Chapter 15
The arena where the Freshman Tournament was being held.
Professors who had come to watch were chatting about their impressions of the matches.
“The first match, where Yellow Class 3 took the win, wasn’t much to see, but the second one was excellent.”
“As expected, White Class 5’s ‘genius’ displayed outstanding skill. They deserved the victory.”
“Still, it’s a shame we didn’t get to see Blue Class 2’s ‘prodigy’ at their best.”
The match between Blue Class 2 and White Class 5 ended, and the cleanup was complete.
Now, the final match between Red Class 1 and Black Class 6 was about to begin.
“Red Class 1’s boat has arrived in the northwest.”
“Looks like Black Class 6 has reached the southeast as well.”
Students arriving by boat from the dormitory island disembarked, led by Red Class 1’s representative, Rufus Ignatius, and Black Class 6’s representative, Ernas Lanzstein.
“It’s finally starting, Professor Calleon.”
“Mm. Indeed.”
Calleon, staring toward the northwest where his son Rufus was, glanced sideways at Yols.
“Red Class 1 versus Black Class 6… let’s see who comes out on top.”
Yols gave no reply. He kept his mouth shut, eyes fixed on the southeast, where Ernas Lanzstein was disembarking.
On a rocky island
Rufus, having landed, looked around at his Red Class 1 subordinates.
“Is everyone ready?”
“Yes, Sir Rufus!”
Though they all still looked exhausted from the hellish training they’d been put through, their voices were firm—because if they answered weakly, Rufus would beat them.
“You’ve already familiarized yourselves with the terrain of this arena. You have a huge advantage, so press the attack without fear.”
“Yes, sir…!”
“Good. Let’s review the plan once more.”
Rufus spoke with confidence.
“We’ll split into two groups. Out of our fifty members, forty will form the attack squad and advance.”
“….”
“The remaining ten will stay here at base. I’ll also stay behind and react according to the situation.”
If the nametag Rufus wore was taken, Red Class 1 would lose. But his staying at base wasn’t out of fear of losing it—he simply wanted to jump in when the attack squad started to falter so he could show off his skills.
“Ernas Lanzstein, the Black Class 6 rep, will be hiding somewhere. That’s just the kind of coward he is.”
“….”
“There’s no need to scour the arena looking for him. Once his classmates are down, he’ll crawl out on his own.”
To Rufus, there was no need to hunt Ernas—just crush all of Black Class 6 instead.
“As I’ve said before, the one to watch out for most is Serinne Bastian.”
“….”
“If she shows herself, signal me. I want to take her down with my own hands.”
Serinne had ranked first in the entrance exam. It didn’t necessarily mean her swordsmanship was the best, but to Rufus, she was an irritating presence.
“The same goes for Ernas Lanzstein. I’ll be the one to take his nametag, so make sure you call me. Understood?”
“Understood!”
“Good.”
Rufus looked up at the sky. It had been fine in the morning, but clouds had rolled in during the afternoon. Rain might fall soon.
“It’s about time…”
Fweeeet!
A loud whistle echoed across the island—the signal for the match to begin.
“Attack squad, move out!”
“Yes, Sir Rufus!”
The forty-man attack squad moved out in formation, just as trained. Seeing their orderly advance, Rufus smiled.
‘Push through like this… and we’ll win.’
Winning the tournament meant earning an elixir. Gaining more mana and approaching the rank of Graduate would secure an advantage over other swordsmanship families.
‘Especially if I want to outdo those guys in Blue Class 2 and White Class 5… we must win here!’
He couldn’t afford to be slowed down by someone like Ernas Lanzstein. He would crush that fraud and take the victory.
“Both sides are on the move.”
“Red Class 1 seems to be advancing aggressively. Black Class 6 is slower.”
“The terrain is rough. They’re probably moving cautiously.”
From the high observation stands, the professors conversed.
All the professors here were Graduates, able to enhance their vision with mana, making it possible to observe the whole island without special equipment.
“Rufus of Red Class 1 is staying near the start point with his aides. Ernas of Black Class 6… where is he?”
“From this angle, it’s hard to see his face. But he doesn’t seem to be holding back in the rear like Rufus…”
Due to the terrain, the Red Class side was easier to see, and since they were advancing more aggressively, attention was focused there.
“Ah, they’re about to make contact.”
“Red Class 1 has begun charging Black Class 6!”
Red Class 1’s attack squad surged forward with fierce momentum. Black Class 6 hesitated and hastily formed a defensive line.
The sound of wooden practice swords clashing rang out across the island.
“Red Class 1’s momentum is incredible!”
“Black Class 6 can’t seem to counterattack!”
“Ah—they’re retreating! Black Class 6 is falling back!”
Within moments of the battle starting, Black Class 6 began steadily retreating.
Seeing Red Class 1 quickly seize the upper hand, Professor Calleon smiled with satisfaction.
“They can only run away?”
“Isn’t Black Class 6 being far too passive?”
“Keep stepping back like that and they’ll fall into the lake, hahahaha!”
While several professors mocked Black Class 6, Professor Markels, who taught Swordsmanship History, spoke up.
“Doesn’t something seem off?”
“Hm? What do you mean, Professor Markels?”
Drawing everyone’s attention, Markels spoke in a cool tone.
“For a group supposedly driven back by Red Class 1’s assault… their formation hasn’t broken at all.”
“Formation?”
