Ch.23Who Is Your Mother?

The greatsword and axe, clashing with all their might, finally reached their limit and let out a final scream.

Crushed steel left a flash of light, and dust rose like a wave.

As fragments settled like mist, they gently concealed the two figures.

Perhaps because of this, the audience couldn’t clearly tell who the winner was.

The spectators remained silent, anxiously waiting for the obstructions blocking their view to settle.

I narrowed my eyes, staring intently as if trying to pierce through the dust.

Through the hazy yellow veil, their figures gradually came into view.

The two stood frozen, close together as if embracing.

Demian, breathing heavily, held his broken greatsword against Knut’s neck, while Knut’s axe was stopped near Demian’s waist.

Though Demian’s quilted armor was tattered with embedded wood and metal fragments, likely from the sword shards, neither showed any significant visible injuries.

Demian frowned slightly in frustration, but Knut maintained the same stoic expression he had before the fight.

For someone who had been invoking the name of the war god, he seemed remarkably detached from the outcome.

Like someone who had expected this result all along.

“A true stalemate. I wonder if I should call it impressive…”

“So who won?”

Kalix Terban placed his fist under his chin and tilted his head slightly.

“Hmm… Normally, when a weapon breaks, it’s considered a loss. However, that young man’s broken greatsword is still as long as a regular sword, so in a real battle, he could have taken the other’s head. It’s quite ambiguous to judge.”

Indeed, in a real battle, while Demian’s waist might have been cut, Knut would have lost his head as well.

The supervising examiners seemed to share this thought, as they didn’t immediately announce a decision but discussed it among themselves for quite some time.

Eventually, one examiner handed both of them blue cloths signifying victory.

A draw, then.

Certainly, both were talents too valuable to casually declare as losers, so there was no reason to rule either as defeated.

I breathed a sigh of relief. This was more or less the best outcome for me too.

If judged strictly by principle, Demian would have lost since his weapon broke.

While I doubted Demian would fail the entrance exam just because of one defeat, with the variable of Knut already in play, who knows?

The two received their cloths, nodded to each other in acknowledgment, handed their broken weapons to the examiner, and returned to the waiting area.

The audience’s cheers followed them as they left, celebrating the spectacular battle they had shown.

“A draw, how rare. Well, they’ve already proven their undeniable talent, so I suppose the academy is being greedy.”

Kalix laughed lightly as he watched them.

“So they’ll both pass, right?”

Asha seemed excited, as if the two’s battle had inspired a flood of fresh ideas.

“Most likely, Lady Asha. I doubt they’ll lose to any other participants.”

“I’d like to take that Dane to the north later. He’d fight well against those Werebeasts. Maybe I should mention it to Father.”

Frider van Faelrun nodded repeatedly with satisfaction.

Planning to send someone to the frontlines using the Duke’s power just because she took a liking to them—truly a cruel approach befitting a villainess.

They all seemed pleased about those two entering the academy.

While I was nothing but troubled.

Demian’s skills were better than I expected.

Though I lack expertise in judging combat, according to Kalix, his abilities were in the upper tier among knights.

With training at the academy, he could probably reach Master level within two years.

Considering what’s to come, Master level is just a passing point.

The problem is that he’s this skilled with just a greatsword.

That means he’s been focusing solely on greatsword combat.

Originally, Demian’s greatest strength was his tactical versatility.

Depending on how he was developed, he could choose from a wide range of combat styles beyond pure melee—magic swordsman, spirit swordsman, even paladin or assassin.

Unlike other NPC characters who typically specialized in just one area, he had talent in all fields to ensure player-character-like freedom.

Usually, how efficiently you planned your build in the early stages determined the difficulty later…

Pure greatsword warrior wasn’t recommended because it lacked versatility for different situations.

Maybe I should try to befriend him and suggest, “Greatswords are good, but magic might suit you too. Why not try learning it?”

Though it would be his own chosen combat style, so I’m not sure if my few words could persuade him.

It would be completely different from game characters who acted without complaint according to player commands.

These people are living real lives.

—-

The rest of the entrance exam proceeded without any special incidents.

I believe they said the four-day exam was divided by departments, yet somehow only close-combat classes appeared.

Though there weren’t any powerhouses like Demian and Knut, I made note of several characters I recognized from the original work.

I tried to find those two after the exam, but they had already left for their lodgings.

At night, I returned to the mansion and practiced swordsmanship with Nigel.

With wooden swords, of course.

Gradually, I could consciously respond to Nigel’s sword without relying on instinct.

It might be just my feeling, but Imperial swordsmanship seemed to be becoming familiar at a remarkably fast pace.

Almost as if I were recalling forgotten memories.

So, did Hersella know Imperial swordsmanship all along?

If so, when and from whom?

Faced with this unsolved question, I examined the longsword I usually carried.

If anything could provide a clue, it would be this sword.

The silver Imperial-style longsword I’d had since the possession.

