I Became The Academy’s Narrow-Eyes

“I’ll excuse myself for a moment.”

Herion suddenly took Ceylon with him and headed to a separate room.

Click.

He locked the door and immediately began speaking.

“Ceylon, since there’s no need to beat around the bush, I’ll be direct. I’ve heard about your talent in assassination techniques from Sinia, one of the instructors.”

“Hmm?”

It came as a surprise, but Ceylon wasn’t greatly taken aback.

Teacher.

That was the title the players used to refer to Herion Dederer. Ceylon didn’t know much about Herion Dederer, but he was aware that players treated him as a likable character.

A male character being liked by the players?

‘Not an easy feat.’

Ceylon had an intuitive sense that the current event with Herion might turn out to be a fortunate occurrence rather than a setback.

“Is it alright? Can we continue?”

“Oh, yes. Please.”

“Sinia, the instructor, recognized your talent during the second test, but she advised you to hide your abilities, fearing that it would complicate things if it were revealed during the exam. However, you chose to ignore her advice and revealed your talent during the third test.”

“Well, it just happened…”

“I understand.”

“Hmm?”

“Instead of the recognition you rightfully deserve, you receive disdain and discrimination. I couldn’t have endured it either.”

Unintentionally, Ceylon shifted his gaze away from Herion.

‘It’s blinding…!’

The unwavering trust, understanding, and respect in his eyes.

It all felt overwhelming, almost burdensome.

Ceylon had a feeling that he now understood why players often exclaimed, “[Herion!!!!!!!]” whenever they encountered him.

“So, Sinia and I have decided to respect your will.”

“My will?”

“Your desire to prove yourself in front of others and earn their respect.”

Ceylon didn’t point out that something felt strangely different. As he had mentioned, he did want to secure his place and status within the academy for a comfortable daily life in the future.

Above all, Herion – or rather, Teacher – seemed to be willing to give him what he wanted. Ceylon responded with some anticipation.

“Haha, well, when you put it that way, it does make me a bit embarrassed.”

“It’s natural for someone of your age to want recognition from others. So, please, accept Agion’s proposal. Prepare for your duel with him, flaunt your talent to your heart’s content. That way, you can prove yourself and earn respect in front of the other participants.”

“To flaunt my assassin’s talent… Is that really okay?”

“I understand what you’re worried about. Right now, it might seem fine, but the aftermath—there will be consequences.”

As Ceylon nodded his head, Herion also nodded along.

“Don’t worry; Sinia and I – no, I will take care of that.”

For a moment, extreme fatigue washed over Herion’s face as he assured Ceylon.

“So, don’t concern yourself with complicated matters, just focus on your talent. That’s what an academy student should do.”

“Teacher…!”

“Teacher? Well, whatever you want to call me. Do you understand?”

Ceylon nodded.

“Alright. One final question. Are you confident?”

“Confident?”

“Let me make it clear from the start, Agion Morci possesses exceptional talent. Even compared to Drin Lebringer and Kasha Hanahan, he won’t fall short. Starting now, you must win against Agion Morci. And it’s not just about winning.”

Overwhelming victory.

Herion emphasized those words.

“To conclusively end the current situation without any doubts, you must achieve an overwhelming victory that no one dares to dispute. Are you confident?”

“Yes, I am confident…!”

His response sounded somewhat unsure but also strangely self-assured. At a glance, it might have seemed unconvincing, but Herion detected overwhelming confidence within it. He nodded in satisfaction.

***

Hundreds of participants had surrounded Agion and Ceylon, creating a makeshift arena.

“Agion, stay strong!”

“Show that lowlife what you’re made of!”

Amidst the fervent atmosphere, Herion began to speak.

“As the head examiner for the Academy’s swordsmanship entrance exam and a teacher of the Academy’s swordsmanship department, I, Herion Dederer, will observe and oversee this duel, in addition to participating as a qualified member. The outcome of this duel will be decided by me, and any objections to my decision will be considered a challenge to my authority. Do both parties agree?”

Nods.

Nods.

“Very well. I will now explain the rules of the duel.”

Snap.

Herion snapped his fingers, and markings appeared on both of their chests.

It was a commonly used magic for absorbing damage in duels.

“These markings will be destroyed if they absorb a certain amount of damage. The first to destroy the opponent’s marking will be the winner of the duel. Do you understand?”

“We understand.”

“We understand.”

Herion picked up something.

It was the handkerchief with the Morci family crest that Agion had presented when challenging the duel.

“The duel will begin the moment this handkerchief touches the ground. I will begin the countdown. 3, 2, 1-”

Swish.

Swish.

The handkerchief, which had been floating slowly in the air, gently touched the ground.

Simultaneously, silence fell over the area.

Everyone held their breath and focused on the duel.

Agion, holding his spear, assumed a stance.

And then –

“Huh?”

Ceylon stood still without drawing his sword.

He was the one who made the first move.

“What’s this?”

“What are you doing?”

Ceylon approached Agion, without assuming any posture or defenses.

“What do you mean?”

Agion, who had been full of vigor, seemed more puzzled than surprised.

“The composure of a strong individual, a handicap. Is that what it is? If so, I won’t decline…!”

In an instant, Agion’s body filled with strong resilience as the spear’s tip, filled with the will to end the duel in a single blow, charged fiercely toward Ceylon.

