The Academy’s Barbarian

Chapter 45: What Does That Matter? (3)

Chapter 45: What Does That Matter? (3)

As lunchtime was drawing to a close, Ulan left the bustling cafeteria behind and headed for the forest near the training grounds.

This unexpected detour had been prompted by Noah's abrupt and unsettling remark.

Ulan, Ibella seems a bit strange lately.

Noah's words had come out of nowhere, leaving Ulan puzzled. He couldn't help but inquire further about the matter, but Noah's response was far from clear.

I don't have all the details, but I saw her talking to someone, and her demeanor shifted dramatically. It seemed like something grave had occurred.

After giving a brief explanation, Noah told Ulan where Ibella was.

That was the reason Ulan went searching in the forest. As he roamed the woods, expanding his senses, he soon sensed a familiar presence.

Found her.

There she wasIbella, perched on a weathered rock, her gaze fixated on some distant point. She was definitely different from her usual self.

Exactly as Noah had forewarned, something indeed had transpired. Ulan decided to make his presence known immediately, "Ibella."

He uttered her name, but she remained unresponsive, lost in her thoughts, her gaze vacant. Seeing that she didn't notice his presence, Ulan spoke up a little louder.

"What are you doing here?"

".....Huh?"

This time, she seemed to have finally registered his presence; the shockwave had been quite strong.

With a small cloud of dust rising from the ground, her turquoise eyes, which had been hazy, regained their focus.

"Ah."

A soft gasp escaped her lips, and then, as if just realizing Ulan's presence, she offered a faint, wan smile, "It's Ulan."

It was an utterly uncharacteristic response, and it was apparent that something was amiss. Just as Noah had mentioned, something didn't seem right.

Curious, Ulan decided to ask directly, "Is something troubling you?"

"Huh? Why do you ask?"

"Because of that face."

Ibella's eyes widened a fraction, and she couldn't help but emit a soft chuckle, "Ahaha, I tried to hide it, but I guess I can't hide anything from you."

With a subtle hint of emotion in her eyes, she rose from her rocky seat, "Ulan."

Her tone became more serious, yet an undertone of laughter remained, "I've decided to forfeit."

"Forfeit?"

"Yeah, certain circumstances have arisen," a wistful smile tugged at the corner of her mouth and Ulan's brow furrowed in response.

"Hehe, don't worry. It's not a grave matter," Ibella chimed with a casual shrug, her tone almost dismissive.

Meanwhile, Ulan's attention was drawn not to her face but to the sword she clutched in her hand a detail perhaps unnoticed by her.

She continued, her words stuttering as she tried to reassure him, "Honestly, I'm fine. It's just that something unexpected cropped up, and I'm not feeling my best."

"........."

Silence lingered as Ulan absorbed her response. Ibella might not know it herself, but Ulan knew a little about her habits.

One thing he knew about her was that, when anxiety washed over her, she buried her true emotions deep within. She would act nonchalant, treating everything as if it were trivial.

But.

Every time she adopted this faade, she would grip her sword tightly, almost as if it was her only anchor, her sole source of solace in times of turmoil.

"Besides, one less person like me won't make much of a difference, will it?"

Secondly, when her words don't match her thoughts.

In other words, when she lied.

Yet, her face never betrayed her; Ibella was adept at concealing her emotions her eyes, her breath, her voice.

But one thing remained beyond her control the Sword.

Whenever she lied, that almost imperceptible tremor in her grip, the very lifeline she seemed to cling to, gave her away. It was a telltale sign that she was not being truthful. That's right, just like now.

"Ulan will be able to make it into the top 10, and there's also Dilia Arpen, so."

"You're still not good at lying."

A sudden remark from Ulan

and Ibella immediately closed her mouth.

She appeared somewhat flustered, her eyes trembling as if in doubt. Ulan continued his response.

"I can tell by looking at your face."

"......."

"Because you didn't want to."

As the response came to an end, fear gripped her; she bit her lip for a moment, then managed to force a smile, "Oh, of course I don't want to, but like I said, circumstances have come up..."

"What kind of circumstances?"

