Chapter 12 - Three-on-Three

"…Nuh?"

When Guy opened his eyes, an unfamiliar stone ceiling filled his vision.

Shivering from a chill unlike that of the late autumn air he was used to, he

slowly got up.

"Morning, Guy. Did you sleep well? Sorry the bed's not that great."

"…It's fine. I can sleep anywhere."

Oliver was already up; he handed his sleepy friend a cup of tea. Guy

took a sip, then looked down at Pete, who was sleeping next to him. Last

night, after learning they didn't have enough beds, the group spread

blankets on the living-room floor and slept together in a huddle.

"…Hmm? The girls are gone. They sleep in a different room?"

"No, they woke up early and went out. They'll probably be back soon."

"Outside? Whoa, whoa, are you sure that's safe—?"

Worried, Guy got up and approached the exit. The moment he opened

the door to look outside, a giant green face was there to greet him.

"Bwaaaaaaaaaah?!

Dumbfounded, he jumped back dramatically. Next to the enormous

demi-human's face, Katie's small body came into view.

"? What's wrong, Guy? Why'd you scream?"

"I-isn't it obvious? I opened the door to a troll's face! What's that

about?!"

Guy protested as he held his hand over his racing heart. Oliver stood up

cautiously, too—but not because of the troll crouched in the doorway.

Behind Katie was an older student: the snake-eyed witch.

"…Miligan."

"Long time no see, Mr. Horn. Oh, don't be so tense. I'm not here to hurt

you."

She raised a hand in a friendly gesture. Of course, this did nothing to

persuade Oliver. He was still ready to draw his athame at a moment's

notice.

"I'm just fulfilling my responsibility as the erstwhile owner of this

place, and as Aalto's mentor. It'd be near impossible for first-years alone to

transport a troll this far, so I'm helping a bit."

"Yes! Thank you, Ms. Miligan!" Katie said energetically

Seeing that the troll wouldn't be able to fit through the door, she and

Miligan conferred for a bit and then left the room again. Oliver leaned out

and saw the witch chanting a password at a spot farther away. A second

entrance to the common room opened, and this time, the troll's massive

body fit easily.

"I knew it was quite generous of you to offer us a workshop for free…

What are you really up to?" Chela asked suspiciously as she lined up

alongside Nanao to observe them from behind.

Miligan grinned. "I'm investing in Aalto's potential. I believe in her

talent. When she succeeds, I want to share in it—that's it. My motive is

very simple."

Was she being forthright, or was it just a pretense to hide her true

intentions? At the moment, it was impossible to tell. With the troll now

settled inside, Miligan and the three girls returned to the room. The

commotion had woken Pete up.

"…Pipe down… Is it morning already?"

Sleepy-eyed, he searched for his glasses with both hands. Someone

offered them to him, though he couldn't see who. He accepted them, put

them on, and was about to thank the stranger when he found a hand staring

back at him.

"…Uwah! A—a hand?!"

Bewildered, he fell backward. No wonder—it was just a hand, missing

everything from the wrist up, and it skittered along the floor on its five

fingers. It ran over to Miligan, who scooped it up and placed it on her

shoulder.

"Cute, huh? I had the genius idea of giving artificial life to my left hand,

which Ms. Hibiya severed. You can all call her Milihand. Because it's my

hand," she whispered with a chuckle.

Oliver frowned. Given a month, a mage could grow a new arm.

However, it would take less than a day to reattach a severed one. He

couldn't understand her reasoning for turning her own hand into a magical

familiar.

"…I want be with Katie," came an awkward voice. The troll opened

the door connecting the living room to the common room and peered

through.

Katie ran over to it and nuzzled it. "Hear that? I couldn't just leave him

with Instructor Vanessa, so I'm gonna keep him as my familiar for the time

being. Oh, his name is Marco. I've also gotten the academy's permission, so

don't worry."

She smiled as she explained. Nodding, Oliver approached the troll.

"He seems really calm. Do you remember us, Marco?"

"Remember. Oliver. Katie talk lots about you."

"Ah?! H-hey!"

The curly-haired girl tried to stop him, but Marco looked around at the

others and continued.

"Guy. Pete. Nanao. Chela. Friends of Katie. So friends of me. Yes?"

It was an incredibly simple question.

Oliver couldn't help but smile and nod back. "Of course. It's nice to

have you."

He extended his right hand, and the demi-human wrapped its massive

hand over it. Guy watched them, his arms crossed.

"Feels weird, hearing a troll talk. Katie, I hope you're planning to take

responsibility for this fella."

"Obviously, I am. You don't have to remind me. I'll take him out for

walks, too. Now that he's free from his cage, it'd be a shame to keep him

cooped up and without any exercise."

"…Wait a second. You're gonna walk around the labyrinth with a troll?"

"He'll be something of a bodyguard, which is killing two birds with one

stone…but that's bound to start rumors again," Chela said with a pained

smile. But no one attempted to tell the curly-haired girl to stop. Katie put

her hands on her hips and stood proud.

"I don't care anymore! Now, let's go, everyone! Time for day two of our

exploration!"

"Whoa!"

"Wha—? A troll?!"

"It's huge!"

"Move aside! You're blocking the way."

They left the base and began exploring, witnessing a variety of reactions

from the students they ran into en route. Most of the first-years turned and

ran the moment they caught sight of the troll, as if they were still scarred by

the incident during the opening ceremony. The older students, however,

didn't seem bothered at all.

"…Guess I shouldn't be surprised that the older students aren't fazed,"

said Guy.

"It's not uncommon to run into much larger magical creatures in the

lower levels," noted Chela.

"Conversely, a troll is pretty strong for the first layer. Maybe overly

qualified as a bodyguard…," Oliver began.

Suddenly, they heard a dull gonk from up above and looked up to see

Marco's head stuck on a piece of the ceiling.

"…And too big for these passages, as well."

"That was really loud! Are you okay?!"

"Mm, fine. I no hurt," Marco answered after bending down. Trolls

were especially tough even among demi-humans, so there wasn't even a

bump. Even six months later, it sent a shiver up Oliver's spine to think

Nanao had knocked him out without so much as a bladed sword.

Ten minutes of walking and a few junctions later, they reached an area

with a small protrusion in the middle: a reservoir full of blue water.

Looking at the water's surface, they could see into some sort of classroom.

Miligan pointed at it.

"This is the closest labyrinth exit to your base. Jump inside, and the

majority of the time, you'll end up in a classroom on the fourth floor. The

exit can shift, however, and might not always be usable. Keep that in mind."

Guy cocked his head. "…Hmm? So wouldn't it've been way faster to go

this way first?"

"No, no. Anyone who wants to use that workshop has to at least be able

to delve that deep on their own. That's my requirement. And as I said

before, this portal won't always be available. You must always be prepared

to think on your own two feet, if the need arises."

The snake-eyed witch issued a stern warning. She was almost like a

responsible older student lecturing her rowdy juniors; Oliver was still

reeling at the difference between this Miligan and the Miligan they'd fought

for their lives against. She slipped by them and began walking back the way

they came.

"This is where I say good-bye, then. Enjoy your exploration. And don't

let your guard down."

And with that, she disappeared around a corner. The six of them checked

to make sure the portal was working, then nodded to one another and

proceeded onward through the labyrinth. Marco, trailing behind, smacked

his head against the ceiling.

"Argh, again…!"

"He'll never be able to fit in narrower passages. I guess for today, it's

okay to stick to the larger ones. Personally, though, I was hoping to find

some potion ingredients."

"Which will be rare on the first layer, of course. It would be nice if we

could go lower…"

They continued on, choosing the larger path at each junction. Careful

not to get caught in any traps, the six of them gradually, gradually

proceeded deeper into the labyrinth.

"…Mm? Hold on."

As they were descending a slope, a gust of wind blew from up ahead.

Picking up the scent of greenery, Chela ordered everyone to halt.

"…If we keep going, we'll soon reach the second layer. Let's turn back."

"Oh, I see… Is the second layer really that different from here?"

"I've heard it's leagues more dangerous. The first level is known as 'the

quiet, wandering path,' while the second is called 'the bustling forest.' The

area is much wider and the terrain more varied, and we'll find far more

types of magical beasts."

"A forest…? There's a forest in the labyrinth? But we're under the

academy."

"Not only that—I've heard if you go deeper, there's a sea. It would be

more appropriate to think of each layer as a 'realm' than a lower level."

Pete's eyes went wide at the mind-boggling answer. The group turned

around and started to head back.

"I'm not letting you leave, Michela."

Suddenly, a threatening voice echoed, and two figures stood at the top of

the slope they were ascending: a petite blond girl and a male student close

by her side.

Chela called out to them. "Ms. Cornwallis, you're exploring down here,

too?"

"Hardly. We were lying in wait to steal your medallions!"

Stacy glared sharply at the six of them.

Sensing her hostility, Marco bared his great teeth from behind Katie.

"URRRRRRRRRRRRR!"

His growl echoed through the hall, and Stacy instinctively took a

defensive stance. Katie tried to gently soothe the glowering troll.

