Rowen's battle cry still rang in Aron's ears.
Aron put his weight on the foot he had stepped forward and gauged the shrinking distance between them.
Rowen drove in without hesitation, as though to crush Aron's movement beneath him.
His stride looked unhurried, but he closed the gap in an instant. As if he did not even intend to warm up against the perennial last-place student, he came straight at him with a heavy overhead slash.
WHOOSH—!
The wooden sword tore through the air in a sharp arc.
The old Aron would have stumbled backward, struggling to defend against that strike. But the information from the window that had appeared a moment ago remained clear in his vision.
[Right flank exposed immediately after overhead slash.]
The information did not lie.
Beneath Rowen's wooden sword as it swept in a wide arc, his right flank lay open and undefended.
'There.'
Aron did not dodge.
Instead, he thrust his wooden sword straight toward the opening before him.
The path he had drawn in his mind was exact. If he thrust at this moment, at this angle, he could strike precisely below the ribs.
But reality was different.
SWISH—!
It was Aron's sword that cut through empty air.
"What are you aiming at?"
Rowen gave a short laugh and turned his waist slightly, letting the thrust slide past.
Aron's body moved far too slowly for the speed at which he had recognized the weakness.
Neither his strength nor his reaction speed could keep up with Rowen's movements.
The missed thrust sent Aron's upper body pitching far forward.
SMACK—!
With a turn of his wrist, Rowen lightly struck Aron's shoulder.
Even that light blow knocked Aron off balance and drove him back three or four steps. His shoulder bone throbbed.
'Seeing it isn't enough.'
Aron adjusted his grip on the wooden sword, breathing hard.
No matter how accurately the text in the air identified a weakness, it meant nothing if he lacked the physical ability to strike it. Seeing something and moving his body were entirely different matters.
"What are you doing? You're not tired already, are you?"
Rowen approached with a mocking expression.
To him, it must have looked as though Aron had nearly fallen forward by accident. He remained at ease, unaware that Aron had even tried to exploit his weakness.
'I can't win a contest for speed. There's no need to force myself to keep up.'
Aron made a quick decision.
He was behind in both strength and agility anyway. Trying to chase an opening would only leave him floundering as he had just done.
That left only one way.
'Make him expose an opening himself.'
Aron reset his stance and lowered the tip of his wooden sword slightly.
He deliberately left his upper guard sloppy and open.
It was bait to draw out the attack Rowen was most confident in once more.
"You're full of openings."
Rowen took the bait at once.
Seeing Aron's upper guard wide open, he raised his sword along the same path without hesitation.
The attack had worked once. He saw no reason to use a different technique.
CLANG—!
A dull sound of impact rang through the training ground.
Rather than retreat, Aron angled his wooden sword upward and deflected Rowen's attack to the side.
A tingling pain shot from his wrist to his elbow. He could not take the full force of a blow imbued with magic power, so he focused solely on redirecting the impact sideways.
"Not bad, huh? Then how about this!"
Rowen grinned and unleashed a succession of attacks.
CLANG—! CLAAANG—!
The second exchange.
Aron gritted his teeth. His legs trembled, and his grip felt as though it might tear his hand apart, but his gaze remained fixed on Rowen's lower body.
Then, just as the third exchange was about to begin.
'Now.'
Rowen's left knee trembled faintly as he prepared to bring his sword down from above with his weight behind it.
The flaw the information window had pointed out. It was the moment his bad habit of unconsciously avoiding weight on his left leg showed itself in full.
Aron did not miss that brief instant.
Instead of taking the attack, he pushed off across the dirt as if sliding over it and slipped deep into Rowen's blind spot on the left.
"What...?"
Rowen's eyes widened as Aron suddenly vanished from his sight.
Keeping his body low, Aron drove his shoulder toward Rowen's wavering left knee and swept at his lower body with a kick.
He was not trying to land a damaging blow. All he needed to do was disturb the unstable axis supporting Rowen's weight.
"Urgh!"
Rowen's stance, burdened with all his weight, collapsed awkwardly.
His lower body buckled, and his upper body whipped to the right.
At that moment, Rowen's right flank was left completely exposed.
It was the very opening Aron had failed to strike in their first exchange.
'I can reach it.'
Aron pushed the tiniest amount of magic power, drawn up from his lower body, into the tip of his sword.
Then he extended the wooden sword forward without hesitation.
THWACK—!
A dull impact rang out.
Aron's wooden sword struck Rowen's exposed flank precisely below the ribs.
It was a clean hit with his weight properly behind it.
"Guh...!"
A strangled groan burst from Rowen's mouth.
He staggered, his face twisted in pain. The realization that he had taken a direct hit from the perennial last-place student washed over him.
But the moment of triumph was brief.
"You son of a bXtch!"
Rowen, beside himself with rage, spat out a rough curse and struck back.
Still standing after the clean hit, he lunged like a beast and swung his sword fiercely.
His rage-blinded strikes carried a brutal force far beyond anything he had shown before.
CLAAANG—! CLANG—! THWACK—!
