The Demon Prince goes to the Academy

Chapter 291

The great sword, zweihander, descended upon me.

-Clang!

I parried his sword with mine, twisting it to force it off course, and swiftly transitioned into a half-swording stance to thrust toward his throat.

If he were an amateur, his throat would already be exposed, and it would be over.

However, the opponent was ultimately a foul-tempered fellow, and while he might be excited, his skills were far from amateurish.

He pushed his sliding sword back up at an angle, hooking my blade with his zweihander's parrying hook and shoving it away.

In a situation where one was being pushed back due to the weight of the armament and struggling in a contest of strength, it was foolish to try and push the sword further in.

-Clang!

I withdrew my sword at an angle and created some distance. Richard Howlman quickly changed his stance.

-Clang! Clang! Thud!

Several more exchanges ensued.

He maintained his distance, using his long reach to keep me in check. It was fine if it worked, and even if it didn't, there was no risk.

There was no reason not to exploit an overwhelming advantage. Thus, he was merely doing his best.

The side with the longer reach always had the initiative, while the side with the shorter reach had to bear the disadvantage of having to break through.

That's why, when using a sword, it's incredibly annoying to face opponents with polearms. Even during the preliminaries, I couldn't claim to have defeated opponents with polearms based on skill alone; I simply overpowered them physically.

In this case, the opponent's weapon wasn't a polearm, but the difference in reach was still severe.

And there was another thing.

-Clang!

His sword was significantly heavier than mine.

As a result, there was an inevitable difference in the limits of the weight carried by the tip of our swords.

It was a difficult weapon to handle, but if used well, it was no different from a blunt weapon. And that fellow had the physical capabilities and body structure to handle the zweihander.

"Why, you were talking as if you could chew me up and spit me out, but now that you're actually facing me, it's not going so well, is it?"

Richard Howlman sneered at me with a malicious grin.

To others, it must have looked like I was being pushed back, and in reality, I was.

"Spewing nonsense while dripping sweat in a sacred duel. Wipe that sweat off, you brat."

"…Heh."

Even though he was laughing, I could sense his impatience.

No matter how outstanding his physical abilities were, the weight of that weapon was significant.

He must have trained extensively, but close combat ultimately consumed an immense amount of stamina and energy.

This was different from simple exercise.

In a fight, combat fatigue inevitably sets in.

Having the initiative meant that he had to constantly maintain his attacking stance and make use of that initiative.

All I had to do was calmly retreat while accepting the disadvantage of lacking initiative due to the difference in reach.

Let him tire out.

I'll strike when an opening presents itself.

Neither of us is Ludwig; our stamina is not infinite.

He's impatient, and I'm waiting for an opportunity.

If there's nothing I can do about the disadvantage stemming from the difference in our weapons, I have no choice but to exploit the penalty he bears.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

I calmly retreated, sometimes stepping to the side, evading his attacks while luring him in.

Become more impatient.

Just a bit more.

A little more hastiness.

I lured him in as I retreated, prompting his attack.

He held his sword in a long grip, with his right hand on the handle and his left hand on the ricasso, thrusting in a backhanded manner.

Though he held it short, the monstrous length of his two-handed sword still had a much longer reach than my weapon. Even when held like that, it was longer.

Thrusting backhandedly generally involved striking downwards from above, rather than directly forward.

The wider the gap between the hands gripping the sword, the easier it was to maintain balance, and the greater the force.

To block his sword, I inevitably had to adopt an upward parrying stance. In essence, he was applying force like a half-swording technique, and I had to counter it by pushing upwards and outwards in the same half-swording manner.

However, his sword had a parrying hook, while mine did not.

If I were to win the power struggle, his parrying hook would block my sword, but if I were pushed back, my hand gripping the middle of my sword would be sliced by his blade.

The difference in weapons.

Some choices become impossible due to this difference, while others become available.

It was difficult to push away or deflect his backhanded thrust with the sword held long. If I were to haphazardly engage his sword, I might be the one pushed back instead.