"Whoa, whoa. Quiet, now. It's okay."

The troll's anger slowly subsided with the help of her commands. Stacy

frowned.

"…What a brutish beast. I thought we agreed there'd be no familiars?"

"How rude! I won't set him on you. I'm not even participating in your

little event!" Katie shouted back, insulted.

Fay sighed lightly and looked at his partner. "Calm down. She's not

gonna interfere."

"I know that. I was only warning her." Stacy showed no sign of shame.

Before the conversation could take an odd turn, Oliver expressed his

own opinion.

"I have no intention of breaking the rules. Do you want to duel here?"

"That's the idea. But I have a suggestion—how about a two-on-two?"

Stacy confidently placed a hand on the shoulder of the boy standing next to

her. "Fay shall be my partner. You all can select whichever pair you wish."

"I see. So that's what you want." Chela nodded, then turned to her

friends. "They wish to start a tag-team duel. Oliver, Nanao, what do you

think?"

"Sounds rather interesting!"

"No, hold on a sec… Chela, those two have known each other a long

time, right?" Oliver asked, and Chela nodded.

"You're correct. They're almost like master and servant. I don't think

I've ever seen them apart. They probably have excellent teamwork as well."

"So they have the advantage, huh? It's not the smartest idea to accept

their challenge…"

"I know. But…it is interesting, isn't it? How does our six months

compare to their years of partnership?"

Chela flashed a fearless grin, while Oliver smiled awkwardly. He

realized that fighting them head-on at their own game was certainly the sort

of boldness he expected from her.

"Yeah… Then you and Nanao should pair up. I think Ms. Cornwallis is

itching to duel you, and Nanao is excited as well."

He looked to the girl at his side. Just like he'd said, her eyes were ablaze

with the anticipation of fighting a strong enemy. It was clear she wanted to

have at it right this minute. Chela calmly turned back to the two standing

atop the slope.

"Two-on-two? We accept. Nanao and I shall take you on."

And so the agreement was made.

Stacy sneered as all four of them reached for their athames.

"Not a bad plan, for a side character. Count me in, too!"

Suddenly, a boy's voice grabbed everyone's attention.

"Three-on-three. Wouldn't that be much more interesting, Ms.

McFarlane?"

"Joseph Albright…?!"

Stacy spun around and uttered his name in shock. There stood a large

boy emanating an intimidating level of confidence. Oliver's expression

darkened further. From the boy's necktie, Oliver could see this boy was a

first-year like them, but he didn't have the aura of one at all.

Chela studied the boy. "…So you finally made your appearance, Mr.

Albright."

"Another of your friends, Chela?" Nanao asked.

"No, I know him, too," Oliver said. "He's an Albright… They're a

famous family known for producing militant mages."

He recalled the many dangerous stories he'd heard about the members of

their family. Chela nodded.

"Since combat is so important to their family, the training they received

at home differs on a basic level from all other students. There's no doubt

about it—he's a leading candidate for the strongest in our year."

As the daughter of a famous family herself, her words carried weight.

Stacy, cautiously gripping her athame, turned to the unexpected intruder.

"…Three-on-three? Are you saying you wish to team up with us?"

"Would you prefer three-on-two-on-one? If it's a brawl you want, I can

play along."

Albright spoke arrogantly, as if a numerical disadvantage meant nothing

to him.

Stacy frowned, but he looked past her to the others down the slope.

"What say you, Ms. McFarlane and the samurai girl? Add in that

nobody, and you've got three, technically. But if you think you can't win

with me on the opposing team, I guess that can't be helped."

He looked at Oliver and chuckled, as if scoffing at him.

Chela's eyes glinted dangerously. "…Hold on. Who did you just call a

nobody?"

"Well, that's a tough question to answer. I don't make a habit of

remembering every nobody's name. All I can say is that he's standing next

to you."

Albright shrugged, continuing to use the word nobody.

Chela made to correct him, but Oliver placed a hand on her shoulder.

"It's okay, Chela. I'm no punching bag, either."

He raised his voice at the end, signaling that he was stepping off the

sidelines and into the fray. He strode to catch up with Chela and Nanao,

then glared at their opponents.

"We accept your three-on-three battle. Spells are allowed, I assume?"

"Wait! We haven't accepted yet—"

"Stacy."

Fay stopped his partner from panicking at the unexpected turn of events

and brought his lips close to her ear.

"…Think about it. Albright's after the samurai, and you're after Ms.

McFarlane. If he keeps her busy, then that's good news for us. It increases

our chances."

"Mmgh…"

Stacy accepted his opinion and thought for a moment.

Albright paid them no heed. "Do whatever you want. But I have two

rules I'd like to add. First, we cast our dulling spells at half efficacy.

Second, once the duel is decided, the survivors take all the losers'

medallions. Agreed?"

Oliver frowned.

Albright continued to explain his position. "You don't mind, do you?

After all, none of us here are cowards who would drop out early and still try

to reap the benefits of the team's win, are we? If you want the reward, stay

alive until the end. That's all there is to it."

"You're not planning to strike down your own teammates in the middle

of battle, are you?"

"If you're that worried, we can add a rule to ban friendly fire. I don't

care what you do—as long as deadweight doesn't share in the victory."

Albright snorted haughtily at Stacy's suggestion. He clearly had no faith

in his own teammates. Oliver didn't even need to confer with his friends on

their response.

"Each team can decide individually on the distribution of medallions,"

Oliver said stiffly. "None of us intend to interfere with that. But no matter

how the battle turns out, our side will split the medallions evenly."

"Ha! What a cheap reply. You really are a nobody." Albright descended

the slope, looking down his nose at Oliver. "Anyway, follow me. I'll show

you to our battlefield."

"What? Where do you think you're—?"

"Do you really want to fight in this narrow hall? Just shut up and walk,"

he barked back at them without stopping to turn. Albright strode past Oliver

and his friends, down to the base of the slope.

"Wait, Mr. Albright!" Chela shouted. "Are you actually planning to go

to the second layer?"

"The Colosseum is so far. There are plenty of open spaces on the second

layer."

"It's too dangerous! Perhaps if it was just us, but we also have our

friends here!"

"Then send them home. Where do you think we are? You're mistaken if

you think a mage duel is a safe spectator sport."

With that, he shot an overwhelming glare over his shoulder. Despite his

unending arrogance, there was no denying his claims.

Chela thought for a bit, then turned to her friends. "It's dangerous to go

farther. Katie, take the others and head back to the base…"

"No way."

"I'm not going."

"Not happening."

Katie, Guy, and Pete rebuffed her in unison.

Chela's eyes went wide with shock as the three of them looked at one

another.

"We'll go back once we see you beat him black-and-blue. Right, Guy

and Pete?"

"Yeah. We can protect ourselves. Don't worry."

"I'd love to take your place and duel Ms. Cornwallis…but I wouldn't

stand a chance at the moment, so at least let me observe."

"Unh—it okay. I protect all."

They made their appeals, and the troll reminded them he could help, too.

Fay loosened his lips slightly as he watched them. "She's got a lot of

friends, doesn't she?"

"Shut up, Fay!"

He shrugged at Stacy's outburst, and they began descending the slope

after Albright. Oliver's group nodded to one another and followed suit.

Albright led the way, with Stacy and Fay in the middle and Oliver's group

in the back. Keeping an unusually wide distance between themselves, they

proceeded for about ten minutes before the space around them suddenly

opened up.

"This is the second layer, also known as the bustling forest. Am I the

only one who's been here before?"

Albright took the first step into the layer and spread his arms wide to

draw attention to their surroundings. The place wasn't merely vast; it was

entirely different from the area they'd just left. The stone floors and walls

had been replaced by dirt and grass with trees sprouting everywhere. This

layer was teeming with life. The domed ceiling high above their heads and

the wideness of the room itself created a sense of freedom that they couldn't

have dreamed of on the first layer.

"It's said that descending this deep during your first year is suicide—but

this is simply a measure of mediocrity. It doesn't apply to those with

nonstandard talent. Don't you agree, samurai?"

Albright looked directly at Nanao. Oliver narrowed his eyes—he could

tell that while Albright considered him a nobody, he also felt a bit of

kinship toward Nanao and Chela. The talented and the mediocre—his

system of values split humanity into these two categories.

Infuriated at the thought of continuing at Albright's pace any longer,

Stacy attempted to regain control.

"That's enough grandstanding, Mr. Albright. This is our fight. We've

generously let you join, but don't you dare weigh us down."

"Fine, if you insist. The samurai, however, is mine."

He seemed extremely serious about this. The six combatants walked to

the center of the area and cast the dulling spell on one another's blades, and

then Albright took out a coin.

"And—begin!"

He flicked it into the air. From a distance, Katie, Guy, and Pete watched

with bated breath. The coin rose, and as it began to fall, everyone reached

for their athames.

"Hah!"

The instant the coin hit the ground, Oliver dashed forward. The closest

person to him in a straight line was Fay—but instead, Oliver boldly cut

horizontally in front of him and stood before Albright.

"Hmm?"

