Early in the morning, Fernan savored his coffee while unfolding the newspaper.
[Daily Academy 10/6]
[Upset in the Magic Tournament: First-year runner-up defeats second-year runner-up…! Carlo Deneb's lightning overshadowed by Aria Fridien's storm.]
[Gismond Ert, who caused upsets in the jousting tournament, put to rest by Ruina Verchev in the Round of 32.]
[Another surprise: Aint Armian secures a spot in the Round of 16.]
[The jousting tournament and magic tournament have both reached the Round of 16. Who will be among the final 32?]
Articles continued, covering match results, the other Round of 16 participants, and various festival events.
"…What the hell."
None of that was what truly mattered.
Who defeated who, who advanced past who—
There were plenty of differences from the prophecy, but Fernan had already expected that things would keep diverging once a single "loach" had slipped into the current.
Even without the prophecy, he already had a grasp of most promising talents. The results weren't perfectly aligned, but he had made a decent profit anyway.
The real problem was something else.
"Aria beat Carlo…?"
Some matches had changed from the prophecy, some had not.
Aria versus Carlo had been one of the latter.
In the prophecy, they were meant to clash in the Magic Tournament—and Carlo was supposed to win.
It was natural.
In the original history, Carlo had remained the second-year top student.
That was due not to tricks or luck, but pure skill. No matter how talented Aint's companion Aria was, she shouldn't have been able to leapfrog him in one bound.
Even now, that should have been the case.
Even if Carlo had been pushed down to runner-up because of Fernan, his strength itself had not disappeared.
So then why—
Why had the result flipped?
"..."
The completely unforeseen outcome left Fernan dazed.
The money he had poured into betting on Carlo—through his staff and contacts—had all gone up in smoke.
The jousting tournament had already reached the Round of 16.
Fernan studied the brackets.
[Jousting Tournament Round of 16 Matchups]
Valoshi Bienderk (1st-year top student) VS Bella Hoenne (2nd-year, 19th rank)
Berian Kalburden (1st-year, 3rd rank) VS Barog Hernim (3rd-year top student)
Alcan Domirn (3rd-year runner-up) VS Rob Kaelin (4th-year top student)
Gillet Fiens (3rd-year, 5th rank) VS Ruina Verchev (2nd-year top student)
Aint Armian (1st-year runner-up) VS Almon Donertz (2nd-year runner-…]
Because of the variable named Gismond Ert, the Round of 16 brackets looked very different from what Fernan knew.
"What a mess."
Unlike the Magic Tournament, which was flowing relatively smoothly aside from Aria, the jousting tournament was complete chaos.
Bella Hoenne, who should have fallen in the Round of 32, had been blessed with a stroke of bracket-luck and advanced to the Round of 16.
And Aint and Ruina, who should have met in the semifinals, were now set to clash in the quarterfinals.
"…The other brackets I can more or less predict."
But Aint versus Ruina—he had no idea.
Still, Fernan didn't overthink it. That match wouldn't come until the quarterfinals tomorrow.
For now, what mattered was betting on the Round of 16.
"Hyde."
"You're doing this again, sir?"
"Obviously."
After finishing his wagers, Fernan handed his betting slip to Hyde.
"You know how much money I lost because of Gismond and Aria, don't you? I have to make more—far more—to recover it."
"…Understood."
Now, all of Fernan's staff and connections would be betting in line with him.
In an hour, the matches would begin.
Meanwhile, in the waiting room for jousting competitors, one participant sat pale and trembling.
"…But still, he's just a first-year. Surely I have a chance? Even if he's top student, he's still a first-year. Even if he's Bienderk, he's still a first-year…."
"Bella."
"Just one year difference in Academy training makes a big gap, but maybe I…."
"Bella."
Ruina gripped Bella Hoenne's shoulders. The slight trembling stilled.
"Just fight with everything you've got. No regrets. That's enough."
"…That sounds like you're saying I have no chance of winning."
"I didn't say that."
"Then… can I win?"
"…Give it your all, Bella."
"Some friend you are…."
Ruina averted her gaze. Bella sighed deeply, but thanks to it, some of the tension lifted.
Yes. Just making it into the Round of 16 had already been a miracle.
Even if she fell here, compared to last year, this was a huge improvement.
But it hadn't been just luck.
Fighting alongside Ruina against the Sea Serpents, sparring with her regularly—her skill had grown by leaps and bounds.
Without luck, she wouldn't have advanced. Without skill, she wouldn't have either.
"No matter what, I'm still a senior. I'll show him the dignity of one."
"Bella Hoenne!"
"Coming!"
After an hour of self-hypnosis, Bella donned her helmet and strode out with bravado.
Exactly twenty minutes later—
"Ugh, I want to crawl into a hole and die…! What kind of monster is that…! How is he just a first-year?"
