And so, lunch ended, and the next class began.
Just like yesterday, Ermes and the others from Class B gathered in the practice field. A little later, the members of Class A arrived in their characteristic leisurely fashion.
"……"
What floated across the faces of every A-class student save Katia was an unmistakable superiority and mockery they had no intention of hiding.
Yes. It was precisely the same kind of look that the B-class students had been directing at Ermes ever since his transfer. And now, Class B found itself on the receiving end of that very same gaze.
Yet amidst it all, a male student stepped forward as though leading Class A.
Clyde von Helmout — the one who had caused quite the commotion during lunch — wore a smile as though nothing had happened moments ago.
"Hey there, everyone in Class B! Let's make today another fruitful time of exchange, shall we!"
……Extremely suspicious.
With not just Ermes but all of Class B thinking exactly that, the joint magic practice began.
That premonition quickly became reality.
"By the way, everyone! Up until the first semester, the main focus of this class was mock battles with partners of matching skill levels."
Barely past the greeting, Clyde unashamedly leaped to the center of the stage.
"But still. A 'joint' practice like this deserves more than that. I believe we should place greater emphasis on inter-class exchange. ──So then."
With that, he wore a beaming smile that on the surface was brimming with goodwill and conviction, yet behind it hinted at a darker intent.
"How about we do this? ──
Everyone
will be paired with a
Class A student
B
"What if we set a restriction"
"that we form teams"
"within the same class?"
Everyone present instantly grasped his intention.
"Don't you think it's a brilliant idea!? You B-class students can learn from us, and we A-class students get to see new magic. On top of that, by clashing our magic against each other, we'll come to know one another even better! There's no better form of exchange for a magic academy!
—Right, don't you all think so,
everyone in Class
A!"
The troublesome thing about this man
was that he never made proposals that would clearly disadvantage his own class.
The A-class students naturally understood what his proposal meant—what participating in mock battles against the B-class students would bring them.
"...Indeed. Seeing magic we don't normally encounter could help us improve ourselves."
"True. Guiding and instructing in magic is also our duty, after all."
"I agree. Lord Clyde's aspirations are truly wonderful!"
And so the A-class students also expressed their agreement using words that sounded pleasant on the surface but let a different intent peek through in every phrase.
The B-class students, on the other hand, also understood his intentions perfectly,
and precisely because they understood, they naturally could not openly agree.
—But they couldn't say a thing. Unable to offer any counterargument, they fell silent.
Because surely, until now, they had never been allowed to do so.
"W-wait, Clyde. Forcing things through like this is—"
"My my, Lady Katia, where am I forcing anything? As you can see, everyone in Class A is on board! Class B would never pass up a golden opportunity to sharpen their own magic—any noble worth their salt would jump at it! Could you please drop the sour grapes over losing your seat as class representative? It's getting unsightly!"
Katia, unable to stand by, attempts to voice her objection, but Clyde steamrolls over her with a one-sided torrent of words, cutting the conversation short before she can even get a response in.
And as if to deliver the finishing blow, he turned to the teacher supervising this session.
"You agree too, don't you, sir!? This is a joint magical exercise, after all!"
"Hm? ...Ah, ah, yes, that's right. More active exchange between classes would be a good thing."
The teacher was, by nature, the sort who didn't particularly involve himself in class affairs. With the conversation steered this far already, he felt it would be more trouble than it was worth to object, so he simply nodded along, recycling some pleasant-sounding words. The very person who was supposed to be running this session gave his approval.
"That settles it, then! Come on, everyone! Pair up with whoever you want—whomever you'd like to learn from!"
It was already too late to stop him. Following his command, the Class A students began sizing up potential partners. The sight was truly that of predators scanning for prey.
Watching his classmates, Clyde nodded with satisfaction, then began slowly advancing forward.
"—Now then, Attendant-kun. So, with that said, would you do me the honor of a match?"
—As if to declare, 'My target has been you all along.'
He hurled a gaze at Ermes, one clearly loaded with dark, brooding emotions—an unmistakable carryover from the lunchtime incident.
"You're a commoner who was once expelled from a marquis household, and yet—"
"Somehow—"
"You managed to transfer into this academy. I find that terribly interesting. Won't you show me what you're truly capable of?"
Beneath his polite tone, the message was crystal clear: 'I'm going to tear off your mask.'