"I told you, I'm no punching bag."

He faced off against him in a midstance, emanating ferocity. Nanao and

Chela knew exactly what he was about to do.

"I'm your opponent, Mr. Albright. Once this duel's over, you'll

remember my name."

"Ha! Tough talk for a nobody."

Albright raised his sword up and to the right. Blade high in the air, he

struck a figure so imposing that many opponents would fold before he even

swung. Rooted in unwavering confidence, it was the perfect depiction of a

strong man's stance.

"Whew…"

Oliver faced down the leading candidate for strongest first-year student

head-on. Chela had to tear her eyes away to focus on her own fight. She and

Nanao stood across from Stacy and Fay.

"This is our first time fighting together, isn't it?"

"Indeed. Finally, I'll get to see your sword in action, Chela."

"Heh-heh. I'll be sure not to disappoint."

Stacy drew back in a midstance, twisting her wrist to form the lightning

stance—a perfect match for the thrust-focused Rizett style.

Seeing how serious she was, Nanao also assumed a doublehanded

overhead stance.

"…Say, Albright seems to be dueling with Horn," Stacy complained to

Fay, their plans thrown off-kilter as soon as the battle had begun.

"Sorry, I didn't think Horn would approach him directly."

"Useless!"

But despite the squabbling among the partners, their stances were rocksolid. One was in the lightning stance like Chela, while the other was in the

lower "earthquake" stance. Each was a student of the Rizett style, but it was

easy to imagine how different their techniques were.

"No use crying over spilled milk," said Fay. "So what now? Support

Albright and take down Horn first?"

"…Whatever. This just puts us back to the original plan. We'll defeat

Michela. Leave Albright to his own devices. I doubt he'd even attempt to

work with us."

Stacy focused on the fight at hand. Albright had never been part of her

calculations. All she could rely on was herself and the attendant she'd spent

half her life with.

"It's time, Fay. Take care of the samurai first."

"Understood. It won't be easy, but I'll manage," Fay quipped, then

glared sharply at Nanao. Chela took a step toward her own glowering

opponent.

"How long has it been since we last crossed swords, Ms. Cornwallis—?"

"Don't know. Don't care. I'm not here to chat."

She cut her off frankly.

Chela's expression sank with dejection. "I see you have quite the grudge

against me. Might I ask why?"

"…What difference would it make even if I told you?"

She curtly shot the conversation down. Neither side said a thing as they

silently inched toward each other.

"Haaah!"

The moment they breached the one-step, one-spell distance, Stacy took

off like a loosened arrow. Repelling the incoming thrust, Chela flashed a

confident grin.

"An excellent thrust. Now—have at you!"

And with that proclamation, sparks flew as they began exchanging

blows. Parrying with optimal efficiency, they naturally moved into

counterthrusts; over the next few seconds, more than a dozen thrusts were

exchanged. Their duel was graceful and exquisite, yet also surprisingly

fierce. The white-hot struggle continued, with neither side giving ground.

Nanao let out a sound of awe.

"Ohhh, beautiful. Truly a clash between peers."

"They were always fated to fight, though Ms. McFarlane doesn't wish

to."

Fay sighed. He displayed none of Stacy's ferocity as he pointed the tip

of his athame at his opponent.

"Haven't introduced myself yet, have I? I'm the Cornwallis guard dog,

Fay Willock. Before we begin, I must apologize—this won't be an

enjoyable duel, Nanao Hibiya."

"Hmm? What do you—?"

"Fragor!"

Fay interrupted Nanao with an explosive spell aimed at the ground, the

rising dirt cloud hiding him from view.

Occluding my vision first, eh? Nanao thought as she cautiously lowered

the tip of her sword to eye level, preparing for his strike.

"...?"

But no attack came. The dirt cloud faded, and once the air cleared, she

saw Fay standing among a thicket of trees.

"This is what I mean. I'm a coward, you see, and I don't intend to take

you head-on."

"…I see. Then it is a game of chase."

Confirming her opponent's style, Nanao lowered her sword to her side

and ran forward.

Chela fended off Stacy's fierce rush of attacks as Nanao chased after the

cowardly Fay in order to get within striking distance. Elsewhere, the

previous pair was embroiled in an altogether different battle.

"Flamma!"

"Frigus."

Waves of heat and frigid air collided, jostling for less than a second

before Albright's blizzard pierced the flames and rushed forward. Oliver,

however, was no longer at his original position. One of the basic rules of a

spell duel was to never stay in one place for long, which was why he

changed his position every time he cast a spell.

"Hah…!"

Focusing on his enemy ten yards away, he dashed forward without

hesitation. On his third and sixth steps, he activated spatial magic, instantly

changing the angle and friction of the ground beneath his feet. Lanoff-style

sword arts, earth stance: Ghost Ground—combined properly with his

running style, it was possible to move across the land at a trajectory that

was impossible to predict.

"Clypeus."

Albright cast a spell at his feet without a moment's thought. A short wall

about two feet tall rose up, blocking his opponent's path.

Not bad, Oliver mused. Ghost Ground was most effective at the caster's

location. His only option to clear the difference in elevation was to leap,

greatly reducing the shock-and-awe effect of his technique and forcing him

to make a completely predictable move. And yet, stopping was exactly what

his opponent wanted. Instantly, Oliver made a decision—if his only option

was to leap, then he had to expand his options.

"Haaah!"

The moment he reached the wall, he imbued the ground beneath his feet

with all the elasticity he could muster. Using it as a spring, he shot

impossibly high into the air, spinning vertically in midair.

"Mm!"

Lanoff-style sword arts, sky stance: Windmill. It was a surprise attack

that aimed to decapitate the opponent while passing overhead. Oliver's

body, high in the sky, disappeared completely from Albright's view.

"Hmph!"

But Albright didn't fall into the trap of looking up to try and regain his

target; instead, he hunched down. Oliver's blade swiped the air a

hairbreadth away from the nape of his neck. Gravity pulled Oliver back to

the ground, and he landed behind him.

"Tonitrus!"

Albright quickly cast a lightning spell over his shoulder, aiming to catch

his opponent in the back as he landed. Oliver calmly dodged to the left.

When it came to dramatic moves like the Windmill, one's recovery was

often more important than the technique itself. The biggest prerequisite to

using such a technique in a real battle was practicing until one was able to

stick the landing and instantly take evasive maneuvers.

"Hmph, I see."

Oliver once again took a midstance against his opponent. His sword still

raised high, Albright snorted in boredom.

"Mediocre, as I thought. You might know a bunch of fancy tricks, but

there's no overwhelming decisiveness to your sword or spells. Do you

really think you can cut me down with your street performance?"

"Save that for once you've managed to defeat me, Mr. Albright."

As Oliver replied, he thought, He is certainly strong. But I've managed

to lay the groundwork so far.

"Hrm!"

Albright stepped in, swinging his athame down, and Oliver struck back

with the Lanoff-style advanced technique: Encounter. Circulating mana

through his blade, he adjusted its arc the moment their swords passed each

other, causing his opponent's to barely miss.

And yet, his strike, which should have cleaved his opponent in two, was

twisted by similar interference.

"—!"

"—Ha!"

Oliver quickly repositioned himself into the one-step, one-spell distance.

Albright curled his lips into a mocking smirk.

"Distract your opponent with a variety of techniques and spells, then cut

them down with Encounter in a head-on clash. That's your winning

formula, isn't it?"

"..."

Oliver kept silent, but on the inside, he was beside himself. Albright had

seen through him and matched his technique. Unlike that utter coincidence

with Nanao, his opponent had read him completely this time. He'd never

experienced anything like this since entering Kimberly and had never

expected it from a student his own age.

"What a boring technique. Rossi was a nobody, too, but at least he had a

unique sword style as his saving grace. But your swordplay has none of

that. It is merely an extension of the Lanoff-school textbook."

"..."

"It's pitiable. How far can you even go on such a path? My guess is the

best you'll manage is to die early, just like everyone else mediocre in

history. A death due to reaching above your place seems fitting—"

Oliver struck, not waiting for him to finish. Albright quickly moved to

block, but high above him, lightning cracked. Lanoff-style sword arts, sky

stance: Flash Wisp. The instantaneous flash blinded him, creating an

opening.

"Please." Albright chuckled. He didn't even squint, let alone blink. His

pupils quickly readjusted to the bright light, and his clear, unwavering

vision revealed Oliver coming at him with a sweeping strike at his face.

Calm as can be, Albright blocked it.

"Mm?!"

Albright felt himself being pushed back, sword and all. The

unexpectedly heavy strike made it through Albright's defenses, and the tip

of Oliver's sword scratched his cheek. This was the Lanoff-style advanced

technique: Heavy Feather. By taking control of his body's center of gravity,

Oliver was able to produce a strike that was much heavier than it appeared.

The Flash Wisp had just been a diversion to allow for this, his true goal.

"The textbook just sliced your cheek open. Any thoughts, Mr.

Albright?"

"You've got guts, you stupid nobody."

A terrible grin rose on Albright's face as soon as he felt blood dripping

down his cheek. Oliver now realized, whether he wanted to or not, that their

duel had only just begun.

