Esper Rupindolf POV
The instant Ivan vanished from his spot and reappeared before Soren, the air in the arena turned sour.
It was like the temperature dropped.
The hairs on Esper's arms stood on end.
Everyone felt it.
The previous exchanges had been dangerous, yes, but they were still within the bounds of a noble duel, reckless, bloody, but "acceptable" for nobles swinging weapons at each other.
This was different.
The killing intent that leaked out of Ivan in that single heartbeat was so sharp it made even the crowd flinch.
'…He's going to kill him.'
Esper realised it before she consciously processed what she was seeing.
The way Ivan's mana condensed around his legs, the wild look she had glimpsed in his eyes earlier, the angle of his sword as it came down toward Soren's exposed neck…
There was no feint there.
No restraint.
He wasn't aiming to knock Soren down.
He wasn't even aiming to maim.
He was aiming to erase him.
Esper was not Soren's oldest friend.
They hadn't grown up together, hadn't shared years of memories.
But even in just a few weeks, she had learned enough.
He smiled more easily than he thought he did.
He listened more carefully than most nobles ever bothered to.
And behind his lazy, sarcastic tone, there was always a tiredness that made her chest feel tight if she stared too long.
He had thanked her for buying him a ring.
He had fed her pancakes without making it weird.
He had called her "Essy" without even realising how much she liked the sound of it.
He did not deserve to die here.
Not like this, in a petty duel, under the sword of some arrogant idiot who thought the world would bend for him just because of his surname.
Esper shot to her feet so abruptly that her chair screeched back and fell.
"Cutie—!"
Her voice broke halfway through his nickname.
There was no time to shout properly.
No time to scream at the Overseer.
No time to think.
"Airael!"
The name left her lips on pure reflex.
Whoosh—
The air in front of her twisted, forming a small whirlwind that coalesced into a translucent, green-tinted woman with long hair made of wind.
Airael's eyes, clear and bright, flicked once toward the arena.
She didn't need Esper to explain anything.
Their contract made words optional.
"Carry me!" Esper ordered anyway, because saying something made her feel like she was doing more than just panicking.
Airael didn't answer; she simply raised her pale hand.
The wind roared.
Pressure wrapped around Esper's body like a hundred invisible fingers, lifting her straight off the bench.
Her stomach lurched as the ground dropped away.
In the next instant, she was flung forward.
The stands blurred beneath her.
The other students' faces turned into streaks of colour, open mouths, widened eyes, hands halfway through forming spells, but all far too slow.
Airael poured everything into speed.
She didn't need Esper's thoughts to know why.
Soren was her contractor's friend.
Soren had laughed with them.
Spirits might not feel in the same way humans did, but they understood bonds.
And they understood when something important to their contractor was in danger.
'Please…'
Esper's fingers clenched uselessly in the air, reaching for a point she still couldn't quite grasp.
The distance between them shrank at a frightening rate, but not fast enough.
She could see it now.
The arena.
The stone.
Soren, frozen for just a fraction of a second, eyes wide, Labrys half-raised.
Ivan, directly in front of him, sword already halfway through its arc.
Behind her, the rest of Soren's people moved.
Felix shot to his feet so fast he almost flipped his chair, a magic circle blooming at his fingertips.
"「Shield」!"
But even a fast chant was still a chant.
Amelia didn't bother with any fancy tricks.
She leapt from the stands, the stone beneath her cracking in a spiderweb pattern as she landed, ready to launch herself again.
Olivia had already clasped her hands together, lips moving in frantic prayer, begging a distant goddess to intervene.
Alex's sword flared with light as he half-drew it, instincts screaming to cut the duel short himself.
Louise screamed Soren's name.
Lilliana's eyes glowed blood-red as her mana surged, power spilling out in a way that made weaker students instinctively recoil.
Everyone who cared about Soren moved.
They all reacted.
Just one beat too late.
Esper saw the exact moment the sword connected.
It was horrifyingly clear from her angle.
One second, Soren's pale throat was intact.
The next, Ivan's blade passed straight through the space where his neck should've been, the image so wrong that Esper's mind rejected it for a moment.
There was barely any blood.
It was almost clean.
That was what made it worse.
"NOOO!"
The scream tore itself from Esper's throat, raw and high.
Airael didn't slow down.
If anything, the spirit accelerated.
At the final instant, she cancelled the surrounding wind and dropped Esper straight down.
Thud!
Esper slammed into Ivan with all of the momentum from her flight.
He hadn't expected an attack from above.
He was still standing there, sword extended past where Soren's body should have fallen, a twisted smile starting to curl his lips.
Her shoulder drove into his chest, knocking the air out of him.
They crashed to the floor of the arena, bodies skidding across stone.
Clatter—!
Ivan's bastard sword flew from his grasp, spinning away with a harsh metallic ring before bouncing out of reach.
"Heh…"
Even pinned beneath her, the sound that slipped from his mouth wasn't a groan of pain.
It was a short, delighted chuckle.
Esper stared down at him.
