HACS 123

The first day of the final exams had barely ended, yet a storm of rumors was already sweeping through the first-years.

The protagonist of the rumors was, of course, the grade’s top student.

**【The Iron Fist’s Rapid Advance】**

The sensational content of the flyers circulated by the newspaper club was that shocking.

**Millefeuille von Sabre.**

On the first day, in the very first sparring match, she brought down Cotton Shinespark—the third-ranked student—with a single blow, and then casually took down the fourth-ranked student as well.

Though they couldn’t compare to the top and runner-up, the third and fourth ranks were still the finest representatives of the current enrollment of 20,000. One was a mage from a central viscount’s family, the other an archer from a distinguished elven noble house—even if they were no match for the former top student who wielded light magic or the central count’s scion.

“Losing to the likes of you—I couldn’t hold my head high.”

“Guh… ugh.”

**[Winner! Millefeuille von Sabre!]**

Yet they were utterly outclassed.

According to students who witnessed the fights firsthand, her tactics were described as **”extremely efficient.”**

Against Shinespark, a pure mage, she covered the opponent’s mouth with one hand to prevent any incantation and struck with the other. The students hoping to enter the Magic Department next year trembled and began researching how to fight assault-type close-quarters combatants.

Against the archer, it was even more impressive.

Since her opponent’s skill was greater, she chose to *throw*.

After scraping the training ground floor, she picked up stones and hurled them at her opponent.

And she did it using her prized **【Cartridge-type Peep Punch No. 2 Ultimate Edition】**!

The power of the stones was incomparable to wooden arrows—the elf went down in one hit.

Thus, Millefeuille claimed yet another victory.

Afterward, the Knight Department students, who had believed that superior skill would allow them to overwhelmingly dominate, began researching close-quarters defense techniques.

Now the remaining opponents were the former runner-up and the former top student.

One might expect her to be at least somewhat tense, but her expression remained utterly calm.

And seeing that expression, the other first-years instinctively realized.

That is the face of a warrior.

The face of one resolved to fight with no retreat.

They themselves were merely sheep who had never experienced real combat.

Even if a hundred sheep, a thousand sheep gathered, they could never kill a wolf that had tasted blood.

After cleanly securing two consecutive wins, the Rapid Advance let out a small sigh.

“Hmm… Maybe it’s more boring than I thought.”

The people at that convenience store were not of this caliber.

Millefeuille knew that even if she gave it her all right now, she couldn’t even land a single blow on Ayla—who wasn’t even using magic.

Ah.

She wanted to go to the convenience store that made her heart pound.

Millefeuille had already decided—after the match began, she would drive an all-out Impact Buster into her next opponent’s face, secure the victory, and then go see her senior.

“Next up: the match between the grade’s top student, Millefeuille von Sabre, and the grade’s runner-up—Kelter!”

In one blow.

In a single strike.

She’d end it.

Completely.

—

If the first-years’ battlefield was noisy with the top student’s rapid advance, the second-year final exams looked quite different.

The Knight Department at least had proper sparring, but the Magic Department was presenting an entirely different scene.

Naturally—because the grade’s top student was *her*.

**Magic Power 22.**

Eve von Lohengrin, possessing the **”same”** magic power stat as the First Emperor—a number almost too reverent to utter.

The grade’s top was already decided. In fact, merely being in the same cohort as her was something to be proud of in society.

Naturally, no one challenged her authority. Even if she weren’t an imperial descendant, that overwhelming number was untouchable.

Thus, the second-year Magic Department’s sparring was completely different in nature.

On the stage stood the top student Eve and the second-year Magic Department runner-up.

Eve, yielding the first move, nodded. The plain-looking runner-up girl raised her staff and chanted her spell.

“Then here I go, President! **【Iron Cannon: Triple Fire: Enhanced: Single Point Focus】** ”

The Iron Cannon—her family’s secret magic—is a spell that gathers metal from the earth, forms it into small bullets, and fires them. Despite her modest appearance, she was a shooting-type mage specialized in assassinations and sniping. Her Magic Power was 19—a girl who would have no shortage of job offers after graduating from Zefflin.

“**【Light Spear: Area Denial】** ”

But the three steel bullets that flew in without hesitation stopped in midair with a single gesture from Eve.

The runner-up girl nodded. Her face held not despair at having her magic blocked, but quite the opposite—a light of anticipation. Eve let out a small sigh.

“**【Light Spear: Mark】** ”

Eve erected a light spear in her own image at the spot where she had been standing, then walked forward. The runner-up girl also walked forward, and beside her stood a professor acting as referee. Before the fascinated professor’s gaze and the girl who looked at her like a hero, Eve cleared her throat and spoke.

“That’s good magic. The casting formula, options, activation speed—all decent judgments.”

“Thank you! President!”

“But there’s a problem.”

“I’m sorry! President!”