Aron gritted his teeth and defended himself, but he had reached his limit.
He was far behind Rowen in both basic stamina and magic power. His arm muscles were already screaming after taking three exchanges, and he had wrung out what remained of his magic power for that one clean hit.
"Ngh."
In the end, Aron's defense gave way under Rowen's savage downward strike.
The blow caught his shoulder, sending him tumbling across the dirt and sprawling backward.
A metallic taste filled his mouth. The wooden sword fell from his hand and rolled away, kicking up sandy dust.
"That's enough! Match over."
The instructor raised a hand and made the declaration.
"Winner, Rowen Hart!"
The result was the predictable defeat.
Rowen huffed angrily as he rubbed his dust-covered side. He glared at the fallen Aron, then turned away as if to spit.
But the atmosphere around the sparring ground was different from usual.
An odd silence hung over the training ground, where there should have been laughter and jeers.
The first-year students who had been watching glanced at one another and began to whisper.
"Hey, did you see that?"
"Yeah. That wasn't a fluke. He got all the way in and stabbed him in the side."
"That last-place bastard landed a clean hit on Rowen?"
"Rowen, that bastard, let his guard down and took a solid hit. But was Aron's movement always that sharp?"
The noble students' eyes held a trace of bewilderment.
They had expected Aron to last less than a minute and take a one-sided beating. Instead, he had carefully exploited an opening and caught Rowen off guard. Whatever the outcome, anyone could see that his one thrust was a calculated move, not a fluke.
On a dais to one side of the training ground.
Professor Kairon's dark eyes settled on Aron as he watched the students spar.
'That was no mere coincidence.'
His gaze traced Aron's movements backward.
Aron had opened his upper guard to lure an attack, then caught the brief moment when his opponent's balance wavered and slipped into his blind spot.
What Aron had just done was the result of careful calculation possible only for someone who understood his own physical limitations down to the bone.
'He read his opponent's fatal habit at once and changed his tactics. In the span of an instant.'
The faintest curve appeared at the corner of Kairon's mouth and vanished.
That stubborn student had never once made an excuse, even after being sent rolling across the dirt time after time. The single flash he had shown today was enough to pique Kairon's interest.
***
All the practical sparring classes were over.
As the sun sank toward the horizon, it cast long shadows across the training ground.
Students gathered in small groups, chatting as they put away their equipment or drank water.
In a corner of the sparring ground.
Aron wiped the dust and sweat from his face with a towel.
The inside of his mouth was sore, and every joint in his body creaked, but his expression remained calm.
Leaning against a wooden post, he quietly watched Rowen talking with his classmates some distance away.
BUZZ—
His vision warped once more, and a transparent shimmer rose before his eyes.
He had decided to test whether the ability still worked after the match.
As he observed his opponent for far longer than he had the first time, the text in the air changed rapidly, updating with new information.
[Weight shifts toward right during movement.]
[Repeated shoulder lift.]
[Magic power circuit flow delay - lower section.]
More detailed information about Rowen's posture appeared.
Aron blinked slowly and crammed each sentence into his mind, one by one.
'So I wasn't imagining it.'
Fighting Rowen had taught him something for certain.
This strange analytical ability was not magic that handed him victory unconditionally.
Even if it displayed his opponent's weaknesses in text, without the skill to reach and exploit them, he would only swing his sword through empty air as he had earlier.
'A tool that makes fragments of the battlefield visible.'
That was all it was.
The ability showed him the right answer, but getting hold of that answer was entirely up to him.
He felt neither resentment nor anger.
In this place swarming with geniuses, he had never had time to sit down and lament his lack of talent.
Only the path of his slow sword, which had failed to strike a weakness he could see with his own eyes, played over and over in his mind.
He took the old notebook with frayed edges from inside his clothes.
Gripping a stub of pencil tightly, he turned the pages. The training plans he had written out in dense detail came into view.
'None of this is any use.'
Aron drew a thick line through his old plans.
Then he opened to a blank page and began writing an entirely new plan from the beginning.
'To strike a weakness, I need the lower-body strength to reach it. Narrow the sword's path and cut out unnecessary swings. Double my stamina training. Practice concentrating magic power in my lower body over short distances.'
He wrote down, one by one, the problems he had felt so keenly today and what it would take to exploit a weakness in actual combat.
There were no flashy techniques or grand methods of wielding magic power. Only thrusts, dodges, footwork, and strength training. It was a punishing schedule designed entirely to push his fundamentals and stamina to their limits.
Scratch, scratch.
In the empty corner, only the dry sound of pencil scraping paper could be heard.
'Even if I know where the weakness is, it means nothing if I can't reach it.'
Aron pressed the pencil hard into the notebook's final line as he wrote those words, then slowly raised his head.
Far away, he could see his classmates' backs as they headed toward the dormitory.
He tucked the notebook inside his clothes and picked up the wooden sword lying on the ground. After brushing off the dust, his eyes shone steadily in the settled evening air.
It was time for everyone else to rest.
