The rules for this group magic battle were exceedingly simple.
A section of the academy grounds would serve as the battlefield, with each class stationed at opposite ends. At the center of each class's position stood a human-sized crystal of considerable durability—destroying it meant seizing the position, and thus victory.
Between the two camps lay terrain of varying elevation, dense clusters of trees, and other obstacles. How to navigate them while advancing, how to allocate each student between offense and defense—these were the matters where tactics and a commander's skill would truly shine.
"—Look around you, gentlemen! So many noble lords and ladies have come to witness this grand event! Don't you think it's a splendid opportunity! We can show them all just how powerful we are, what strength we gain by pooling our efforts!"
At Class A's position.
True to form, Clyde was stringing together impressively eloquent words, emphasizing the watching nobles to whip the students into a frenzy.
In truth, it was quite effective for students who prized honor above all else. The Class A students echoed Clyde's sentiments in a clamor of agreement.
Watching them, Clyde smirked inwardly.
—There was no way they could lose.
First, the gap in student ability. The absolute superiority of Bloodline Magic lay before them—that was an unassailable fact.
If Class B had any chance of winning, it would be through exploiting the terrain and unconventional tactics.
But—those were things he would shut down himself.
As a high-ranking noble, Clyde had studied tactical theory to a reasonable degree. The enemy commander, Ermes, was perhaps a bit quick-witted, but ultimately he was a commoner. There was no way he could surpass someone like Clyde, who had received a first-rate education.
(The gap in raw power is overwhelmingly in our favor, and all of that opponent's petty tricks will be crushed by me, the commander. Isn't it perfect? Ah, hurry up and give the signal to begin!)
Raising the spirits of Class A's students while simultaneously staking his own claim—lost in that fantasy, Clyde let a grin escape his lips.
And soon enough, as if answering his expectations.
*Bang.* The signal cannon, fired by magic, announced the start of the class confrontation.
So it begins, he thought. Now, what tricks will you pull? Clyde and the rest of Class A waited in leisure—
—and in an instant, bewilderment enveloped every last one of them.
"…What…?"
They wouldn't move.
The confrontation had unquestionably begun.
And yet, not a single person in Class B's camp showed the slightest intention of moving.
(What… is going on…?)
Clyde had predicted that the enemy would attack first.
That was perfectly consistent with common sense. After all—it was an indisputable fact that Class B was inferior in raw power.
Against an opponent who outclassed you in strength, seizing the initiative was standard doctrine. Falling behind meant being overwhelmed by the power gap sooner or later, without question.
So he had no idea what they were thinking.
Clyde—along with many of Class A's students—used a far-seeing general-purpose magic to peer into Class B's camp, specifically at Ermes standing at its center.
And at the same moment, as if perfectly timed—
Or, incredible as it seemed—as if he had *sensed* the activation of far-seeing magic from this distance—Ermes moved.
A thin smile on his lips, he gazed over with an unhurried look.
Slowly, he extended one arm toward them and beckoned.
The intent behind that gesture was unmistakable.
—I'll cede the first move to you. Please, attack however you like.
"——"
The instant they recognized it.
A fierce, burning resentment erupted in every single Class A student who had been maintaining the far-seeing spell.
"…Very well."
Clyde's temple twitched as he slowly raised his hand.
The other Class A students harbored the same resolve, waiting for Clyde's signal.
"W-wait, Clyde!"
But there was one exception.
Katia, who alone had retained her composure and sensed the danger, spoke up with a strained expression.
"It's dangerous! We should observe first! It's obvious to anyone—her goal is to draw us into attacking. Rather than falling for it, we should hold our position and—"
"What is this cowardly talk, Lady Katia!"
But Clyde—and Class A as a whole—had already passed the point of no return.
"What is there to fear in the first place!? Do you really think Class A could lose in a head-on clash!? Can't you even put a little trust in your classmates!!"
Katia furrowed her brow at his same old rhetoric, but Clyde was no longer paying attention. He raised his hand high and drew a breath.
…Or so it would have been under normal circumstances.
Even for Clyde and Class A, they might have hesitated and held back at such an blatantly obvious provocation.
But they had already seen it. Already heard it.
—The verbal sparring between Clyde and Ermes just before the confrontation. In that exchange, Ermes had delivered words they found utterly unforgivable.
"You have ample reason to lose"—a clear-cut taunt.
It robbed them of any possibility of backing down. Choosing not to engage even with this level of provocation was not an option that the students of Class A had ever cultivated in the life they had lived up to now.
Yes. Once the battle had started, it was beyond the question of mere timing.
Even before the battle began, they had already fallen into Ermes's trap.
And just as he had planned, Clyde shouted at the top of his lungs:
"—All units, charge! Let's show Class B the difference in our power, head-on, just as they wish!!"
With the order for a full-scale charge, he took that fatal step toward a development that was proceeding exactly as Ermes had envisioned.
◆
"…Wow. They actually came."
Even Ermes himself, the architect of the plan, could not help but look slightly disappointed at how readily Class A had thrown themselves into a full charge.
But he quickly recomposed himself. Only the opening move had succeeded—there were still many hurdles between here and victory.
The first of those would be the anxious faces of his Class B comrades.
They had overcome grueling training, yes—but these were the very members of Class A who had been the embodiment of their fear and despair until now. It was only natural that they would feel afraid when faced with a full-scale enemy charge.
So he addressed them.