“Look closely. The angle of this Iron Cannon—it came in precisely aiming for my head and heart, right? That means your aim is clean.”

“Thank you! President!”

“But isn’t the trajectory too linear?”

“I’m sorry! President!”

In this Zefflin of 100,000, there is no “student” who genuinely opposes Eve von Lohengrin.

So Eve doesn’t spar—she instructs.

“However, in this case, an equivalent ore mage could make it veer off. For example, by thinly spreading black crystals from the Triasta family and simply altering the trajectory, the Iron Cannon becomes useless.”

“…Ah.”

“Especially the current third-year top, Ayla Triasta, is said to have reached the limit of human skill. Deflecting your magic and driving in black crystals would be a trivial matter for her.”

“B-but she’s a senior. I wouldn’t have occasion to oppose her…”

“Three years from now, when everyone goes out into the world, takes their positions, and perhaps a territorial war breaks out—will you still say the same thing? Or are you thinking of skipping graduation and going to grad school to move into research?”

“Hwehh…”

The serious, horrible, dirty, and merciless barrage of harsh words that unfolded so simply struck the runner-up, and tears welled in her eyes.

“Now. The solutions I can give you are exactly two. First, strengthen your magic further—your aptitude isn’t bad.”

“Y-yes!”

“Second, learn artillery barrage or homing as auxiliary options.”

“Uh… aren’t artillery barrage and homing Tier 8 and Tier 7 respectively?”

“Yes, they are.”

“That’s, that’s far too high-tier, President…”

“……”

“Ugh… I-I’ll do my best. Thank you for your guidance!”

The runner-up girl said that, bowed deeply, told the professor “I concede!” and stepped down from the stage. The professor wrote “runner-up forfeits” on the score sheet, nodded, and threw praise toward Eve.

“That was an excellent critique. A wonderful teaching based on real combat.”

“…Thank you.”

Even the professors couldn’t help but admire the guidance of the continent’s greatest prodigy.

This was the second-year final exam—Eve von Lohengrin’s.

But surprisingly…

“It’s boring.”

Eve muttered without realizing it, then brushed her lips with her right index finger.

Boring? What is?

Teaching students?

No. She would become a ruler.

Then what was boring?

The runner-up who balked at learning just a Tier 7 spell?

Or the fact that no one truly challenges her?

No, it had been the same last year.

This Lohengrin model garden was always boring and predictable.

If there was one thing that had changed—

Her bloodmate, whose face alone annoyed her.

Her older brother who looked at her, raised his middle finger, and genuinely despised her.

That person would have said this with an impudent face:

**【Rather than obtaining a mere Tier 7 auxiliary spell, I’d put in the effort to aim for Tier 4.】**

**【Instead of using a trashy Iron Cannon as a family secret, wouldn’t it be easier to just make a gauntlet that fires Iron Cannons?】**

**【Delusion? Ha. That’s hilarious. What if I actually pull it off?】**

And after saying that, he’d present theories far beyond her imagination, turn them into reality, and then… raise his middle finger at her.

Just thinking about it annoyed her, made her want to drive a Starlight Cannon into his chest—but even so… it was never boring…

“No. No. What am I thinking?”

*Tch.*

Eve shrugged and waited for her next sparring opponent to step up.

At her waist hung the staff Wolfram had given her—from the dungeon containing the First Emperor’s arrangements.

—

Now, what about the second-year Knight Department?

Here, sparring was indeed taking place.

But it would be hard to call the situation ordinary.

“…Uh, um. Uhhh.”

Nefty stared intently at the sword in her hand.

That sword was the reward from the dungeon she had conquered together with Wolfram von Lohengrin.

Wolfram Senior had said: **”It’s decent enough for second year, but you’ll need to replace it next year. A junk item with only a lot of options.”** So she registered it as her main weapon for the sparring matches.

In the Knight Department’s sparring, not only standard-issue weapons but also personally owned equipment could be registered, so Nefty registered only this single sword.

And Nefty, looking at the sword that Wolfram said she’d only use this year and then replace, felt her own hands trembling.

“…You said it wasn’t a big deal, Senior.”

She used it in her first battle—”not a big deal,” my foot.

First, when she channeled magic into the sword at the start of battle, its **【Cutting Power】** increased.

Next, it clearly had **【Magic Defense Enhancement】** that ignored a portion of the opponent’s magic.

Then, it granted improved vision and concentration—a **【Hawk Eye】**-type skill was also active.

Lastly, no matter how she looked at it, a **【Stamina Enhancement】**-type spell was also applied.

“You also said it would self-repair if broken, right…?”

No matter how she thought about it, this was a masterpiece that belonged in the great Lohengrin Imperial Treasury—and Nefty’s hands trembled.

She too, after all, was a student and a knight. She couldn’t help but be interested in good equipment, and she knew the auction prices of legendary-grade items. She could guarantee that this item was worth nearly a hundred million.

