Chapter 8
The duel with Instructor Ludwig, under the pretense of “checking the instructors for the upcoming exams,” was finally set. It seemed that the news had reached him—yesterday, I had run into President Vincent again. Three times in a week. Perhaps a personal record for instructor-Presidential meetings.
“Ludwig has gone and caused trouble again. I’ll try to speak to him…”
“It’s just a temporary fix. Honestly, it’s better to settle it once and for all.”
In the game, I would always step in to teach my characters a harsh lesson, but here, it was different. Here, I could bend things as I saw fit.
“They keep treating me as if I’m a war hero made to hoard glory, but that can’t last forever.”
President Vincent already seemed to know. My past was no exaggeration, and the rumors surrounding me existed precisely because it was easier to ignore than confront. Being a war hero, and the potential rallying point for commoners, brought a far more dangerous level of scrutiny than mere disrespect ever could.
For now, I had full freedom of action. I could instruct, train, and judge the students without hindrance. But thinking of the trivial trouble ahead, I briefly wondered if this whole duel was unnecessary.
Yet what choice did I have? And, truth be told, that Ludwig kept provoking me.
“Here you are.”
On the day of the duel, I arrived at the training ground to find him standing there, arms crossed, staring at me. The look said, “I didn’t think you’d show up.” I couldn’t help but reply in kind.
“Here you are.”
His brow twitched, a visible distortion of his displeasure, and it was oddly amusing.
“Go ahead.”
We walked side by side, but I deliberately kept a small distance. Apparently, he misread it.
“Just so you know, don’t think I’ll go easy on you.”
“This is a matter of pride for all academy instructors. I won’t hold back.”
I didn’t bother to clarify if he was talking personally or professionally. It was entertaining enough just to listen.
“There will be no spectators.”
He muttered as if granting mercy, and I shrugged. Nothing would change.
President Vincent, seated above, gave a small wave and mouthed something. …Ah, yes. Keep it fair, President.
“Ready, then. Let’s not drag this out; there are student exams to consider.”
I nodded and faced Ludwig.
[Character Profile: Ludwig Draco (A-rank)]
Traits: Supremacist, knowledgeable in magic, trained in martial arts, master of surprise attacks
Growth potential: Stagnated
His first trait—supremacist—made me chuckle. Magic expertise and martial training made sense, but “master of surprise attacks?” Curious.
“Will that really be enough?” he asked, pointing at the hand axe at my waist.
“I’m comfortable with it,” I replied.
A hand axe—commoners’ tool, simple and practical. Not flashy, not noble. But for me, nothing else felt as natural.
“Let’s begin.”
I stepped back three paces, drew my axe, and swung it overhead. In an instant, a blast of magical energy shot toward my face, splitting midair into fragments. If I had reacted even a fraction slower, my face would have been a sieve.
Ludwig had survived multiple battles against demons, confident in his strength, certain in his ability to distinguish the strong from the weak. He had observed me carefully for a month, convinced I was just a lucky foot soldier, a commoner, nothing more.
He launched a pre-cast magical projectile at my head.
“A commoner, yet he manages this…?”
I smoothly deflected it with my crude hand axe. Not elegant, not fancy, but it worked. Ludwig’s punch, reinforced with concentrated mana, struck my abdomen. A normal person would have collapsed.
Yet I didn’t flinch.
“The resilience… of a commoner?”
Even the fiercest demons would falter under that blow, but I stood firm, swinging my axe again. Nothing penetrated my defenses.
Ludwig’s preconceptions shattered. Commoners simply shouldn’t possess such physical fortitude, let alone use it in combat.
A sudden sound alerted him:
“What…?”
Instinct as a mage screamed danger. Checking quickly, he realized his carefully crafted barrage of magical projectiles was being sliced apart—not by hitting my body, but by the swings of my axe.
“Insane…” he muttered.
The single word betrayed both disbelief and a faint, unacknowledged fear.
Ludwig, the proud aristocrat, was confronted by a commoner capable of using physical enhancement, a skill reserved for the noble lineage, a privilege handed down through generations.
Even if crude and rough, I had learned a power that was supposed to be denied to my kind.
“A commoner… wielding this?”
His mana surged, higher efficiency, more projectiles, yet each was destroyed in an instant by my axe.
The look in his eyes, fleeting yet unmistakable, revealed something he could not admit.
Fear.