Close up, she could see the wildness in his eyes, the way his pupils were blown wide, the twitch at the corner of his lips.
This wasn't someone who had lost himself in the heat of battle and gone too far.
This was someone savouring what he believed he had done.
"Hehehehe…"
The laugh grew louder, more unhinged.
"Stop laughing!"
Esper seized his breastplate with both hands and shook him once, fury and panic and horror all tangled together.
Her voice cracked as she shouted,
"You're insane!"
He didn't answer her.
Maybe he didn't even hear her.
His gaze had already drifted away from her face, sweeping past her shoulder, as if looking for confirmation that his "prey" was gone.
The stone floor trembled.
Step… step…
Amelia landed with enough force to carve a crater at the edge of the stands, then strode toward them, her boots cracking the arena stones with every step.
Her usually lazy eyes were sharp and vicious now, slit pupils narrowed on Ivan like he was nothing more than a piece of trash that had crawled someplace it shouldn't.
Louise hadn't moved forward from her spot near the railing, but she had dropped to her knees, both hands covering her mouth.
Her eyes were wide and empty, like someone who had just watched a nightmare repeat itself.
Alex, halfway through drawing his sword, froze, blade still glowing faintly with mana.
His jaw clenched so hard the muscles trembled.
Lilliana had both hands pressed against the barrier, fangs faintly visible beneath her lips as she fought herself not to jump in and tear Ivan apart on the spot.
Her mana pulsed in waves, controlled only by sheer effort.
The Overseer had gone chalk-white.
Her hands were shaking, a half-formed magic circle flickering uselessly between her fingers.
Everyone who had started to move earlier had reached their limit, inches too far, seconds too slow.
Only Esper was on top of Ivan.
Only she felt the tremor in his chest as he laughed up at the sky.
"What have you done?"
Amelia's voice was quiet.
Too quiet.
Esper flinched at the sound, despite not being the one it was aimed at.
The princess stepped up beside them and looked down at Ivan, her tail low and stiff, her ears pinned back.
There was no anger written on her face.
Something colder sat there instead.
"Hehehe… Princess," Ivan rasped, finally dragging his gaze away from the air and focusing on her. "You're welcome."
Twitch—
Amelia's eyebrow twitched.
Her hand rose, fingers curling into a fist, the air around her knuckles distorting as mana gathered, prepared to drive his head into the stone…
Thud.
A dull impact sounded behind them.
For a moment, Esper thought it was part of her imagination, a delayed echo from when she had tackled Ivan.
Then she heard it.
"Hah… hah… hah…"
Ragged, heavy breathing.
Familiar.
Too familiar.
Her head snapped around so fast her neck twinged.
Amelia turned as well, movement stiff, like she was forcing herself to look even though she didn't want to see what was there.
Their eyes travelled to the same spot.
Just a few metres away, sprawled on the stone floor of the arena, was a boy with snow-white hair and crimson eyes, one hand clawing weakly at his neck.
His uniform was torn and stained.
His face was pale, sweat dripping down his jaw.
But he was there.
Alive.
Breathing.
"Soren?"
"Cutie?"
The two voices overlapped, shaky and disbelieving.
Esper didn't even realise she had let go of Ivan until she felt wind brush her back as Airael drifted closer, her presence hovering anxiously over Soren's body.
For a split second, Esper genuinely wondered if she was dreaming.
She had seen the blade pass through.
She had seen it.
There was no mistake.
And yet…
The boy on the floor was gasping like he was drowning on land, fingers digging into his own throat, eyes unfocused but very much alive.
"What…?" she whispered.
Her heart, which had been in freefall, jerked painfully inside her chest, stuck between crashing relief and lingering terror.
She didn't understand.
Nobody did.
But right now, explanations didn't matter.
All that mattered was that he was still there.
Still within reach.
Still breathing.
"Cutie…" she said again, under her breath this time, as if afraid that saying his nickname too loudly would make him disappear.
He didn't answer.
His breathing only grew harsher.
Esper's relief twisted back into fear as she watched him writhe, clutching at his neck like it was on fire.
Without thinking, she moved.
Leaving Ivan sprawled under her, she pushed herself up and stumbled across the stone toward Soren, Airael gliding silently at her side.
She didn't know what had happened.
She didn't know how he had survived.
But if there was anything she could do now, not as a duke's daughter, not as some "high-ranking student," but just as Esper, as Essy, as his friend…
She was going to do it.
••✦ ♡ ✦•••
Soren Arden POV
Slash.
Ivan's blade cut directly through Soren's neck.
He felt it, or rather, he knew it.
There was no time to dodge, no mana left to throw into another spell, no way to raise Labrys high enough to block.
One moment, he was staring at Ivan's eyes, watching that crazed hatred bear down on him.
The next, cold metal passed cleanly through his throat.
'…Ah.'
There was a strange clarity in that instant.
He had always thought that when people said, "Your life flashes before your eyes," it was an exaggeration.
Some dramatic line from a drama.
But right then, his mind flickered through images in rapid succession.