The professors looked again at Black Class 6.
“Now that you mention it…”
“They’re stepping back, but keeping their formation intact.”
From the ground, it was hard for Red Class 1 students to notice, but from above it was clear—the Black Class 6 line remained tight, while Red Class 1’s was starting to break apart during the chase.
“It’s not that they’re fleeing because they’re overwhelmed—they’re making a tactical retreat.”
“A tactical retreat?”
At that moment, Yols, who had been silent, spoke.
“Professor Markels is right. Most likely…”
Watching Black Class 6 enter a canyon-like area, Yols said:
“They’ve been luring Red Class 1 in.”
“…!”
“They’ve probably hidden an ambush there.”
Before Yols even finished, it happened—two students with black ties sprang from hiding and attacked Red Class 1’s rear.
“That’s…!”
“Serinne Bastian and Schmitz Hartmann!”
Aside from the heirs of the Six Great Sword Families, these two were the top freshmen in skill.
Their ambush was the signal—Black Class 6 stopped retreating and counterattacked.
Serinne recalled Ernas’s words from that morning: We pretend to run and draw them in.
‘Ernas’s plan was right!’
When Red Class 1 advanced aggressively, they would maintain a defensive formation and slowly retreat. Once the enemy was deep enough into the canyon-like depression… Serinne and Schmitz would strike from ambush.
That was Ernas’s strategy.
“You bastards, an ambush here…!”
“Ugh! How are they this strong—gah!”
With Serinne’s precise strikes and Schmitz’s swift attacks, Red Class 1 students fell one after another.
Other Black Class 6 members, led by Chloe and Viola, launched their counteroffensive.
“Signal Rufus! Tell him the situation!”
“If he comes, we can turn this around! Just hold—krahh!”
Colorful flares shot into the sky—Red Class 1 calling Rufus from base.
“You’re finished now!” one boy shouted, blocking Serinne’s sword.
“You think luring us here for an ambush will win you the fight? Just because we’re far from our base?”
“….”
“You think you can crush us before Rufus arrives, but you’re wrong! His movement skill is unmatched!”
Movement technique—light body arts—allowed one to cross difficult terrain quickly.
“Rufus will be here in an instant and take you all down! Even you, Serinne Bastian—!”
“No.”
Serinne shook her head and swung her sword. The signature Vertical Trinity of Bastian knight-swordsmanship struck, felling her opponent without even a scream.
“Rufus will never get here.”
Everything was going exactly according to Ernas’s plan. Rufus’s rush with light body arts was part of that plan.
“Pathetic fools!” Rufus clicked his tongue.
The southern flares meant the attack squad had walked into an ambush and were in trouble.
“Sir Rufus, what should we do?”
“The attack squad chased too far. I didn’t realize they’d gone that deep…”
Even if they tried to help now, the distance was too great.
“No choice—I’ll go alone.”
“What? Alone?”
“It’s dangerous, sir!”
Rufus snapped at his aides.
“Idiots! If I go with you, it’ll take too long!”
“…!”
“Whether you come or not makes no difference!”
The signal meant Serinne Bastian had ambushed them. If Rufus could defeat her, the tide would turn.
“I’ll take the shortcut! Follow as you like!”
“Y-Yes, sir!”
Leaving them behind, Rufus used his family’s Ignatius Light Body Art, specialized in straight-line bursts—perfect for taking the shortest route.
‘Truly useless! They didn’t even notice they were being lured!’
Cursing inwardly, Rufus bounded over rocky hills. Rain had begun to fall, but it didn’t slow him.
‘So Black Class 6 had this kind of plan…’
He had believed they didn’t even know the terrain, but their movements now suggested otherwise.
‘Who came up with this? Serinne? Or…’
One face came to mind—the coward who’d made excuses to avoid their duel.
‘Ernas Lanzstein…?’
The moment he pictured that man—
A wooden sword sliced through the rain and slammed into Rufus’s side.
That morning
I had explained the true goal of the plan to the others.
The point of trapping the attack squad was simply to lure Rufus.
This isn’t a match to wipe out the enemy—it’s enough to take down Rufus.
If Serinne’s ambush endangered the attack squad, Rufus would rush in using light body arts—alone.
I knew it, so I set the trap.
And at this point, I’ll strike him down.
It was a spot Rufus would have to pass, perfect for me to launch a surprise strike with the Youthburg Flowing Sword.
“Guh…!”
The flying wooden sword hit home, sending Rufus tumbling from a rocky slope. No matter how good his movement arts were, being ambushed mid-sprint would throw him off balance—especially on wet ground.
“Kh…!”
But it wasn’t over. Bloodied from the fall, Rufus surged up with killing intent.
The ambush hadn’t finished him, but judging from how he clutched his side, I’d at least cracked a rib.
I drew the spare wooden sword from my waist and stepped forward.
Seeing me appear atop the rock, Rufus roared in rage.
“Ernas Lanzstein, you—!”
He charged, taking the stance of the Ignatius Knight Swordsmanship passed down in his family.
“How dare you…!”
I didn’t reply. My focus was on what mattered—combining movement and swordsmanship to defeat Rufus Ignatius.
I leapt from the rock, blending the Liechtenauer Light Body Art I’d learned from Annaliese with the Hartmann Swift Sword I’d acquired from Schmitz that morning.
Cutting through the rain, our high-speed sword clash began.