"Oliver landed a hit!"

"Yes! Get that jerk!"

Guy, Pete, Katie, and the troll watched from afar as the three duels

unfolded. The two boys were engrossed in the fighting, but Katie stared up

at the vast ceiling.

"..."

"Hey, Katie, what's the matter?" asked Guy. "C'mon, at least root for

him. Seems like he's up against someone really strong this time."

"…Right. But there's something about this place…"

She scanned around them, then soon turned back to Guy.

"Guy, mind lending me a hand? Just in case."

Fay Willock had decided long before the duel that he wouldn't compete

using sword techniques. He utilized the trees as obstacles, refusing to get

within striking range of his opponent. He put his all into maintaining

distance while casting spells at her whenever an opening presented itself. It

was a passive strategy, but it was the natural stance to take when facing

someone who eclipsed him in the sword; wise, even. But not even a minute

into their duel, it became all too obvious that what seemed wise on paper

was anything but in the face of such incomparable skill.

"Whoa…!"

He dodged a swing by a hairbreadth—or so he thought, but she instantly

swung again, this time at his neck. There wasn't even time to breathe.

Nanao chased after him relentlessly, mowing down the trees in her way.

Unable to find a chance to counter, he soon found himself at his limit.

His heel caught on a tree root, and he stumbled; Nanao immediately took

advantage of that moment. She swung, aiming to cleave his torso in two.

Somehow, Fay managed to block it, his blade supported by his left hand.

"Gah…!"

He might have stopped the blade, but the force behind it remained

unchanged. His body lifted into the air. Nanao drove through with her

swing, launching him out of the forest.

"Ngh! Haah…!"

While Fay barely managed to stay upright as he landed, a strained smile

surfaced on his lips. He wasn't even succeeding at buying time. But how

could he have predicted someone his own age could be so ridiculously

powerful?

"What are you doing, Fay?!"

Stacy jumped back from her duel with Chela to assist her endangered

partner. She thrust her sword at Nanao to prevent her from dealing the final

blow, leaving Fay to deal with the threat of Chela charging at Stacy's back.

Through quick teamwork, they managed to return the battle to a staredown.

The two of them stood back-to-back.

"Sorry. She was stronger than I expected."

"Useless. At least last two minutes."

Her words were sharp, but Stacy didn't truly blame him. She'd known

from the beginning that Nanao Hibiya was an opponent beyond compare,

and that finishing off Chela by herself would be difficult. The battle so far

had only proven her expectations true.

"I can't keep her contained. We'll never win like this," said Fay.

"..."

This was where the battle truly began. With silent determination, the two

shared a look.

"Fay, will you bring me victory?"

The quiet question rang in his ears. In that moment, a certain memory

surfaced in his mind.

"A puppy, eh? Must have gotten lost, washed up here after losing his

parents in a battle."

His house, burned; his people, gone. He dragged his half-broken body

along with no destination in mind. He sucked at the rain and dew to quench

his parched throat and hunted wild animals to keep from starving. How

many days had passed like this, with him just barely surviving?

Before he realized it, the end was staring him in the face. A human mage

pointed a wand at the dying vermin, and he looked back up with exhaustion

in his eyes. He no longer had the strength to move his limbs. Nor did he

even have the will to resist.

"There's no value in keeping a mongrel as a pet. I'll end your suffering

now."

The mage declared his death in a gesture of selfish mercy. Hurry up and

do it, then, he thought. He could bear the hunger and thirst. What he

couldn't bear was the cold solitude. He didn't want to live one more second

in such a frigid world. Finally, the end was here. He started to close his

eyes, when a figure stood in front of him.

"Wait, Father."

Even though he'd fully resigned himself to his fate, he felt a sudden

twinge of hesitation.

It was a human girl. She was less than ten years old, blond and innocent.

And right then, she was standing between him and the mage's wand.

"I was just thinking I could use a servant. I'll take care of him."

"Don't be foolish. Go pick one from a suitable house, then."

Bewilderment entered the mage's voice.

The girl shook her head, then turned away.

"No, Father. I want this one."

She got down on her knees and drew closer, fixing him with her brightblue eyes. Then it all made sense. He didn't even know her name, but deep

in her eyes, he could see her heart. It was lonely, just like his. He lifted a

withered arm and took hold of her hand—and from that moment on, the

loneliness had ended.

"Do you need to ask? You're my master, Stace."

Fay Willock touched the choker around his neck as he spoke. Long ago,

Stacy Cornwallis had extended him a hand, which he'd taken. And from the

moment he'd nestled into her loneliness, he'd decided his path in life.

"Don't hesitate. Just give me orders. As your guard dog, I'll tear out

your enemies' throats!" His tone turned steely.

And with that last bit of encouragement, Stacy raised her athame above

her head.

"Luna plena!"

She chanted the spell, and a ball of light rose straight into the air. Its

blue-white glow was just like that of the moon. In the skyless labyrinth, a

temporary night sky appeared.

"GAAAAAAAHHHHHH!"

"—?!"

A howl—almost a scream—rang out. Chela's eyes went wide as dinner

plates as Fay's form changed. Bone and sinew rippled and expanded under

his skin, tearing his shirt, while dense black fur sprouted all over his body.

Sharp claws extended from his digits. Predatory fangs peered out from his

protruding jaw. His skeletal structure itself morphed and expanded, until he

towered over six feet tall.

"…Chela, what is that?" Nanao asked as she witnessed the

transformation.

Chela answered with just two words:

"…A werewolf…!"

The two of them gulped audibly as Fay, now a black-furred wolf man,

growled. Stacy jumped atop his back, grabbing a tuft of fur to secure

herself. Most of her small body was hidden now, only her head and right

arm appearing over his shoulder.

"…Go, Fay!"

"AWOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!"

The werewolf howled in response to his master's order, then charged.

Nanao shifted her stance, preparing to begin the battle anew, as Chela began

chanting a spell.

"Zeyaaah!"

Meanwhile, Oliver was being forced into a tough defensive battle

against a raging storm of blows.

"Kh…!"

Ever since Albright had started taking him seriously, the nature of his

sword technique had completely changed. He was no longer playing

around, waiting to see his opponent's moves first. His every strike was

filled with mana and made Oliver's hands numb when he blocked, giving

him zero chance to counter.

Oliver was in trouble. Realizing this, Albright boldly stepped in, closing

the gap between them. Their swords rattled as they wrestled for superiority,

both sides stopping dead in their tracks. Just then, Albright spotted out of

the corner of his eye what was happening with the other duelists. Fay had

transformed into a beast, and on his back sat a girl casting spells.

"Hmm? Her companion is part werewolf? Seems I didn't give

Cornwallis enough credit," Albright muttered to himself, then returned his

gaze to Oliver and sneered faintly. "Are you thinking about rushing to your

allies' aid? Go ahead. I know it's an excuse to run away from me, but that's

no reason to be ashamed. This has always been a team battle, after all."

It was an obvious taunt. Oliver quietly considered this from the other

side of their clashing blades.

"…I can't use that excuse."

"Hmm?"

"Nanao and Chela don't need help. The werewolf's appearance is

unexpected, but they'll be fine. Nor do I have any good reason to turn my

back on you."

He focused more strength on his right hand, pushing his opponent away.

"I've learned something after exchanging blows with you, Mr. Albright.

You aren't nearly as confident as you sound."

"..."

"Your words don't impress me. That raw pride I felt from Mr. Andrews

months ago—I don't feel it in you. It's strange. Even the way you call

others 'nobodies' is formulaic and somewhat mechanical. I don't know if

this is the right way to express it, but…it's as if you look down on me as a

matter of duty. Am I wrong?"

"…Silence."

Albright ended their conversation with a single word and resumed his

furious assault. With no chance to counter against the overwhelming flurry,

Oliver was once again forced into a defensive battle. Just as the balance of

power began to dangerously favor one side…

"Frigus!"

…like a set play, Albright cast the spell as he struck. Oliver's sword

gave way a bit from the force of Albright's athame and the ice spell cast

from it. Subzero air cold enough to freeze even his skull flew at him in the

form of a pure-white blizzard. Albright's victory was assured—or so it

seemed.

"Ice spells at an extremely close range. That's your winning formula,

isn't it?"

"?!"

Albright's eyes bulged at the sound of Oliver's voice coming from

within the blizzard—the moment he'd blocked, Oliver had grabbed his

opponent's wrist with his left hand, causing the spell to shoot slightly to the

side. This allowed him to avoid a direct hit, and Albright's duel-ending

spell only froze his right ear.

"You aim for the moment I'm no longer on the offensive and force your

spell into a close range where most mages would only use swords. It's an

extremely high-level, unorthodox technique. I can't possibly copy it, but—"

Oliver gripped his opponent's wrist harder as he analyzed his technique.

"—even someone as mediocre as me can lure you into attempting it."

"You…!"

Albright instantly grabbed Oliver's right wrist as well, locking them in

one of the worst moves in all sword arts: the grapple.

