The final exams for the second semester had begun.
It was the last exam of the academic year, held right before the year’s end.
As it was an important test to measure how much everyone had grown over the past year, a new subject—one not present during the midterms—was added.
One-on-one and team battles.
As the names suggested, it was a test where students were graded by fighting one-on-one and team-against-team.
The team battles would be fought between the currently formed teams, so we could set that aside.
The one-on-one battles were a test where students with similar grades were grouped together, and then they would have a duel with a randomly assigned opponent from within that group…
“You could be screwed if you get a bad matchup.”
It seemed to me that a bit of luck was involved here.
For example, what if I, a mage, were matched against an assassin?
Generally, mages and assassins are known to be classes with a terrible matchup against each other.
An assassin who swiftly gets behind their opponent, and a mage who needs time to cast their magic.
You can already picture how that would go, can’t you?
“They say winning or losing doesn’t affect the score, but…”
The school, aware that matchups between positions could be starkly one-sided, had made it clear that victory or defeat would have no bearing on the score.
The evaluation would depend entirely on the content of the match.
In other words, if a mage just managed to hold their own against an assassin, they could get a high score, while an assassin who failed to end the match quickly despite their advantage would receive a lower score.
But even this was ambiguous.
That example was, quite literally, an example of a mage successfully holding out against an assassin.
What if they were killed by the assassin without even casting a single proper spell?
There would be nothing to evaluate, so they’d only get the minimum score.
When you think about it that way, the scales were already slightly tipped to one side.
“Well, it has nothing to do with me.”
Whether the playing field was tilted or level, it didn’t matter to me in the slightest.
Why?
Because I’m flying.
The tilt of the field only affects the guys who have to run around on it.
For someone flying without their feet on the ground, it’s not even a concern, is it?
They said the one-on-one opponents would be announced three days before the duels, and that day was today.
“It’ll come eventually.”
Thinking it would arrive when the time was right, I headed to my personal practice room as usual.
Normally, I would have gone straight in, but.
“That’ll be 880,000 won.”
“Ah, yes.”
…Before entering, I paid for the practice sword I’d destroyed last time.
They’d tried to repair it if possible, but I’d shattered it so completely that they said replacement was the only option.
Since it was 100% my fault, I paid on the spot without complaint.
“Ah, and this…”
After I paid, the practice room equipment manager handed me an object wrapped in a white cloth.
Wondering what it was, I lifted the cloth…
A sword hilt lay there by itself.
“We sent it for repairs, but they said the hilt was the only part they could salvage…”
“Ah.”
So… since I paid for the practice sword, he was telling me to take the hilt, the only part they managed to save?
Technically, since I paid for it, ownership of the broken sword was now mine, so I had the right to decide what to do with it. It made sense for me to take it.
But why did I feel strangely bad about it?
A moment ago, it felt like I was compensating for what I broke. But now that I had this, it felt like I’d just paid 880,000 won for a completely useless object.
“If you don’t need it, we can dispose of it…”
I stared down at the lone hilt on my palm for a moment before shaking my head.
“No, I’ll take care of it.”
It might be a useless hilt, but I had exactly one use for it.
My super-omnivorous slime, Kkam-seul-i, would probably devour even this, thinking it was delicious.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
I finished practice around dinnertime, went back, ate with Shin Yujeong and Jeong-hee, and returned to my room.
Now that I’d filled my own stomach, it was time to fill Kkam-seul-i’s.
“Dinner time, Kkam-seul-i!”
Boing, boing!
As if it had been waiting, Kkam-seul-i started hopping in place.
I took the sword hilt out of my bag and placed it in front of the little guy.
“Hehe! This is an 880,000 won meal, Kkam-seul-i.”
Of course, I couldn’t guarantee it tasted like 880,000 won.
Kkam-seul-i quivered before the hilt.
“Go on, eat.”
The moment I spoke, it leaped up and landed on the hilt.
It used to eat everything in sight, so I had to discipline it sternly. Since then, it won’t eat anything until I give the command.
Seeing it suppress its instincts in front of food and wait for my order was admirable and cute, but… honestly, it was puzzling.
“Is this thing only a slime in appearance?”
Slimes were known to be monsters that moved purely on instinct, but no matter how I looked at it, this one’s intelligence seemed far beyond ordinary.
And its digestive ability was another thing.
Boing!
How could a mere slime melt and consume a sword hilt in just thirty seconds?
Even the acid slimes from B-rank dungeons probably couldn’t dissolve a sword that fast.
“I should probably look into it at some point…”
For now, I was raising it like a pet because it was small and cute, but if I dug deeper, there were more than a few unsettling things about it.
I felt like I should set aside some time to study it one day.
Just as I was watching Kkam-seul-i hop around after filling its belly…
Vzzz-
A message arrived.
The sender… was the school.
“Ah, this must be it.”
It seemed my opponent for the one-on-one battle had been decided.
“Let’s see…”
I opened the message and checked the opponent’s basic information in the attached file.
“Huh.”
It was a familiar face.
[One-on-One Battle Opponent Information]
Name: Baek Ji-hoon
Age: 20
Position: Assassin
Baek Ji-hoon.
The assassin I’d partied with once at the beginning of the second semester because of his connection to Shin Yujeong.
He was the guy who’d made it painfully obvious he liked Shin Yujeong and looked at me with disapproval.
“Ha, so we’re tangled up like this again.”
We didn’t have any classes together, so I hadn’t seen him in a while and had forgotten about him. Who would have thought we’d get tangled up again like this?
