Chapter 41

"I see. Understood."

The answering voice was clear as a morning bell. Yupion's fog-gray hair rippled as she nodded.

"Mikhail, the reason I suggested you give up magic was because, in my experience, I thought it would be the better path. Someone with an obvious deficiency tends to become the scapegoat for failures on the battlefield. And nine times out of ten, they can't withstand that pressure and end up losing their way. Rather than let that happen, it's far better to develop a different set of talents early on."

Her tone was candid. Yupion let a single breath's pause hang between them before continuing.

"But things are different now. I can see that what you just told me holds weight. You're right—a fighter's morale can sometimes turn the impossible into something possible."

Yupion raised her head and stared into the empty air. Her gaze swept through it as though measuring the past.

"Then I suppose certain things won't be needed anymore."

She bent toward her desk drawer and pulled out a thick stack of papers.

Department Transfer Application

When Mikhail's eyes landed on the printed heading, Yupion gave the papers in her hand a single flick.

Fssssh.

The stack crumbled to dust in an instant and drifted away like falling petals.

Mikhail watched the wrong answers dissolve without a trace.

A moment passed. From across the desk came the sound of a chair being pushed back.

"You can head back now. Your assigned mission is complete."

Yupion rose to her feet, her tone noticeably lighter, then crossed her arms and leaned against the window.

Her black eyes soon fixed on the view outside.

"Understood."

Mikhail glanced at Yupion's profile, then followed her instruction without objection.

He stood, offered a respectful nod, and turned toward the door.

Three or four silent steps forward.

"—Mikhail."

A soft voice caught his ear. Mikhail turned back.

Yupion had already shifted her head toward him and was speaking, slow and deliberate.

"Here and there. But I'll be watching for a long time. To see if you deliver."

Beneath the measured tone, a faint thread of expectation lingered. Mikhail met her gaze and smiled, just slightly.

He didn't need to think twice about his answer.

"Yes, ma'am."

Pop!

【Quest: [Sub] Complete the Assigned Mission】

• Completion Reward: Shop Currency +2

---

The sun had sunk entirely below the horizon, and the pale night sky was deepening shade by shade.

The Combat Department's outdoor training grounds, lit by orange streetlamps.

"What, still training?"

A breezy voice sliced through the quiet air.

Ethan, mid-swing, turned his head toward the source. Lloyd Cloelle was sauntering over with a wooden sword slung across his shoulder.

Ethan replied to Lloyd, who had drawn conspicuously close.

"...I was just about to wrap up."

"Yeah? Then put that wrap-up on hold for a bit."

Whoosh.

Lloyd gripped the wooden sword properly and looked at Ethan.

"Spar with me."

Instead of answering right away, Ethan studied the tip of Lloyd's blade in silence.

Then he stepped back three or four paces, opening up enough distance—his acceptance unspoken but clear.

"......"

Their gazes met for a brief instant.

Tap!

There wasn't even a starting signal. Lloyd launched himself forward the moment he set his stance, and Ethan met the charge without flinching.

Crack!

The two blades connected, crossed, then sprang apart.

Lloyd, his sword still extended, slowly turned around and looked at Ethan, who was watching him with calm, steady eyes.

"That's a relief. Looks like you're back to normal."

Satisfaction dripped from every word. Ethan narrowed his eyes and asked.

"...What do you mean?"

"I wonder if you even noticed you've been walking around all week radiating doom and gloom. Tsk, it was downright menacing."

Lloyd clicked his tongue in mock complaint, then scratched the back of his head as he rambled on.

"Now what happened last week again? ...Right, theory classes wrapped up, there was the Combat Department's Individual Role Evaluation. After that... oh! Mikhail was out cold for a while. And funnily enough, right around that same time, you seemed pretty restl—"

BANG!

The story never reached its end. Ethan had lunged in without warning, driving his blade straight at Lloyd's chest.

Screeeech.

But the match didn't end there. Lloyd flipped his sword into a reverse grip and caught Ethan's blade edge-on.

As the locked swords ground out a sharp, splitting sound, Lloyd tugged his lips upward and stared at Ethan across the gap.

"See, that's exactly the face you've been wearing."

Lloyd stepped back sharply, letting the grinding blades fall apart.

He wore an unhurried grin and opened his mouth to say something more.

But Ethan didn't give him the chance. He readjusted his grip and drove straight in.

Clang!

The two swords collided again.

Ethan glanced at the blocked blade, bit down hard on his lip.

Then he pulled his sword hand back, letting the contact slide off, and surged toward Lloyd.

Whoosh!

It was only an instant. Ethan's breathing and movement fell out of sync—his arm jerked upward too fast, leaving his torso wide open beneath it.

