This Novel is not my Novel

Was it because he had heard that Vigdís had only recently begun learning the sword?

For a while, Kaldrun refrained from counterattacking. He merely defended and evaded, closely observing Vigdís's movements.

Then he created some distance and began hurling ice shards at her.

He must be testing how she responds to ranged attacks.

Before long, however, it became a test of how much punishment her 【Iron Blood Steel Body】 could withstand.

That was why Vigdís simply ignored the shards and charged through them. Once she activated the skill, small pieces of ice could not even scratch her.

The shards gradually increased in size until they became lumps of ice as large as a fist.

Imbued with blue-green Ether, they flew straight at Vigdís.

And when they struck her body, reinforced by 【Iron Blood Steel Body】—

Clang!

A sharp impact rang through the auditorium, a sound impossible to imagine coming from a collision between ice and human flesh.

Only then did Vigdís appear to feel pain. She flinched, her brow furrowing.

Worse, the force carried by the ice drove her backward and disrupted her stance.

Vigdís could no longer endure the blows head-on. She began cutting down the incoming ice with her sword or dodging it.

Kaldrun threw more than ten additional chunks.

Then he charged in himself, driving Vigdís into a corner with a flurry of sword strikes before knocking her weapon away and ending the assessment.

"You have talent. Keep working hard."

"Ah...! Thank you...!"

It was not even especially lavish praise.

Even so, Vigdís beamed with delight and bowed deeply in gratitude.

Apparently pleased by her attitude, Kaldrun smiled with satisfaction.

"You may return to your seat."

"Yes!"

Vigdís returned with a proud expression, sat down beside me, and wrapped herself in the blanket once more.

This time, Reisir did not offer her the blanket he was using either.

It seemed that, in the eyes of someone else's protagonist, this body looked frailer than Vigdís.

"Kar, where did you buy this blanket?"

While Vigdís asked that question and I told her where I had purchased the Ether-heated blanket, Kaldrun called Pret forward.

Not by name.

He simply pointed at him.

"I'm Pret Hulid! And by next class, I'll practice drawing my daggers straight from my Inventory too!"

Pret Grymur put away his blanket, rose from his seat, and spoke in a sly tone.

Several belts packed tightly with daggers were strapped around his body.

He had clearly anticipated what the professor would say and moved to preempt him.

"At least you're aware."

"Of course, of course. I also know I'm supposed to make the first move~."

As he spoke, Pret drew and threw his daggers in one motion. freēwēbnovel.com

Two from each hand.

Four in total.

At that moment, Kaldrun stood completely exposed, the hand holding his sword hanging loosely at his side.

And yet—

His sword flashed with lightning speed and struck down every dagger with perfect accuracy.

He retaliated by firing ice shards, then kicked off the ground and charged toward Pret.

"Oh dear!"

Pret cried out theatrically and retreated at once.

As he did, he drew one dagger in each hand, knocked away several ice shards, then threw both daggers at Kaldrun.

Once again, he repeated the motion of drawing and hurling four daggers at once.

All the while, he leaped backward, retreating nearly as fast as Kaldrun advanced.

"Wow, he can run backward that fast!"

"That must also be something he learned from the circus troupe."

"The circus sounds incredible! I've never seen one, so I had no idea."

Vigdís and Ríolíkin exchanged these remarks.

"I've never seen one either. In that case, it might be nice if we all went together someday."

Reisir added that suggestion.

At once, Yor's eyes sparkled.

"Meow-meow-meow-meow!"

It was a rather alarming proposal. Going out for entertainment with the original protagonist would surely result in us being swept into some Demon Realm generation phenomenon.

Still, with Yor showing that much interest, I could not bring myself to object.

He only said it would be nice. Nothing has actually been decided...

So I remained silent and focused on Kaldrun and Pret's spar.

Pret continued sprinting backward, knocking aside ice shards and showing off his dagger-throwing technique.

Then Kaldrun, who had been pursuing him, abruptly stopped and reached out with his left hand as though snatching something from the air.

"A needle...?"

"I had it custom-made from a matte black material so it wouldn't stand out, but you still saw it? Or did you sense the Ether?"

Apparently, while Pret had been throwing daggers coated in brown-tinted Ether, he had also slipped in a needle imbued with his naturally transparent Ether.

Kaldrun had caught it.

"So your ability changes the color of your Ether."

"You haven't heard about our abilities?"

"I received the information, but I didn't bother reading it. I would find out during the sparring anyway."

"Oho, now those are words befitting you!"

Pret thrust both arms forward and flicked his wrists.

He must have thrown black needles coated in transparent Ether, but they were nearly impossible to track with the naked eye.

Even so, Kaldrun swung his sword and knocked them down.