Bella stumbled back, armor dented all over, like a defeated soldier.
She had barely survived the three jousting passes, but once the duel of swords began, she was utterly overwhelmed.
All she could do was hold out; from beginning to end, she was on the defensive, until at last her sword was knocked away.
At least she had lasted twenty minutes thanks to her sparring with Ruina.
"Well fought."
"Well fought…? I thought at least I'd be able to endure a little, but the difference in level was just too much…."
Bella slumped in a corner of the waiting room, wallowing in self-pity.
Exactly fifteen minutes later, another defeated figure entered looking the same.
"…The wall of a third-year top student is high indeed."
It was Berian Kalburden, who had faced third-year top student Barog Hernim.
He had been utterly crushed.
He had at least managed not to lose outright in the joust, but that was it. The moment they entered swordplay, he was swept aside instantly.
Even for a third-year, he hadn't expected such an enormous gap. Berian let out a long sigh.
"How was it?"
"Don't ask. It just pisses me off."
"I'll get revenge for you."
"That would piss me off even more."
At Aint's guileless words, Berian ground his teeth.
Normally, he would have dismissed it as impossible. But somehow, he felt Aint just might be capable of it.
After all, wasn't he the one who had fought against demons and ultimately struck them down?
Berian—who had collapsed unconscious before that very demon.
'The gap keeps widening further and further. Damn it…!'
What kind of monstrous talent could grow like this? Was every Armian like this?
'…There has to be some way.'
He didn't want to be left behind. When Aint stood tall before everyone, he wanted at least to follow one step behind.
'Maybe Fernan-senpai would know a way.'
That man always managed to find a method, to succeed no matter what. At some point, Berian had come to believe in him deeply.
"When even I, a second-year, feel nervous…"
"Shut up already."
While Aint and Berian exchanged words, the tournament continued.
The match between second-year Gert Grotz and third-year Yuria Sandra shocked everyone when Gert emerged victorious.
Alcan Domirn versus Rob Kaelin.
The clash of the third-year runner-up and the fourth-year top student ended with last year's champion proving his title unchanged.
"Gillet Fiens! Ruina Verchev!"
At last, Ruina rose.
'Of course Senpai will win, right?'
The third-years are quite impressive.
The fourth-years are chaff, but the first, second, and third years are all formidable.
By average, the third-years were the strongest.
But Ruina won't lose.
Indeed. It's been a long time since I've seen a human face demons so boldly.
In terms of spirit alone, she surpasses anyone here.
"Senpai, I'm cheering for you. Please win."
As Ruina passed, Aint whispered.
She paused briefly, then nodded.
But boy, do you realize that if she wins, she'll be your next opponent?
'…Ah, well….'
You confident you can win?
'…Somehow, I think I'll manage.'
What a reckless fool. I told you, you must win this whole tournament.
He wasn't wrong. But Aint had his own retort.
'Either way, if I want to win, I'll have to face Senpai at some point.'
So you're saying Ruina Verchev is going all the way to the finals?
'Of course. Who else could it be, if not her?'
I don't know if that's blind infatuation or keen judgment….
Gardner sighed. Even without breath, the tone conveyed it clearly.
Just watch your own match carefully. If you lose now after all that talk, you'll look ridiculous.
'Yes.'
Ruina returned with an easy victory.
"Impressive. I took note of you last year as well, but you've grown even stronger this year."
"As expected… Verchev."
"Her swordsmanship is beautiful. Her opponent was by no means weak, yet he never once seized the advantage."
The cheers of the crowd were proof of how extraordinary her match had been.
Now it was Aint's turn.
"I'll be sure to win too, Senpai."
"…All right."
Ruina nodded lightly, wiping away her sweat. Her expression seemed oddly uneasy, though Aint didn't understand why—
At least, not until he stood before Almon Donertz.
This boy… he's strong!
When Aint failed to block a strike aimed at his chest and his safety artifact activated, the soaring confidence he'd gained from defeating Andromalius came crashing straight down into the dirt.
"Winner: Almon Donertz!"
"…Impossible."
Aint struggled to rise, unable to accept his loss.
But in the stands, someone else was even more shocked.
"…What?"
Fernan's mouth fell open.
"That's right… I forgot about him…!"
He had been so fixated on the thought that Aint would naturally face Ruina that Almon had slipped his mind.
But Almon was never an ordinary figure.
He was the wall who had blocked Ruina Verchev for an entire year—the one Gardner himself had acknowledged as a future Royal Knight.
His ability was by no means inferior to Ruina's.
'How could I make such a mistake…!'
He had been too obsessed with the prophecy, too quick to overestimate Aint—the future hero who had slain Andromalius.
