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Translator: Vine
Chapter Title: First Mock Battle
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The mock battles are conducted based on the first-year grades.
First, the initial match will be against an opponent of equal standing, determined by academic records.
If you lose this match,
you will then face a student with a lower grade than your own, who won their initial match.
Conversely, if you win,
you will fight a student with a higher grade.
If you lose a total of three matches,
your score is recorded, and your participation in the mock battles immediately ends.
Additionally, as an exception, if you are deemed incapacitated during a match, your ranking concludes at that point.
Conversely, there is no limit to the number of victories.
In theory, if you keep winning, you can fight your way up from the lowest rank to the top student.
However, if a student who has accumulated victories loses even once, their participation ends.
'No matter what, in the end,'
The mock battles have only one goal.
To elevate the strong to the upper ranks.
The Jerion Academy auditorium came into view.
Enhanced by spatial magic, the sprawling auditorium was packed with students.
Students from every discipline were gathered.
Naturally, it was bound to be overflowing with students.
"I'm nervous."
"This time, I'm determined to improve my mock battle results."
I heard the students chattering amongst themselves.
Of course, no one bothered to speak to me.
Instead, I felt stinging glares from behind me.
When I glanced back, I saw Isabel glaring at me.
She had declared her intention to crush me in the mock battles.
So she must be burning with resolve.
'If you're going to burn, you might as well burn brightly.'
Because that flame won't be extinguished anytime soon.
"Ahem."
Just then, Veganon Mercia, the second-year Combat Arts Professor, ascended the podium.
Today, she looked… normal.
Seeing her dressed in her uniform, I heard first-year students standing behind her gasp in admiration.
Veganon's beautiful, melancholic face was perfectly suited to capture the hearts of the students.
Our professor certainly has good natural looks.
However, the second and third-year students knew perfectly well that there was nothing melancholic or graceful about her.
That's just her being grumpy because she couldn't get a drink yesterday.
She's like an alcoholic.
"I am Veganon, in charge of these mock battles. As the results of these mock battles are significantly important for future group assignments and various other matters within this academy, I expect all students to give their utmost."
Perhaps because she hadn't had a drink, she was quite ordinary today.
But I knew.
What kind of outrageous words would come out of her mouth next.
"Let me tell you in advance, don't drag out a match against an opponent you can clearly defeat."
Upon hearing her next words, the students looked perplexed, not understanding her meaning.
The third-year Combat Arts students sighed, while the second-year Combat Arts students quietly covered their faces.
"If you drag it out to three losses, it just unnecessarily prolongs the mock battles. And then I get to leave work late."
She was a professor whose only thought was apparently clocking out.
Well, leaving work *is* important.
"Alright, that's all. Assistants, please guide the students."
With that, she descended from the podium.
Those already familiar with Professor Veganon quickly guided the students.
The areas for first, second, and third-year students were quickly partitioned.
The second-year Combat Arts students at Jerion Academy numbered 48.
Originally, the quota was 50.
In their first year, three students, including the protagonist Lucas, were eliminated, reducing the number.
Thanks to my enrollment, the number of 48 was maintained.
Thus, the second-year mock battle ranks range from 1st to 48th.
My goal was the upper ranks.
At the very least, I had to break into the top 10.
'The problem is,'
I only transferred to Jerion Academy after becoming a second-year student.
That meant my grades weren't reflected anywhere.
'My current mock battle rank is…'
48th.
Last place.
"Heh, a loser's match."
"Since someone's going to lose anyway, wouldn't it be better if the transfer student lost?"
"Staying in last place really suits him."
The girls' sharp words reached my ears.
Ever since I fought Isabel head-on,
their backbiting had grown worse with each passing day.
Even Isabel, initially too preoccupied with her anger towards me, hadn't bothered to pay attention.
Recently, however, she flinched, perhaps realizing their backbiting had grown even more severe.
Even so, I saw Isabel raise her hand, intending to stop the girls whose words were too harsh.