His backhanded thrust.

The chain of thoughts and judgments began with just that one move, occurring almost simultaneously.

From one to ten.

Some of it was from the lessons I had learned, but the true realization came thanks to Ellen.

Ellen had taught me various attack and defense techniques that changed according to the numerous weapons she used.

In this situation, attempting to parry a thrust that resembled a downward strike with a half-swording technique against an opponent with that kind of weapon would be suicidal.

In an instant, my body made the decision, not my mind.

Embodied memory.

Was it a spinal reflex?

After countless practices and training, I no longer drew conclusions from my thoughts. Having clashed so many times, my body had reached a state where it could recall memories.

Of everything I possessed, this was the product of my efforts.

It was the sole thing I could attribute to my sweat and perseverance, obtained through innumerable fractures, rolls, blows, falls, and hits, even if I didn't want to remember.

This was not a cheat.

According to the general knowledge I had gained through Ellen, in a situation with such weapon differences, I should avoid, not push back, a powerful downward strike like this one.

Neither he nor I had spent our time in the temple frivolously; there was no reason to underestimate each other beyond our competitive spirits.

He probably didn't think this attack would work either.

There must be a calculation in his head that was uniquely his own. Ultimately, such battles were both physical contests and battles of wits.

Assuming that I would dodge his downward thrust, he would design a follow-up attack based on the situation that arose after he made me dodge.

In the event that I dodge to the side or move backward, he would swiftly change his stance, either thrusting or altering the direction of his sword to cut, devising a derived attack.

In the moment his sword strikes, he constructs such plans, and I design my countermeasures.

What's important is this.

Under normal circumstances, the reasonable judgment would be to dodge in this situation.

But.

I make a decision that I shouldn't.

The decision he thought I couldn't make.

With that, I scatter all of his plans.

I push back against the descending sword.

In a situation where his weight, reach, and physicality are all superior to mine, I make the worst possible move.

Under normal circumstances, it would be the worst move.

But I am not ordinary.

I put all my strength into a single sword strike.

One strike.

-Whoosh!

“!”

I am a Supernatural.

It is undeniably my power to accomplish something beyond conventional reasoning.

Having expelled his sword with a sudden burst of explosive strength, I thrust my half-sworded weapon into his exposed throat.

-Flash!

Richard Howlman, with wide-open eyes, is recalled by the Recall Artifact.

Critical hit success.

-1st Set! Reinhardt takes it!

It's my victory.

Best of five, first to three wins.

A total of three victories and zero defeats.

-Royal Class Reinhardt concludes the 1st Year Tournament Main Round A Group matches undefeated!

-Wow!

After being recalled, I stared intently at Richard Howlman, who was resummoned to the tournament arena.

That guy doesn't know I'm a Supernatural.

And since this isn't a shonen manga, I didn't bother to explain to him that I'm actually a Supernatural and the intricacies of my abilities.

So, he must have thought I employed some sort of cunning trick.

Of course, I had been using my Supernatural powers in all the previous duels. However, I hadn't used my self-suggestion, one-point concentration, or skill utilization.

In the end, a single gap in a fight can lead to defeat, so I merely withstood his attacks ordinarily and then unleashed a momentary burst of power.

All I needed to do was to pierce through a brief opening.

He didn't even know what he had fallen for. It must have felt like being bewitched by a ghost. It would have seemed as if I suddenly exhibited an abnormally strong force for a moment, even though he thought he had accurately gauged my capabilities.

"You... You used some tricks... Definitely cheating..."

Richard Howlman muttered bitterly.

I didn't bother to explain to him.

"Lack of information about your opponent is ultimately your own mistake."

Regardless of whether he claims cheating or not, there's no rule prohibiting Supernaturals from participating, so it's a futile effort.

I've already won.

Therefore, I have no intention of further provoking or taunting him.

All that remains for me is to win the Main Round A Group.

Undefeated.