"Just some simple family matters."

Originally, she didn't intend to explain.

However, remaining silent might not convince Ulan, so she decided to offer a slight explanation.

"I might cause trouble for my family if I don't withdraw. But it's okay. If I withdraw, everything will be fine..."

"You are wrong."

"Uh, what?"

"You're not okay."

His words were like a dagger, piercing through her veneer of composure. Ibella clamped her mouth shut. Her emotions, barely held together, were violently stirred by his sharp words.

One more thing worth noting here Ulan's blunt words chipped away at the mask of indifference she had been barely holding onto.

".......I can't help it."

The emotions she had concealed beneath her faade began to seep through like a tumultuous sea, and there was nothing she could do to dam the tide.

"If I go to the main round, it will hurt my mother, but what do you want me to do!

"Has your mother explicitly told you so?"

"Huh? What?"

Ulan's sudden question caught her off guard, and he continued like a rapid-fire cannon, "Has she ever directly asked you to shield her or protect her?"

"ThatsI..."

She couldn't find an answer because it had never happened

"Have you ever been told not to act recklessly because you've gotten herself into trouble?"

"Thats."

Again, she had no response.

"Do you really think it's for your mother's sake that you make judgments based on your own interpretation, without even asking her?"

".....Then what am I supposed to do?"

As she listened to his stern words, Ibella clenched her teeth.

Her mask was already off, the torrent of emotions she'd been harboring swirling wildly.

"Even if I know it's causing my mother pain, can I simply ignore it and participate in the tournament? Do you think that would make me feel better?"

"Of course it wouldn't ease your mind."

"Then why!"

I never told you not to forfeit.

Ibella fell silent after hearing his words.

Ulan had only asked her to be honest with herself. He wasn't trying to dissuade or reverse her choices or decisions.

"Whichever choice you make, I have no right to deny you. But as your friend, I hope you make a choice you won't regret."

His crimson eyes met hers, sparkling with sincerity. Ibella sensed his genuine concern for her.

Was that why? The torrent of emotions that were raging like a torrent began to subside as she met Ulan's gaze. Her feverish mind began to cool.

As she felt her heart calming down

"Let me ask you again."

Ulan posed the same question once more, "Does your mother genuinely wish to be shielded by you?"

........

"If that's the case, then it's okay to forfeit. But if you're unsure, think about what your mother truly desires."

With that, Ulan left the decision in her hands. So, he closed his mouth.

Meanwhile,

Ibella suddenly remembered something old.

Or not that old.

It was only a few months ago.

When she had left Count Deorg to take the entrance exams for the Arsene Academy.

It was just as gloomy as the weather today.

After saying goodbye to her mother, she turned to leave. But then she stopped her feet again. She felt a sudden urge to cry.

For the last time.

She wanted to see her mother one more time. With this thought, she was about to turn her head when

Don't look back!

a sharp voice called out.

Startled, Ibella stiffened. She had every reason to be. She couldn't believe it came from her mother, who was always so gentle and kind.

Don't stop, and keep walking forward.

Ibella's mother Idelin Elearde.

Her voice was uncharacteristically strong and resolute.

Because what's behind you won't help the person you are now.

At the time, she couldn't fully grasp her mother's words, and she didn't want to. She felt hurt and resentful by the cold-hearted tone that was completely different from usual. So she couldn't help but shuffle her feet when

It's okay, Ibella. You don't have to worry.

the warm voice was heard again.

It was the voice that Ibella remembered.

Your mother will watch over you from behind. From now on, throw away the past and family, and live for yourself only. The only thing your mother wants is that.

The memory buried in the sadness of farewell.

As she recalled the memory of her mother's words, Ibella's turquoise eyes quickly became moist.

Yes, that's right.

Something her mother truly wished for it wasn't protection from the family's oppression. It was simply for Ibella to live a life just for herself. That was all.

When that memory resurfaced

a new emotion welled up within her; different from the one that had been surging within her all this time.

And then,

"Ibella," Ulan spoke again; his voice as serious as ever.

"We are friends."