Plus, the Royal Guard uniform Wolfram Senior had given her. Fine sword, armor, and a shield too.

In terms of money, even if she worked under him for a lifetime, she’d probably never pay it back—but that person would probably just smile and say:

**【It’s a cheap item. If it were a real treasure, I’d have kept it myself.】**

**【Don’t worry about it—just uphold your convictions.】**

“…Ugh.”

How can you casually give away such treasures and tell me to uphold my convictions?

She hadn’t even worn the special Royal Guard uniform, nor carried the shield—just that one sword had beaten down all her opponents.

“Th-that sword, what the hell…”

“Th-there’s no way we can win.”

“Guh… Is that, is that the life of the chosen one…!?”

The chosen one, huh…

Maybe so.

Nefty, who until recently had to worry about the tuition fees of her younger siblings—hundreds of thousands of lin—now wore items close to treasure and shrugged.

But if her heart became that relaxed and she lost her convictions, what was the point?

Treasures are merely tools.

If she were to become a Royal Guard, she would have to think that even a treasure worth hundreds of billions of lin was worth less than Wolfram’s life.

“Top spot confirmed—Nefterian!”

“Ah, good work.”

Having finished five sparring matches in what was probably the shortest time in the final exams, Nefty shrugged.

“Hmm. Finals are done. I should look for some manual labor gigs, and then head to Senior’s convenience store for a cold drink.”

Even with overwhelming grades and billions in treasures, Nefterian remained unchanged.

A girl with an unshakable core—the one Wolfram trusted most.

“Would I get kicked out if I ask for 120,000 lin per day on this crew…?”

Or maybe, still the same commoner.

—

If the first-years were a rapid advance and the second-years were calm, the third-year Magic Department was unfolding an entirely different scene.

“If I beat you, I’ll have tea time with Prince Wolfram once a week. In exchange, I’ll have you serve the tea.”

“…Ha. That’s an amusing thing to say. Regina Sierra.”

That was only natural. The east of the continent—the long, storied Sierra family, descendant of the First Emperor’s Ten Elders and great merchant house.

And the west—the Triasta family, which was merging nearby mining houses and emerging as a new power, rumored to be aiming for central advancement.

“How about learning the tea ceremony now, Ayla Triasta? Magic Power 19 and 21. I know you’re a battle mage skilled in close combat, but this gap is hopeless, isn’t it?”

“…That’s right. 19 and 21. This gap is hopeless. I admit that.”

But most predictions favored the current runner-up, Regina Sierra.

The difference between Magic Power 19 and 21 is that overwhelming.

13 can beat 15, but 17 can never dare challenge 19, and 19 can never surpass 21.

Just as no mage can exceed Magic Power 22 in magical combat.

“Then…”

“**【Dark Flame Dragonic Force】** ”

Intentionally chanting a spell that didn’t need to be chanted, Ayla manifested the authority she had obtained.

She only needed to hold the scale in her hand—so was that incantation a bluff, or a remnant of childhood dreams?

“Eh.”

The chant was regrettable, but the result was the opposite.

Regina widened her eyes at what happened before her.

It was something that, in the world she knew, could never occur.

Magic Power 19?

No—it far exceeded 19.

The **【Black Crystal】** standing before her now might not surpass her, but it was enough to point its spearhead at her throat.

Ayla recalled a **”famous line that could enrage an opponent at the start of battle”** that her dear fiancé had once said.

She then folded her arms, looked down at her opponent, and snorted.

“The current me is equal to you. No—I could even say I’m above.”

“…Ha. Interesting.”

**【Black Crystal】** and **【Arcane Merchant】**

“Now. The stakes are huge. As befits a battle of great merchants.”

“Yes. Absolutely cannot concede. Fufu. Shall we begin?”

The two pictured one man’s face in their minds.

Of course, they had never asked the stake himself for his opinion.

And so, their battle began.

—

Noon.

At the convenience store courtyard, I sat on a chair, lost in thought.

Everyone was probably in the thick of their final exam battles—just as I was thinking that, I heard a sound of spatial movement beside me.

“…Little brother. The modification is done. It was close, wasn’t it?”

“…No. It was perfect. Good work. I appreciate it, big sister.”

“Fufu. It’s nothing. Taking that item—which holds memories with Papa—and tearing it apart and modifying it with my own hands… fufu. The feeling of debauchery is overwhelming. Big sister, if she keeps going like this…”

“Hm.”

“So, have you finished preparing on your side, little brother?”

“The bleeding was heavy—no, it was very heavy—but I managed somehow.”

“I see. You worked hard. Fufu. Big sister will watch over you from above.”

“…Hm.”

Saying that, Phitia vanished.

Now.

At this time tomorrow.

The battle between the assassin and the third-rate imperial prince begins.

Phew.

Fufu.

Fufufufufu. Ahahahaha.