I managed to achieve that while minimizing the use of my Magic Body Strengthening.

In one way or another, my duels had been rather bland, but I continued my undefeated march, having won each set without losing a single point. The cheers of the audience were fervent.

At first, it was somewhat nerve-wracking, but after experiencing it a few times, the countless gazes of the people watching me were neither enjoyable nor particularly terrifying.

Numerous people in the stands were watching me.

I watched those who wished for my victory.

Semifinals, and if victorious there, the finals.

Now, only two matches remained.

I watched the remaining matches.

Grayden Amorel, like me, won with a 3-0 set score.

Ludwig finished with a hard-fought 3-2 victory.

Scarlett, after two wins, conceded a set and concluded with a 3-1 score.

As expected, everyone advanced to the finals, despite the varying set scores.

The Royal Class, Orbis Class, and Special Classes had all made it.

After the first-year main round concluded, a brief rest would be given, and the audience would either take a break or stay in their seats.

Also, the brackets for the semifinals were decided immediately.

My eyes met Scarlett's.

"Ah... Reinhardt."

"...Well, it turned out like this."

Scarlett and I.

"Ludwig, was it? I look forward to it."

"Me too!"

Grayden Amorel and Ludwig.

The semifinal matchups were set like this.

Considering they were all formidable opponents, it didn't matter who I faced; I had the same feeling. Magic Body Strengthening was the key to this contest.

How one utilized that power, which could only be used a limited number of times, and whether they could endure the after-effects would determine the winner.

The fact that the finals were tomorrow was rather awkward.

I thought the week-long festival would be long, but in the end, those participating had to struggle with tight schedules due to numerous events.

The finals were not the end.

Regardless of victory or defeat, I had to participate in the cross-dressing contest on Wednesday.

"..."

"Reinhardt, what's wrong?"

"No, nothing."

As my expression suddenly soured, Ludwig and Scarlett examined my complexion.

"You all did a great job!"

When we left the stadium to return to the dormitory, Charlotte greeted us.

Charlotte and the entire B-Class.

And most of A-Class. Although Ellen and Harriet didn't say much, their emotions were evident in their expressions.

"I should have participated, too. I could have knocked them all down with a sizzle."

Liana whispered nonsense in my ear.

It seemed everyone but Bertus was there.

The hapless trio, Heinrich, and even Cliffman were present.

Wait, I saw Cliffman, but were they there too? Where had they been?

... It seemed they were sitting on the other side, and I hadn't noticed them.

There, on the field, stood Olivia Lanze and Redina, with Saviolin Turner beside them.

"Young one! You've truly honed your skills in combat, haven't you?"

"Can't you just say I did well? Why do you have to put it that way?"

"Well, it would be strange if you couldn't handle it, considering how much fighting you've been doing!"

Redina laughed as she grabbed my arm.

"We've all decided to go eat something delicious together! Let's all go!"

Both Class A and Class B had gathered to celebrate the success of every participant reaching the final round of the competition. In the original work, Class A and Class B were in a fierce rivalry, constantly bickering and tearing at each other, with an absolutely terrible relationship. While Class A had been the ones to unilaterally torment Class B, Class B didn't particularly like Class A either.

However, now both classes were gathered together, exchanging stories and planning to go out and enjoy this wonderful day together.

"You're participating in the Unrestricted Class Tournament, right?"

"Ah, yes."

"I heard it's been a long time since a magic major has participated. It's quite surprising."

"...I'll do my best."

"Yeah, I've heard you're incredibly impressive."

"Is that so?!"

Though Harriet didn't seem particularly close to Charlotte, she led the conversation, discussing various topics.

"Let's go, Reinhardt."

Ludwig smiled as he pulled my arm.

Everyone was taking the lead.

I suddenly became aware that I was a part of this scene.

I observed the relationships between people that had changed because of me.

It wasn't intentional, but the situation had turned out perfectly.

Everything was perfect.

Almost excessively so.