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“…I feel like a heavy weight has finally lifted from my soul. Thank you for saving my sister… for saving Sheryl.”
To be fair, my lightning magic has pretty much solved most of my problems since the old days. I used to fire it off to solve everything, which apparently led my disciples to secretly mock me behind my back as the literal, localized ‘God of Thunder’… but anyway, setting that aside.
Brad had been on the absolute verge of death, but a swift application of Perfect Heal got him stabilized enough to speak. Even so, he was emotionally softer than I expected—a clear difference in how he’d been forged compared to someone like Merlin. His physical body was completely mended, yet he still couldn’t bring himself to stand.
“Thank Isaac, not me,” I told him. “Now, I need you to tell me exactly what happened when you met the goddess…”
“The goddess? Ah, that’s—”
Suddenly, a shroud of jet-black energy violently wrapped around Brad’s head.
Oh, come on, seriously… you’d go that far, Fire God Emperor?
Plumes of pitch-black mana—undoubtedly welling up directly from his brain—came slithering out of Brad’s nose and ears like a nest of snakes before vanishing into thin air.
“…He beat us to the punch.”
Brad blinked blankly. “Beat us? Wait, what were we talking about again?”
“The goddess.”
“The goddess? Who’s that?”
Wow, the Fire God Emperor truly possesses a lovely, utterly rotten character. A double insurance policy—I hadn’t anticipated this.
Level 10: Curse of Pharaoh.
For the sake of absolute secrecy, every single memory tying Brad to the event had been completely erased. It was my first time seeing it deployed in person; this specific timed-trigger variation was a spell whose existence had only ever been hinted at in ancient literature four hundred years ago.
“Do you at least remember the red-haired boy?” I pressed.
Brad furrowed his brow, thinking hard. But just as he opened his mouth to say ‘I don’t recall’—
“Alcott… I must go to the Alcott ducal domain immediately. For some reason, those exact words just popped into my head.”
Ah, so that’s how he’s connecting the dots. I let out a heavy sigh.
Clearly, the mastermind behind this wasn’t going to let me get away with a peaceful investigation. This was unmistakably an active invitation from the Fire God Emperor. He had completely anticipated this exact outcome and left a calculated message intended solely for me.
Which meant… he was heavily implying that harm would come to Cecilia, Fraser, and my mother in this life if I didn’t play along.
“Well, this is turning into a massive pain…”
First, I needed the permanent cure for magic aptitude depletion. Beyond that, Sasha likely held a considerable amount of answers regarding the current state of the world. Nothing could truly begin until I forced Sasha to talk, by any means necessary.
I shrugged, thoroughly exasperated.
On my way back to the campus, I took a brief detour to completely smash the core structural anchor points of the Soul Eater magic circle.
As for whoever had been artificially enhancing my classmates with dangerous dark-arts formulas… there was no longer any doubt. It was definitely the Fire God Emperor. Dark-arts enhancements require the explicit consent of the host. There was absolutely no way four ordinary classmates were simultaneously cornered badly enough to willingly trade away their own lifespans for a quick power boost.
If that was the case, their consciousness and memories had to have been surgically manipulated, and only a Level 10-class Brainwashing spell fit that criteria. The Fire God Emperor seemed to rely incredibly heavily on memory manipulation and psychological conditioning. Since the number of people capable of pulling off that level of high-tier magic in this modern era was drastically limited, it was mathematically guaranteed to be him.
As for why he had bothered doing it? Most likely, it was a tactical ploy to draw a massive crowd. If a dark-horse team of underdogs miraculously survived all the way to the tournament finals, the number of spectators flocking to the academy from both inside and outside the school grounds would skyrocket.
And then, he could effortlessly harvest every single one of those gathered souls in a single, sweeping net. That had to be the grand plan.
Interestingly, the memory wipe was so severe that Brad seemed to have completely forgotten he could even handle Level 9 magic and above. I had plenty of lingering thoughts on the matter, but well… from here on out, the boy would likely walk a peaceful, perfectly ordinary life.
When I finally arrived back at the staging venue for the final match, I found my team waiting.
“Haha, you’re looking absolutely in tatters, Maria,” I called out with a wry smile as I stepped into the preparation tent.
“Hey… I won, okay?” she wheezed.
I glanced out at the stage. There were blatant scorch marks from a massive explosion, and the unmistakable scent of oil slicked across the stone floor. Sneaking a look at Maria’s luggage, I spotted remnants of a fast-acting sleeping drug incense, alongside the distinct odor of a numbing agent clinging to her practice bow.
