Chapter 50

Chapter 50

From Cosmic Rascal to Professor.

Episode 50: Duel (3).

“During class time, you’re as idle as a beached whale! Stand up now!”

“Yes, yes.”

“Take a wooden sword. I will personally instruct you.”

As Aidel staggered to his feet, his eyes were as clouded as those of a dying fish. Clark sighed deeply.

Such students are often the first to perish.

What good is academic prowess if they don’t train diligently? Without proper training, they’ll surely fall to monsters.

“Assume a stance.”

“Like this?”

“Clumsy.”

His center of gravity was established, but that was about it. His body was present, yet the coordination of his limbs was a mess.

“We’ll need to do some pruning,” Clark declared.

He meticulously adjusted Aidel’s entire posture. Utilizing Aidel’s tall stature, he stretched his legs further apart and aligned his waist with his center, ensuring it was straight. He then instructed Aidel to raise his hands higher so that the sword’s tip aligned with eye level.

Aidel trembled as he responded.

“Please spare me.”

“Good. Maintain that form.”

“Please spare me.”

“Come now, don’t be so dramatic. In the army, they have you hold that position all day.”

“Please spare me.”

Aidel was teachable to a certain extent, but it couldn’t be said that he had a knack for physical activities. He was decidedly average.

That was his assessment until they began the actual sparring.

“Try attacking.”

“Really?”

“I am an Omega. Stop talking and just attack, will you?”

No sooner had the words left his mouth, Aidel charged at the instructor. He assumed it would be easy to dodge, given the simplicity and visibility of the movement. Confidently, he lifted his sword, thinking the block would be straightforward.

But the energy of the sword twisted unexpectedly.

Suddenly, his vision blurred, a sensation akin to paralysis of thought. False strikes seemed real and real ones appeared false, an unfamiliar experience.

As he regained consciousness, a cool breeze brushed past the right side of his temple. Aidel’s wooden sword halted mere inches from striking the instructor’s temporal lobe.

“Instructor?”

“Uh? Uh?”

Odd, dumbfounded noises escaped from Clark’s mouth.

“Did you really not even react to my attack?”

“…No, I let you.”

“Come on, you’re just saying that. You didn’t even move. If I had gone a bit further, you would have passed out, right?”

It had been a long time since Clark had displayed such an obvious weakness. Even when capturing incarnates, he had never reacted this clumsily.

His shoulders felt stiff. The stigma engraved on his back trembled. The Sagittarius Zodiac King, one of the 12 Zodiac Kings with whom Clark had made a contract with, shivered and sent a status message urging special caution.

It wasn’t just an ordinary constellation, but a Zodiac King that was trembling..

At the sight of something he had never witnessed before, Clark couldn’t even register Aidel’s mocking tone.

Choosing to stay behind and ask Clark for guidance proved to be the right decision. Indeed, my form had improved significantly compared to when I was learning from Rustila.

What remained for the day was to observe her duel.

While Welton relentlessly pursued victory against his classmate Matus, childhood friends Merlin and Christine alternated between wins and losses. Rustila and Zelnya continued their evenly matched spar.

Rustila, moving more cautiously than the previous day, dashed in a curve the moment Zelnya showed an opening.

However, it was a trap. Zelnya—fluid like water—repelled Rustila, who was diving towards her.

The subsequent stabbing attack was swift and precise.

“Kuak!”

Rustila groaned as she stepped back, clutching her stomach that had been injured the day before.

Zelnya didn’t miss the opportunity.

The difference in skill often determined the outcome of a duel. Zelnya was adept at distinguishing between a feigned weakness and a genuine vulnerability. Her sword strikes now surged like relentless waves.

“Ack…!”

Rustila screamed and fell back. Soon, Zelnya’s sword blade was pressed against her neck, and a heavy iron mass hovered ominously close to her shoulder.

“Sis!”

Ceti, who had been training with her peers, rushed over. I intercepted her midway and managed to calm her down.

Zelnya sheathed her sword and brushed her hair back with a defiant gesture.

“You need to recognize the difference in class.”

“…”

“If you have any conscience, return to your original class. That’s the best path for you, blondie.”

Rustila hung her head low.

It was her second defeat. It must have been a heavy blow.

Strictly speaking, since Zelnya was the instigator, Rustila had no reason to be disheartened. However, for someone whose life revolved around the sword, being embroiled in a dispute was detrimental.

I helped Rustila to her feet as she struggled to rise.

“Ugh”

“Are you alright?”

“My side is…”

Rustila winced and broke out in a cold sweat. It seemed necessary to take her to a hospital.

After undergoing a routine check-up and completing the straightforward admission process at Amor General Hospital, one of the top ten hospitals in the South operated by the Reinhardt family, Rustila’s admission fee was covered by tapping into Ceti’s allowance.

Once confined to a single room and changed into a patient gown, Rustila stared blankly out the window. Beyond the dome-shaped glass, the vast expanse of the cosmos unfolded like a silken tapestry.

“I’ve finished writing the sick leave. Take a good rest now,” Instructor Clark said as he scratched his head and sat down beside Rustila and Ceti. He took a few apples from the fruit basket and began to eat them hungrily.

“How fiercely did you fight to end up with a cracked rib?” he asked.

