He was handed over to Rockefeller to heal his injuries.
Maybe it was because she had witnessed firsthand how powerless they were.
Edina, who was next in line, didn’t look very good.
“Ricks went down so easily....”
Still, as if determined not to show weakness, she lightly slapped her cheeks and lifted her head.
A few seconds later, the referee called her name, and the next opponent appeared on the stage.
A man in rather flashy clothing walked confidently toward the center.
His armor and outfit clearly looked expensive.
In contrast, Edina's steps were tense, though she still pressed forward firmly.
The referee signaled the start, and the result was as expected.
Before her opponent could charge, Edina used her unique "form alteration" to turn both the arena floor and his shoes into steel and meld them together.
But the opponent tore his feet free by shattering the steel shoes with his aura-covered legs.
Not missing her chance, Edina unleashed her strongest spell—Poison Mist.
It was good up to the point where the mist enveloped her opponent’s head under her control.
If he had been an ordinary opponent, he would’ve had no choice but to burn a lot of aura to disperse it, resulting in major depletion.
But the man standing before her was a member of Valient.
He advanced toward Edina with a casual stride, as if holding his breath was nothing.
Edina backed all the way to the edge of the arena, then, realizing she had no place left to retreat, rapidly cast spells.
But the distance had already closed to the point where a wide sword swing could reach her.
After that, the opponent’s blade relentlessly targeted only her wrist.
In the end, unable to cast a spell, Edina tripped over his foot and dropped to her knees on the arena floor.
Her staff rolled across the ground as the opponent scratched the back of his head and said,
“Wisdom, huh? Sure, they used to be our rivals, but this year we were expecting at least 8 wins. So what are we supposed to do if we can’t even beat them?”
“......”
“How about surrendering before you embarrass yourselves even more?”
Edina bowed her head deeply.
I glanced at Dorosian’s expression beside me.
Contrary to my expectations of a sigh, she just watched in silence.
Then Edina’s lips caught my eye.
A smile began to form—one the opponent couldn’t see from where he stood.
“Huh?”
Something surprising happened.
Though her staff had rolled away and both her palms were flat on the ground, a magical glow lit up in the air.
It didn’t take long to figure out what was going on.
A small hand had risen from the floor of the arena.
It had grabbed the staff and swiftly etched the spell.
Dorosian gave a small smirk.
“I cursed her with sleeplessness and had her learn human anatomy on par with a doctor. She was born with a rare form alteration trait—might as well be able to form a hand, right?”
“She made a hand from the arena stone?”
“She must have charged the spell into the staff and embedded mana at the same time.”
Dorosian nodded.
The staff Edina had dropped was, in essence, a spell trigger with a built-in mana battery.
“Huh?”
The opponent must have sensed the mana behind him and flinched.
A giant metal spear shot at his back at high speed.
True to Valient form, he twisted just in time thanks to superb reflexes, allowing the spear to only graze him.
But there was no saving the damage—his armor and clothes were torn, and a clear red gash appeared on his skin.
His expression, dazed for a moment, twisted into rage.
“Do you know how much this armor and outfit cost?”
Edina, apparently having picked up a bit of shamelessness from somewhere, smiled brightly.
“Nope.”
“You should’ve apologized to me. I politely suggested surrender, and instead you ambush me and then laugh about it?”
His sword began to flow with dark aura, casting Edina into its shadow.
Just as he raised the sword high—
Edina rolled backward quickly.
Of course, she was at the very edge of the arena.
Rolling from there should’ve meant falling off.
I wondered if she was planning to float herself using telekinesis, but instead she simply dropped.
And what she said as she fell was outrageous.
“I surrender.”
The opponent stood dumbfounded and finally spoke.
“What did you just say...?”
“Didn’t you hear? I said I surrender. Turns out ambush was the only way I could win, and even that failed. So what can I do?”
Having said that, Edina turned her back on him as if nothing happened.
The opponent just stared blankly at her back and clutched his neck.
“Ugh... She wrecked my outfit and just walks away....”
She lost the match.
But she won the fight.
Frostheart clapped in cheer for this victory-that-wasn’t-a-victory.
“That was a great fight, Edina. Knowing when to back off is a wise move.”
“Thanks, Bellman.”
“After a match like that, the audience’s reaction won’t be bad at all. You showed them plenty.”
“Thanks, Silla.”
Anyone watching might think we had won.
Watching them, Dorosian pointed and asked me,
“Are they all insane?”
I nodded quietly and replied.
“...I want to say they were normal once, but now I’m not so sure.”
As soon as I became student council president, I made a secret pledge I never told anyone.
It was to establish a psychiatric ward inside the academy.
I fully intend to see it through before stepping down.
So these kids can function in society with sound minds before graduation.
“Amazing! That’s why she’s a main player!”
“I knew it from the moment you guys won the Ten Elites! You’d shine here too!”
Hearing the cheers at just the right moment, I looked at a few other Frostheart students and thought, I really need to build it big.
Big enough to hold them all.
‘Probably about the size of the sports field.’