With her inherently tender heart, it must have been difficult for her to witness her friends slandering others on her behalf.
"Don't worry."
So I made it unnecessary for Isabel to step in.
As I opened my mouth, the girls' sharp gazes snapped toward me.
Towards them, I merely curled the corner of my mouth.
"I'll make sure all of you end up beneath me too."
"What? He's seriously ill-mannered."
"Go on, try it!"
"Ha, it's unbelievable. There's a limit to arrogance."
At my blatant provocation, they hurled insults.
If they want to hate me, I'll just give them a good reason.
"He's short and has a foul temper."
Sorry, but such remarks had no effect on me.
"Hmph, he probably hasn't even dated a girl in his whole life."
Damn it, who said that?!
That's hitting below the belt.
Whoever it was, I swore I wouldn't go easy on them when I fought them.
As I solidified my resolve, my eyes met Isabel's.
She wore a startled expression for a moment, before her eyebrows furrowed, and her eyes blazed with renewed fury.
It seemed she had been about to stop the girls who were insulting me, but then she saw me taking the lead in provoking their hatred, and got flustered.
"Isabel, same goes for you."
So I tossed a cheap provocation her way too.
She stared at me for a moment, then her eyebrows relaxed.
A serious glint entered Isabel's eyes.
"If you lose to me today, you must retract those harsh words you said to Lucas and apologize."
Hearing those words, I snorted.
"That won't happen."
The girls' curses grew even louder, but…
Isabel, however, remained silent, simply watching me.
Her gaze silently rested on my scarred hand.
Even if the other students didn't know, Isabel was different.
She must have sensed that I was a more formidable opponent than she had imagined.
"Hanon Airey, rank 48, and Mirizen Aventi, rank 47."
Just then, I heard the assistant's voice call out my name.
As I answered and walked toward the designated spot, another student approached from the opposite side.
A fellow second-year Combat Arts student.
Mirizen.
His uniform was a bit loose, and with his timid demeanor, his nickname was 'Mirizen, the Perpetual Last-Place Holder.'
Where there's a first place, there's bound to be a last.
Had it not been for Jerion Academy, he might have been able to truly shine.
But in Jerion Academy, where only geniuses gathered, mediocre talent ultimately yielded such bitter results.
"Th-this time, I'll break free from last place."
Mirizen looked at me, burning with determination.
He was the 47th place, finally escaping the very bottom.
His desperation not to have it snatched away was palpable.
"Begin combat!"
As the assistant announced the start, Mirizen drew his sword.
He ran towards me with unwavering resolve.
Here he comes.
Dodging the sword that thrust straight out, I tilted my head back.
The sword brushing past my eyes was quite a close call.
Even if he was the Combat Arts' last-place student, he was still a talent admitted to Jerion Academy.
His sword's trajectory was remarkably stable.
His sword pursued me, one strike flowing into the next.
Each strike of his sword carried considerable weight.
I focused solely on dodging.
The footwork I had mastered long ago unfolded naturally.
My eyes scanned my opponent's body and sword hilt, accurately discerning how to evade each attack.
"He's just dodging like a rat."
"Ugh, how disgraceful. Is that all he meant by winning?"
The jeers of the girls, who were looking at me with displeasure, reached my ears.
When the assistant gave them a warning glance, they quickly ceased, but…
The sneers on their faces didn't easily disappear.
Of course, I had no time to pay attention to such things.
'I've sparred with Aisha before, but…'
A battle where victory was absolutely necessary was new to me.
That's why I needed to familiarize myself with combat.
To climb higher, I would have to fight stronger opponents.
So I had to make even more use of my past experiences.
'Climbing up from the bottom is an opportunity for me.'
Dodge.
Dodge again.
Dodge, and again.
My footwork grew increasingly concise, and the range of my movements narrowed.
Bikamen's body was exceptionally well-suited for movement.
I barely broke a sweat.