It seemed that in Clyde's mind, whatever had happened during lunch break had been dismissed as a fluke or something of the sort.
"...Understood."
Honestly, this was nowhere near as exciting as when he'd faced Niina—but he also knew there was no getting out of this, so he gave a quiet nod.
At roughly the same time, the pairings for the other students were also mostly decided.
And so, at last, the joint magic training exercise officially began.
──And then, the rout began.
"Whoa, whoa — what kind of magic is that?! You're sorely lacking in awareness of your status as nobility!"
"Hmph — burn this into your eyes! This is what true Bloodline Magic looks like!"
"Oh, how pitiful. To claim noble standing with such a pathetic spell — you must have lost your sense of shame ages ago."
Class A had originally been composed of the highest-ranking students among the noble heirs. Specifically, those from ducal, marquis, and count families. Inevitably, Class B was packed with the sons and heirs of viscounts and barons.
Bloodline Magic generally followed a clear pattern: the higher a family's rank, the more powerful the magic its heirs inherited.
In this country, a family's standing rose or fell depending on whether it produced capable mages in the first place. The Hermès family's old house — the Frenbreed family — was a perfect example.
Exceptions like Sera weren't unheard of, but they were exactly that: exceptions. The vast majority of Class B students had only inherited the Bloodline Magic deemed "appropriate" for their family rank.
So when they clashed head-on in Bloodline Magic against students from higher-ranking families, being trampled was inevitable.
"Uwah!"
"P-please, stop — !"
"Ngh… ugh…"
They could resist for about the first second at most.
In the worst cases, they weren't even granted that. With no recourse, the Class B students were reduced to nothing more than playthings to be toyed with and beaten down.
There was nothing they could do about it. After all, the very performance of the magic they wielded was overwhelmingly different. The gap was so vast it might as well have been unreachable even if they stood on their heads.
Different magic. Different rank. ──And traced back to the root, a different birth.
So there was nothing to be done.
The Bloodline Magic system. The ideology that ruled this country.
The living embodiment of an entrenched custom was manifesting right here in this exercise yard, in vivid and undeniable detail.
And so the A-class students, without a shred of doubt or hesitation, used this exercise to satisfy their own twisted sadistic impulses.
The B-class students, resigned and docile, accepted their fate without protest.
Still — was there not a sliver of hope somewhere?
Watching one classmate after another suffer the same cruel treatment, unable to bear it any longer — even as the nagging question gnawed at them: isn't there anyone who's an exception? — they scanned their surroundings. But naturally, they found no such person.
The A-class students, satisfied with this display, deepened the bonds of solidarity among themselves.
They turned their gazes toward the orchestrator who had made this opportunity possible, filled with gratitude and respect —
— And that was the moment.
*Tosha.*
A small, foolish sound rang across the exercise yard — poorly timed, yet piercingly clear.
Everyone who looked toward the source of the sound witnessed the same thing.
The orchestrator who had created this entire situation. The leader of A-class. Clyde von Helmuth had —
— fallen flat on his rear on the ground. For them, it was a sight of almost unbearable absurdity.
"……Eh?"
Dazed, Clyde lifted his gaze to find Ermes — his opponent — standing before him.
Ermes, in stark contrast, did not spare so much as a glance at Clyde's undignified position.
If anything, he seemed far more captivated by the Bloodline Magic swirling around them than by someone like Clyde, his eyes drifting off in an entirely different direction.
A composition of unmistakable winner and loser — and not only that, but the loser was Clyde, the leader of A-class, while the winner was Ermes, the very same Ermes looked down upon even in B-class.
Every student in both classes was riveted by this impossible sight, their eyes refusing to believe what they were seeing.
But on the other hand,
"……Well, that's how it'd turn out. Are you an idiot?"
"……"
"Nfufufu—"
Only the three who knew his true strength showed a different reaction.
Katia wore a terrifyingly cold expression and, in rare fashion, spat out bluntly honest words, while Sarah—who had been keeping Katia company—wore a troubled look, clearly at a loss for how to respond.
And Nina, who had been conveniently slacking off just as she'd declared she would, let out an amused, knowing chuckle.
What was certain was that this clear-cut scene of victory and defeat—
—had been witnessed by everyone without the slightest room for doubt.
That was Clyde, jumping right into the fire! I'll have another update tonight!