The grass rustled quietly as a calm breeze blew through the air. Neither John nor Destiny made a single move, watching for a single movement—just a twitch, an inkling of aggression, waiting for someone to attack first. Come to think of it, they’d barely tested their strength against each other. The first time, it’d been… what, back before the Cave of Trials, and then once more inside the cave itself, right? Something like that. And even then, there’d been no way for either to go all out.
There had never been a need for the two to fight each other, to see who was superior in combat. Their strength differences were just too large. They didn’t need to see who was stronger because the answer was obvious. John knew this. It was a fact that had been beaten into his body, forced into his brain without his consent. Destiny was the [Protagonist]. He was meant to win.
But still. Knowing he would lose, he wanted to see if he could win.
Destiny made the first move. His blade ignited with blue flame, the metal growing white as it grew hotter and hotter, to the point that it would cut through steel. With a grunt, John barely managed to block the attack, taking the force of the swing head-on. There was a bright flash as the weapons connected, John’s bat bouncing back as if it’d hit a trampoline.
“Impressive!” Destiny exclaimed, a grin stretched wide on his face. “See? You can do it!”
“Do it my ass! It’s taking all I have not to die here, you know?”
Destiny leapt back, digging his feet into the ground before pushing off like an arrow fired from a bow. John’s eyes widened, raising his bat before him, holding the thick end with his other hand as he braced for impact. The half-elf wasn’t bothering to hide his attack, holding his blade out right in front of him as if it were the spearhead to his shaft.
The blade tip struck right into John’s bat, sending him flying back. Once again, he hit the ground and bounced like a tumbleweed rolling across the desert, but this time, he managed to get himself back up, slamming his weapon into the ground to slow himself down.
Not even seconds later, his opponent was once again charging him, that stupid blue blade trailing behind him, flames flickering in the air. Clenching his teeth, John ripped out some grass, throwing it as if it were some kind of vision blocker. In the end, though, it was effective as Destiny swung, setting the plants on fire, smoke rising in the air as they burned to ash.
“Kh-! What the hell-”
“Home run.”
John reached into his storage, pulling out a little green ball. There was the ever-so-faint sound of metal sliding against metal, followed by a light ping. Destiny managed to blink out the smoke only to see what John was holding.
“A gre-”
“Batter up!”
John tossed the grenade into the air, a loud clank ringing out as his bat made contact with the explosive, sending it hurtling right toward Destiny. The boy’s eyes widened as he called upon all his mana reserves to reinforce his body as much as possible. There was a deafening bang as the thing went off right in his face, the smell of metal and gunpowder filling the air.
“What the hell, John?!” Destiny yelled. He was bleeding from a few minor cuts, and his clothes were burnt and torn, but despite all that, he wasn’t injured too badly. Well, that was expected. John wasn’t sure how different kinds of magic scaled against each other, but the boy had arguably taken more than a grenade in the past.
“Ever play baseball? They usually have a lot of balls, just in case they get hit into the stands or something.”
“You’re telling me-”
“And pitch number two!”
John ripped the pin out with his teeth, letting the grenade drop. His eyes tracked the explosive, his right foot digging into the dirt as his body pivoted, his legs twisted to turn his hips, moving his shoulders, his arms swinging forward to let weapon meet weapon, sending it hurtling forward like a speeding arrow. The twisting motion of his body was akin to a whip, kinetic energy building up as his upper body resisted the tension of his lower body, building that explosiveness up until it was let go in one big bang.
“John-!”
“Pitch number three! Three strikes, and you’re out! Man, this sounds corny as hell. I’m gonna stop talking.”
There was another bang, another clank, and soon they were playing the first and deadliest game of baseball this world had ever seen. John was laughing like crazy, swinging like a madman as he sent grenade after grenade at Destiny, who was slowly but surely pushing through the barrage.
“That’s enough!”
The smoke cleared as Destiny pushed through, his blade held high. John sent yet another explosive out, but this time, Destiny had enough. His sword slashed down, cutting the grenade in half. The heat of the blade still set the gunpowder off, but Destiny just tanked the damage and kept going, the light of the flames gleaming in his eyes as he reached the climax of the fight.
“Do you like fireworks, Destiny?”
“What are you-”
This was his last hurrah. His hail mary.