"We're now even closer than sword-striking distance, which all mages

hate more than anything. How much do you know about this kind of

fighting?" Oliver asked quietly.

Albright scowled spitefully. "…You think you've won just because

you're close to me, you nobody…?"

Oliver could see from his opponent's eyes that Albright couldn't ignore

any further insults. Albright dropped his center of gravity low and roared:

"Don't underestimate an Albright!"

We've fallen into a trap, Chela realized as she dodged the incoming claws

and spells. Stacy was seated on the werewolf's back, casting incantations

while using his tough body as a shield. There was no doubt it was a

powerful tactic in the moment. The werewolf was still quite nimble despite

its passenger and its tough body allowed it to take several single-incantation

spells without faltering. Neither magic nor sword could easily fight off this

combo.

"Haaaaaaah!"

The Azian girl fought back against the threat head-on; her hair turned

pure-white from the perfectly clear mana coursing through her body.

Neither side retreated a step, and sparks flew as blade and claw clashed.

Fighting alongside her, Chela couldn't help but feel a sense of selfcondemnation. Normally, even a werewolf would stand no chance against

Nanao. Her opponents were strong, certainly, but they were nothing

compared with a garuda. It boggled the mind that Nanao was skilled enough

to have killed such a fearsome magical beast, yet Fay wasn't already dead.

She'd landed many would-be lethal blows so far.

But each strike left nothing more than a scratch. Chela knew the reason

for this absurdity—the dulling spells they'd cast on one another's blades

before the duel. Cast at half efficacy, the spells limited the amount of lethal

damage a sword could inflict. In this case, they were unable to deliver deep,

instant-kill wounds. Of course, this didn't stop them from cutting flesh or

drawing blood. Although they couldn't kill, they could still injure their

opponent until they were unable to fight anymore—assuming they were up

against a human, that is.

"AWROOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

But there was a loophole. The dulling spells on Chela's and Nanao's

athames were based on Fay's human body. His transformation had altered

his physical structure, dramatically increasing his regenerative abilities. As

a result, blows that might leave a human grievously wounded were only

scratches to Fay now.

"...!"

Realizing her failure, Chela bit her lip. She should have realized this

before the battle began. In a typical on-campus, judged duel, this would

have never been possible. The dulling spell would have been cast at full

effect, and lethal blows would be left to the judge to decide. In fact, Fay

wouldn't even be able to transform into a werewolf without prior

permission. In his werewolf form, Fay couldn't hold an athame, let alone

cast a spell. Even ignoring the dulling-spell issue, this was a clear violation

of mage-duel etiquette.

However, they were in the labyrinth. Actions that might be considered

illegal on school grounds were perfectly acceptable strategies down here,

where no one could judge them. Even in this case, an older student would

maintain that anyone who gets caught by such a ploy is a fool.

"Mmrgh…!"

Nanao attempted to sever Fay's hand with her blade, but it left just a

shallow wound. At the same time, Stacy unleashed a lightning spell from

his back, and Chela intervened with one of her own. The spells canceled

each other out, sending sparks everywhere. The Azian girl jumped

backward, narrowly escaping danger.

"What now, Michela? You seem to be struggling!" Stacy shouted

victoriously, certain of their advantage. Her voice shook with excitement.

No one but her knew just how long she'd waited to be in this position.

"This is us! Whether I am part of the branch family or no, I'm not your

replacement anymore! I'm going to beat you here and now and surpass you!

Then Uncle will finally acknowledge me!"

The desire she'd been harboring in her heart for so long finally escaped

her lips.

Chela's expression twisted with sorrow. "…You are truly amazing, Ms.

Cornwallis."

Despite the situation, she complimented her. Stacy furrowed her brow

suspiciously.

"That's not sarcasm," Chela insisted. "You two must have run through

so many ideas in order to set up this situation. Using every advantage at

your disposal in order to win… You have truly exceeded me with your

earnest approach. I can only feel ashamed of my own arrogance and pride."

Her words were filled with self-deprecation. But the next moment,

Chela fixed Stacy with a look.

"And yet, I must ask you to dispel your partner's transformation

immediately, Ms. Cornwallis."

Her expression was serious, and Stacy's whole body stiffened.

Chela spoke not in anger or irritation, but out of pure concern for them.

"…What are you—?"

"Don't pretend not to know what I mean. This must be hardest on you,

isn't it?" Chela said gently, shaking her head, as she looked to the werewolf,

Fay. "In modern magical society, werewolves aren't allowed civil rights.

And yet, the fact that you attend Kimberly as a student means that you

aren't a pure-blooded werewolf, Mr. Willock. You must be at least halfhuman…making you a half-werewolf."

"..."

"Although mixed children do exist, humans and werewolves aren't

compatible on a genetic level. This creates many defects in a halfwerewolf's body. The most representative of these is the unbearable pain of

transformation…"

Chela's face twisted in pity. She knew all too well that the low growls

escaping from between Fay's fangs and the ear-rending bestial howls were

not just battle cries. Even the excitement of combat couldn't hide the equal

amounts of pain. As his flesh and bones rearranged under the temporary

moon, and as he moved his new body during their fight—even now, as he

rapidly regenerated all his wounds—he was experiencing intense pain that

was no different from torture. It was as if countless thorny vines were

snaking their way through his insides.

"I hear that is why most half-werewolves never transform once during

their entire lives. Mr. Willock is undoubtedly in unimaginable pain at this

very moment. I suspect it might even drive him mad if he lets down his

guard for even a second. How can you force your partner to go through

such pain for a mere duel between first-years?!"

" "

Chela's warning superseded any boundaries of enemy and ally. The

emotions this unlocked within Stacy bubbled over, seizing hold of her and

turning her vision white.

"Fay, why do you think Father never praises me?"

It was a scene she'd witnessed a thousand times before: her father and

her siblings enjoying one another's company. The girl observed them from

a distance, as if there were an invisible wall between them. She stood

together with her attendant, unable to join in on the scene.

"The harder I work—the more I master what I'm taught—the more it

seems to pain Father. No matter how hard I try, he never smiles…"

All she wanted was for her father to smile at her, to have him muss her

hair like he did her siblings. And to that end, she worked hard. She trained

more than all her siblings and regularly produced excellent results. But all it

ever earned her was her father's obvious attempts to hide some other

emotion.

"Do I truly have to live as his child? Can I never measure up to his real

children, no matter how much of a good girl I am? Will he…never love

me?"

It took far too long for her to realize the truth. After years of fruitless

efforts, her heart was left withered and starved. Not even her attendant

could soothe her anymore.

"In that case, then one day, I have to find my real father, too."

The boy nodded as she voiced her desire—and he swore to be by her

side until the day she achieved it.

"What would you know…?" Stacy spat venomously.

She and Fay had walked together for as long as she could remember,

wandering the endless frozen tundra for years with only each other to rely

on for warmth. Everything they'd been through had brought them to this

battle—only for their opponent to display such arrogance and call it a "mere

duel between first-years."

"You… You've always had it all. What would you understand about

us?!" she screamed, as if to drive away the pain, and they attacked again in

order to shut Chela up. All of a sudden, Chela stopped attacking, as if she'd

lost the will to fight. She dodged Fay's claws, and in the tiny opening that

followed, Stacy unleashed a fire spell.

"Haaah!"

At the last moment, Nanao intervened, redirecting the flame to the side

with her sword. She stood in front of the ringlet girl and said softly, "Yours

is the wrong sort of concern, Chela."

"…Huh?"

"I do not pretend to know either of your circumstances. However, there

is one thing I understand: They have made up their minds to fight us. They

are staking all they have on this duel."

Chela swallowed. Nanao knew nothing about her opponents'

backgrounds, and yet she'd sensed from the very beginning that this was a

fight they couldn't afford to lose.

"I'm sure you know of pain and suffering all too well, Chela. Thus, if

our opponents have made their decision, then it would be rude of us to

refuse to meet them at full strength. Am I wrong?"

Her words pierced deeper than the sternest lecture. Her eyes opened,

Chela answered resolutely:

"No, you're not. You're absolutely correct, Nanao."

She felt terribly ashamed of her attitude. Just now, she'd pitied their

opponents when they didn't ask for it, even demanding they surrender for

fear of their suffering. Who did she think she was?

"I apologize for my comment, Ms. Cornwallis. I won't ask you to dispel

his transformation again."

She admitted to her insolence, but her sympathy and kindness remained.

One could call her arrogant, but there were some things one just couldn't

compromise on. Chela held tightly to this belief as she continued:

"In exchange, I promise you that your pain will not last much longer."

"—! Damn youuuuuu!"

Fay howled as if in response to Stacy's erupting anger.

Chela readied her athame, poised to receive them head-on. Nanao took

her place beside her friend, a smile on her face.

Three minutes had passed since Oliver and Albright began grappling, yet

neither side seemed ready to give in.

"..."

"Gh…!"

From the outside, it appeared as if neither of them were making any

large moves. And yet, the duelists' expressions were more focused than

ever. The push and pull of their arms, the shuffling of their feet, and the

casting of spatial magic—this battle to knock the other off balance raged

on, with both parties using every tool at their disposal.