The crowd’s excitement began to settle.
The man who had defeated Edina was now getting mocked by his teammates.
As the next match neared, Dorosian glanced toward Erucel.
“Your brother’s next, right? What’s he like?”
“You mean Erucel? Hmm.”
I groaned for a while, trying to recall what kind of person he was.
“He’s the kind of guy who would aim a sword at a kid’s throat without hesitation. Still, he’s a total coward. No manners, either—he constantly talks back to me, his older brother. That kind of guy.”
“...Brother, I can hear you.”
“See? He’s really good at interrupting too.”
Of course, what Dorosian really asked about was his skill.
“Okay, enough about his personality. As for his swordsmanship...”
After some personal growth, I saw glimpses of his true potential—but honestly, I don’t know.
In the original scenario, he only made brief cameos, so forget about fame—even remembering his name is hard.
So I don’t know how far his skills go or if he’s reached the level of his mentor, Coulo.
“It’s hard to evaluate precisely.”
Dorosian looked puzzled.
“How can you not know? He’s your brother. You must’ve seen him countless times.”
There was likely an assumption baked into that—maybe that I was a regressor.
Let’s just make something up.
“He was supposed to be in the grave. In every timeline. Still, sometimes a minor variable like this pops up and changes things. Not that it ever lasted long—he died soon after.”
Finally, Dorosian seemed to understand and nodded.
Erucel probably had no idea what that meant.
But he must’ve sensed the ominous tone aimed at him because his face twisted with discomfort.
“Stop saying creepy stuff like I should be in a grave.”
“They’re calling your name. Go on up already.”
Erucel wiped the discontent from his face and turned toward the arena.
Wanting to add just a little pressure, I called his name.
"Erucel."
"What?"
"I've always thought of you as a proud younger brother.
And that hasn’t changed. I'm looking forward to seeing you do great out there."
It was a line full of sentiment.
One spoken with such sincerity that it could be mistaken for heartfelt emotion.
As always, Erucel gagged and yelled out loud.
"Ugh, don't say that gross crap out loud!"
Dorosian let out an "ah" and asked me with an eager face,
"Does he die here, by any chance?"
Erucel whipped his head around in horror.
***
As signs of Round 3 approaching began to show, Athera pouted and said,
"Hmm, looks like the next match will be tough too."
Kerndel nodded.
"Arbal den Amet, huh. Unless it’s Mircel or Hersel could handle that guy easily."
Hearing that name drop from his mouth, Aol let out a dry laugh.
Even though the Amet family had significant influence in the central region, they couldn’t compare to Tenest.
Still, seeing a familiar opponent, it was hard to believe Erucel had any chance of winning.
'Arbal... that little kid from back then’s already grown this much?'
People with remarkable talent tend to be memorable, even as children.
‘And the fact that I recalled him instantly meant Arbal’s abilities must have bloomed quite a bit.’
"Yeah. If it weren’t for Roan, he’d be considered next in line after Ares."
"Don’t be so sure, Athera. You never know. He might’ve gotten stronger since we last saw him."
As Athera and Makdal chatted, Aol kept his eyes on Erucel.
Judging by his awkward steps, he still got nervous in front of crowds.
But unlike before, he was actually looking straight at his opponent.
'You’ve grown a lot. You used to avert your eyes the moment you sensed the other guy had the upper hand…'
There’s always something strange about witnessing your children’s growth.
He’d always hidden behind his mother when he was just learning to walk, which made it all the more emotional.
‘He was such a scared little kid back then. Unlike the other sons, he was always frightened by my instruction. I tried to create a more comfortable environment, but every time he heard the word "training," Erucel would just burst into tears.’
That had always been a disappointment for Aol.
'I gave him a solid frame, but his temperament just didn’t suit the sword.'
That’s why he had no choice but to hand him over to Coulo for guidance, but even then, there didn’t seem to be much progress.
‘But still… If I hadn’t seen the earlier match, I might still think that. His eyes are open now.'
As the duel began, Aol muttered to himself, watching the way Erucel’s steps grew steadier.
"You’ve won, Erucel."
He moved like a solid rock advancing—very reminiscent of Coulo.
***
Thick eyebrows and a heavy build.
Erucel remembered that intimidating face.
‘He had a scary look even back then, and now he looks even scarier.’
It must’ve been when they were kids.
He’d gone with his older brother, Deisel, to visit the Amet family, following their father.
Officially, it was a social call among high nobles, but Arbal had felt a subtle rivalry with Tenest blood and had subtly challenged Deisel and Erucel to duels.
‘Deisel turned him down back then.’
He probably figured there was a chance he’d lose.
Deisel was quick-witted that way.
Naturally, Erucel, not wanting to be humiliated, refused as well.
Now, that duel they'd both avoided was finally happening, and Erucel had mixed feelings.
Arbal stood firm and greeted him.
"Been a while, Erucel."
"It really has."
"Let me ask you something. Did you choose to stand here of your own will?"
Erucel nodded.
