Practical Exam (2)

Darien, who had been called, turned around. Ronan, who had been staring at him all along, pulled out his sword from its sheath. A few strands of silver light shimmered in the air.

The strands of light passed by Darien's scabbard and pants. Except for Ronan, no one else saw his sword strike. It was the moment when Darien stepped forward.

Thud…

"Hmm?"

Darien's scabbard snapped. The longsword, now without support, plummeted to the ground. The blade, upon contact with the ground, broke in half.

Clang!

It sounded as if glass or pottery were shattering. The sharp metallic sound resonated loudly. Darien, who had turned his head belatedly, widened his eyes.

"What, what is this!!"

The works from Duruan's workshop had turned into two pieces of metal scraps, rolling on the ground. However, Darien's misfortune didn't end there. The moment he turned, his pants exploded.

In an instant, Darien found himself in his underwear and let out a scream.

"Aaaargh!"

"Oh my~ What are you trying to show us?"

Ronan clapped his hands while sitting. The cut-up pieces of pants fluttered down to the ground like autumn leaves. The voice of the announcer echoed once again.

"Darien Marshal de Mirodin. Are you not here~?"

"Y-You!"

At this rate, he would be unable to take the exam and get disqualified. Darien breathed heavily and clenched his head.

He couldn't fathom what had just happened. What in the world happened? My sword! My pants!

Flailing around like a madman, he pointed at Ronan's waist.

"Th-There! Give me the sword! Right now!"

"I don't want to, you know?"

"You, fool! Even at a glance, it's obvious you're a commoner who doesn't understand the situation! I am Darien Marquis de Mirodin…!"

"Whether you're a marquis or a lunatic, I don't really know, but why did you leave your belongings unattended and try to borrow mine? Were you born because your father couldn't properly guard his belongings?"

"Wj-What the hell…!"

Ronan stood up, spitting on the ground. Taken aback by his fierce demeanor, Darien hastily stepped back. Ronan picked up a handkerchief that was on top of Marya's head.

"Step back, you! Who do you think I am?"

"I don't care. Just accept the tip I'm giving you."

Approaching with confidence, Ronan inserted the handkerchief into Darien's underwear. Marya covered her mouth with both hands. The piece of cloth sticking out from under his hipbone swayed like a tail.

"Fits you well."

"Th-This is insane!"

Originally, this kind of act involving a slip of paper in a lady's scandalous attire is done, but whatever.

Darien, now completely bewildered, charged towards Ronan, but just then, the announcer's voice resounded once more.

"If you don't come in by the count of three, you will be disqualified. One… Two…"

"Go see what they want."

"Damn it!"

Darien almost cried and rushed into the room. Ronan, back in his seat, picked up a piece of the sword.

"What's he up to now? Perhaps he's going to sing?"

"Are you out of your mind? No matter how little I have to lose, what will you do if I get caught doing such a thing?"

"During times like these, you're supposed to thank me, you fool."

"You're crazy…! Even if I'm using a pseudonym, this is…! This is…!"

Marya, who had turned pale, smacked Ronan's arm. Her trembling lips barely held back a smile. Soon, the boisterous sound of laughter spread, causing the onlooking examinees to shrug their shoulders.

"C-Crazy bastard…! Huk, why did you stick a handkerchief there…!"

"Heh, maybe it's because a vulgar commoner woman's laughter sounds just as vulgar. I'd even prefer the sound of my own fart. "

"J-Just stop it! Enough!"

Ronan imitated Darien's voice and teased her. Marya clung to the back of the chair and kicked her feet restlessly. Just as Marya had been suppressing her laughter, the other examinees refrained from objecting to her outburst, clearly amused.

"Next person, please come in~"

Soon, the guiding voice resounded again. It hadn't even been thirty seconds since Darien had entered. Wiping away her tears, Marya stood up from her seat. The sting of her cheeks, the embarrassment, the tension – all of it had faded away long ago.

"I'll be back!"

Marya energetically made a fist before confidently striding forward. Her long blonde hair, tied up, exuded a sense of dignity. From the front row, Ronan waved his hand.

"If you want to smile, then smile."

Ronan smiled. The door opened again precisely five minutes later.

Seven people were seated around a long table. They were the examiners in charge of Exam Room 4. In the middle seat sat a high priest, Krava Kratir, who stroked his beard and asked, "How many are left?"

