group — to make him stand out by comparison.

Worked up, Ingram began spouting arrogance.
“You don’t understand how the world works. It’s survival of the fittest.”
“I think you’re the one who doesn’t understand that, my lord.”
“Ha! I was going easy on you out of courtesy, but don’t blame me if you get hurt. Anything that happens now is part of the exam.”
“I won’t blame you. And you don’t need to blame me either.”
“I won’t.”

Oh, you definitely will, she thought dryly.
You’ll probably scream for compensation if I so much as graze you.

“Watch closely. I’ll show you what the real world looks like. You’ll regret this moment—”

Sillia beckoned him forward.
“We’re warriors. Let’s settle this with strength.”

The instant she declared it, Ingram lunged, eyes filled with cruelty and anticipation.

His excitement grew as she took her stance — rough and unrefined, the kind mercenaries used.
It was a stance she’d used countless times on the battlefield.

She could draw on her inherited ability to mimic the elegant postures of elite swordsmen…

But in real combat, all that matters is survival.

Surviving means winning.

And I’ve lost once before.
Not just me — countless others had fallen there.

I don’t ever want to lose again.

Which meant she had to find him — the one who should’ve carried all this burden instead.

“Beating you should make enough noise,” she murmured. “Good. That’s what I came here for. Not to waste time playing with children.”
“How dare you—”

Fwoosh—

Her hood slipped back, and her brilliant red hair flared like fire, though there was no wind.
As if the air itself agreed that this was how it was meant to be.

A gasp rippled through the spectators.

That vivid crimson, blazing as if it burned on its own, and the face beneath it — all eyes turned to her.

“Allow me to introduce myself properly,” she said clearly.
“I am Sillia Bronyu of House Bronyu.”

Bang!

“Gah—!”

Ingram’s body was launched into the air.