Even after pulling out his last and final trick, John had known. Something like this wouldn’t win. Maybe if he were the [Protagonist]. Maybe if he were the main character, the one who was designed to win, it would’ve worked. A stray piece of shrapnel would’ve hit the enemy’s leg, or they would’ve been caught off guard. Something, anything. An epitome, a boost of power, a trick, or a trump card, something would’ve happened to tip the battle in John’s favor. But John wasn’t the [Protagonist]. He wasn’t the one meant to win. And so no matter how many tricks he pulled up, he had to accept the fact that everyone around him would eventually climb so high he’d lose sight of them.
But that was fine. And before that happened, he really was curious.
Could he do it? Was it even possible to put a chip in the foundation of a mountain so high it reached for the heavens?
“Let’s go out with a big bang.”
Every grenade in his bag was taken out at once, dropping into John’s arms in a massive basket. He threw it upwards, dozens of them flying up into the air, almost creating a shield of explosives. Destiny saw this, but he couldn’t stop his already moving blade.
“You idiot! You won’t survive-”
“As if I stood a chance in the first place.”
Despite his words, there was a shit-eating grin on his face. Destiny’s eyes widened, but there was nothing he could do about the play. Destiny’s flaming sword made contact with the grenades, and John’s last sight was the world lighting in front of him in a glorious explosion of light.
~~~
“...what an ending. It was almost like watching a play,” Lupin muttered to himself.
He hadn’t been pleased when he’d seen John pull out the grenades. To him, it was just more tricks, more smoke and mirrors to mask his true skill. He understood that the boy didn’t have mana, but that wasn’t an excuse. If he wanted to stay in Scholaris, he had to prove that he could keep up, even without the magical energy that gave everyone around him such an advantage.
Similarly, he’d been impressed with the sportsmanship and skill Destiny had displayed, not just during that fight, but during the entire exam. Lupin nodded. That boy was truly worth mentoring.
But then during that last fight, something had caused Lupin to sit up in his chair. John… was fighting back. That mysterious air around him, the one he’d felt when testing him a month or so ago, that was gone. He didn’t seem to react nearly as well, and his body was, well, average. But then he noticed something interesting.
The boy was incredibly adaptable. It didn’t entirely make up for his lack of skill, but in his own way, John seemed to be… skilled. As if he’d fought dozens, maybe even hundreds of battles. Using the grass, blocking with both arms, parrying the blade, making use of visual distractions, they were all acts of someone using everything they had.
It was almost the opposite of Destiny. One held overwhelming power, refined technique and incredible talent. The other was weak, but as a result, he survived, like a cockroach getting through everything you threw at it. Those eyes that did not fear death. Where had he seen those before?
“His sister…”
“They’re an interesting bunch, aren’t they, nya?” Hikari grinned. “Well, that was quite the show, wouldn’t you say? I’ll be off. Good moewfternoon, professor.”
The cat slinked off, disappearing without a sound, but the old wolf was so deep in thought that even an ordinary person could’ve left without him noticing.
Lupin was coming to a realization. John wouldn’t improve. He was already at his limits here. He was truly utilizing everything he had. Even if he trained, even if he refined his technique, would it really do any good? His fighting style was already seasoned, already nearly perfected. It was possible to turn him into a warrior of pure skill, but in a way, that didn’t seem right to the old Mythic. The chaotic, unpredictable style John currently had seemed to fit much better with the boy’s personality.
It was truly just the lack of mana that was doing him in. And for that, it was a shame.
“But does he deserve to be expelled for such a thing? For being born unlucky?”
Lupin shook his head. He was getting soft.
~~~
“The exam is now concluded. Students may return to their residences.”
Lupin’s voice rang out over the almost empty hall. John saw the girl he’d been fighting take her mace and armour, almost out of the arena. Just before she left, she turned back and gave John a cheerful wave. It seemed she didn’t hold anything against him for their fight.
Looking around, he saw Prota waving at him from the stands, her arms flailing around like a human windmill. Destiny was slowly getting up beside him, having also been pushed out of the imaginary field.
“That was… a hell of a way to go out.”
John sighed as he stood up, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“Did I get you?”
“Almost.”
Unexpectedly, John grinned, chuckling as he slapped Destiny’s back.
“Well. It was worth a try, wasn’t it?”
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“You’re… unexpectedly cheerful. You’re not mad it didn’t work?”
“...”
John looked up at the stands with an unreadable gaze.
“We both know, right? It shouldn’t be that hard to figure it out.”
“But- I mean, you’re not that weak, John. When we fought together as adventurers, you were strong! Think, the chimera, the haunted armour, the mercenaries-”
“I got lucky, Destiny. They were monsters, mindless beasts, or idiots who underestimated or even completely ignored me. Even a baby could kill a mercenary. All it has to do is hold some poison, trip, and accidentally pour it down the poor dude’s throat. That’s what I was doing, Destiny. I was getting lucky.”
