Chapter 46: Special Instructor (3)

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Chapter 46: Special Instructor (3)

"Hah."

A hollow laugh escaped from between Professor Elisha’s lips.

"What on earth makes him so confident?"

At this point, her curiosity about this candidate's identity outweighed her anger.

‘There doesn’t seem to be anything special about him at first glance.’

Even when she sharpened her “Clairvoyance” and scanned Dale’s entire body, she couldn’t detect any particular features.

The only noticeable thing was that the amount of mana felt from his Stigma was only about half of that of other candidates.

‘Having less mana isn’t an advantage, though.’

There’s a saying that too much can be as bad as too little, but when it comes to mana, the more, the better.

‘What could it be?’

He acted so confidently, as if he had some hidden trump card, but she had no clue what it might be.

"...Vincent."

"Yes, Professor."

"Don’t let your guard down."

She couldn’t tell what made him act this way, but Lucas Kane, the man she knew from their candidate days, did not show confidence without reason.

He must have something up his sleeve.

Until that was revealed, it was crucial not to be careless.

"I understand."

Vincent nodded respectfully and lowered his stance without drawing his sword.

“......”

Vincent eyed Dale sharply.

Dale glanced at Vincent and chuckled.

"You’re staring holes into me."

“......”

"You’re quite the quiet one, aren’t you, assistant?"

"And you talk too much."

Vincent coldly retorted, and Dale shrugged before continuing.

"Well, it doesn’t matter if I talk a lot or not, but with your lack of conversational skills, can you really give a lecture in place of Professor Lucas?"

"For practical combat training, talking isn’t necessary."

"Oh, right. I see."

"...What’s that supposed to mean?"

"Practical combat training was the name used before the curriculum was reorganized five years ago. Now, it’s called actual combat training."

"And what does that matter…?"

"What does it matter?" Seaʀch* The NôvelFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

It matters a lot.

"If you graduated five years ago, you’ve been an active hero for at least five years. Yet, there aren’t many small scars on your arms or hands."

For a hero who has been active for five years to have few scars, it means one of two things.

Either they are overwhelmingly strong and avoid even small injuries, or their combat style doesn’t allow for wounds.

"Despite being warned not to let your guard down, you haven’t drawn your sword and have taken an exaggeratedly low stance compared to other swordsmen…"

Dale glanced at the scabbard hanging on Vincent’s left hip and nodded.

"Is your specialty a quick-draw technique focused on short, decisive battles?"

Vincent’s face stiffened, as if Dale had hit the mark.

"Sss."

As if he didn’t want to talk any further, Vincent let out a short breath and gripped his sword hilt.

Silver mana burst from his Stigma, enveloping his entire body.

‘He’s certainly skilled at handling mana.’

Evenly distributing mana throughout his body without focusing on one area showed that Vincent’s control over mana was expert.

‘But still, it’s not enough.’

Dale relaxed completely and focused his mana into his Stigma.

“......”

Vincent's expression contorted as he observed Dale’s nonchalant stance.

Storing mana in the Stigma without distributing it throughout the body in a combat situation was like an athlete standing still without getting into a starting position before a race.

Dale's posture seemed to say, 'I can beat you even like this,' and a thick vein bulged on Vincent’s forehead.

"Let’s see how long you can stay that arrogant."

Thud!

With a sound like a drumbeat, Vincent surged forward.

In the blink of an eye, Vincent was in front of Dale, drawing his sword.

Flash!

A silver streak of light shot out at terrifying speed.

Dale watched the direction of Vincent’s blade intently and channeled the mana stored in his Stigma into his left leg, right arm, and sword.

Clang!

He planted his left foot to brace himself and blocked the silver streak head-on.

Normally, given the difference in their mana levels, it would’ve been impossible for Dale to block Vincent’s strike directly.

However, he managed to parry the attack by concentrating mana only in the necessary areas rather than spreading it throughout his body.

“What the…!”

Professor Elisha’s eyes widened as she watched the fight unfold.

To control mana with such precision—using just the right amount, at just the right moment, in just the right place—against Vincent’s quick-draw technique?

Even if they had rehearsed the attack beforehand, pulling off such a feat would’ve been almost impossible.

“Ugh!”

Vincent grimaced as his initial strike was blocked, then stepped back to create distance.

His specialty was the quick-draw, a technique that exploited brief openings.

After launching an attack, however, there was a momentary pause while resetting.

But—

"When you retreat, you shouldn’t focus solely on your opponent."

Otherwise, you leave your footing vulnerable.

“Hup!”

Berald’s Combat Arts.

Earth Shaker.

Rumble!

With a powerful stomp, the floor of the training ground where Vincent was about to step split open.

It wasn’t like when Dale had drunk the Stigma-amplifier and shook the entire ground, but—

‘This is enough for now.’

He channeled more mana into his hand gripping the sword.

“Ugh!”

Vincent lost his balance momentarily as the ground beneath him cracked.

