"Hoo."
A rough breath escaped between Aron's lips.
He swept back his sweat-soaked hair and lowered his stance. The new practice sword in his hand felt heavy.
The memory of bringing down the Grade 4 Ironclad Wolf a short while ago had long since been pushed from his mind.
He did not remember the thrill of victory.
His woefully inadequate mobility. The tiny openings that followed each attack. His magic power and stamina, both far below everyone else's.
Only those shortcomings remained, painfully etched into his very skin.
'I need to move faster and more cleanly.'
Aron pushed off the ground again.
The paths of his practice sword's thrusts poured through the air like raindrops.
His training was simple and grueling. He was not releasing dazzling sword energy or honing complicated combinations.
He repeated only the basics: thrust at an enemy's vital point along the shortest path and immediately draw back his sword.
He knew those basics were the only weapon that would protect him in real combat.
***
In front of the central noticeboard on the academy parade ground, a crowd of first-year students had gathered, murmuring.
"Hey. Did you see the matchups? I'm screwed from my very first opponent."
"Seriously. Why's the practical evaluation right after the written exam?"
"My rank's going to drop hard this time, isn't it? This is maddening."
It was a notice for the Midterm Comprehensive Evaluation.
Their overall rankings would be recalculated from their written exam, magic power control, physical fitness, and results in three individual sparring matches. It was an important event. In these matches, the first to land three valid hits or force a surrender would win. If a fighter clearly gained control of a vital point or the other could no longer fight, the instructor would decide the outcome immediately.
Aron moved through the crowd with an impassive face.
His gaze fell on the current rankings posted on the board.
[Overall Rank: 276th - Aron]
He had received substantial bonus points for the practical evaluation after the Ironclad Wolf subjugation and had scored quite well on the written exam, but he was still only 276th.
His physical fitness and magic power control scores had been so low at the start that they held him back.
Of course, it was a great leap from the 312th place he had occupied when he enrolled, perpetually at the bottom. But he had no intention of being satisfied with that.
'Where's the matchup list?'
Aron looked down and checked the opponents listed beside his name.
His first opponent was Nail, ranked 268th. His main weapons were twin swords.
His second opponent was Garon, ranked 251st, a warrior who used a spear and shield.
His third and final opponent would be assigned at random on-site according to that day's evaluation results.
'Nail. Garon.'
Aron repeated their names to himself.
Ordinarily, he would have visited the library or the training grounds to observe and analyze his opponents' fighting styles in advance. This time, he had no time at all.
The schedule was tight: the matches would begin that very afternoon.
That meant he would have to size up his opponents in the middle of actual combat.
'This actually works out.'
Aron's eyes cooled.
It was a good chance to test how quickly his ability to analyze could find a meaningful weakness in real time, without the benefit of prior observation.
Without lingering at the board, he turned and walked toward one side of the parade ground.
*
By afternoon, the parade ground was seething with excitement.
The clang of colliding metal and fighters' shouts rang out from the sparring stages set up all around it.
In front of the Fifth Sparring Ground.
As Aron stepped onto the stage, a male student carrying twin silver swords approached from the other side. It was Nail, ranked 268th.
"Aron."
Nail twirled his swords lightly and grinned.
"I heard you got lucky and picked up some points lately. But you know luck won't win you a real sparring match, right?"
Without answering, Aron adjusted his grip on his practice sword. There was no reason to respond to every petty taunt.
"Ready!"
The evaluating instructor's sharp voice came from outside the stage.
Aron steadied his breathing and took in Nail's entire body.
"Begin!"
The signal had barely sounded when Nail rushed in.
The rapid, dazzling attacks of his twin swords came at Aron's upper and lower body in alternation.
CLANG—! CLANG-CLANG—!
Aron extended his sword in short movements, deflecting the incoming blades at an angle.
Rather than meeting them with force, he used his opponent's momentum to turn them off course with the smallest possible defense.
At the same time, familiar, hazy letters began to appear before his eyes.
[Analyzing target.......]
But no fatal weakness or way through appeared immediately.
Aron narrowed his eyes as he narrowly evaded a downward strike from Nail's crossed swords.
[Left/right attack ratio: 6:4]
[Right foot moves first when retreating]
[Weight pitched forward]
In the first thirty seconds, only fragments of basic information like these appeared.
They described his opponent's sword habits and physical balance, but none was a decisive weakness that would end the match in one stroke.
'The ability doesn't spoon-feed me everything.'
Aron stepped back and knocked the twin swords aside once more.
He did not force a counterattack. Concentrating on economical footwork and defense, he kept a relentless eye on his opponent's movements.
He already knew that the longer he observed, the more data he would gather and the faster the analysis would proceed.
The problem was surviving long enough.
"What? Are you just going to dodge?"
Nail breathed hard and drove the pace of his attacks as high as he could.
He seemed to think Aron had been forced onto the defensive and could not even strike back.
From Nail's perspective, he had every reason to believe victory was assured. His twin swords spun faster and faster, and the frequency of his blows rose explosively.
The unrelenting wind of blades skimmed perilously close to Aron's shoulder and waist.
CLANG—! CLAAANG—!
Metallic clashes rang out without pause.
Yet Aron, focused on defense, looked calmer than ever.
The more freely Nail attacked, the more sharply the rate at which data gathered before Aron's eyes climbed.
'If I draw out his attacks, the analysis speeds up a lot.'
Aron deliberately showed small openings, making his opponent move along particular paths.
As Nail swung his swords with growing enthusiasm, the text before Aron's eyes rapidly changed shape and updated.
A minute after the match began, Aron planted his feet firmly on the ground.
Just as he inhaled, Nail shouted and swung both swords in wide arcs from either side.
It was a cross-shaped attack that cut off Aron's path of retreat.
[Analysis Complete: Central defensive gap after crossing both swords.]
In that instant, Nail's two swords crossed and overlapped in midair.
Then, for the briefest moment, Aron clearly saw the gap that opened as the crossed blades sprang apart to either side from the recoil.
'Now.'
Aron's foot, which had only retreated until then, drove explosively against the ground.
His body sprang forward.
Nail froze in alarm as Aron suddenly rushed straight at him. He tried to draw his swords back to defend himself, but his stance had already opened too wide.
Aron's practice sword slid through the empty center of his defense.
It was a straight thrust without a single needless movement.
SHHK.
With a faint scrape, the point of Aron's sword stopped just before the nape of Nail's neck.
Had it gone a little farther, it would have pierced his skin.
Nail panted, his eyes trembling. Cold sweat ran down his forehead as the cold sword energy brushed the nape of his neck.
"......Winner, Aron!"
The evaluating instructor, who had been watching from outside the stage, declared the match over.
A brief murmur spread among the students who had been watching nearby.
Aron had appeared to be losing throughout, yet he had ended the match with a single movement.
Aron drew back his sword and caught his breath.
In that moment, he had learned firsthand that forcing an opponent into particular actions could speed up his analysis ability considerably.
"Good match."
After a brief word to the dazed Nail, Aron turned away.
He looked beyond the sparring ground, recalling who came next.
Garon, ranked 251st.
He would need a new way through the sturdy defense behind that shield.
Aron adjusted his grip on the hilt of his practice sword and stepped down from the stage.