“Then you’re a really lucky guy.”
“Huh?”
“I’m not as stupid as you make me out to be, John.”
Destiny stopped walking, turning to face John directly.
“You orchestrate those events. You play this reckless, carefree character, but I’ve seen you at your best.”
“Then you understand that even with that, there’s only so much I can do from here on out. You don’t get it, do you? The opponents are only going to get stronger. And there’s nothing I can do but sit from the sidelines and direct you.”
“John-”
“Ah, what does it matter?” John shrugged, walking out, forcing Destiny to follow. “Prota’s my protector, remember? She can get stronger. She can do it for me.”
It was clear that was the end of the conversation. Destiny remained quiet, watching John leave, his stride just as cheerful as it always seemed to be.
“Ah, but… I did have fun just now.”
“Yeah? Me too.”
“Don’t get it twisted.” John turned around. “I told you not to hold back, and what’d you do?”
“But-”
“It doesn’t matter. And… well. I’m sure the [Author] isn’t just gonna toss me into the trash this early on.”
“The what?”
“I’ll be fine, Destiny. Trust me.”
~~~
That night, John was smiling in his bed. He’d lost. He’d known he was going to lose. But still, it’d been fun. The adrenaline pumping through his veins, the heat of the battle, the rhythm of attacks, almost like playing the piano, each stroke putting together a masterpiece until one mistake leads to the next, leading to a disaster. Either you finished a song of beauty or failed halfway.
But even if one failed halfway, there was still something to be said about the music that was made.
“John,” Prota said quietly. She was nervous.
She couldn’t read his mood. He’d swung so quickly, from down to pumped in a matter of moments. Had her message helped? Had she given him the confidence boost he’d needed?
John was such a strange person, even with all the time she’d spent with him. There were so many things she didn’t understand. So many concepts her brain couldn’t comprehend. And so no matter how much she tried to help him, there were still a lot of things she couldn’t do. She wanted to be his support. She wanted to be someone he could talk to, someone trustworthy enough that he could go to her for advice.
But she wasn’t that. She wasn’t at that level of knowledge, at that level of confidence. She didn’t understand what it meant to live in a [Story], what it meant to be a [Character], why Draco was someone John hated and left alone, why Destiny was such a powerhouse, and-
Well, it didn’t matter. She couldn’t do what she couldn’t do. She’d keep trying, keep working toward learning what was needed, but for now, all she could do was this.
“Prota. Thanks for your message,” John said, still looking up at the ceiling. “...it helped.”
That had been surprisingly easy to deal with. Still, Prota felt a tremendous amount of tension lift off her shoulders. She’d helped him in the little way she could. She’d done something for him. Something only she could do.
“I’m still not gonna fight Draco. I can’t. Destiny was proof enough of that.”
…what? He’d just thanked her, had he not?
“Prota. I can’t. I would die, quite literally, and while that’s normally not an issue, it is now.”
“...John.”
“It’s just how it works, Prota. As much as the [Author] of this [Story] stinks, they’re not enough of a dumbass that they’re going to let me breeze through every single issue. There are just some things I can’t do. But it’s fine.”
He sat up, shaking his hair out of his eyes, looking right at her.
“I told you we’d write our own story, right? I can’t do anything. But… like I said, the exam would be a good time to get some stress relief, right?”
He tossed a token over to her, the kind used to buy things on the island.
“I’ll bet on you, ok? Get revenge for both of us.”
~~~
“Students!”
Leora Dawn stood on the balcony, her wings spread wide behind her, glowing like the morning sun. The Casting students all stood below, watching as the phoenix gave her speech, but the atmosphere was visibly different from that of the fighting class.
There was an uncomfortable tension. Everyone was worried. Would Draco take revenge if they ever did something to him? He’d already done so much to them. Even though it wasn’t talked about, the memories of the things he’d done lingered.
The taunts. The insults. The “accidents,” the garbage, the threats, the humiliation, the list went on and on. And the worst part was how powerless everyone felt. Because even though Draco wasn’t that much stronger than everyone, his family was, and that was what mattered. Even across races and countries, that threat lingered over their head like a ticking time bomb, and there was nothing they could do about it.
There was just one person. One individual who, while normally shy and timid, was brimming with passion. Because she’d been given a task, a role to play for not one but two people.