Though he quickly regained his footing—he was, after all, a seasoned hero—it was already too late.

"You're too late."

I concentrated mana into both legs and kicked off the ground.

Wind Step.

It felt as if my body was being hurled forward, racing through empty space.

“Haa.”

I exhaled a low breath and gripped my sword.

The mana, which had been concentrated in my legs, naturally flowed upward along my meridians and gathered at the blade.

A gray aura burned along the sword's edge.

Though its size and brightness paled in comparison to the silver aura that shone on Professor Vincent’s sword.

‘This should be enough.’

What’s important in battle isn’t who possesses the stronger power.

Just as it doesn’t matter whether a human has a hole the size of their head or the size of a finger—either way, death is certain.

[Translator - Night]

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As long as there is enough power to wound your opponent, what matters next is how you wield that power.

Slash!

A flashing, ashen light.

“Ugh!”

Professor Vincent staggered backward, clutching his bleeding forearm.

Clang.

The sword in his hand fell to the ground, rolling with a clear metallic sound.

“…I’ve lost.”

Professor Vincent bit his lip hard and lowered his head.

“…….”

“…….”

Silence settled over the training ground.

I could feel the shocked stares focusing on me.

“What on earth is this…?”

Professor Elisha trailed off, as if unable to believe what she was seeing.

She turned on her Hero Watch and repeatedly checked my information listed in the cadet roster.

“…How… how did this happen, Professor Lucas?”

Elisha demanded, glaring at Professor Lucas for an answer.

“Ah… um. Ahem! Didn’t I tell you? His rank is lower than his actual skill.”

“Do you think this is something that can be brushed off with such a comment?”

“Umm….”

Lucas swallowed nervously at Elisha’s sharp rebuke.

In truth, he was just as taken aback by the situation.

‘I knew Dale would win, but….’

Dale had once forced Lucas to use his "Blessing of the Blood Warrior" when his mana was much weaker than it was now.

Given how much Dale’s mana had increased since then, Lucas had expected him to beat Professor Vincent.

‘But to win so overwhelmingly…’

Honestly, even Lucas himself wasn’t confident that he could defeat Dale at this point.

‘How could he have grown this much in just a month?’

While lost in thought, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“…Professor Lucas? Didn’t you hear what I said?”

“Ah, yes. My apologies, senior.”

“Haah, forget it. Judging by your expression, you’re just as clueless as I am.”

Elisha sighed deeply and shook her head.

Professor Lucas cautiously approached her and asked,

“So… about what you mentioned earlier regarding resigning….”

“That was just a joke.”

“Pardon?”

“Isn’t it obvious? While a special instructor does have more authority than a regular professor, they certainly don’t have the power to dismiss one.”

“…….”

“I just wanted to see you flustered for the first time in a while, though I didn’t expect things to turn out like this….”

Elisha lit the cigarette in her mouth, crossing her arms.

“Wait, so that was actually a joke, senior?”

Lucas stared at her incredulously.

Who in the world would make a joke with such a serious expression?

“Of course, there was some intent to provoke you. After all, the cadets' abilities were undeniably lacking.”

“Well….”

Lucas groaned, unable to find a counterargument.

Indeed, apart from irregulars like Dale and Yuren Helios, the current third-year cadets were, to put it bluntly, below average.

‘Especially since last year’s third-year cadets were exceptional, making the comparison even starker.’

In any case.

Now that he knew everything was a misunderstanding, Lucas felt embarrassed for having been so worked up.

“But… even I didn’t expect this kind of result.”

Elisha clicked her tongue as she glanced at Vincent, who was still gripping his bleeding arm and hanging his head in shame.

While Vincent wasn’t one of the continent's top 100 ranked heroes, he had enough real battle experience, especially with demons, to be considered a veteran hero.

Who would have thought he’d lose so helplessly like this?

“Could it be that Yuren Helios is in disguise?”

“Yuren Helios is in Class A for ‘Practical Combat Training.’ We’re in Class C. And just look at him. Does that guy remotely resemble the peerless, handsome hero who shook the continent?”

“Hmm. Well, personally, Dale is more my type.”

“What?”

“Anyway. If that candidate at the bottom of the roster has this much power….”

Elisha’s violet eyes flashed with a chilling glint.

“More thorough verification is necessary.”

“Verification… you don’t mean….”

“You know what my blessing is, don’t you?”

“W-Wait, surely not…!”

Before the flustered Lucas could stop her, Professor Elisha strode towards me.

“Cadet Dale.”

“Yes, Professor?”

“There’s something I need to confirm. Come closer.”

“……?”

I tilted my head, puzzled, and approached her.

Whoosh!

“……!”

Before I could react, Professor Elisha grabbed me roughly by the collar.

Then.

“Mmph?!”

Her lips overlapped with mine.

Her tongue greedily invaded my mouth, sweeping through it hungrily.

[PR/N: Noooo that should’ve been meeeeee!!!]

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