Well, well. She really had thrown every dirty trick in the manual at her opponent. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud.
“Regardless—excellent work out there.”
Our ‘Anonymous Hope’—or rather, Merlin, currently cosplaying in a school uniform and a ridiculous swallowtail-butterfly mask—gave a solemn, dignified nod.
“Incidentally… I lost my match by forfeit.”
Maria immediately chimed in.
“No, Ephthal, you don’t understand—Merlin-sama was absolutely terrifying! She blocked the opponent’s entire opening onslaught with a simple, casual snap of her fingers. The exact moment the poor guy fell into utter despair, burst into tears, and tried to surrender, Merlin panicked, threw her hand over his mouth to stop him, and declared her own forfeit instead… I’ve never seen anyone throw a match like that in my entire life.”
Oh, Merlin…
That sounds like it drew an absolute, catastrophic amount of the wrong kind of attention. Is she going to be alright? Then again, our entire roster already stood out like a sore thumb, so I suppose it hardly mattered at this point. Oh dear.
“Merlin? I’m sure you’re already on top of it, but did you see to the medical follow-up for the kids we fought? Their lifespans were pushed to the brink by those dark enhancements.”
“Naturally, I have already thoroughly investigated their vitals,” Merlin replied smoothly. “They will have lost a few years off their total timeline, but there should be no severe, long-term impact on their daily lives. So long as they refrain from the typical binge-drinking and overeating common among modern youths—and strictly maintain a baseline healthy lifestyle—their average life expectancy should actually naturally extend.”
“Right. Good to hear.”
“Furthermore, the underlying psychological violence has already been neutralized. While the exact dark procedure applied to the subjects was unknown during our initial encounter, my prior analysis gave me the precise structural breakthrough I needed.”
“Meaning you deployed status recovery magic?”
“I successfully unraveled the external mental contamination right before the match commenced. Therefore, any catastrophic escalation or genuine tragedies… will not be occurring today.”
“So all that’s left for me is to sit back and watch my disciples grow, is that it?”
Honestly, I was genuinely curious to see how these kids would handle fighting opponents explicitly rated far above them. Forcing them into matches they were guaranteed to win as a matter of course wouldn’t provide any meaningful combat experience.
Right at that moment, a massive cheer echoed through the stadium grounds.
Turning my gaze to the arena, I saw Anastasia and a third-year student wearing glasses standing atop the platform. It seemed that from this match onward, I would be able to watch the action unfold in full view.
The moment the referee signaled the start, Anastasia immediately looked toward the upperclassman, her expression completely flustered.
“U-U-Um! Excuse me, sir! Please l-lishten to what I have to shay! I have a huge request! You see… I am a fragile young girl!”
The man blinked, adjusting his glasses. “Yes, you are quite clearly a girl.”
“If my face gets horribly damaged out here… I won’t ever be able to get married, and that would deeply trouble me…”
“Hmm…” The upperclassman placed a thoughtful hand to his chin. “I understand your predicament, but this is a sanctioned place of combat. There is no magic methodology that guarantees a completely injury-free bout, is there? What exactly are you proposing?”
Anastasia gave a tiny, subtle nod, looking up at him through her long eyelashes, her eyes visibly brimming with unshed tears.
“I want to establish a mutual rule.”
“A rule?” the man asked, entirely bewildered.
“That’s right! I want us to agree to a strict, absolute no-face-strike policy!”
“The face… is entirely off-limits?”
“Don’t be absurd—” The man began to object, but Anastasia trembled like a newborn fawn, pitching her voice to invite the absolute maximum amount of pity humanly possible.
“…My ultimate dream in life is to be a lovely, pristine bride.”
Seeing her display such vulnerable, heartbreaking innocence, the upperclassman’s cheeks instantly flushed a bright crimson. He cleared his throat loudly. “Ahem! W-Well, if we suppose we did enact such a rule… even if we could strictly enforce it for physical blade strikes, it would be mathematically impossible to avoid the face when it comes to area-of-effect magic, wouldn’t it?”
Magic by its very nature consists of wide-area bombardments. The man’s logical assessment was entirely reasonable.
“Magic has wide blast zones, so that part can’t be helped!” Anastasia conceded readily. “Let’s just apply the restriction strictly to our practice swords!”
“Ah, I see. Understood.” The man gave a small nod, clearing his throat once more. “Ahem. May I ask… your name?”
