She actually stood quite a distance away from both of us, looking as if she were ready to flee at any moment. Her gaze darted back and forth between us, her eyes filled with utter bewilderment.
“Um...” she finally couldn't help but ask, “can someone tell me... what on earth is going on?”
Waldenburg looked at me.
I looked at Waldenburg.
We locked eyes for a split second, and Waldenburg's brow twitched.
This was the first change in his expression all day.
“...” He finally turned to Liliana, his voice as steady as if he were delivering a class report. “Miss Liliana, the reason I asked you here today is because Miss Aldheim and I are having a duel.”
Liliana's mouth parted slightly.
“A... duel?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Waldenburg fell silent for a moment before saying, “Because of you.”
Liliana blinked, completely helpless and bewildered.
She stood frozen on the spot, as if someone had hit the pause button on her.
“...Because of me?” her voice drifted slightly.
“Yes,” Waldenburg confirmed once more.
Liliana's gaze shifted to me.
I gave her another meaningful nod, maintaining an air of having tagged along purely because I found the whole thing amusing.
Liliana's gaze darted back and forth between us several more times.
Then she took a deep breath and spoke in a tone that said she had completely given up on trying to understand.
“...I'm sorry... I don't really understand.”
Her reaction was calmer than I had expected.
“It doesn't matter. You just have to watch,” Waldenburg said softly.
“...Oh,” Liliana nodded silently.
Perhaps she was already used to this sort of thing.
Or perhaps she chose to trust us first.
(A short description of Liliana's character, portraying her as a pure and innocent girl)
In any case, anyone else would probably have turned around and left.
But this was the pink-haired heroine.
And now, it was our turn to lock eyes again.
Waldenburg's scabbard was plain black, completely unadorned, and even the guard was a simple, standard circular design. However, a faint, silver-white light rippled along the blade—a clear trace of mana infusion.
He shifted, holding the sword horizontally in front of him, his dark gray eyes staring straight at me.
Honestly, I had a few questions of my own, curious about what was going on in his head.
Although I knew from the original plot that he was supposed to duel Alden—meaning a duel was indeed meant to happen—and that it had now been shifted onto me, I was still very curious about the logic behind his reasoning.
Since I was already here, I had no choice but to accept it, so I might as well try to understand it.
“By the way, why are you challenging me to a duel?”
I wasn't asking just on a surface level. I looked at him with an amused expression, maintaining the cynical, playful attitude of a villainous daughter.
I kept projecting the attitude of “I only came because I thought it would be fun” because I didn't want him to think I was here for the prize of a kiss from Liliana.
In truth, I didn't want to come at all.
Waldenburg's voice was quiet, but every word was crystal clear, his gaze deep and profound:
“My sword... is too heavy.”
For a moment, I didn't even know where to begin criticizing that.
But I vaguely understood what he meant.
A “heavy sword” probably meant he had developed feelings, meaning his thoughts weren't clear and something was weighing heavily on his mind.
Still, I never expected to hear such words from a stoic, expressionless swordsman.
An “interesting woman,” was it? Had his sword heart been shaken?
“Your sword is too heavy, so you're dueling me?” I kept my expression steady and continued to probe. “Why not just talk to Liliana directly?”
Waldenburg's gaze didn't waver in the slightest.
“Because of you.”
“...”
“Last week, at the entrance of the Magic Department building.”
I forced my expression to remain neutral.
Even though the incident had already spread throughout the entire academy, hearing one of the key players bring it up right before a duel still carried a different level of shock.
“So?” I said. “Do you want to take revenge on her behalf?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Waldenburg gripped his hilt, his thumb pressing against the guard as he nudged the blade an inch out of its scabbard.
The silver-white blade reflected a blinding flash of sunlight.
“The winner gets to be close friends.”
“The loser can only be ordinary friends.”
(Re-stating the victory conditions, which had been modified due to censorship)
Waldenburg felt that the incident had suppressed his feelings.
And yet, when he uttered those words, his tone remained as flat as ever.
It was so flat that he might as well have been stating a fundamental law of nature—apples fall from trees, water freezes at zero degrees, and the winner gets to be close friends with Liliana.
But a certain bystander next to us instantly became so flustered that steam practically puffed from her head.