Setting aside their past lives

in this new life, Ulan and Ibella had introduced themselves, fought together in the Trial of a Hero. That's how they became friends. At least, Ulan thought so.

"When friends face difficulties, they do their best to help each other. Maybe not here, but it's true in the grasslands."

The sound of footsteps approaching

and soon, a large hand reached out, "So if you're in trouble, tell me."

With the other hand holding an axe, Ulan spoke with sincerity, I'll help you.

Simple word without any embellishment.

But that one sentence, "I will help," became more comforting than any other words. Did a sense of relief wash over her? The moist droplets that had formed in Ibella's eyes fell off like dew.

"......Thank you."

Filled with genuine emotion and sincerity,

Ibella barely managed to answer. But that was all. She didn't take Ulan's outstretched hand; instead, she stood up using her own strength.

"It's okay, though, this is my problem."

What she held onto instead was her sword.

After wiping away the moisture from her eyes with the back of her hand, she bowed her head to Ulan, "I'm sorry. Ulan."

For showing a pathetic appearance.

For getting angry at you who didn't do anything wrong.

The apology was heartfelt, and Ulan accepted it without a word. At that moment, in the distance, the sound of bells rang out. It was the signal that the main competition was about to begin.

The moment she heard it

Ibella made a decision, "Forfeiting is not an option anymore."

Her eyes filled with a resolute determination; seeing the eyes of someone who had decided to be honest with herself, Ulan smiled because now she had the look he knew.

And with that, they made their way to the arena.

Ibella walked alongside Ulan, the sword in her hand no longer trembling.

* * * At the stroke of 2:00 p.m., the finale of the preliminary round commenced.

As a large crowd of students and faculty looked on, the first-round contestant, Martell Bornus, the eldest son of Count Bornus, was beside himself with anger.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

His anger had a singular cause a sinisterly determined young woman stood on the opposite side of the arena, wielding her sword with deadly precision.

What's going on? Who is she?!

The strikes from her sword rained down like a tempest, relentlessly targeting his vitals. Martell struggled to fend off the onslaught, unable to muster a counter-attack.

This isn't what we agreed on!

When the list of participants for the final round had been revealed, a fellow student from the same class, Himmel Deorg, a renowned swordsmanship prodigy, had made the following offer to Martell.

I'll make your opponent, Ibella Elearde, forfeit. In return, help me become the leader if you're selected for the top 10.

It was an offer Martell could ill-afford to decline, considering he had just reached the end of the Novice-rank.

Ibella, on the other hand, was different.

She had long since crossed the threshold of the novice-rank and reached the realm of a Low-rank knight. Moreover, her swordsmanship was flawless and precise.

In essence, confronting her guaranteed Martell's defeat, and he accepted Himmel's proposition without hesitation.

But contrary to their arrangement, Ibella showed no intention of forfeiting. Instead, she swung her sword with unwavering resolve, as if determined to best Martell.

This is bullshit! Himmel!

Martell's eyes glinted with rage as he cast a furious glare toward the audience stands.

In that instant

Clang!

with a sharp impact, Martell's sword soared into the air.

"Ugh!"

His hand shook uncontrollably from the shock of losing his sword.

Martell gritted his teeth.

Yet even in this moment, Martell's focus was not on Ibella but on the stands, where Himmel was supposed to be. His ire was directed squarely at Himmel for failing to fulfill his end of the bargain.

"That's enough! That's it!"

"The winner of the first match is Ibella Elearde!"

As Ibella emerged victorious, she sheathed her sword neatly. With a slight bow to Martell, she exited the arena. At that very moment, numerous eyes in the audience were trained upon her.

"Did we have such a talented student in our department?"

"She fought much better than expected."

"Indeed. Her swordsmanship is exceptional, and she has a remarkable sense."

"She seems to have already crossed the beginner's threshold."

"Haha, that's why the preliminary rounds are so interesting. Occasionally, such talents emerge."

These comments came from the professors of the Military Studies Department; their eyes reflecting a blend of curiosity, anticipation, and enthusiasm as they observed Ibella.