“I am called Anastasia!”
“Right, Anastasia… what a thoroughly lovely name. Tell you what, once this festival concludes and the timing is right, I, a proud third-year, shall personally grant you a private, one-on-one magic lesson.”
Anastasia’s face instantly lit up like a flower bursting into full bloom.
“Really?!”
Seeing her looking so profoundly delighted, the upperclassman pumped his fist tightly out of view, practically shouting a triumphant ‘Yes!’ in his head.
“Then, even though I will be fighting in earnest, let us both give this match our absolute, honorable best!”
“Of course! I certainly don’t bear any ill will toward you, but business is business!”
And with that highly unusual negotiation concluded, the match officially began.
To kick things off, the upperclassman—a certified magic swordsman—loosed a swift Level 4 Wind Magic spell, sending a horizontal crescent of compressed wind slicing across the stage. True to his gentlemanly agreement, he consciously avoided her upper body and aimed the blast directly at Anastasia’s feet.
“Level 2: Air Step!” Anastasia chanted.
Utilizing a condensed foothold of solid air in mid-flight, she leapt gracefully into the sky, effortlessly dodging the wind blade as it skimmed the stone floor.
“Nice! She cleared it!” Maria shouted from the sidelines.
Without losing a shred of momentum, Anastasia sprinted across the platform at full speed. A barrage of subsequent wind blades came flying from her opponent, but by weaving light defensive barriers and acrobatically manifesting mid-air footholds, she closed the distance in a spectacular, breathless rush.
Given that her opponent was capable of wielding Level 5 magic, maintaining a long-range shootout placed Anastasia at a severe tactical disadvantage. Her optimal strategy was to dive straight into his inner guard and press the offensive with her sword.
“She did it! She’s in!” Maria cheered.
“No, she isn’t,” I countered quietly.
The upperclassman’s swordsmanship was exceptionally refined; the guy was highly capable. A flurry of wooden sword-flashes crossed violently in midair, unfolding into a remarkably high-level exchange of close-quarters blade work.
“Eh? But from where I’m standing, it looks like Anastasia is completely overwhelming him?” Maria asked, puzzled. “It feels like she could break his guard at any second!”
“If those were real, sharpened steel blades… Anastasia would have effortlessly taken that student’s life three times over by now,” I explained. “However…”
The reality was that the man was actively maintaining a powerful, passive Level 5 Physical Defense spell. A practice sword, when all was said and done, was just a blunt wooden stick. Anastasia was landing clean, precise hit after clean hit, but her opponent wasn’t taking any meaningful structural damage.
Anastasia was a pure speed-specialist. Even when utilizing physical enhancement magic, her raw physical output was naturally weak, making a blunt wooden weapon an incredibly poor match for her combat style. Meanwhile, the upperclassman was swinging his sword with massive, heavy blows backed by immense physical strength. Anastasia was successfully parrying and dodging everything for now, but the moment a single hit connected, the match would be instantly decided.
“Limiting her own attacks to below the neck was a massive tactical blunder on Anastasia’s part,” I murmured. “If she could aim for the skull, the blunt force trauma would actually penetrate his defensive shroud.”
“True… Treating the weapon as a blunt instrument means losing access to the head absolutely hurts her offensive pressure.”
“A strike to the torso won’t register as zero damage, but it’s a long, arduous way away from actually rendering him combat-incapable.”
Sensing his absolute advantage, the upperclassman’s face twisted into a triumphant, highly confident grin.
“It’s over, Anastasia-san! Please, surrender with dignity! I lack the poor taste to brutally injure a beautiful young lady!”
Possessing absolute confidence in his passive magic armor, the man completely lowered his guard, spreading both arms wide and proudly throwing his chest out toward her. It was an explicit, arrogant invitation that practically screamed ‘Go ahead, hit me.’
His plan was simple: absorb Anastasia’s final, futile assault completely, break her psychological will to fight, and force a graceful surrender. Given his long-range magic superiority and her current close-range stalemate, it was arguably a gentlemanly way to end the bout.
“I refuse to give up!” Anastasia cried, dropping into a deep thrusting posture, aiming the tip of her wooden sword directly at the center of the man’s exposed chest.
“I told you, your weak strength cannot possibly hope to pierce my—wha?!”
In a fraction of a second, Anastasia violently aborted her thrust, seamlessly pivoting her entire body weight to swing the wooden sword overhead in a massive, vertical arc.