She looked back and forth like a panicked little rabbit, her face practically screaming, “What is with this conversation?!”
I had no choice but to press a hand to my forehead before slowly letting it drop.
I think I've finished analyzing the situation. Perhaps he couldn't bear to stand by; after all, as the male lead, this special CG should have belonged to him. But because it was disrupted, he felt compelled to act. It seems fate really does exist in this world, and his actions are likely driven by his own free will, unlike me, who is constantly nudged by some deity...
...At the end of the day, what on earth was that Human God who appeared back then?...
I shook the thoughts from my mind.
Whatever, let's just do this.
“The rules,” I said, turning to Waldenburg with an air of nonchalance. “State them again.”
“No-holds-barred combat,” Waldenburg said. “Until one side surrenders or is unable to continue fighting.”
“No lethal magic or forbidden spells allowed,” I added.
“Agreed.”
“No targeting vital points.”
“Agreed.”
“No—”
“Miss Aldheim,” Waldenburg interrupted me. “If you add any more restrictions, there won't be any point to this duel.”
“...” I simply took a deep breath.
No-holds-barred combat.
To be honest, it wasn't like I had never fought one before. On the training grounds of the Aldheim estate, Shirune had sparred with me for two whole years.
But those were all training sessions.
Granted, they were real combat training sessions with live weapons and no protective gear.
Still, training and a real duel were two entirely different things.
During training, I knew Shirune wouldn't actually hurt me. She was a guard, an adult, and her control over her strength was terrifyingly precise.
But Waldenburg was different.
He was the strongest first-year in the Swordsmanship Department, with a Level Ten mana capacity—a genius magic swordsman.
More importantly, he was dead serious.
I could tell.
He stood there with his hand on his hilt, without a single shred of hesitation in his dark gray eyes. He truly wanted to win. He truly wanted to use this duel to prove something, to bring closure to something.
Liliana wanted to say something, but Waldenburg's gaze stopped her. It was even more impossible for her to try and persuade me. While a normal person might have turned on their heel and left, Liliana stayed.
Out of concern—perhaps worrying that things might get out of hand and lead to a serious accident—Liliana sighed and decided to remain.
“In that case,” Liliana's helpless voice drifted over from the side, “where... where should I stand?”
Waldenburg and I looked at her at the same time.
“The corner,” Waldenburg said.
“Somewhere safe,” I said.
“...Okay.”
Clutching her canvas bag, Liliana obediently walked over to the spectator seats in the furthest corner of the training ground and sat down in the second row.
She placed the canvas bag on her lap and hugged it tightly, looking like someone forced to watch a play she had absolutely no desire to see, all while worrying about the actors on stage.
“Let's begin,” Waldenburg said.
His hand gripped the hilt of his sword.
...
Waldenburg drew his sword.
The silver-white blade reflected the cold, sharp light of the training ground lamps, resembling a streak of frozen lightning.
He held his sword horizontally before him, the tip pointed toward me, my reflection mirrored in his dark gray eyes.
“Miss Aldheim.”
His voice was low. I could feel the sheer seriousness radiating from his very bones—he truly viewed me as an opponent, not as the duke's eldest daughter or the Crown Prince's fiancée.
I was a pure opponent, a clash of sword and magic.
I suppose I had to get a little serious too.
Although I had been slacking off a bit since entering the academy, the sweat of my past years of training would not betray me.
I took a deep breath.
Within my chest, my mana pool rippled like a lake disturbed by a thrown stone.
The mana slumbering at the bottom of the pool began to surge and boil, rushing through my magic circuits and into every corner of my body.
Level Ten.
The human limit.
At least, that was what the textbooks said.
But I had never unleashed my full power in an actual battle. The weekly tests after entering the academy were mere sparring matches, and the minor scuffle at the cafe wasn't even worth mentioning.
Although victory or defeat didn't really matter to me, today, I could probably test my combat strength a little.
“Then I won't hold back.”
I raised my right hand, palm facing up, and spread my fingers slightly.
The advantage of ancient magic was that the entire casting process took place within the caster's body. To the outside world, only the result was visible, without even the need for a chant.
However, since this wasn't a fight to the death, I still put on a show.
“Wind Blade.”