"Today, there are only seventy-five remaining."

"Well, that's somewhat comforting. You'll have a pay cut."

Kravir let out a light sigh. He couldn't grasp how many times this particular examinee had entered. He regretted his past stubbornness, ignoring the professors' advice to maintain the dignity befitting of a principal.

"You must gather your strength. It's all for the sake of nurturing talents who will lead the continent."

"Yeah, I know that too. But seeing Shullifen in the morning must have dampened my enthusiasm. Although I know it's wrong, I can't help feeling that way."

"That's true. Being called the Next Star of the Empire is not something to be taken lightly."

"By the way, I can't fathom what that guy earlier was trying to do. He seemed fine in appearance, but really."

Kravir recalled the examinee who had come in earlier. The boy had entered wearing only a top and there was even a handkerchief stuck in his underwear, muttering, "This isn't a pleasure district! Wahaha!" after he heard the prayer room supervisor's words, he cried and rushed out.

"Still, the examinee who just left was remarkable. He's someone to look forward to in the future."

"Ah, yes. Marya Karabel, was it? A remarkably skilled swordswoman."

"It's because of such talents that we find our work fulfilling. Looking at the records, she failed once, but honestly, it was hard to comprehend."

The concurring examiners nodded in satisfaction and exchanged approving glances. Among the examinees who took the test today, Marya demonstrated the highest level of skill.

Kravir, feeling a bit better, began to speak.

"Next examinee, please come in."

The examiners, who were taking a break, straightened up in their seats. With the guiding voice, the door opened.

A sturdy-looking boy walked in leisurely. His hair was messy, and his fierce eyes didn't give a favorable impression.

****

"Next person, please come in~"

As the door opened, the exam room revealed itself. It was a circular space reminiscent of a small arena. A long table where examiners sat was placed about 10 meters in front.

Five humans, one elf, and one werewolf sat among the examiners. A total of seven judges were looking at him. Ronan offered a light bow.

"I'm Ronan."

"Nice to meet you, Ronan. I'm Krava Kratir, the current principal of Philleon Academy."

The elderly priest in the center gave a gentle smile. He appeared benevolent, but Ronan instinctively sensed that he was the strongest among the seven here. It was a honed intuition that had developed from life and death experiences.

"The second one is that lady."

Seated to the right of the high priest was a woman with a tawny complexion. She used to be the Butterfly Rose instructor, Navirose, who had once risen to the position of a sword master. With her striking features and her gray hair, it was clear that she had Southern tribal or mixed heritage. Beside her lay a large nodachi, leaning diagonally against the table.

"They all look quite formidable."

Their presence was so strong that even the rest seemed equally powerful. Just by looking at the number of piercings on the elf girl's ears, one could tell she was crazy. Who would have thought to use elongated ears like that?

Kravir spoke up.

"Well then, how do you plan to prove yourself?"

"I… um…"

Ronan began to ponder, stroking his chin. Despite a month of training, he still couldn't sense mana or attune to it, and he hadn't developed any techniques worth calling significant. He hadn't mentioned it purposely to Marya or Aselle. Just then, the werewolf in a shirt chuckled. It was a prayer room instructor who taught hunting techniques.

"Wahaha! There have been students frozen in tension, but no one who comes in to contemplate. Why not see us again next year?"

"No need to rush. Just wait a moment."

Ronan lowered his head and extended his hand. The examiners' faces turned stern. The corners of Kravir's mouth twitched.

"Hey, having a bit of guts might be useful."

After his contemplation, Ronan grasped the hilt of his sword. No matter how much he thought, there was only one thing he could show. Perhaps it was fortunate that he had remembered the inspiration he had when he mocked Darien.

"Have you made up your mind? Are you going to demonstrate swordsmanship?"

"Yes."

As he answered, the elf girl with piercings flicked her finger. A complex magic circle appeared in the air, summoning a knight clad in full armor right before Ronan's eyes.

Kravir chuckled and introduced the knight.

"It's an enchanted martial arts puppet that has been used for the practical test of the Martial Arts Department for nearly a hundred years. We respectfully call it Madosros Kyeong."

The practical test involved demonstrating techniques to Madosros Kyeong, and the examiners would then score the performance. The specially treated armor would remain undamaged even from powerful attacks, and even if it sustained damage, it would be repaired overnight.

