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Chapter 13 : The Successor of the Sword Saint (3)
Chapter 13: The Successor of the Sword Saint (3)
After spending quite a while comforting Rubia in the dormitory lounge, I was finally able to wrap up the day’s schedule.
The moment I arrived at Room 403, I collapsed onto the floor without even making it to the bed.
“…What a long day.”
I crawled over and barely managed to pull myself onto the mattress.
E n̆u̇ m а̂.і̊ď
Lying flat on my back, I took a deep breath to steady myself.
I focused inward, trying to gauge the amount of mana circulating within me once more.
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‘Weak.’
Far too weak, considering it was flowing through my entire body.
My head throbbed, my vision blurred, and everything appeared hazy.
Even my neatly placed hands trembled uncontrollably, as if afraid of something.
Е̇n̊um а́. і d
“Damn withdrawal symptoms….”
I thought I had managed to get a lot done today, but there were still mountains left to deal with.
Duties to fulfill, lessons to attend, personal training, and caring for the heroines on top of that.
‘If only I had one more body.’
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
Still, if I handled this matter well, I should be able to take a breather until the Imperial Conference.
I closed my eyes and sank into thought.
É ňŭm̌ а̌.id̈
I had, of course, expected Eric Halenber to make a move.
In the game, there were plenty who tried to keep Francia in check, but among them, Eric was the one most often entangled with her.
Arrogant, blind to his own limits, yet holding impossibly high standards for himself—a character who always acted desperate.
He wasn’t a hard worker like Francia, nor was he exceptionally gifted, so he constantly sought shortcuts.
As long as he achieved results by any means necessary, Karbenna would acknowledge it.
After being completely crushed by me in the morning and then humiliated again during physical training, his pride must’ve been shattered.
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Meanwhile, his self-proclaimed rival Francia didn’t seem to care one bit and was focusing solely on her training.
That contrast must have weighed heavily on him.
So, as always, he must have concluded that he had to trample his opponent by any means necessary.
There was also the pretext of preserving the honor of the Halenber family.
‘In this situation, there’s nothing better than a Replica Artifact.’
They were standard classroom teaching tools—easy to obtain and with minimal side effects due to their lack of power.
Е_n̊ ům а
He’d probably prepared more than just the Stone-Eye—other artifacts as well.
All replicas, of course.
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And as usual, Karbenna wouldn’t impose any restrictions in this kind of situation.
There was a rule stating that “only pre-approved artifacts may be used,” but the Training Support Department didn’t have the manpower to check every applicant’s belongings one by one.
Except for official dueling events like those during the Festival, there was almost no direct intervention.
In this world, artifacts were simply considered equipment—rare, but still tools.
Еnů m̂ а .i d
Who would complain about someone bringing a sword to a sparring match?
If anything, Francia would be treated as the odd one.
People would probably say, “What’s with her? Why doesn’t she use any artifacts?”
“……”
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So, I had actually thought quite a bit about this part too.
Was it really fine to just sit back and watch while the opponent resorted to cheap tricks?
Ŵ е.b̃nоv е̂l Е n̈ū mа
The outcome of this duel was crucial for Francia’s growth.
Win or lose, the last thing I wanted was for her to break because of it.
Depending on how things played out, Eric could very well defeat Francia and stunt her progress.
So originally, I had considered strategies like supplying her with an artifact or informing her of her opponent’s weaknesses.
But as soon as the special training began, I realized something.
No matter what underhanded tricks that brat tried, the result wouldn’t change.
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I glanced at the small floating status window beside me.
※ You are [Francia Brida]’s [Growth Contributor].
※ You have acquired the following authority: [Status View].
---
1 a.m., inside the dormitory of Class 3, Year 2.
In Eric Halenber’s private room, the three friends were holding a small meeting.
Ẅеb̂n ӧ vе l Е̂n ů mа̌
“All right, everyone. Take them out.”
The three began laying out the artifacts they had hidden in their uniforms.
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“…Is this all you’ve got?”
The other two scratched their chins awkwardly and nodded.
In front of Billy and Philip were two artifacts each.
Eric glanced at the five in front of him and sighed.
Еn̊ ũm̌ ӑ . і_d
“What am I supposed to do if you two together can’t even match me?”
“The distance was too far to get more….”
“M-Me too….”
Eric didn’t even have the energy to sigh anymore.
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“You two have duels scheduled for tomorrow too, right?”
“Yeah.”
Eñ u m̃а
“Then let’s pick in order. There are nine in total, so three each.”
“Got it.”
They each began choosing the artifacts they needed.
Eric selected three:
Talisman of Anti-Magic, Shadow Shackles, and Stone-Eye.
Their primary effects were curse resistance, binding, and petrification respectively.
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Billy cautiously spoke to Eric, who was smiling with satisfaction.
“We don’t really care if we use ours or not, but… isn’t this a bit much for just Francia?”
“This is just insurance, that’s all. She’s probably made some preparations of her own too.”
“I heard she even went to personally request special training today.”
“With who? Eugene Carter, that bastard?”
“Yeah.”
Ẅе̄_b nо̌vе̂.l̃ Е n u̇ m̂ӑ_
Eric snorted and waved dismissively.
“No matter who trains her, that walking training machine won’t change.”
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He nodded to himself, recalling memories from his first year.