But Aint was not a hero yet.
Fernan had to admit how foolish he'd been.
"…My money."
And the price of that mistake was harsh.
Once again, he had lost.
Lost, lost, lost money.
The battle had been fierce.
Three rounds of jousting had ended with neither able to claim victory.
The ensuing sword duel lasted over three hundred exchanges.
Their auras clashed and tore at one another in a relentless contest, while the spectators roared their names.
"Unbelievable! He's only a first-year, but what a fight!"
"Aint! Aint!"
"Don't lose, Almon Donertz! Protect the honor of the second-years!"
"Almon! This year, you have to win!"
In the end, the deciding factor came down to something small—experience and stamina.
Even with the aura boost from consuming Saintbird's Heart, Aint's reserves surpassed Almon's.
But not by much. And Almon's skill closed the gap.
Moreover, his long-trained body and endurance slowed the drain on his strength.
And that—
Kaaaang—!
Was why Aint's sword went flying.
Why Almon's blade rested at his throat.
And why the two were divided into victor and vanquished.
"Winner: Almon Donertz!"
The referee declared the outcome.
"You lost, but you fought well!"
"Next year, he might just win it all."
"So that's an Armian… incredible."
"Aint Armian!"
"Almon Donertz!"
The crowd showered both fighters with cheers and praise for the spectacular match.
"This might not please Schwaben very much."
"Almon Donertz? From the Donertz barony, isn't he?"
"I'd like to take him as my knight."
Admiring their skills, nobles and patrons began to eye them with interest.
But Aint, overwhelmed by disbelief, sank to the ground.
"M-me… losing…?"
He had thought—ever since slaying Andromalius—that aside from Ruina and Fernan, there was no one he couldn't beat.
So why?
You really believed such nonsense?
Be glad you lost now, while it still matters little.
'Glad?! Whose side are you on, Gardner?!'
Aint snapped back bitterly at Gardner's words.
The world is vast, and there are many strong ones. You're only a first-year at the Academy.
Yes, you're stronger than most your age. But that's all.
'But I defeated a demon…!'
The light power of the Armians is the natural enemy of demons. But outside that, it's nothing more than high-level swordsmanship and martial arts.
That alone made the secret techniques of the Armian bloodline priceless beyond compare.
But there was a stark difference between fighting demons and not.
Besides, Andromalius wasn't summoned in his full strength. If it had been the demon of a thousand years ago, one punch would've ended you.
Even as it was, without Fernan and his gold-fed golem, you'd never have won.
The remarkable one isn't you—it's that rich fool.
'…That can't be true….'
Aint hung his head under Gardner's brutal honesty.
Almon neither consoled him nor offered a hand.
'What a monster….'
In the entrance exam, Aint had ranked only 38th. Yet in less than a year, he had grown this powerful.
'Is it because he's an Armian…?'
So this was the difference in talent.
The world was unfair—that was all Almon could think, just as others thought when they looked at Aint.
Almon sheathed his sword and returned to the waiting room. There, Ruina was resting.
"Ruina."
"Almon."
"You know, don't you? You're my next opponent."
"I do."
The quarterfinals. A matchup that never should have happened, but Gismond's interference had changed that.
"I've been waiting for this moment for a long time."
"Do I need to ask why?"
"Because you became top student."
"Sounds like you can't accept it."
"Exactly. You and I never fought properly. Every time, it was Fernan's schemes."
"Fair or not, those results were mine too."
"I'm not saying they weren't."
That was the Academy's system, and Ruina had earned her title according to its rules.
And it wasn't just her partner's doing.
Fernan had certainly achieved miracles, but Almon's own partner, Rudger, was by no means inferior.
And yet—he couldn't accept it.
Since their second year, he'd never had a proper match with Ruina.
And one-on-one, he was sure he could win.
"As knights, we should settle things purely with the sword. Don't you agree?"
Ruina was silent for a moment.
They locked eyes.
"…You are right."
She nodded at last.
She too had felt a lingering unease. Becoming top student had been joyous, but not entirely clean—achieved not solely by her own blade.
"Tomorrow, we can put it all to rest."
"Yes. Exactly."
Almon smiled at her fighting spirit.
"Have you forgotten? You've never once beaten me."
"The top student is me."
"A top student tainted with doubt."
"There's no need for words. Tomorrow will speak for us."
"Fine by me!"
Almon strode out of the waiting room.
But he would never have the chance to savor the duel he longed for.
"…Hah, ridiculous. To wait so long for this, only to be crippled because of him?"
"Unfortunate. But don't expect mercy."
Having poured all his strength into his battle with Aint, Almon was—
"Winner: Ruina Verchev!"
—soundly defeated by Ruina in their match.
And thus, Ruina advanced to the semifinals.
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