Every morning, I trained relentlessly alongside Aisha, who possessed steel-like stamina.
This, combined with Bikamen's natural physique, created tremendous synergy.
"Haa, haa!"
Conversely, Mirizen was now swinging his sword with a pained expression.
Sweat poured down his face, and his sword wavered.
No matter how skillfully he wielded his sword, it was meaningless if it couldn't land a hit.
"I will…"
Desperation filled his eyes.
"Win and…"
Mirizen's sword moved once more.
"Climb the ranks!"
His desperate desire to escape last place burst forth with raw intensity.
One by one, the students watching Mirizen's and my battle began to frown.
"That's disgraceful."
"At least fight him properly!"
"The skill gap is obvious, what's he even doing?"
Even though the assistant had given them a warning, it seemed they couldn't bear to watch any longer, and the students shouted.
"Since when did our class become filled with such imbeciles?"
At that moment, amidst the students' jeers, a young man spoke up.
As the students' eyes turned toward him, they saw a young man with a physique unsuited for his age.
With a delicate appearance despite his rugged physique, he watched Mirizen's and my battle with folded arms, his gaze sharp.
He was Guidon, the 3rd-ranked student in Combat Arts.
"That guy declared he'd climb to the top."
So, he noticed.
"This current battle is nothing short of that guy genuinely aiming for the top ranks."
He glared at the students and rebuked them.
"And yet you're spouting nonsense like 'fight properly' or 'there's a skill gap'."
No matter how you look at it, this is an academy for becoming stronger.
To say not to ignore the weak here is…
nothing but utter nonsense.
What's needed in Jerion Academy is power, and the ability to wield that power.
In the Demon Palace, begging the Apostles to 'go easy on me because I'm weak' won't work at all.
"All those who just ran their mouths will have no one to blame but themselves later when that guy defeats them."
Thus, no one who understood this continued to insult me.
Even Isabel, wary of me potentially climbing the ranks, quietly watched the battle.
"Hmph!"
Mirizen's sword swung once more.
His sword no longer held the same power it had at the start.
The sword he had swung countless times in a desperate bid to win had, in a way, hastened his defeat.
I understood the desperation in his eyes.
The label 'perpetual last-place' completely shatters one's self-esteem.
But I'm sorry,
I am more desperate than anyone.
'If I don't climb the ranks,'
this world, already hurtling toward a bad ending, will only bring about an even worse one.
'So I will…'
Win.
My foot stretched forward.
Thump!
Stomping on the floor, I finally ceased my evasive movements.
Mirizen's wavering sword brushed past my head.
Simultaneously, my body lunged forward, breaching Mirizen's guard.
Mirizen's body had already run out of stamina.
Moreover, as a result of me consistently dodging until now,
Mirizen had grown accustomed to my evasions and couldn't react immediately to an attack.
That brief opening.
I didn't miss that opening and plunged in decisively.
This was an arm honed by stamina and muscle training.
I unleashed it with all my might.
That alone could be a weapon.
CRACK!
My fist, now like a spear, plunged accurately into Mirizen's abdomen.
"Gah?!"
With Mirizen's choked gasp, his body folded into a sharp angle.
Simultaneously, my right arm folded inward, and my elbow swung.
SMACK!
My swinging elbow connected with Mirizen's face.
As Mirizen's nose bled and his body reeled for a split second,
my right foot swept his unsteady leg.
Due to the fluid, continuous motion, Mirizen tumbled to the floor.
The moment the fallen Mirizen tried to scramble back to his feet,
I mercilessly drove my knee forward.
SMACK!
My knee connected squarely with his rising head.
With the explosive impact, Mirizen fell straight backward.
It was my first time in a match without strict rules, but…
my body moved more smoothly than I expected.
Thud.
Mirizen lay still, unmoving.
The students had fallen silent.
In that silence,
I looked back at the assistant, and he nodded.
"Hanon, rank 48, victory."
I was now rank 47.