"It's quite amazing… huh?"

Ronan examined the knight and raised an eyebrow. The armor was covered in deep scars, resembling a battlefield. Familiar-shaped wounds were all over it. Unable to contain his curiosity, he raised his hand and asked,

"Did Shullifen come and go here?"

"Oh? Why do you ask?"

"I just took a wild guess. They said it doesn't even get scratched by considerable attacks, but I'm here."

"Hehe, you have good intuition. That's right. He took the test here this morning."

Of course. Ronan nodded.

Sharp yet graceful, it resembled the marks of a passing breeze. Though still immature, it was undoubtedly Shullifen's sword mark. He felt anew that he had returned to the past.

"I've become incredibly shallow and coarse now that I've regressed."

Kravir turned his gaze to Navirose, the woman with a tawny complexion, who was sitting beside him.

"That's right, the armor has been scarred like this only about three times in nearly a hundred years. Do you know who did it before? It was none other than…"

"Let's continue."

Navirose, who had been silent all along, suddenly interjected. Her tone was so natural that it didn't even seem impolite.

Clearing his throat, Kravir turned to Ronan again.

"I apologize for the lengthy explanation. Madosros Kyeong!"

Clang.

The knight raised his sword diagonally in defense. A red gleam sprang forth from the gaps in the pitch-dark helmet. The examiners' attention was firmly fixed on Ronan.

"Show us everything you've got."

"That's right."

Ronan grasped the hilt of his sword and with a glint of dark steel, his arm vanished from sight. The trajectory of the sword remained, passing just by the knight's neck.

Caaalng!

A delayed clang resonated through the air.

…That was all. One of the examiners raised an eyebrow and asked,

"…Is that it?"

"Yes."

Ronan sheathed his sword. The questioning examiner nodded with a hint of dissatisfaction. The other examiners wore similar expressions, either matching his or looking puzzled. The prayer room instructor burst into laughter.

"Hahaha! It's not as impressive as your confidence, it seems. Perhaps we should see you next year?"

"Prayer room instructor, please maintain your composure."

"Haha, my apologies. But truly, isn't this just ordinary? Was I the only one with expectations?"

The other examiners didn't say anything.

He had secretly been hoping for even a bit of a reckless attitude, but even that couldn't be sensed in Ronan's technique. It was a fast slash, but that was it.

It wasn't even fast enough to escape those whose senses had been heightened by mana, nor did it possess any remarkable finesse.

The only thing that bothered him a little was the fact that he couldn't feel any mana at all.

Whether it was because it was hidden by subtle mana, or if it was because he was in poor condition and couldn't sense it today.

If it was the former, it might have been worth considering, but that possibility was almost nonexistent. One of the examiners finished grading and lowered their glasses before speaking.

"Right, good work. You can go now…"

"Oh my."

At that moment, both Kravir and Navirose almost simultaneously stood up from their seats. The startled examiners became agitated.

"He-Headmaster?"

"Instructor Navirose? Why the sword…?"

Even Kravir, the headmaster who was known for his expressive emotions, and especially the stoic Navirose had never shown such a reaction before. Furthermore, she held a nodachi in her hand. Navirose glared at Ronan.

"You, what are you?"

"Yes? What do you mean?"

Navirose's peculiar expression looked as if she had found the enemy who killed her parents, or had discovered a treasure she had been searching for all her life. She glared at him once again.

"I asked what your true identity is. Who did you learn the sword from?"

Ronan didn't answer. He glanced at each examiner's face and scratched the back of his head.

"Huh, did that show?"

"Ha."

Navirose smirked. She rushed out without hesitation and stood in front of Ronan. The prayer room instructor let out an astonished cry.

"In-Instructor Navirose!"

Suddenly, Navirose drew a nodachi from its sheath and pointed it at Ronan's throat. There was no tremor in the blade, even as it stopped a paper's width from his neck.

"Wow."

Following Navirose's gaze, Ronan raised his eyes and met her gaze. Her deep green eyes blazed like the depths of a forest. Navirose spoke.

"So, you did see it?"

"Yes. The diagonal sweep you did while making three turns. How did you do that?"

For a moment, a hint of doubt flickered in Navirose's eyes. Without sheathing her sword, she spoke.

"Yes, three times. Just like the tricks you demonstrated."