But Aron's steps led toward the empty First Training Ground, not the dormitory.
***
The First Training Ground was already deserted.
The sun had set completely and a cool night wind had risen, but Aron took his place at the center of the training ground without hesitation.
'My lower body.'
He drew a deep breath and lowered his stance.
He recalled the feeling of darting toward Rowen's unsteady knee during the day's match.
If he had moved in just 0.5 seconds faster, he might have ended the match before Rowen could counterattack.
The problem was the driving force in his ankle and the strength of his calf.
SNAP—!
The sound of his wooden sword cutting through the air echoed across the training ground.
"Whew."
He breathed out and returned to his starting position. Then he stepped again.
SNAP—!
It was a simple thrust. But for that single movement, he checked the connection of force from his legs through his waist, shoulder, and wrist hundreds of times.
He had to make his body remember. The moment a weakness appeared in his vision, his body needed to shoot toward it before his mind could think.
Sweat ran down his chin and dampened the ground.
His limbs grew heavy as lead, and his breathing rose to his throat, but Aron did not stop.
'Mother, Mia.'
When he closed his eyes, he saw his mother's tired face and his little sister's bright smile.
If he gave up here, their lives would sink into the mud as well.
Last place at the academy. A commoner. Too little magic power.
None of the labels the world had given him could serve as an excuse.
'I've gained an ability. I can see the answer.'
That left only one thing.
To build the solid stamina and tenacious fundamentals he needed to grasp that answer.
SNAP—! SNAP—!
Deep into the night, only the dry sound of Aron's sword cutting through the air echoed without pause across the empty training ground.
***
The next morning.
As always, the corridor leading to the auditorium was full of life.
Aron walked along, lightly rubbing his aching shoulder. Every muscle in his body screamed after the grueling training of the night before, but his steps were steady.
"Hey, Aron."
Just as he was about to turn a corner, he heard a familiar voice.
It was Rowen Hart, leaning against the wall.
A thick medicated patch covered his right flank. It marked the spot where Aron's thrust had struck him squarely yesterday.
Aron stopped and looked straight at him.
"What do you want?"
A dry answer. He showed no sign of shrinking back or trying to avoid Rowen.
Rowen clicked his tongue and came closer. The easy contempt with which he had regarded Aron yesterday was gone.
"That hit yesterday. Don't think you'll get lucky again next time."
"It wasn't luck."
Rowen's brow creased sharply at Aron's immediate reply, delivered as though it were obvious.
"What?"
"I aimed my thrust, and you got hit. Where was there any room for luck in that?"
His informal tone was calm. He did not mean to mock Rowen or look down on him. He had simply stated what had happened.
But that dry attitude got under Rowen's skin.
"You bastard... You're still in last place, but you've always got something to say."
Rowen took a step forward, his face menacing. He looked ready to seize Aron by the collar at any moment.
But Aron did not retreat. Instead, he narrowed his eyes and looked from Rowen's shoulder to his feet and back.
BUZZ—
The ability activated again, right on cue.
The same sort of text as yesterday appeared in the air.
[Minor bruising to right ribs. Pain during upper-body rotation.]
[Weight still shifts toward right during movement.]
Aron's gaze moved to Rowen's flank.
Yesterday's blow must have landed harder than he had thought. In that condition, pain would inevitably check him whenever he swung his sword in a wide arc.
"What are you staring at?"
"Take care of your side. Next time, I won't stop at one hit."
"Have you lost your mind?"
Rowen gave an incredulous laugh.
Aron had been the one to lose yesterday, tumbling across the ground in the end. Yet there was not a trace of the excuses or deference one might expect from the loser. Rowen could hardly believe it.
"I lost yesterday because I didn't have the stamina. I admit it."
Aron looked Rowen straight in the eye as he spoke.
"But your weakness hasn't changed. You lift your shoulder when you protect your left knee. If you don't fix that habit, I'll aim for the same spot in our next match."
Rowen's face went rigid.
No one had ever pointed out such a subtle habit in his movements to his face before. Least of all the academy's last-place students.
He opened his mouth to argue, but the words caught in his throat. He remembered the unsettling feeling of losing his balance and allowing that thrust yesterday.
"......Cut the bullshit. Next time, I'll leave you too broken to move."
Rowen forced out the angry words, then brushed past Aron, roughly bumping his shoulder.
Aron gave his jostled shoulder a couple of light pats and watched Rowen walk away.
'Now that I've pointed out the habit, he'll try to fix it.'
Aron had not been trying to provoke Rowen.
In fact, he hoped Rowen would recognize his weakness and correct it. If his opponent grew stronger, Aron could analyze new patterns and develop more advanced tactics himself.
After all, this academy was a place where anyone who stood still like stagnant water would be left behind.
Aron resumed walking down the corridor with a light step.
His goal was clear, and he could see the path ahead.
All he needed now was the relentless persistence to follow it to the end.
'Magic power studies next.'
A faint smile touched Aron's lips as he checked his next class and quickened his pace. A new set of drills for tonight at the training ground was already taking shape in his mind.