"Please rest assured. There is no need to be overly frightened."
First, words to directly dispel their fear.
"There may be things they did to you that I don't know about. The tension of this real battle, the fear of being watched by so many noble spectators—these are all natural feelings. But—please, put all of that aside for now."
Then, words to guide them into the right mental state.
"Specifically, try to remember the days of our special training. I believe there was a time when you were pushed to your physical and mental limits, with nothing in your hearts but pure focus on improving yourselves. No room for fear, no room for cowardice—just sheer, unwavering will. It was painful, yet pure and strangely comfortable—"
His words were not like Clyde's, loud and overly inflammatory.
And precisely because of that, they seeped into the students like water—naturally, gently, like a breeze.
"The opponent you pour all of that into stands before you right now. That is all."
And with those final words,
he recognized that their hearts had steeled, settling into an almost ideal state.
(…Good.)
Now then—next.
The enemy's full charge was undeniably a threat. So first, he would break their momentum.
"That said, please leave this to me."
Standing right beside him was the perfect person for the job.
Hearing his words, *she* curled her lips as if to say "finally."
Reiner von Ahlens, a Class A student, had been distracted.
He considered himself of at least mid-tier ability within Class A, and he believed his current treatment was unjust.
This confrontation was his chance. By performing brilliantly before everyone's eyes, surely they would recognize his true power.
That insufferable transfer student from Class B, Ermes—him too. A commoner who had the audacity to act above his station. Especially galling was that the beautiful new duchess in Class A, Katia von Trackia, trusted him.
It had to be nothing more than favoritism based on childhood friendship. If he defeated Ermes in one strike during this confrontation, her delusion would surely be dispelled. She might even be grateful to him. And then she would be his.
Believing that future without the slightest doubt, Reiner charged straight toward Ermes, his twisted desire propelling him forward—completely unaware that he had overextended himself.
And at last, he brought Ermes within range of his magic. Raising his magic power to strike at that idiot making a fool of himself—
"Okay, dummy number one."
In that instant.
A silver squall flashed before his eyes—
and the moment an impact struck the crown of his head, his vision went dark in a flash, and before he could understand what had happened, even consciousness was severed—
"Fighting someone who's holding their ground defensively by charging in solo was already a fatal flaw—besides, you knew who I was, unlike Ermie, right? So why did you rush into my range without a second thought? I'm genuinely curious…"
The girl's exasperated murmur never reached his ears.
In the end, unable to even comprehend what had happened to him, he became the first casualty of the confrontation.
It had been instantaneous.
No matter that he had overextended—a proud member of Class A, felled in a single blow to the crown of his head.
That shocking sight was laid bare before his classmates, and with it came the reminder:
In Class B, there existed the most dangerous mage-killer who must never be allowed close.
"Now then."
The girl who had accomplished this—Niina—turned her gaze toward the Class A students.
Gracefully, bewitchingly, yet with terrifying intensity behind her smile:
"Who's next? I've been in a good mood lately, so I'll take on one or two, if you like?"
That almost innocent-seeming smile only amplified her overwhelming presence.
Class A's students found their advance completely sealed. Dripping with cold sweat, they were pinned in place.
"…I can understand how they feel."
Ermes, who sparred with Niina daily, knew all too well how terrifying she was.
Having Niina standing before them and then witnessing what she had just done—aborting the charge was an entirely forgivable response.
But—
Stalling was the worst option among all possible courses of action.
What Ermes had feared was the full charge carrying away the rest of Class B's forces—being overrun and driven into an unrecoverable situation before they could bring the fight to their terms.
But Niina had stopped that from happening. And now, right before their eyes, Class A stood frozen—
A whole enemy regiment
standing still
right at the
front of
their camp.
—It was practically an invitation to attack.
"Charge."
With everything in place, he gave the order.
In an instant, Class B's students roared and charged toward Class A. Having drilled for exactly this scenario with precisely chosen opponents—the optimal matchups they had rehearsed—they surged forward without hesitation.
Class A's students were caught off guard, but it was already too late. The only path remaining was to meet the charge head-on.
The area before Class B's position erupted in a chaotic exchange of magic—
It had become a free-for-all.
Not thirty against thirty, but one-on-one, repeated thirty times in the same place.
The battlefield he had described the moment the fight began—this was exactly what he had envisioned.
(…Yes. Perfect.)
He assessed the flow since the battle's start as flawless.
First, getting to this situation was in some sense the greatest gamble. When he had told Katia their chances were "fifty-fifty" the other day, that assessment had included whether they could even reach this point. Now that it had been achieved, the situation was arguably in their favor.
Because—here, he smiled and murmured:
"That means they've now lost 'two' people."
No miscount.
One was, as they had just witnessed, the student Niina had struck down.
And the other was this battlefield—a chaotic melee where friend and foe intermingled, where tactics gave way to individual prowess.
In other words—
A battlefield where a rear commander held
no meaning.
Yes, precisely.
Clyde, who could not use Bloodline Magic and possessed no special skills to compensate for it, was—
at this very moment, completely irrelevant to the outcome. A dead man walking.
He likely understood that himself.
Catching a glimpse of Clyde's pale face in the enemy camp—the expression of someone who never expected to be killed *before* the fighting even started—
Ermes let none of it show, and coolly turned his thoughts to the next situation and the challenges that lay ahead.
Clyde dies on the first turn. Stay tuned for the next one!