From the repeated clangs, he appeared to have deflected quite a few.

"I hear monster hides are often thick and hard. Look into ways to increase your attack power."

With that, Kaldrun launched another volley of ice shards and rushed at Pret.

Once again, Pret knocked the shards aside with his daggers and leaped backward.

At that exact moment, the ground beneath him froze over.

Pret did not so much as stumble.

"Aha! Since I come from a circus troupe, I've made a habit of treating my shoes so they won't slip!"

No one had asked, but Pret cheerfully explained why he had remained upright on the ice.

His explanation about it being necessary for circus work was probably true.

Though not as a member of a circus troupe. As a member of the information guild. He must have needed it while infiltrating somewhere.

As expected of the heir who would one day inherit the information guild, Pret's ability to escape was truly remarkable.

Still, no matter how spacious the auditorium was, it did not offer unlimited room.

The moment his back touched the wall, Pret raised both hands above his head and surrendered.

"Giving up without even attempting to escape? How disappointing."

"I ran several simulations in my head, but every one of them ended with me getting caught and beaten. I've learned that when there's no hope, the best option is to admit defeat quickly and flatter the other person!"

Naturally.

His profession was not assassination, but intelligence gathering.

Unless he had uncovered a secret that could never be allowed to spread, he could always beg for mercy and offer a compromise in exchange for his release.

"That may be the best course of action against people. But the enemies you will face from now on are monsters. They neither understand words nor know mercy. You will have to learn how to charge forward as though your life depends on it."

"Thank you for the excellent advice!"

Pret then began circling the auditorium to collect the daggers scattered across the floor.

He left the needles where they were, presumably because finding and retrieving all of them would take too long.

He must have decided to recover the visible daggers first, since they were too expensive to treat as disposable.

...He's also quietly picking up the arrows Fjodora left behind.

She had surely noticed, but she made no effort to stop him.

To a member of the Imperial Family, an arrow was probably little more than a disposable item.

Perhaps she thought there was no harm in allowing a commoner to gather them and sell them for pocket money.

"You're the last one. What is your name?"

"Sveinn Oddr."

Sveinn answered while taking a spear from his Inventory.

I will omit what followed.

As a reader of 《NaSE》, I could not bring myself to like Sveinn, a character who would later betray the original protagonist after receiving so much help from him.

However, that was not why I refused to give him any narrative attention.

"...How long have you been learning the spear?"

"I first picked one up last month."

"And you've never used your Ether Attribute Ability in combat?"

"No..."

"The two who failed to come today must be in similar circumstances..."

Kaldrun pressed a hand to his forehead and sighed, his expression troubled.

As his reaction made clear, Sveinn's ability was utterly abysmal.

That was why I had no choice but to omit his skill assessment.

There had to be something to narrate.

He did nothing.

"For now, observe how the others fight today and think about how you can use your Ether Attribute Ability. As for spear techniques, watch Reisir's movements and learn from him... And don't come here next week. Find the professor responsible for spear instruction instead. None of the students here would make a suitable sparring partner for you."

Perhaps the reality of having to teach combat for real battles to students who had only just begun holding weapons had filled him with despair.

Kaldrun spoke in a weary tone and waved Sveinn away, telling him to sit down.

Whether he interpreted the gesture as dismissal, shame colored Sveinn's face.

If it were me, I would have taken comfort in the fact that no one was laughing and moved on...

Unfortunately, Sveinn did not seem capable of that sort of self-rationalization.

As I watched him sit down with his face burning in humiliation, I thought he looked somewhat pitiful.

I did not show it.

Such a thought did not suit Karvaldr's character either.

And Sveinn would likely have found it deeply offensive if he knew I pitied him.

"Speaking of assigned professors, I think Reisir would benefit more from gaining sparring experience than from concentrating solely on spear techniques. Rather than assigning him to a single professor, I'll arrange for him to spar with whichever professor he wants, whenever he wants. Ah...! Should I be speaking formally?"

Kaldrun had been speaking informally to Fjodora.

Only then did he seem to realize that this was not something a mere student could authorize, and that he was effectively addressing the princess.

An expression of belated realization crossed his face.

Even so, Kaldrun did not appear inclined to switch to formal speech.

Fjodora, for her part, did not seem to care.

"Unless I am appearing publicly in my capacity as royalty, you may speak comfortably. I will also instruct the combat professors not to refuse Mr. Reisir's sparring requests. If I promise them an incentive each time they spar with him, I imagine none of them will object."

Under those conditions, it felt less likely that Reisir would request sparring matches and more likely that the professors would start requesting them from him.

Reisir seemed to have reached the same conclusion.

A reluctant expression settled over his face.