And at that moment, apart from the faculty's watchful gazes, there was someone else who was staring intently at Ibella. However, his sentiments were far from the curiosity and excitement exhibited by the professors.

That damn bitch!

The visage of the young man contorted in fury, his eyes ablaze with anger it was Himmel Deorg, the very same student who had propositioned Martell earlier.

Oh, so that's how it's going to be, huh?

Himmel had his own scheme in mind, tightly biting his lips as he struggled to contain his simmering anger. His determination was unwavering; he aimed to make Ibella rue the day she ignored his advice.

On the other hand, there was another pair of eyes observing Himmel, a girl with neatly braided black hair it was Noah.

I can tell what he's thinking just by looking at him.

He was probably going to try to get revenge on Isabella for disobeying his orders to forfeit.

But I won't let him.

Noah's eyes turned cold. She had decided to help Ibella, and she was determined to do it right.

I could put a curse on him, I guess.

She specialized in curses; but unfortunately, she didn't get the chance to do what she wanted.

"The second match will begin soon!"

"Noah Darshen! Dilia Arpen! Come forward!"

Her name was called out suddenly.

Since the first match had concluded faster than anticipated, it was already Noah's turn. She sighed heavily.

Ugh, I really hate this.

Why do I have to fight Dilia? And of all people, Dilia Arpen, the prodigy destined to become the most formidable mage in the world!

Noah's displeasure was palpable as she released a series of frustrated sighs when

Tap! Tap!

a huge hand gently patted her back.

It was Ulan.

"Good luck."

His words of encouragement left Noah wide-eyed, taken aback by this unexpected support.

"Uh, this is somewhat unexpected."

"What do you mean?"

"I thought you'd be cheering for Dilia."

Instead, he was cheering for her. Noah responded with a quizzical expression, and Ulan casually explained, "I told her the same thing."

"What?"

Noah furrowed her brow.

Cheering for both of them? What is he thinking?

Noah, who was looking at him with a pouting face, suddenly spoke to him with a playful smile, "Ulan, let me ask you something."

"What is it?"

"Between me and Dilia, who would you like to win? Seriously, be honest."

Noah gave him a subtle look, brimming with anticipation. However, Ulan's response was rather indifferent.

"It doesn't matter to me."

"....Huh?"

"The stronger one will win, right?"

A matter-of-fact reply. Noah pouted but refrained from arguing because it wasn't entirely inaccurate.

"Sigh, alright, I understand. I'll be going then."

Rising from her seat, Noah made her way towards the arena. As she gazed at Dilia, visible in the distance, she mulled over Ulan's earlier words.

The stronger one will win, right?

It was true.

And in that sense, Noah Darshen couldn't defeat Dilia Arpen. Even though their talents were similar, everything else set them apart.

Just looking at their mana pool, Dilia had twice as much. No matter how you calculated it, there was no chance of winning.

Also, she doesn't have a severe penalty.

Unlike Noah, whose penalties included Frailty and Low Stamina, Dilia's penalties were not combat-related in any way.

If this were a game, Noah would have definitely lost to Dilia.

But

This wasn't a game. In this reality, where you breathed and felt pain, Noah clung to a slim chance of victory.

And there was one more thingNoah had 'Information.'

'They don't know about me.'

A shaman from the same barbarian tribe as Ulan they probably knew only this much about her. But Noah was different. She had a wealth of information about Dilia.

'Why? Because

Once upon a time, when she was a gamer,

Even though it was for a short time, she had played as Dilia Arpen.

That's why she knew everything about Dilia; her characteristics, habits, magic, fighting style, etc. Even why she always speaks in such a frustratingly choppy way.

Finally.

She also has a secret move.

It is a technique that only Noah can do.

She also prepared effective tactics against Dilia, even skipping lunch.

'Anyway, I don't plan on losing that easily.'

Noah had to participate in the mock battle.

Because there was a hidden piece there

With a glint in her eyes, she finally set foot in the arena. Just as she exchanged glances with Dilia across the arena

"The battle begins!"

the curtain rose on the second match.

(End of Chapter. . . . . . . .Thanks for Reading. . . . . . . . . )

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