A grapple between mages was all about who could disrupt their

opponent's balance, freeing their dominant, sword-wielding hand. Thus,

they employed close-quarters combat techniques and readjusted their

centers of gravity, all the while throwing spatial magic into the mix.

"Haah!"

Albright feinted, then attempted a throw. Instantly, Oliver cast

Gravestone at his feet. His movement blocked, Albright nearly lost balance

himself.

"Tch…!"

"Hah!"

Albright clicked his tongue loudly.

With neither able to attain dominance, they returned to a stalemate once

again. Oliver's opponent spat irritably.

"…You filth. Go back to the swamp you crawled out from! How long do

you intend on continuing this farce?"

"For all your complaining, you certainly have no qualms getting down

in the mud with me."

They hurled snide comments at each other in their deadlock.

"I don't even compare to you when it comes to pure fighting instinct,"

Oliver continued. "But I have confidence in my persistence. I'll drag you to

the bottom of the swamp with me!"

As the battle continued, Stacy became convinced their plan was perfect.

The dulling spell sealed the samurai's blade, and making full use of the

werewolf form's physical toughness meant the scales were tipped entirely

in their favor. As long as their opponents couldn't injure Fay, they were

forced to aim for Stacy, who was riding on his back. Fay, however, was

quite nimble, and Stacy wasn't recklessly cocky. Striking her would be nigh

impossible for any opponent.

"Let's finish this, Fay!"

"AWROOOOOOOOO!"

Their opponents were out of options. Realizing this, Stacy spurred on

her partner in order to end the duel for good. They charged between Chela

and Nanao, separating them. Then Fay immediately spun around.

"Now!"

Before their opponents could attempt to regroup, they charged

ferociously toward Chela. This meant leaving their backs vulnerable to

Nanao, but it was no secret that she wasn't able to use spells in battle just

yet. It was impossible for her to attack from this range. And no matter how

skilled Chela might be, there was no way she could handle their coordinated

assault on her own.

"This is the end, Michela!" Stacy shouted, pointing her athame over

Fay's shoulder. Chela silently swung her sword, eyes fixed on the oncoming

werewolf.

"Tonitrus!"

She cast a lightning spell. Its strength was impressive, but it wasn't

enough to threaten Stacy. She firmly believed that Fay's bulky body would

easily block it and readied her athame, focused only on offense.

"…Guh?!"

"AWROO?!"

An unexpected shock ran through her whole body. Her limbs went

numb. She tried to grab on to Fay's shoulder, but her fingers wouldn't

move. Helplessly, Stacy fell to the ground. Sensing this, Fay quickly

stopped and turned around.

"Apologies, but you won't be picking her back up."

The Azian girl stood solemnly between him and his master. His eyes

began to fill with panic, and he forgot even the terrible pain he was in.

"…Rrf! Graaaaaah!"

The only way through was to crush the samurai girl. Fay launched

himself at her, fangs and claws bared, but the girl blocked his every attack.

As long as she continued to stand there, he wouldn't be able to advance

even a step.

Chela entrusted Fay to Nanao and cast her gaze to their other opponent,

Stacy, who had managed to stand up.

"…I changed the property of my spell. Before, I was focusing on

piercing. This time, I focused on conduction—in other words, an electrical

current that runs across the whole body's surface. Hardly damaging to a

werewolf, but as you were in contact with him, there was no way for you to

avoid receiving a shock."

"—!"

"If you'd paid attention, you would have noticed the difference. You

could have even canceled it out. But you were too focused on ending the

fight before it was over."

"Sh…sh…shut uuuup!" the girl shouted as if to shake it all off. It was

unavoidable now—she had to defeat Chela with her own strength. There

was no path forward now that she couldn't resume her tag-team strategy

with Fay. She buried her despair in rage, then got back into the Rizett

style's lightning stance.

"Good. Come."

Chela took the same stance, as if accepting her intentions. Stacy struck

first with a thrust, and the duel between fellow Rizett students resumed.

"Ngh! Mmf! Hah…!"

But Chela calmly parried every attack, steadily advancing. Panic crept

into Stacy's eyes as she witnessed the ringlet girl's unshakable procession.

"Now that you're alone, your technique has gotten sloppy. I can

understand how you feel, but you lack mental training, Stacy!"

A tiny opening appeared in their battle, and Chela shrewdly picked up

on it. She thrust her sword, intending to end the fight.

"Hah!"

Albright attempted another throw, when suddenly, he fell off balance.

"Guh?!"

The Grave Soil cast beneath him swallowed up the leg he'd used to

pivot. This was Oliver's counter. Albright instantly pulled back his leg,

returning to a stalemate yet again.

"Hah…!"

"..."

Unlike nonmagicals, a mage's strength was determined not by their

muscles, but the mana flowing through their body. In this respect, Albright

clearly dominated. This was due entirely to his advantage in physical

training, and it wasn't far-fetched to say that a difference in mana output

directly translated to a difference in strength. Thus, in a contest of pure

strength, Oliver stood no chance, and this disadvantage wasn't minimized at

all by grappling.

And yet, Albright couldn't knock Oliver off his feet. This was proof that

Oliver must have surpassed him in some element other than strength—for

example, technique.

"...!"

It was a hard pill to swallow, but Albright remembered a saying: "To

leap higher than anyone, you must first be the most grounded of anyone." It

was a famous quote passed down in the Lanoff style. Put simply, it meant:

Focus on your earth stance.

As long as one fought on the ground, Grave Soil and Gravestone were

useful in many situations. So instead of memorizing many complicated

moves with niche uses, it was far more practical to master these two spells

in order to respond to a variety of situations.

Oliver's fighting style was based on this concept. Giving himself

advantageous footing and giving his opponents disadvantageous footing—

this was all there was to it. But there was a fearsome amount of depth to this

technique.

Albright was forced to rescind his earlier conviction that Oliver was a

master of cheap tricks. The number of one's techniques did not speak to

their true nature. What was truly terrifying about an opponent like this was

his deep understanding of his own techniques. Oliver had dedicated himself

with unthinkable precision for his age to training in the unpretentious

basics.

"Guh…"

For the first time, unrest began to rise in Albright's heart. A normal

mage wouldn't want to go on like this. In fact, it was natural to want to

quickly return to their original distance. His opponent, however, was

purposefully getting far too close, as if to say a battle of attrition in the mud

was exactly what he wanted.

And amid this endless battle of wills, a chill ran up Albright's spine. It

was unthinkable, of course, but if this dragged out even further, with both

sides chipping away at each other's focus…would he be the first to make a

mistake?

"…Ohhh!"

The thought forced to him to act. He feinted pushing forward with both

hands, then pulled his whole body back in the opposite direction as hard as

he could. This created an incline to brace against, so he dug in deeper to

stabilize and then ripped off the restraint around his right wrist. At the same

time, he shoved his left hand forward, which was gripping Oliver's wrist.

His opponent became unbalanced, and his robe sleeve fluttered before

Albright's eyes.

Albright had bet the duel on this plan, and it succeeded. Both sides

jumped back. Just as Albright was feeling relief, a shock pierced his solar

plexus.

"Guh?!"

Something had hit him hard in the stomach. The next moment, upon

realizing what it was, Albright's eyes went wide; it was a leg. His mind

flashed back to that fluttering robe sleeve the moment they'd separated.

Using this as a distraction, his opponent had hit him in the solar plexus with

a kick in that brief moment of disengagement.

Albright realized his mistake. This had been Oliver's intention all along.

When Albright pulled back his right hand in order to free it, he'd extended

his left to unbalance his opponent. This created a directional momentum as

they separated, which Oliver had used to power his roundhouse kick.

Melee techniques were very rare among the three basic styles. That

didn't mean they were nonexistent, however. This was one of them: the

Lanoff-style kick technique: Hidden Tail. It was a kick that blocked an

opponent's view with a robe or cape, then struck at the solar plexus.

"Fr—i—!"

The distance between them opened up immediately. Albright held his

athame aloft and started to cast a spell—and found he couldn't. He couldn't

breathe. The all-important incantation wouldn't leave his mouth.

He hadn't just been kicked in the stomach. A strike to the solar plexus

affected the diaphragm, right under one's lungs. The contraction of this

organ was what allowed the body to breathe. By delivering a heavy blow to

this area, even a mage would inevitably find their breathing impaired.

"Impetus!"

The wind howled. Following up on his roundhouse kick, Oliver

smoothly cast a spell to end the duel. Albright, knocked off balance from

the kick and unable to cast magic, could do nothing to stop it. He put up his

arms to protect his head, but as if predicting this, the powerful gale

slammed into his winded torso. He coughed up blood, staining the ground

red, and toppled backward.

"Seems you couldn't handle the mud for long. I win, Mr. Albright,"

Oliver announced matter-of-factly as he gazed down at his opponent from a

midstance.

Albright continued to stare up at the ceiling, as if Oliver were speaking

some foreign language.

The sword that fell from her hands signaled the end of the long duel.