Come to think of it, it’s been a while since I drew this sword.

For my first duel with Nigel, I used a longsword from the training room, and after that, only wooden swords.

The last time I drew it was probably when I met Sean at the wall.

I placed the longsword on my left hand and examined it carefully.

At the end of the long hilt, designed for two-handed wielding, was a sharp diamond-shaped metal ornament.

In the middle of the one-and-a-half-span crossguard, a small sapphire sparkled.

The blade, about 90cm long, had a subtle blue glow, and on the inner side of the blade was an engraved Imperial sentence:

‘L’une des douze épées qui défendent l’humanité. Médiane’

‘One of the twelve swords that protect humanity. Median’

Median.

Certainly, when Sean was discussing my mother, there was such a word in the conversation he secretly had with the Marquis…

So this might be the family name of Hersella’s mother, Imelia.

Imelia de Median.

Still, a name I’d never heard before.

If “twelve swords” refers to Carlos the Great’s Twelve Knights?

The Wall of Berengaria was briefly mentioned to be named after one of them, but it wasn’t emphasized much in the setting.

But if Imelia de Median is a descendant of the Twelve Knights, she would certainly be of significant lineage from the Empire’s perspective.

I should keep this information secret for now.

I can’t tell whether others would react positively or negatively.

Imelia of House Median. I’ll remember this and look into it later.

When the time comes, I’ll understand why Marquis Ludwig Wilhelm von Landenburg tried to hide the truth about Imelia from me.

—-

The next day’s magic exam wasn’t a duel, but a test measuring mana capacity and casting speed by destroying targets created with illusion magic.

There was only one notable person.

The red-haired female mage who passed the entrance exam in fourth place.

She was a tall beauty wearing an elaborate purple dress with gold embroidery at the edges, covered by a black shawl over her shoulders.

A delicately crafted dagger hung at her waist, and elegant fingers extended from the silk gloves covering her arms.

One of the main characters.

The second daughter of Count Sigmillus, Ophelia van Sigmillus.

With a casual wave of her hand, barely looking at the targets, eight targets simultaneously shattered.

Her luxuriant red hair swayed gently at her collarbone.

An attack magic that showed only results without any special precursors or anomalous phenomena.

A typical characteristic of wind attribute magic.

After being declared passed, Ophelia took out a long mana herb, exhaled smoke, and left the examination hall.

Kalix briefly muttered that while her skills were good, she seemed quite undisciplined.

The third day’s battle theology exam was conducted privately, so we couldn’t observe it.

As expected of the religious cartel.

I was personally quite curious about what criteria they used to evaluate the abilities of priest and paladin candidates. Honestly, it’s a bit disappointing.

In the end, Nigel and I spent the day riding in a carriage around the island, purchasing items we might need.

Just a few sets of clothes and ten boxes of mana herbs, yet half of the living expenses provided by the Marquis had disappeared.

Nigel stared at me intently, as if telling me to smoke moderately.

Though he didn’t say anything, I couldn’t meet his dark, unwavering gaze and pretended not to notice.

…Maybe I should visit the Adventurer Guild later. Though I doubt I’ll have time for that.

Since the last day’s tactics exam was a written test, I spent the entire day at the mansion practicing swordsmanship.

Imperial swordsmanship was becoming completely familiar to me.

I still couldn’t achieve Nigel’s fluid sword movements, but at least I could reproduce the core essence of the techniques.

“Excellent. This is as far as I can teach you. From now on, you can train yourself through actual combat.”

Nigel nodded in admiration as he put down his sword.

My cheeks tingled with pride.

That night, I was able to sleep soundly for the first time in a while.

Morning came.

—-

“Lord Haschal, are you ready?”

Finally, the day before the entrance ceremony. The day to move into the academy dormitory had arrived.

The Special Hall, they called it.

Among the academy’s four dormitories—Special Hall, General Hall, Theology Hall, and Annex—it was the smallest but offered the best living conditions, exclusively for special admission students.

I had grown somewhat accustomed to this mansion. That was the only regret.

“Yes, I’m ready. Nigel, have you packed everything?”

“Yes. Seven sets of clothing and those nine boxes of mana herbs. All weapons, consumables, and identification documents are prepared.”

He seemed to emphasize the words “mana herbs.” Must be my imagination?

We boarded the carriage amid the servants’ farewells and headed back to the academy.

The carriage could be kept in the Special Hall’s parking area from now on.

It was essentially on indefinite loan to me.

Thanks to our early start, the academy’s main gate was fortunately quiet.

The knights guarding the gate were leaning against the wall, engaged in casual conversation.

When Nigel drove the carriage closer and showed the identification documents to the knights, they opened the gate and let us through.

I glanced at the decoration above the main gate, then closed my eyes.

The cradle that protects the nation.

I used to say I would gladly re-enlist if only they could restore my legs, but I never imagined it would happen in this form.