I snatched the apple that was about to go into Clark’s mouth and bit into it before replying, “They are natural enemies.”

“You’ve got issues with Adelwein? That must be tough. So, what caused the fallout with that kid?”

“Don’t know,” I replied curtly.

The hostile ties between Zelnya and Rustila were well-known within ‘SOG’. There was no need to justify their hostility.

I just thought it was about time they fought since they were always at odds anyway.

“Why are there such people in the world? Just by looking at each other’s faces, they want to beat each other to death…” I mused.

“Ah, I get what you mean. My wife does that to me for no reason,” Clark added with a wry smile.

“What does she say?”

“She tells me to go and die every day.”

“I also know that feeling,” I responded, feeling a pang of recognition.

Clark chuckled and handed me another apple. I carved it neatly with a carving knife and arranged the slices on a plate, ready to eat.

“What would a young kid like you know about such feelings?” Clark asked half-jokingly.

“My family used to tell me to die every day,” I said quietly.

“Yah, that is a different case, you know,” Clark replied, his tone softening.

Ceti made a face as if she had been wronged and tried to interject, but the conversation had already veered off course.

I handed the neatly carved apples to Rustila and Ceti. As if they were real sisters, they scratched their cheeks simultaneously and quickly cleaned up the plate.

I peeled another apple, this time deciding to change my style by using a bread knife. Ceti looked at me with disdain as if questioning what bizarre thing I was doing, yet she remained silent.

But peeling it like this was also part of the training.

Originally, I had only intended to learn the correct techniques of swordsmanship from Instructor Clark. However, by chance, he took an interest in me and promised more detailed instructions.

The reason he was sitting in the hospital room with Rustila was actually because of me.

It was a fortunate turn of events. After leading the conversation for a while, I naturally shifted the topic.

“How is Rustila doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“As a swordsman. Do you see any possibility of her defeating Zelnya?”

Rustila, who had been absentmindedly munching on apple slices, turned her head. The mention of swords triggered an almost spinal reflex in her, which I found quite endearing.

Instructor Clark sighed and said, “Honestly, it is tough.”

It wasn’t that there was a lack of talent but rather that the technique relied heavily on brute force. There was no finesse, just raw violence.

According to the instructor, this level might be enough to defeat an A-grade monster, but competing against an S-grade or higher monster was out of the question.

Naturally, Rustila was utterly devastated and buried her face in her hands. It must have been disappointing to hear that she would have to abandon the swordsmanship she had believed in and trained in if she wanted to progress as a swordsman.

“You have no choice but to start from the beginning. For your information, my technique relies mostly on standard methods. I hardly had any talent either, which is why I stubbornly followed the paths others laid out and climbed up.”

It was a boast, in a way, but also the truth. Professor Feynman said something similar, didn’t he? Ultimately, to reach the top of any field, one must diligently start from the basics.

“But it’s the style I have been learning from the constellation all this time…” Rustila murmured, her voice tinged with reluctance.

“I understand your point. However, you can’t blindly accept everything the Constellations say as truth, especially if they possess the rationality and benevolence required to forge a contract. What will you do if they collude with an Outer God and succumb to corruption?”

Admittedly, such incidents are rare, but they are not impossible. Yet, Vega of Rustila maintains such purity that only direct absorption by a black hole could taint her—and even that is highly unlikely.

In essence, Rustila’s path is also just.

Clark must recognize this deep down. Rustila is a student beyond his ability to teach. Therefore, he should introduce her to another swordsman, one who possesses a distinctly higher level of skill.

At that moment, an idea struck him.

He clapped his hands together and began, “My wife, you know…”

Even after being discharged, Rustila continued to challenge Zelnya.

Zelnya’s skills were overwhelming, and Rustila struggled to last many rounds; she was fortunate if she could clash ten times.

“So boring.”

A month had passed, and today, like every other, ended with Zelnya’s victory. She frowned as she lowered the sword she had placed on Rustila’s shoulder.

“Let’s stop this. I am utterly sick of someone like you.”

“…Let’s duel once more. Set a date.”

“You still haven’t come to your senses?”

Zelnya was finished with this as well.

Originally, she had no particular feelings about welcoming or disliking anyone entering the elite class, whether it was Rustila or anyone else. After all, she was destined to be first, unrivaled by anyone.

She felt no kinship with the others merely because they studied together.

But her indifference shattered like glass.

Aidel, the boy she uniquely—and to a significant extent—acknowledged, was getting along with Rustila.

Aidel, currently superior to her, was growing close to Rustila, who was beneath her. The fact that someone she considered beneath her was associating with her superior wounded Zelnya’s pride.

Moreover, it was utterly beneath her.

There was a real risk that other students would start looking down on her due to a nobody like Rustila associating with Aidel.

Such a thing must not happen.

“Get lost.”

Zelnya glared at Rustila with murderous eyes. Rustila gritted her teeth and stepped out of Zelnya’s shadow.

“Whew.”

That would suffice.

With that, the matter was settled.

Now that Rustila had been firmly put in her place, she would keep her distance from Aidel.

All that remained was for Zelnya to dethrone the top student and claim that coveted position for herself.

The anticipated midterm evaluation was fast approaching.