"…Why…?"

Stacy fell to her knees, staring at her wrist, which was bleeding from a

deep gash. She sat lifelessly, like a puppet with its strings cut.

"…Why?" she muttered, voice shaking. "Why can't I win?!"

Tears overflowed from her eyes and dripped to the ground. The moment

he saw this, the will to fight vanished from Fay's eyes.

"Aw…roo…"

His limbs dangled weakly, but Nanao didn't capitalize on the opening in

his defenses. His body rapidly shrank before her eyes. In a few seconds, he

was back to his human form. Ignoring the blood streaming from the cuts all

over his body, Fay stumbled over to the crying girl.

"...Calm…down… We were weaker. That's all."

He kneeled next to her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

Chela watched over them in silence.

Eventually, Fay looked at her. "You win. I'm sorry we couldn't put up

more of a fight, Ms. McFarlane."

Chela shook her head. "The tears one sheds in defeat are a precious

thing. There's nothing to feel sorry about. Just tell me one thing: Have you

two always hated me?"

It was a terribly lonely question.

Fay took a minute to choose his words. "You did nothing wrong. You

were just…too bright for her." He looked at the sobbing girl and spoke

softly. "The Cornwallises are one of many houses derived from the

McFarlanes. Back when they split off, their history was hardly shallow. But

by now, the greatest meaning to their existence comes from their severance

from the main house. Children of the branch families exist to become your

replacement if the need should ever arise."

"…Yes, I'm aware."

Chela nodded bitterly. It wasn't an uncommon thing at all. The pursuit

of magic meant the constant danger of death was always close by, and so

there were always accidents or incidents that could cause a family to

splinter. In preparation for these circumstances, branch families were

created. Even if one family was destroyed, relatives from the same

bloodline could take up the torch in their stead.

"But it's a little different for her. Her name is Cornwallis, but she has a

direct genetic connection to the McFarlane family. And that's because…

she's Theodore McFarlane's daughter, just like you."

Nanao cocked her head quizzically at this. "Her father is Lord

McFarlane? Hold on a second, please. Does that make her your sister,

Chela?"

"Biologically speaking, yes. But due to magical family customs, I'm not

permitted to call her as such. Similarly, my father cannot call her his

daughter."

Chela's tone was incredibly stiff. One could sense the weight of her birth

into a famous magical family.

"Those of outstanding stock have a duty to multiply and keep the line

strong. It may be difficult for a new mage like yourself to understand, but

older magical houses are guided by such principles. One example of this is

the practice of 'sharing' that noble blood with branch families. Thus, my

father bore a child with Lady Cornwallis."

A love for bloodlines and a callous disregard for the workings of the

human heart—this kind of situation was part and parcel of the mages'

world. The cruelty made Fay grit his teeth.

"As your replacement, she's done really well," he said. "She might not

measure up to you, but that says more about you than it does her. You won't

find that she's lacking in any way. But that's the problem: The talent she

inherited from the main family was too prevalent. As a mage, she totally

surpassed all the Cornwallis children."

"…!"

"You see where this is going, don't you? Every time she displayed her

talent, the look in her adoptive father's eyes changed. The results she

produced continued to prove that Theodore McFarlane's blood was

superior. But until she was ten years old, Stacy had no idea. Thus, she was

convinced her father's ire was because she wasn't working hard enough. As

a result…all the work she put into trying to earn his love only earned his

scorn."

Chela stood there aghast.

Bitterness and regret colored Fay's visage. "What she wanted was for

her hard work to be rewarded. To display more talent than you and be

accepted by her real father as your replacement."

"I…"

"I know. It was basically impossible. Even if she beat you, that dream

would have never come true. But she had no other dreams to chase. It was

obviously a foolish goal, but chasing became her whole life…"

Fay balled his fists and stared at the ground. Stacy continued to bawl her

eyes out.

Nanao bent down and peered at her face.

"..."

"Hic… Wh-what…?" Stacy croaked, noticing the attention on her.

The Azian girl stated quite plainly, "I don't see it."

"Huh?"

"I don't see the resemblance at all. It is absolutely impossible for you to

become Chela's replacement."

"Bwuh?!" Stacy was taken aback by the brutal comment.

Chela looked at her friend with bewilderment.

"N-Nanao…?"

"I couldn't accept it, either. If Chela died tomorrow, would I have to

treat you as her replacement for the rest of eternity? Nay, I couldn't do it.

Even if you happened to exceed her in magical ability, it just wouldn't be

possible."

Nanao held nothing back, powered by her lack of background as well as

their shared values as mages.

"People are not tools. You cannot simply replace one with another.

Chela, you, me—we were all born as ourselves and are ourselves."

Stacy sat on the ground in a daze, unable to understand more than half of

what the Azian girl was saying. But one thing was clear: The girl before her

was speaking to her in earnest.

"And so I wish to get to know you. You and no one else. Not Chela's

replacement, but the proud swordswoman who faced her in battle head-on.

Is that not enough?"

Oliver smiled slightly as he listened to Nanao speak from afar.

"…They're all blown away. People always get like that when Nanao

starts talking," he muttered, then looked over at Albright as he lay on the

floor. "If you give me one of your medallions, you should still have some

left. If you survive till tomorrow, the last day of this tournament, then you'll

get a chance to fight her, too. I'm sure you'll learn plenty."

There was no response. Albright should have recovered enough to move

again, but he simply stared into empty space. Eventually, however, he

reached into his robe pocket, took out a medallion, and tossed it at Oliver.

He shakily stood up, then turned around and started walking away.

"…? Wait, Mr. Albright—that way leads deeper into the labyrinth."

He ignored Oliver's warning and kept going. Oliver wondered if he

should stop him by force but, in the end, decided against it. He understood

the urge to be alone. Albright also seemed used to the depths of the

labyrinth, so perhaps stopping him would prove to be needless meddling.

"Respondeo."

But Oliver turned out to be wrong. Albright muttered a sinister-sounding

incantation. The space about them changed. A low, almost shivering sound

filled the vast room. The moment Oliver recognized it, he scanned their

surroundings.

"This is—"

"Guys, come here!" Katie shouted from behind him, terrified. At the

same time, the sound became clear: wingbeats. The unsettling noise was

just like the buzz of a large insect flying by. However, there were no insects

around. In other words…

"It's a warning call…!" Katie yelled. "I wasn't sure at first, but it has to

be! Everyone, look up! This isn't just any open space—it's one huge

stinger-bee colony!"

Everyone except Albright looked straight up, then simultaneously

recoiled in shock. What they saw was a swarm of bees, each as big as a

human, emerging from every crevice in the ceiling and descending upon

them.

"Guh…!"

"Hurry! Run over here!"

Snapping back to reality, Oliver spun and took off. Katie was waving

him over, and tree branches extended from the ground underneath her feet,

creating a temporary evacuation zone. She'd lit some incense in the middle.

As Oliver slipped through the branches, the unique smell stung at his

nose. Nanao and Chela were close behind.

"Huff! Huff! Katie, what…?!"

"I lit some anti-insect incense! It should give us a few minutes!"

"And I created a barricade out of some seeds I had on me. It won't last

long against this army, though!" Guy shouted as new branches continued to

sprout thanks to a growth enhancing spell. Just then, Fay also came running,

dragging Stacy by the hand.

"Sorry, but please let us in! I know you don't owe us help, but—"

"Just get in! Now's not the time for that stuff!" Pete yelled, yanking

them inside the barricade. Over a hundred stinger bees surrounded them,

enough to bury them. Oliver spotted his previous opponent riding on the

back of an extra-large one.

"What's the meaning of this, Mr. Albright?!" he demanded.

Albright paused, then swung his athame. "…Long ago, my family's

servants were nonmagicals."

His low voice echoed from above. He seemed to be employing an

amplification spell, as the buzzing didn't drown out his voice. Oliver glared

at him as he continued.

"Their only daughter was a girl my age. Her duties were to see to my

needs and be my conversation partner. I'd received strict training ever since

I was young, and so she became one of my few trusted companions.

"At some point, I started playing chess with her. Of all the games we

played, this was the one we both enjoyed the most. I always won—but no

matter how many times she lost, she never shrank from my challenge. She

asked the adults for pointers and slowly improved."

Unlike before, there was no animosity in his detached tone. It was just

incredibly dry. His thick shell of pride and arrogance was broken, and now

his withered heart was being exposed.

"Then one day, I lost to her for the first time. My established tactic and

her ploy meshed perfectly, handing me a refreshingly complete defeat. She

jumped for joy on the bed, and I was happy for her. It was unfortunate to

lose, but I'd never seen someone's hard work bear fruit before. But that

happiness proved to be fatal."

His gaze darkened with self-condemnation and regret. Oliver recognized

this look; he saw it whenever he looked in the mirror. It was the look of

someone who'd made a mistake they could never take back.

"The excitement carried through to the next day, and so I told my

parents at breakfast that morning: The servant girl had beaten me at chess.

She'd employed a brilliant strategy, and it was the most entertaining game

we'd had. They responded by immediately casting the pain curse on me

three times. I screamed and cried my eyes out."