Part of him wondered if things would be different now, but more than anything, he sensed there was something he needed to face head-on rather than avoid.
"The moment I saw your name, I wrote down mine. I felt bad for refusing before."
"Hmph. I actually wanted to face Deisel, but this isn’t bad. Your stance now—it’s totally different from when you first walked in."
"Hmm?"
"You didn’t notice? The closer you got to me, the more your tension faded. That body of yours that looked like it might explode earlier now seems stable—totally natural."
Only then did Erucel realize his condition.
‘Now that I think about it, the cold sweat on my hands is gone, and the trembling stopped. Even though I’m still terrified inside.’
The surprise didn’t last long.
The referee signaled the start, and Arbal quickly drew his sword.
A bastard sword that matched his size.
Unusually, it was even longer than most bastard swords.
With Arbal’s wide attack range and perfect form, Erucel swallowed hard.
'The Amet family’s swordsmanship excels in both offense and defense. It’s like a siege engine advancing…'
If he wanted to win, he had to get inside that range.
Erucel’s pressure blade style only shined at close quarters.
Of course, that wouldn’t be easy.
‘How many attacks do I have to deflect before I can get close enough to land a hit?’
As he slowly closed the gap, the wind from Arbal’s blade brushed through his hair.
A few strands were sliced clean off—it was that sharp.
Terrifying.
But Coulo once said this:
Taking a step toward a swinging blade is a terrifying thing.
That was true in his youth, and still true now with only a few years left to live.
‘Even that monstrous old man feels fear.’
He also said something else:
—It might sound cliché to young folks, but the step you take in spite of fear, that’s the one that carries real courage. And therefore, that step truly has meaning.
‘Of course, I didn’t understand it at the time.’
—If that’s what it takes, isn’t that sword style totally wrong for me?
—You dummy. Pressure blade isn’t something just anyone with guts can use. Only those who can draw out a deeper kind of courage can wield it.
—So, you mean…
‘When I asked, Coulo grinned and replied:’
—It means people who are scared can use it.
‘Even now, I don’t really get what he meant. If you're scared, you're just scared. How is that helpful for a sword style that requires advancing forward?…I still want to back off right now. But I’ve learned the hard way—running away only makes things worse. Especially thanks to those two brothers.’
Erucel stepped forward toward Arbal without thinking.
In a flash, Arbal’s bastard sword came swinging for his neck.
Erucel deflected it with the flat of his blade, but the jarring force made him grimace.
“Ugh."
Arbal looked at his hand and commented, "That was quite the rebound. Did you just deflect my power?"
"Sure did."
"You’re not using Tenest’s sword style, are you?"
Disappointment filled his voice.
Arbal sighed and softened his gaze.
"There are already plenty of counters for sword styles that use an opponent’s power against them. Like this."
He swung the bastard sword again—without much force this time.
Still, a sword was a sword, so Erucel blocked it.
In that moment, Arbal suddenly lunged in and closed the gap.
"One counter is posture."
He swept his leg hard toward Erucel’s.
Losing his balance, Erucel rolled once across the arena floor before scrambling to his feet.
But before he could regain proper stance, Arbal’s bastard sword came down toward his head.
Erucel hastily blocked, but the heavy blow made the ground beneath his feet cave in.
"If your stance is off even a little, the timing to redirect power is ruined."
“Ghh!"
Now Arbal sheathed the bastard sword and released a surge of aura.
"Or you add overwhelming force they can’t handle."
The entire blade shimmered with light—it was a perfectly formed aura blade.
As it sliced diagonally, Erucel’s mind went blank.
And yet, his foot moved forward in sync with his sword.
Clang!
At the dull impact, Erucel blinked.
"Huh?"
"Your aura... its nature changed."
Arbal’s expression grew serious again.
"Are you like Ares too?"
That made Erucel recall something.
Growing up surrounded by family members who sparked electricity, certain things came to mind quickly.
This was a transformation of aura nature.
"If that’s the case..."
Once again, Arbal tried to break his posture.
With a long-reaching leg sweep, he closed in—but this time, Erucel activated “Iron Resolve.”
And something amazing happened.
Arbal’s thick shin bounced off, while Erucel’s footing didn’t budge.
Erucel stared blankly at the aura enveloping his body, then looked at Arbal.
"W-What just happened to me?"
***
Coulo shot up from his seat.
"The second son has finally done it."
When pushed to the edge, the body taps into every bit of strength it has to survive.
Aura included.
"Normally, aura is used just to enhance power, but it’s different for those trained in pressure blade."
A mutation of Iron Resolve.
It’s a trait only achievable through a customized training regimen.
"Ah! No matter how much danger we put him in, he couldn’t do it before—and now he finally has!"
When Coulo let out his outburst, the lady of the house asked,
"What happened to my son?"
"Your son was like a flea in a bottle. He could’ve jumped higher, but he kept bumping into the lid and thought that was the limit."
"Can you not compare my son to a flea?"
"He's finally shining. That body I personally designed—he’s finally showing what it’s capable of!"