“Remember. You only have one life! Along with this change, the size of the playing field is now smaller. Consequently, there will be less of both kinds of potions. Otherwise, you are all familiar with the rules!”
She smiled, her face kind as she looked down on her students, but inwardly, she was full of worry. She wanted to help. But there was only so much she could do. Mystics were powerful, but they weren’t omnipotent. They couldn’t just make a utopia in the snap of a finger.
If only someone could help.
“With that, I wish you the best of luck!”
~~~
Prota sat up in a bed. This was surprising. She hadn’t realized that was even possible. In fact, the bed was so comfy that she almost didn’t want to get out of it, but she wasn’t that lazy.
She was in a small hut, with the bed being the only furniture set in the room. A single window showed a grassy plain outside, a few other huts littering the area. A single door led to a small staircase leading back to the ground.
A quick scan of the area showed that it was safe to go out. There weren’t many hiding spots, and if anyone was in the huts, Prota could undoubtedly deal with them. She opened the door, her eyes glowing as mana gathered in her hands, ready to take on a fight. There was nothing. Slowly travelling the fields, she looked for people to fight, but there was one person in particular she was hunting.
Draco Wynton.
Never before had she had such a vendetta against someone. She’d never felt such a desire to just hit someone, to go all out against them and make them suffer. Every time she’d fought, it was in self-defence. It was because she’d needed to fight. Never had she instigated something herself.
But now, it was personal. The frustration of every single “accident,” every single piece of trash left for her to find, every insult scribbled onto her desk. The students he’d forced into doing his bidding, the power he abused and threw around like it was nothing.
The state he’d put her brother in.
She wasn’t just going to let this go. Like John had said, while fighting outside of the exam might result in unwanted consequences, the entire point of this exam was to fight each other. She just had to win.
Unfortunately, the first person she ran into wasn’t Draco.
“Prota?!”
A familiar voice rang out over the fields. Prota’s head whipped around to see Lilith and Ryan jogging toward her, a smile on their face.
“I knew I recognized you! That staff, that cloak… and your hair is so white and soft…”
Prota’s friend eyed her hair greedily, her hands slowly reaching out to grab it only to get swatted down by Ryan.
“You’re acting weird, sis.”
“S-sorry. Anyway, this is great! I found Ryan by chance, but-”
“I found you, actually.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Anyway, we can team up!”
Prota tilted her head to the side. Team up? This wasn’t even something she’d considered.
“At the end, we’ll have to fight each other, I guess, but we can help each other until then, right?”
Right, teams were something one could make. In the entrance exam, Prota had fallen to a team once. She hadn’t had friends nor the social skill to do something like back then, but it was doable now, right?
It would help her find Draco, anyway. With her limited mana reserves, she wanted to avoid fighting as much as possible until she ran into the cocky noble. Having Lilith and Ryan, two powerhouses in fire and ice magic, would be a huge benefit.
Unfortunately, she’d never get to use that benefit.
“Well, well. Fancy running into you here.”
Draco Wynton stood in front of them, arms crossed, smug smile spread all over his face. His robes trailed behind him, lined with gold and exquisite patterns, likely a gift from his family. If that were indeed the case, then it would also probably have magical reinforcements on it as well.
Still, wasn’t this fine? All three of them could take him on at once.
“Lilith…” Ryan muttered under his breath.
“I know.”
The mood was grim. There was something the twins knew that Prota didn’t. Had she been a better [Reader], she might’ve had some ideas as to what was going on, but for now, she didn’t even notice it.
“Well, isn’t this nice? I’d love to fight you, but my feet are all tired from walking. So I’d rather sit down and take a rest. While I do that, though, I would enjoy seeing some monkeys dance.”
He actually did sit down on the ground, legs crossed, resting his chin on his hand.
“You two. Fight her.”
He waved his hand at the twins as if shooing away a dog. Prota was utterly baffled by this point. Was he just sitting there? No defences? No guards? Nothing? And there was no way the twins would-
“...!?”
Prota’s body threw itself out of the way, a fireball flying right by where she’d just been.
“I’m sorry, Prota. But…”
Ryan and Lilith stood against her, tears practically filling their eyes.
“We have to do this.”
What was it Ryan had said?
“We should just be thankful that we haven’t been targeted yet. You know we can’t get involved.”
They, too, had no way to go against Draco. Thankfully, death wasn’t actually death, but to get to the son of a bitch sitting on the floor…
“Me too,” Prota whispered. “I’m sorry.”