They had fought five duels last year.
Win rate: eighty percent. Eric had won four of the five matches by decision, losing only the first one.
The reason was simple.
Ėn̆_u m ă . і̌d̂
‘She’s not just uptight—she’s practically a machine.’
A mindless cog repeating the same process over and over.
That was how Eric defined Francia Brida.
But because her process was so predictable and straightforward, no matter how much she refined it, her limit was clear.
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Despite possessing top-tier stamina, agility, strength, and defense, she still failed to break into the single-digit rankings.
All because of her predictable combat style.
Е̂ ñu.m а. і̇ d
To have such overwhelming physical talent—something Eric could never obtain no matter how hard he tried—and yet produce only that level of result.
That inexplicable unfairness was what drove Eric to pick up his sword.
He gripped it, and swung down mercilessly.
‘Just submit. Give in, and follow their way.’
I had expected things to turn out this way ever since I came to Karbenna.
How could a fallen noble’s dropout possibly stand against an entire family?
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Would he really throw away the life he barely managed to keep, all for the sake of revenge?
“…This time, I’ll completely break that stubborn pride of hers.”
Then I’d never have to get tangled up with this damned Halenber name again.
And maybe, someday….
As Eric drifted into thought, the orb on his desk caught the glint of his eyes.
“Damn it.”
Е́.n̄ úmа . і̃ d́
Whether it understood his mood or not, the sky outside was clear—without a single cloud.
---
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March 2nd, 9 a.m.
Crossing the Plaza of Glory at the heart of Karbenna, I was heading toward Building F.
Building F was commonly known as the Martial Studies Hall.
Most sparring sessions, duels, and tournaments took place there.
Е n̆ũ.m̂ а .і d̆
“Vena Ribenia!”
“Vena Ribenia!”
“Enough already—just get going, you bastards!”
The cadets passing by kept saluting so relentlessly that I could barely focus.
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A quick glance around told me there were at least three hundred people.
Most of them were heading inside the Martial Studies Hall, while some split off toward the outdoor arena.
Ё ňum а́
With a sigh, I followed the ones going inside.
At Karbenna, one day every two weeks was designated as Duel Day.
Especially early in the semester, most cadets filled the spectator seats.
The instructors were no exception.
They all wanted their names listed as the supervising teacher of promising students.
Cadets with high duel win rates were usually placed in key positions after graduation, so being their instructor or mentor was a credential that could be leveraged later.
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I was also currently registered as the instructor for Class 3, Year 2.
“Hm.”
The large bulletin board in the main lobby listed the day’s duel schedule.
Francia and Eric were set to face off at 10 a.m. in Indoor Duel Arena 4.
I climbed the long spiral staircase to the second floor.
There was still a bit of time left, so before entering the arena, I exchanged a few jokes with some of the other instructors.
Ẅ ěb̃ṅо̃v́ е̄ l Е̇ nu m̂а̊
Just then—
“Well, look who it is.”
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An unwelcome voice cut in.
“The instructor of Practical Tactics III who overworked his cadets from the very first session, isn’t it?”
A low, heavy voice accompanied by a solidly built frame and a towering height well over 190 centimeters.
I smiled smoothly and gave a salute.
Е̃ ǹů m̌ а
“Ah, Director Frederick. It’s been a while.”
The tone was sarcastic enough for anyone to notice.
The instructors beside me also saluted, but Frederick waved his hand.
“Could you give us a moment? I have something to discuss with Instructor Carter alone.”
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“Ah…”
“Then we’ll head in first. See you later, Professor Eugene.”
Ẽ nù m ä
Once the other instructors had left one by one, only Frederick and I remained.
“Hey, Carter.”
“…You could at least use some form of respect. We’re both teachers, after all.”
“An instructor and a Director are not equals.”
That damned authoritarian attitude again.
When I didn’t bother to hide my indifference, Frederick sighed and continued.
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“With that shabby body of yours, you somehow managed to keep those cadets in line. What, did you swallow some miracle tonic or something?”
I stayed silent. There was no need to dignify that with a response.
“What were you thinking, pulling that stunt on the very first day? I’m genuinely curious.”
This one, however, didn’t warrant silence.
I lifted my gaze, locking eyes with Frederick.
“…It was just a preliminary fitness test before getting started properly.”
En̊ um ӓ
“You call running them ragged for three hours a test?”
“That’s the Karbenna I remember.”
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“……”
“You’re the one who established that system, aren’t you, Frederick?”
His lips tightened at the sharp retort, and for a moment, he simply rubbed at the corner of his mouth.
Yet, he didn’t look the least bit offended.
Е̊ n_ú m̈ а
If anything, he looked intrigued.
“Well, I suppose I understand your sentiment. In the end, it was your own poor stamina that held you back.”
Twitch.
“You probably don’t want other cadets meeting the same fate, do you?”
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Still, take it easy, Carter.
“There are plenty out there who aren’t happy about your return.”
Ĕ ǹŭ m а ..ìd
“You included, Director?”
“Heh, think what you will.”
Frederick turned to leave but then suddenly stopped, as if remembering something.
“Ah, I almost forgot to give you this.”
He pulled out an envelope from his inner pocket.
“I wish you success, Instructor.”
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The red wax seal bore the Imperial insignia.
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