His childhood bedroom on Earth, messy desk piled with game cases.
A cracked phone screen, Aria's name glowing on it.
Freya's grin as she pouted and hugged him.
Lilliana's teary smile in a dim dorm room.
Amelia's body resting on his shoulder as she napped beside him.
Esper's teasing grin as she held up his ring finger.
The night sky above Ivansia, coloured by the stars.
'Is this really how I die?'
He didn't feel fear.
Just a bitter, exhausted annoyance.
'After everything… in a duel with some mob character?'
— I will save you, Princess, just wait for me.
The memory of Ivan's line from earlier drifted past, adding another pinch of irritation.
'You're not even original…'
He tried to swallow, out of habit.
His throat should not have been able to move.
There should have been blood everywhere.
He should have felt the world tilt and fade to black.
Instead… nothing.
No warmth spilling down his chest.
No suffocating cough.
No sharp, burning agony swallowing him whole.
Just a light, floating numbness.
'…Huh?'
He waited for the pain.
1 second.
2 seconds.
5 seconds.
10 seconds.
The world continued.
His vision didn't fade; it sharpened instead.
Colours were painfully clear.
He saw Esper crash into Ivan, heard her scream, heard the clatter of the sword hitting stone, and felt the shaking of the arena under Amelia's landing.
'Where's the pain?'
For a brief, insane moment, he wondered if this was what people meant by a "painless death."
Maybe his neck really had been cut through.
Maybe his body was just too slow to realise it was dead.
Maybe this was that strange in-between stage where your soul still clung to your flesh.
'…No, that's stupid.'
Dead people didn't feel their own heartbeat hammering in their ears.
Dead people didn't feel sweat running down their backs.
He drew a sharp breath, just to test it.
Air rushed into his lungs.
His chest rose.
His fingers twitched.
'I'm… breathing?'
He lowered his gaze, hand shaking as he slowly raised it towards his neck.
Before his fingers made contact, a familiar bell chimed in his ear.
Ting–♪
.
[Unique Skill [?mera] has deactivated.]
.
"...!!!!!"
There was no way to describe what followed.
Pain slammed into him so violently that the breath in his lungs turned into a soundless wheeze.
It didn't feel like he had been cut.
It felt like someone had taken a red-hot brand and pressed it into every nerve in his neck at once, then dragged it through his entire body.
As if his throat, spine, jaw, shoulders, skull, every part of him above the collarbone, had been ripped apart and stitched back together with molten wire in the span of a heartbeat.
His knees buckled.
He hit the ground hard, hands flying up to his neck on instinct.
"Hh—!"
No voice came out.
Only a hoarse, broken breath.
The world shrank to one point: the burning line where he was sure a sword had passed.
He couldn't think.
He couldn't see properly.
His vision shook every time his body shuddered, colours blurring at the edges.
Every nerve screamed.
It didn't matter that his status window said [Pain Tolerance].
It didn't matter how many times he had trained until he collapsed in Lilliana's dorm, or bitten his own tongue while practising circles on it, or let his blood drain away for the sake of growth.
This was beyond anything he had imagined.
It felt like his entire nervous system had been forcibly rewired in an instant, and his brain was only now catching up.
"—"
Voices buzzed around him, distant and warped, like he was underwater.
He couldn't make out words. Only tones.
Someone shouting.
Someone calling his name.
Someone swearing, furious.
The sounds all twisted together into white noise, drowned out by the roaring in his ears.
Tears streamed down his face without his permission.
Not from fear.
His body simply couldn't cope.
His fingers clawed at his neck, nails scraping skin, desperately trying to do something, to remove the source of the pain that wasn't even really there anymore.
His throat was intact.
He didn't know that yet.
All he knew was that it hurt.
So much that his mind kept trying to shut down, only to be dragged back by another wave.
Grab.
A hand wrapped firmly around his wrist.
Warm.
Steady.
It stopped his nails from digging deeper.
Another hand pressed against his shoulder, anchoring him.
Whose were they?
He couldn't tell.
Lilliana.
Amelia.
Esper.
Louise.
Any of them could have had hands like that.
He tried to focus, to look up, to see, but his eyes only rolled uselessly, fresh tears blurring his view.
The warmth of that grip, however, cut through the haze just enough to keep him from utterly losing himself.
"Don't… scratch…"
A fragment of Lilliana's voice surfaced for a brief second.
He forced his fingers to relax.
Just a little.
"Hah… hah… hah…"
Harsh breaths tore from his lungs in ragged bursts as his body twisted of its own accord. Every muscle spasmed.
He didn't know how long it lasted.
It could have been seconds.
It felt like hours.
The ceiling above him wobbled in and out of focus.
His consciousness frayed at the edges, like an overused thread about to snap.
'Stop…'
He wasn't praying to anyone in particular.
Not Iria.
Not Aryn.
Not any goddess whose name he knew.
Just to something.
Anything.
'Enough… already…'
The pain rose again.
Then, finally, mercifully, everything went black.
————「❤︎」————