When the first Wind Blade shot from my palm, the air was compressed to its limit, emitting a sharp, piercing shriek.
Waldenburg's pupils contracted slightly.
He didn't try to block it head-on.
His body tilted to the left at an angle as sharp as a bamboo stalk bent by the wind. The Wind Blade grazed his shoulder, slicing off a small piece of his white uniform. The fabric fluttered in the air, slowly drifting down, only to be sliced in half by a second Wind Blade before it could even hit the ground.
“—!”
Waldenburg's footsteps suddenly accelerated.
He wasn't just dodging—he was advancing.
Weaving through the gaps between my Wind Blades and Mana Bullets, he glided swiftly across the ground like a silver-white serpent.
Every step landed precisely in my blind spots, and every change of direction perfectly evaded the trajectory of my magic.
So fast.
And what incredibly rich combat experience.
As expected of the male lead who came from the borderlands; his speed and judgment were lightning-fast.
He could predict the trajectory the instant a Wind Blade left my hand, choosing the optimal path to evade. This wasn't something that could be explained by mere talent—it was an instinctive reaction forged through countless trials.
“Fireball—”
I raised my left hand, launching three fireballs in a triangular formation to block his path of advancement.
Waldenburg's body suddenly ground to a halt.
Going from a full sprint to a complete standstill without any transition in between, it looked as though an invisible hand had suddenly grabbed his shoulder.
The soles of his feet plowed two shallow grooves into the sand, sending coarse grains flying.
Then, he leaped.
Magic swordsmen could use magic to reinforce their muscles. Generally speaking, this type of magic differed from a mage's spellcasting; it was cruder, required long periods of practice, consumed more mana, and yielded far more terrifying results.
This was the reverse application of magic circuits—instead of converting mana into elemental attacks, they directly used pure mana to reinforce their physical bodies. This was the fundamental logic of a magic swordsman.
He was utilizing an explosive leap enhanced by mana.
His body shot upward like a stone from a slingshot, instantly soaring three to four meters into the air. The three fireballs swept past beneath his feet, crashing into the mana barrier behind him and exploding into three bursts of orange-red flame.
But he was in midair.
With nowhere to leverage his weight.
And nowhere to dodge.
Perhaps I should hold back, but I figured the limit of this black-haired swordsman was far beyond this.
“Caught you.”
I raised my right hand, aiming my palm at the airborne Waldenburg.
“Wind Blade.”
“Water Arrow.”
“Fireball.”
Three different elements, five consecutive shots, fired at him in midair from five different angles.
From the sidelines, Liliana watched with her jaw dropped. Such rapid casting of short incantations indicated that the caster possessed an exceptionally high level of understanding of these spells. Although these were merely low-level offensive magic, such mastery was terrifyingly impressive for a first-year student.
Even Liliana, making a subconscious comparison in her mind, realized she was only at a similar level of proficiency.
Of course, I was unaware of Liliana's inner thoughts at the moment, but I was still officially a Level Ten, so the combat strength I was displaying was perfectly reasonable.
In truth, these spells were actually the ancient magic I had practiced before; I was merely putting on an act by chanting aloud.
I was already deeply familiar with them. As for the modern spells we had recently learned, like Mana Bullet, I was probably only at the level of an honor student, which couldn't compare to the actual heroine.
Bringing the focus back.
The black-haired swordsman in midair had nowhere to hide.
But he was Waldenburg.
The strongest first-year in the Swordsmanship Department.
A genius magic swordsman.
Twisting his body in midair, he held his sword across his front, a faint silver glow emerging on the blade—another mana reinforcement.
The first Fireball collided with the blade, exploding.
Flames engulfed his figure.
The second Water Arrow followed immediately, tearing a trail of white steam through the flames.
The third Wind Blade sliced in from the side with a sharp, whistling sound.
The fourth, the fifth—
“—”
Amidst the smoke, a silver-white flash cleaved through the fire and steam.
Waldenburg dropped down from the smoke, his white uniform scorched in several places, and a section of his left sleeve missing, revealing a soot-blackened arm.
Yet, the hand holding his sword remained perfectly steady.
His dark gray eyes pierced through the smoke, staring straight at me.
His breathing was steady.
His expression remained unchanged.
“...Not bad,” he said.
...
Rate on N.U.