She aimed the strike directly at the wide-open, completely unprotected face of her opponent.
Wait, what?! An overhead strike straight to the skull?!
Maria, the upperclassman, and I all stood completely, utterly dumbfounded—CRACK!
That terrifying kid… she went and drove the wooden sword down onto the crown of his head with every single ounce of physical strength she possessed!
“A serious duel with an absolute ban on face attacks is fundamentally impossible!” she shouted righteously.
D-D-D… Dirty! This girl is remarkably dirty!
Maria and I could only stand there in the tent, our mouths opening and closing in synchronized, silent horror.
Without offering a single millisecond of mercy to her agonized, reeling opponent, Anastasia immediately dropped her blade into a low stance and swept it violently upward.
She aimed her strike with absolute, terrifying geometric precision… right between the man’s legs. The wooden sword connected flawlessly with the absolute weakest point of the male anatomy.
Uwah… that hurts. That is a cosmic level of pain. Just watching the impact caused a cold shiver of gooseflesh to crawl straight up my own spine.
“Ka… ha… agh!”
Obeying the ultimate, unyielding laws of Mother Nature—thud—the upperclassman collapsed face-first onto the stone stage, completely paralyzed.
“Medical staff! We need the medical team out here immediately!”
“That girl is an absolute demon! No mercy whatsoever! At this rate, Alfred’s future family lineage might be in serious jeopardy! Hurry! Get the stretchers!”
Just like that, the entire opposing faction was raising a collective chorus of anguished, panicked screams.
Meanwhile, Anastasia herself was cutely hopping up and down on the spot, clacking her heels together in absolute delight.
“Yaaay! I won! I’m so incredibly happy! Yaaay! Yaaay! I did it~!”
Her face sported a brilliant, wide, bottomless grin. It was the picture of innocent, guileless joy, exactly like a young child receiving a long-awaited gift. Watching her bounce around like a cheerful fairy while expressing her victory with all her might—Maria and I could only stare on, completely broken and speechless.
At this point, this transcended the simple dimension of being a skilled combatant. Yeah… this wasn’t the behavior of a talented martial artist. This was—
—nothing short of a literal fiend at work.
Still hopping and bouncing, Anastasia suddenly turned that chilling, bottomless grin directly toward our waiting tent and shouted at the top of her lungs:
“Master~! I’ll have you know that I don’t feel particularly good about how incredibly close you and Maria-san have been getting lately, you know~!”
Eh? Why on earth would she choose this precise comedic timing to drop a line like that? And call it a hunch… but the backs of her eyes didn’t look like they were laughing at all.
Hearing Anastasia’s broadcasted warning, Maria turned completely pale, giving me a slow, rigid nod.
“Hey, Ephthal? It’s something I’ve been quietly suspecting for a while now, but this latest display has officially upgraded it to absolute conviction… I am positive Anastasia’s usual soft-and-fluffy persona is a complete psychological act. Her behavior in active combat is her true, unadulterated nature.”
“…You mean she’s fundamentally black-hearted?”
“…Like I said, it’s currently at the level of near-absolute conviction. I haven’t officially finalized the paperwork yet.”
To be completely honest, I had picked up on a few faint warning signs myself. How should I put it—she possessed far too many calculating moments, and the way her cognitive faculties suddenly turned razor-sharp the exact millisecond a battle commenced was profoundly unnatural. She was a street rat who had walked the criminal back roads to begin with, making a living by deceiving marks and stealing high-tier artifacts. Thinking about it through that lens, that innocent, bottomless grin of hers was starting to become genuinely terrifying.
No, but still… I want to believe in Anastasia. The girl who was cruelly labeled a useless mongrel by Merlin, the girl who constantly trips over her own tongue whenever she panics… I desperately want to believe that the soft-and-fluffy version of her is the real one.
Yeah, let’s just pray that this is nothing more than Maria’s groundless paranoia.
Nuffling the thought away, I gave a small, firm nod, actively choosing to entirely banish the ‘Anastasia-is-a-black-hearted-demon’ theory from my working memory.
And with that chaotic performance concluded, all that remained was the final match.
Let’s quickly tally our official tournament records so far, shall we?
- Vanguard: Merlin (An unprecedented, completely overwhelming self-inflicted defeat via forfeit, according to Maria).
- Second: Maria (A hard-fought victory achieved purely through underhanded, chemical contrivance).
- Middle: Anastasia (A glorious triumph secured via sheer, unadulterated fiendishness).