Chapter 77 (1) - A Depressed Kendo Player Possesses a Bastard Aristocrat

Bonus chapter thanks to '@RisingGunn' for subscription to 'Iron Will' tier on Ko-fi.The atmosphere swirled violently.

A frigid winter wind, sharp as a blade, sliced through the silence.

It wasn’t just a literary expression.

Shards of wind, honed to a razor’s edge, were literally bombarding me.

“Hurricane Chains.”

—Clank!!

Following the girl's incantation, chains of emerald light materialized in the air.

As I watched the chains descend with a deafening clang, I braced myself for the impact.

My sword tip danced gracefully, drawing a long arc in the air.

Suppressing any tremors in my hand, I executed the technique flawlessly, as if painting a masterpiece.

Even with the attack closing in, my world remained tranquil, undisturbed by even a hint of trepidation.

—Clang! Screech…!!

The magic, aimed squarely at my shoulder, collided with steel, erupting in a cacophony of sound.

It writhed and bucked, desperate to pierce my defenses, but slid harmlessly off my blade.

The chains, their trajectory broken, flew off course, embedding themselves in the nearby wall.

I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment as I watched the harmless mana constructs fall away.

《What a clean defense from Young Master Lishite! As expected of the Hero of the Academy!!》

The announcer’s excited voice boomed through the arena, causing me to frown.

Can’t he just be quiet…?

It’s hard enough to concentrate on the match without his constant commentary.

Pushing down my annoyance, I resumed my stance.

Across from me stood the girl with crimson eyes, her gaze fixed on me with unwavering intensity.

With each flicker of mana around her, her silver hair shimmered brilliantly.

“…You’re tougher than I thought.”

Margaret, her lips pressed into a thin line, finally broke the silence.

It seemed her pride had been wounded by her inability to land a single blow.

“Thank you for the compliment.”

I replied curtly and launched myself forward.

Margaret hesitated momentarily at my sudden aggression, then gracefully matched my advance.

In her hand, a spear formed from swirling wind materialized.

It seemed she had no intention of relying solely on ranged attacks like a typical mage.

A magic-wielding swordsman… Interesting.

My interest piqued, I swung my sword.

It was a sudden attack, but Margaret calmly angled her spear, deflecting my blow.

She didn’t even flinch as the distance between us closed.

For a mage, her close-combat skills were impressive.

As expected of the top student of the Magic Department.

Margaret’s fighting style differed greatly from that of ordinary mages.

She wasn’t content with simply bombarding her opponents from afar. She actively sought close-quarters combat.

Even as we exchanged blows, she seamlessly weaved in surprise attacks with wind arrows and chains, attempting to disrupt my rhythm.

A battle mage, perhaps…?

Whatever she was, her fighting style was undeniably refined.

I blocked a series of spear thrusts, the clashing of our weapons sending sparks flying.

Wind arrows, conjured from thin air, whizzed past my head, but I effortlessly dodged them with a tilt of my head.

“You’re quite skilled.”

“Don’t patronize me…! You’re dodging everything!”

Well, I meant it as a compliment.

Of course, I was speaking from the perspective of an Academy student.

Her skills were nowhere near my level.

At best, she was probably on par with the Golden Boy.

《Incredible! A true clash of titans!》

《What a dazzling display of swordsmanship and magic!》

《This is the first time we’ve seen such a high-level match!》

The announcer’s voice continued to assault my ears.

I focused on maintaining my rhythm, my sword moving with practiced ease.

—Clang! Clank…!

The only sounds that filled the air were the clash of steel and the roar of the crowd.

As the intensity of our exchange grew, so did the cheers of the spectators.

—This is insane!

—I had no idea Lady Phyler had such precise mana control…

—And Young Master Lishite is deflecting all of her attacks with ease…

Sword and wind collided relentlessly.

The cacophony of our battle echoed through the training grounds.

***

“Huff… Huff…”

Margaret staggered slightly as she tried to catch her breath.

Her legs trembled, as her stamina neared its limit.

As she struggled to regain her balance, a familiar voice reached her ears.

“You seem tired.”

She looked up, wiping the sweat from her brow, and saw the black-haired boy standing before her. S~ᴇaʀᴄh the ɴ0velFɪre.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of nøvels early and in the highest quality.

He stood calmly, his breathing steady and even.

Margaret gritted her teeth and raised her arm, refusing to admit defeat.

“I’m… not… tired…!”

Her trembling fingers channeled her remaining mana.

Emerald chains materialized in an instant, writhing and coiling as they shot towards the boy.

But…

—Clang!! Thud…

Her attack was effortlessly deflected, leaving her with a sense of crushing defeat.

Margaret clicked her tongue in frustration.

She had reached her limit.

《It seems the tide has turned! Young master Lishite has taken complete control of the match!》

《Could this be due to his unexpectedly superior skills…?》

‘Shut up…’

Margaret muttered under her breath, massaging her cramping hand.

Raiden watched her for a moment, then spoke in a low voice, inaudible to anyone else.

“Perhaps you should stop now.”

“…Don’t mock me.”

“I’m not mocking you. I’m merely concerned for your well-being…”

“What…?”

Margaret’s brows furrowed reflexively, her crimson eyes blazing with anger.

Concerned for me?

What nonsense is he spouting?

“How… dare you…”

She was about to retort, her voice laced with venom when a memory flashed through her mind.

The memory of Raiden saving her during the attack on the field trip.

“…...”

“…Lady Margaret?”

The memory choked her words, leaving her speechless.

“Just… Leave me alone.”

In the end, her emotions remained bottled up, unexpressed.

Desperate to push down the turmoil within her, Margaret drew upon her remaining mana.

As she clenched her fist, her mind raced.

.

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