“Hmm, life is interesting.”
I didn’t like the look in his eyes last time anyway. I guess I’ll have to put him in his place this time.
Baek Ji-hoon was one of countless many.
During the first-year freshman orientation.
“Nice to meet you, everyone! I’m Shin Yujeong. Let’s get along!”
He was one of the many classmates and upperclassmen who had their hearts stolen by her as she confidently introduced herself, her bright blonde hair shimmering.
If there was one thing that set him apart from the others, it was that he didn’t join the daily barrage of confessions.
And unlike the guys who ran for the hills at her wild side—beating up an upperclassman without hesitation—he, on the contrary, found himself falling even deeper for her because of it.
Furthermore, he took a different path from the moths who, unable to hide their feelings, flew straight into the flame.
“Shin Yujeong is the victor. Good work, you may step down now.”
Shin Yujeong had won an overwhelming victory against a warrior from a similar grade bracket.
As if he’d been waiting, he approached her with a towel and a cold bottle of water in his hands.
“Congrats.”
“Oh, thanks.”
He smiled as she naturally took the water and towel.
Baek Ji-hoon had decided it was better to become her friend than to confess when the mood wasn’t right.
So he closed the distance between them, acting as if he had no particular interest in her, treating her just like one of his male friends… and the strategy was a success.
By the time the first semester was almost over, they had become close enough to sit next to each other and chat and laugh on days they had the same class.
He believed that with just a little more time, it wouldn’t be impossible to cross the line from friends to something more.
And so, he greeted the second semester, dreaming of a hopeful future.
But he faced a crisis right from the start.
The problem was the special admission student from the magic department who had suddenly appeared.
Shin Yujeong, having quenched her thirst with the water Baek Ji-hoon had given her, asked.
“Your opponent is Kim Dojin, right?”
He replied with the brightest of smiles.
“Yeah, that’s right.”
At that, Shin Yujeong’s expression darkened slightly, and she murmured in a low voice.
“This is going to be tough…”
The smile on Baek Ji-hoon’s lips twisted slightly.
He thought she was worried about Kim Dojin.
After all, his position was an assassin.
For a mage like Kim Dojin, he was a natural enemy.
Then, as if nothing had happened, Shin Yujeong lightly tapped Baek Ji-hoon’s shoulder and said,
“Well, good luck.”
Contrary to his expectation, the one Shin Yujeong felt sorry for was not Kim Dojin, but Baek Ji-hoon.
She knew now.
‘That bastard, he’s no ordinary mage.’
She knew that Kim Dojin was not an ordinary mage.
It was hard to pinpoint exactly what was different, but she was certain he was hiding much more than he let on.
Otherwise, it would be impossible for a mage to enter a dungeon alone and clear it cleanly without even a scratch.
Worried for him, Shin Yujeong left him with one last piece of advice.
“Don’t overdo it.”
She meant that if things got tough, he should just forfeit.
However, Baek Ji-hoon took it differently.
He thought she meant he shouldn’t bully Kim Dojin too much and should end it at an appropriate time.
“Yeah, I’ll be careful.”
He said that to Shin Yujeong as she walked past, but his heart felt the complete opposite.
Just then, the speakers called the next contestants.
[Baek Ji-hoon, Kim Dojin, please enter the dueling arena.]
When his turn finally came, Baek Ji-hoon strode confidently into the arena.
By the time he reached the center of the arena, Kim Dojin was approaching from the opposite side with slow steps.
Watching him, the killing intent he had calmly suppressed began to rise again.
In Baek Ji-hoon’s eyes, Kim Dojin was ‘the one who ruined a perfectly cooked meal.’
He had no intention of letting the man who had stolen the spot that should have been his walk away unscathed.
‘I’ll make sure you leave on a stretcher.’
As his mind filled with thoughts of breaking him, meaningless words flowed into his ears.
The ceremonial warnings—that this was a duel to gauge growth, so they shouldn’t use excessive force—passed by.
[Begin Duel.]
The duel finally began.
Having neutralized mages several times before, he knew exactly how to easily handle their kind.
You get behind them with superhuman speed they can never follow, then press them so hard they can’t even breathe, let alone cast a spell.
Baek Ji-hoon immediately gripped a dagger in each hand and launched himself forward.
His agility stat was a whopping 45.
In terms of agility alone, he was on par not just with first-years, but even with second and third-years.
With a swift movement that embodied that stat, Baek Ji-hoon got behind the blankly standing Kim Dojin. A cold smile formed on his lips as he felt certain of his victory.
‘Die!’
He thrust his daggers.
They were daggers with blunted edges to avoid seriously injuring the opponent, but it didn’t matter.
He didn’t need a sharp blade to break arms and legs.
Just as he was anticipating the feeling of his opponent’s bones breaking—
A thick wall shot up before Baek Ji-hoon’s eyes.
「Stone Wall.」
At the same time, Kim Dojin’s voice reached him.
“I’ve always felt this, but assassins… they seem to lack a bit of creativity, or maybe originality? Something like that.”
“What…?”
While Baek Ji-hoon was asking back with a bewildered expression, the wall blocking him crumbled away.
Kim Dojin slowly turned to face him.
Then, with an incredibly smug smile, he continued.
“You guys always think you’ve won the moment you get behind someone.”
Simply aiming for the back day in and day out… isn’t that proof you’re lacking in many ways?
At Kim Dojin’s mocking tone, Baek Ji-hoon’s face twisted into a scowl.