"...!"

"I was beaten for half a day. In a windowless, underground room, they

carved the Albright attitude deep into my heart with unforgettable pain and

fear. Once evening came, I was finally freed, and I stumbled back to my

room. All I wanted to do was talk to that girl again. I was sure that if we

could chat carefreely like we always did, my heart would once more be at

ease. But she never came back to my room. While I was being disciplined,

her whole family had been executed."

Chela bit her lip. She could understand the impossible weight placed

upon this boy's shoulders by being born to a militant family of magical

society, and the various senseless cruelties that brought with it.

"It was then I learned: I am not allowed to lose to anyone. My victories

and losses are not my own. They belong to the Albrights. I do not have the

right to lose, nor the freedom to respect those who beat me."

Oliver realized just how accurate his intuition had been. Achieving

victory and arrogantly calling others nobodies were all part of his duty. He

was not allowed to live any other way. It was impossible for him to even

imagine any other way. His existence was bound by the Albright name and

the duty of his blood. This was what mages had done to them.

"It was an excellent duel, Oliver Horn. I lost, beyond a shadow of a

doubt. But I am an Albright. Thus, I must erase that result. Throw down

your arms and surrender now. I won't hurt you. I'll cast an amnesia spell on

you all, and with your memories of the past few hours gone, I'll let you

leave. But…if you resist, I'll have to let these creatures attack you."

His tone was too flat for such a threatening statement. Katie was furious.

"How can you be so selfish? Is this really how you're going to eliminate

your loss?!"

"Go to hell! Come down here, you bastard!"

Guy shouted with her.

Albright accepted their anger without resistance and looked at Oliver

with empty eyes.

"…You said I looked down on others as a duty, Oliver Horn."

"..."

"Well, you're correct. And I will continue to do so long into the future.

No matter who beats or admonishes me, I will erase it all… And nothing

will change. The nobodies around me will always be beneath me."

Announcing his destiny, he shifted his gaze to the girl behind Oliver, her

face a mess from crying.

"Ironic, isn't it, Cornwallis? I'm jealous of you. At least you cry after a

loss."

Suddenly, the bees that had been hovering in the low airspace swarmed

around Albright until he was no longer visible from the ground. As the

other bees continued to buzz about the barricade, Chela shot her friends a

grim look.

"The incense will only last a few more minutes! Our situation is dire—

Oliver, any ideas?!"

Everyone focused their eyes on him. After a few seconds of silence, he

balled his hands into fists and looked at the ground.

"…I hate to say it, but surrendering is an option. I don't think Albright

intends to take anything but our medallions. This swarm of stinger bees is

too much for us. If we all want to make it out of here safely, it's the best

choice." His voice was quiet and hoarse.

Chela nodded in agreement, then looked at the Azian girl.

"…Nanao, what do you think?"

Everyone watched Nanao, who was continuing to stare up at the ceiling,

keeping sight of the enemy beyond the bees.

"If that is Oliver's decision, then I have no objections. But if you'll

allow me, I'd like to hand that boy defeat."

Her voice was firm. Her choice of words was specific, too. Not I'd like

to try or I don't want to lose, but I'd like to hand that boy defeat.

"It is a warrior's life to think only of victory. However, on this path,

defeat is an irreplaceable treasure. Accepting defeat and respecting the

victor is how people progress. But this boy doesn't do this. He never errs,

never grows—just stagnates in the same prison, clinging to his immature

heart. I pity him immensely."

Silence fell. Nanao's expression was one of neither rage nor irritation.

"…I'm fine with it," Katie eventually muttered. She clenched her fists,

trying to keep from shivering. "I don't want you, Oliver, or Chela to

surrender to that jerk. We aren't fresh-faced new students anymore. I'm

prepared to fight against unreasonable odds, too."

She refused to accept always being protected. That's what she'd sworn

to herself when she proposed the shared workshop within the labyrinth.

Inspired by her determination, Guy snorted.

"I agree. Katie just stole my thunder."

"Guy…" Oliver shot a conflicted look at Guy, who simply grinned.

"There's a way to win, isn't there? That's what I sensed from you earlier.

So if you're waving the white flag 'cause you're concerned for us, I'd ask

you to reconsider."

In Guy's eyes, Oliver wouldn't have said "surrendering is an option" if

there really was no chance at victory. He was right, but Oliver shook his

head sternly.

"…I'm grateful you feel that way, but I can't—I can't get you all

involved in such a risky gamble. If it fails, there's no telling what—"

Oliver urged caution once again, but someone grabbed his sleeve.

"…Hey. Quit acting like you're our guardian."

"Huh?"

Oliver's gaze was met with a bespectacled one. Pete was the most

powerless of them all, but he was also the most determined.

"Don't you get it yet? Me, Guy, and Katie didn't come this far just to get

in your way!"

Those words pierced Oliver's heart, and he frowned bitterly.

"…You're right. Sorry, Pete. You're absolutely right."

He admonished himself for his actions. Who was he to draw the line

between the protectors and the protected? His friends had made it this far

with him; did he have no respect for their feelings? This wasn't their first

day at Kimberly. They knew the infamy of the academy and the risks of

descending into the labyrinth, and they'd accepted them. That was why they

were here now. So if they knew the danger and still wished to fight, then…

"Let me explain the plan. Huddle up, everyone. You two as well."

There was no reason to resist. After inviting Stacy and Fay in, too,

Oliver began detailing their escape plan. Under the looming pressure of the

bee swarm, he finished in thirty seconds.

"…Pretty bold strategy you got there. But I like it. I'm in," Guy said.

"Me too," Katie agreed. "The mixture has to be accurate, so leave that to

me!"

They spoke bravely, and the others all indicated they accepted the plan,

too. Once everyone was in agreement, Chela spoke up.

"…May I say something, Oliver?"

"Of course. If you have grievances, let me hear them now."

Oliver nodded and turned to her. He couldn't disregard her input on a

magical battle. But she just shook her head lightly.

"I have no grievances. Only a suggestion, one that may increase our

chances of victory. I've been keeping a little something to myself—but now

I'm going to let it out."

And with that, she began softly explaining her plan. Everyone's eyes

went wide with shock as they heard what she was suggesting.

Albright awaited their decision from above, surrounded by the swarm of

bees.

"...It's about time," he muttered to himself.

Below him, the smoke from the anti-insect incense was thinning. Once it

was gone, their only defense left would be the magically grown tree

barricade, which would prove no more effective than a sheet of paper

against a swarm of stinger bees.

"Mm?!"

But what happened next, he hadn't expected. As the incense died out, a

new column of smoke appeared from within the barricade. At first, Albright

assumed the incense still had some kick left, but that wasn't it. The purpose

of this smoke was the exact opposite. The bees rushed recklessly toward the

barricade, incited.

"Impossible—they mean to draw the bees to them? That's suicide!"

"Oliver, we ready?! The barricade's not gonna hold!"

"Not yet! We've got to draw in as many as we can!"

Bits of chewed wood rained down upon them, and Guy's voice was

tinged with panic. Oliver tried to reassure him. Attracting the bees to them

was a foolish notion, but there was no backing out now.

"Haaaah…"

Everyone was at their positions except for Chela, who was standing in

the center and focusing on her breathing. She adjusted the mana circulation

within her body, unlocking the reserves within her womb. She repeated the

process she'd shown Pete, and when she was finished—she began a

transformation unlike what Pete had experienced.

"Ch-Chela…!"

"Whoaaa!"

Katie and Guy stared, forgetting the danger they were in. Mana began to

overflow before their very eyes. Although the output greatly outpaced

Pete's, the base function was the same. However, in accordance with the

increased flow of mana within her, her body was undergoing a certain,

definite transformation.

Specifically, her ears. Her friends watched as her round, sleek ears grew

long and pointed. It was clearly a physical trait no human possessed, and

what it meant was obvious to everyone except Nanao.

"…Don't be surprised. I'm sure most of you are familiar with the source

of this," Chela said gently.

And she was right. Ever since their first meeting, Oliver had known.

That dark skin and sparkling golden hair—no human in the entire Union

could possess such a combination of traits.

Rumor had it—although, it was more like an open secret—that the

current Lord McFarlane had taken an elven wife.

It was extremely rare for elves, who valued the purity of their race above

all, to bear a human child. As such, an elf's human offspring boasted an

exceptionally high aptitude for magic and could master almost any element.

So if someone was able to acquire such abilities—by any means necessary

—then it held great implications for human mages.

"This is the first time I've shown this to humans outside my family. I'm

a bit embarrassed, as you might imagine."

She smiled to hide her bashfulness, then signaled with her eyes to Oliver

that she was ready.

"It's time!" he said. "Everyone, raise your athames! Chela, your

incantation will be the signal!"

"Understood."

Eight swords rose into the air, pointed at the top of the barricade, which

had been nearly destroyed by the attacking bees.

"Magnus—"

Chela began the incantation. Sensing a titanic flow of power around

them, the others swallowed.

"—tonitrus!"

"""""""Tonitrus!"""""""