Lloyd's eyes narrowed the moment he spotted the opening for a counter.

CLANG!

But the point where their swords met wasn't above the gap Ethan had exposed.

It was right in front of both their faces.

Lloyd slowly drained the smile from his expression and locked eyes with Ethan.

"What's got you in such a rush, Ethan?"

"......"

"Charging in without thinking wasn't enough—you dangled bait that could've easily turned into a fatal mistake. You wanted to break me that badly? Why?"

Ethan didn't answer. He only pressed his brow tighter and leaned more weight into the locked blades.

Lloyd watched him for a long moment, then let out a quiet scoff.

"...Ah, I get it. You're trying to shut me up."

It was instantaneous. Ethan's shoulder flinched.

Lloyd seized the crack in his composure and shoved hard against Ethan's crossed blade.

"...!"

The sudden shift threw Ethan backward, forcing him to stumble several steps.

For the first time, a flash of alarm crossed those perpetually calm gray eyes.

Lloyd took it in, then curled his lips in satisfaction.

Nothing's easier than overpowering someone who's shaken.

With that certainty, Lloyd pressed his attack in a fierce rush.

In the blink of an eye, he'd cut deep inside the engagement line, his blade streaking toward the corner of Ethan's eye.

Fwing!

A hair's breadth before it connected, Ethan wrenched his head aside and dodged the clean hit.

But the effort cost him his balance. He staggered.

An exposed, unmistakable opening.

Lloyd felt certain of a perfect victory.

CLANG!

A sharp crack of impact filled the training grounds.

---

Beneath the night sky steeped in darkness.

Only two people stood in the Combat Department's outdoor training grounds.

Ethan Welton and Lloyd Cloelle.

As if time itself had frozen, they faced each other without so much as a twitch.

"......"

...Lloyd's blade rested against Ethan's throat.

The instant Lloyd began to pull his lips into a grin to claim victory, a jolt of wrongness seized his awareness.

He dropped his gaze downward.

"...!"

Ethan's blade, laid horizontally at the exact angle to sever a wrist.

Lloyd's pupils blew wide at the sight. The tremor in his lips said everything his voice couldn't.

How... that's impossible...?

In that moment, the scene from a heartbeat ago flashed before Lloyd's eyes.

The instant he'd swung for Ethan's throat—a counter-strike that came back at him with speed and precision beyond anything he'd anticipated.

Eyes that tracked his movements with razor focus, even with the threat bearing down at point-blank range.

It was a display of skill he had never once seen from Ethan before.

"......"

Lloyd raised his head and looked at the person standing before him.

The gray eyes he met held their usual composure.

But the fingers clenched around the wooden sword had gone bone-white, and his breathing hitched in uneven, ragged intervals.

Judging by his state, that counter hadn't been something Ethan did consciously.

Whisper.

It was Lloyd who broke the silence first.

As Lloyd's blade drifted slowly downward, Ethan lowered his own sword without a word.

Lloyd watched Ethan breathe and steady himself, then quietly lifted the corner of his mouth. He was more than satisfied.

So his skill's grown.

This was the change he'd been hoping for. Anticipation that Ethan's true nature was finally beginning to surface stirred alongside a surge of competitive fire.

...Yes, this was the level Ethan needed to reach.

Brilliant potential. To properly fulfill his role as Lloyd's rival and the stepping stone for his own ascent.

Lloyd gripped his sword and let a private smile slip through.

Then Ethan straightened his posture and spoke, his voice even.

"Thanks. That was a good spar."

Lloyd swallowed what was really on his mind and answered with an easy grin.

"Same here. Pretty fun, actually. But more importantly."

Click.

Lloyd propped the wooden sword on his shoulder and added in a deliberately upbeat voice.

"The free mission period's coming up soon, right? If you're open to it, mind letting me join your team?"

"What?"

Ethan blinked, caught off guard, and Lloyd shrugged.

"I'm not planning to slack off this time around. On top of that, operating as a team is way more advantageous than going solo, right? Higher point allocations, plus a wider variety of missions you can take on."

"......"

"And if we're in the same class, we can sharpen our skills by syncing up during the partnership period. What do you say?"

Lloyd spoke with effortless fluency, eyes on Ethan across from him.

Ethan didn't show any sign of refusing the offer, but he didn't accept on the spot, either.

"......"

He lowered his eyes slowly. After a brief pause, he squeezed the wooden sword in his hand and spoke.

"I can't give you a definite answer right now. There's someone I need to talk to first."

---

A day passed after that.

The campus on a weekend afternoon was full of students soaking in the fine weather and their free time, faces bright with laughter.

But amid the easygoing atmosphere all around, one person moved forward in silence.

There's a lot I need to take care of.

Mikhail walked on, expressionless, deep in thought.