Could it end so anticlimactically?

That’s what everyone thought.

“Huh?”

Ceylon’s body seemed to accelerate as if slipping and narrowly avoided the spear’s tip.

Agion quickly withdrew his spear and jumped back to increase the distance between them.

“What…! What was that movement!?”

Then, a voice from the crowd.

“Ah! That’s the technique for drawing Bauer’s sword foundation, the Form of Unraveling!”

Mizu Bauer, with an emotionless and awkward voice as if reading a script, was none other than the owner of those words.

Beside Mizu, Adryn asked in astonishment, “Mizu… what are you doing?”

“Oh, well, I’m using this opportunity to appeal to people about the greatness of Bauer’s sword.”

“Ah, I see…”

Then Agion awkwardly laughed.

“It’s quite strange… that you use such a technique. I heard it’s called Bauer’s sword foundation technique. Is that true?”

“Haha, if it looked that way, it’s an honor. I’m still far from perfect.”

“Well, this is quite disappointing. The hidden tricks you have are just that…”

“Just that…? I think Agion looked quite taken aback.”

“Yes, I couldn’t help but be surprised. The fact that someone who defeated me wields such an embarrassing sword…!”

Once again, Agion’s body filled with even stronger resilience.

With stronger determination, stronger power, and faster speed, the spear’s tip charged toward Ceylon.

This time for sure!

In that moment, Agion thought,

“What…?”

Ceylon’s face filled Agion’s field of vision. Ceylon had closed the distance to point-blank range while evading the spear.

It was over!

Agion thought as he desperately swung his spear toward Ceylon. Fortunately, Ceylon’s reactions were faster in defense than Agion’s attack.

Once again, the distance between Ceylon and Agion widened.

‘No—’

But as Agion contemplated what had just happened,

‘Was my response really faster than Ceylon’s attack?’

If Ceylon had decided to attack him, wouldn’t there have been enough time for an effective strike?

Then what was it?

Why didn’t Ceylon attack?

Could it be that he was showing mercy?

“Argh-!”

This humiliating possibility infuriated Agion behind his mask.

He gritted his teeth and spoke,

“What are you trying to do…!?”

To which Ceylon replied with an unchanged expression,

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Ha, alright—If that’s how you want to play it!?”

Clang!

The vitality drained from Agion’s hand holding the spear.

“Well then, how about trying to pierce through this one with a similar spell!”

The Morci family’s Wind Spear technique, known as the Wind Spear, was wielded by Agion. Despite the inherent stiffness of the weapon, the Wind Spear behaved capriciously and freely, yet swiftly.

Agion channeled the essence of the Wind Spear into his attack, aiming for a devastating onslaught.

Or at least, he intended to continue.

Miss!

“…!”

Miss!

“…This, you bastard…!!!”

For an attack to truly become a relentless onslaught, it needed to flow seamlessly from one move to the next. However, every time Agion finished one action and tried to transition to the next, the same scenario unfolded as before.

Ceylon, who had slid past the tip of the spear as if gliding, had suddenly closed the distance to point-blank range and now stared at Agion with that same taunting expression.

It was a strategy that exploited the vulnerability inherent in using a spear as a weapon.

Strategy?

No.

It was mockery.

Ceylon was clearly mocking Agion, toying with him as if a bullfighter played with a blindfolded bull in a red cloth.

He could have easily thrust his sword into Agion’s throat at any moment if he wished.

“This damn…!”

Unable to bear it any longer, Agion thrust his spear far back to unleash a powerful blow.

Clang!

Crash!

“Wha-!”

When Agion forcefully thrust his spear backward, it suddenly bounced back with unexpected resistance, causing Agion to lose control of it.

“What just happened!?”

Agion, bewildered, checked behind him after his spear slipped from his grasp.

“Huh…?”

A wall.

Suddenly, he found himself pushed beyond the arena that the spectators had created, all the way to the wall of the waiting room.

“Oh, oh!”

“Back off!”

“Clear the way!”

The crowd had been so absorbed in Ceylon’s movements that they didn’t realize Agion was continually being pushed backward or that the onlookers were making way for him.

“…”

Agion stared at the wall with a puzzled expression, then looked down at his spear lying on the ground.

Thud.

Someone picked up the spear and handed it to Agion.

“…”

It was still Ceylon, smiling smugly as he placed the spear back into Agion’s numb hand. He lightly tapped Agion’s fist with his own, as if encouraging him to regain his composure.

Agion looked at Ceylon.

The same sight as always, with Ceylon senselessly smirking.

He spoke with a cheerful tone.

“So, shall we continue?”

“…”

Clang.

The spear, now in Agion’s hand, rolled on the ground once more.

Agion, trembling, turned to Herion and spoke in a quivering voice.

“I, I can’t…”

Ceylon, bewildered, exclaimed, “Huh? What? Can’t? Agion, why are you suddenly saying that?”

His usual carefree and arrogant demeanor remained.

“…”

“…”

However, the faces of the onlookers watching Ceylon, who appeared no different from usual, had changed significantly.

Herion, after looking around, nodded and opened his mouth.

“Participants Ceylon and Agion Morci’s duel. With Agion Morci’s surrender, Ceylon is the victor.”