The Pojun Academy internal selection tournament pitted students from all three grade levels against one another to compete for just six available spots.
Among ordinary Blazers, innate talent clearly outweighed acquired skill. In a world where natural ability values were the greatest inequality, grade level didn't matter much.
Charles also had a match that day—against a third-year upperclassman.
Concerned about Ikki's match, Charles didn't waste time. While his opponent was still prattling on with meaningless bluster, Charles knocked him out—without even summoning his Device.
Charles had no intention of honoring someone who wasted breath on the battlefield. Instead, he was far more invested in the outcome of the other matches. Although he'd taught Ikki how to read ki, it had only been a single morning of training. Whether Ikki could use it well remained to be seen.
But by the time Charles arrived at Ikki's arena, the announcer was already proclaiming his victory.
Though he was invested in Ikki's development, Charles wasn't joking when he said he considered him a rival.
Not because Ikki was the "protagonist" of this world—but because of the other qualities he possessed.
Much like his Device, the Yamato, forged of dark steel, Ikki's life had been molded under fire and hammer, much like a katana.
The hardships of the world hadn't broken him. They had made him stronger. And now that he had a rival, Charles felt that blade had finally been sharpened.
If anyone had the potential to become a blade capable of slaying dragons, it was Ikki Kurogane.
And to avoid being cut down by such a blade, Charles himself had to grow stronger as well.
A guy like Tōbara Shizuya was never going to break that sword. Instead, he'd been cut down by it.
Charles looked into Tōbara's record and found out that during last year's Seven Star Sword Art Festival, he had forfeited in his second match—because his opponent specialized in large-area attacks.
Characters like that only existed in novels to stir brief antagonism, appear for a couple of chapters, and then promptly exit stage left.
Stella, Shizuku, and Arisuin had all completed their matches the day before. But each fight was so one-sided it was almost dull—they overwhelmed their opponents so completely that most surrendered outright.
Not just in power, but even in willpower, the gap was vast. In fact, the most injured participant across all their matches was the commentator, Yoriko Oruha, who had coughed up blood three times during the broadcast. Ridiculous.
Since everyone had won their matches, they decided to go out and celebrate afterward.
As they walked, Ikki said, "That ki-reading technique was amazing. It was like discovering a whole new world."
Charles waved his hand. "I'm more impressed by you. You picked it up in just one morning—but I guess with your focus, it makes sense."
Ikki smiled. "Not at all. I only really grasped it during the match. And I feel like there's still room to grow."
Shizuku stared at Charles and Ikki. It had only been a day, but she felt something strange had happened between them.
A vague sense of danger bubbled in her chest—enough to make her want to summon her Device right now.
Turning her head, she saw Stella wearing the same alert expression. The two girls locked eyes… and, as if sharing the same thought, subtly nodded to each other.
Arisuin watched the tension with amusement. Too bad Kagami wasn't here—she was off doing follow-up coverage of the tournament. She was definitely missing out on a good show.
Suddenly, Charles said, "Ikki, now that you can read ki, you noticed them too, right?"
"Yeah," Ikki nodded. "They're skilled, but I could clearly sense them through their aura."
"Hey! Stop talking in cryptic riddles we can't understand!"
Stella and Shizuku spoke in unison, annoyed at being excluded. The growing camaraderie between Charles and Ikki was making them even warier.
Charles turned and said, "We've noticed the two of you following us for a while now. We don't remember knowing you—so if you have something to say, speak up."
"Oh no, we've been spotted!"
Two students in Pojun uniforms stepped out from behind a tree. The one who had spoken was a tanned, energetic girl.
Next to her stood a tall, buzz-cut man.
Charles recognized them immediately. "Aren't you members of the student council? You didn't tail us all this way just to watch, right?"
These two were famous at Pojun Academy. Naturally, Charles knew them at a glance.
Ranked third among all students: 〈Runner's High〉 Usamaru Renren.
Ranked fourth: 〈Siege Breaker〉 Saiseki Rai.
These rankings weren't just among students of their year. Pojun conducted annual performance rankings for all enrolled students, based not on ability scores, but actual combat results.
Usamaru and Saiseki had claimed third and fourth overall.
Without question, they were top-tier elite students. They had joined the student council during their first year—Usamaru as an administrator, and Saiseki as the secretary.
Charles wasn't sure if their visit was personal or part of official student council business.
Usamaru waved cheerfully. "No need to be so on guard! We're not here with bad intentions."
"You've got no right to say that when you're sneaking around spying on us!" Shizuku snapped, openly hostile.
As an obsessive little sister, she had zero tolerance for any girl stalking her brother.
Usamaru waved her hands quickly. "Okay, okay, you're right—we're in the wrong. I apologize! So just hear me out, please!"
Ikki quickly intervened, calming Shizuku down. "They're upperclassmen in the student council. At least let's hear them out."
Usamaru sighed in relief once Shizuku backed down. "We came to meet the top first-years. We're probably going to face each other in the selection matches eventually, after all."
"A scouting mission, huh?!"
Shizuku had already unsheathed her dagger. Good thing Ikki stepped in again—otherwise things might've escalated quickly.
Even so, Usamaru flinched at the sight of the blade.
Saiseki Rai finally stepped forward and said in his oddly archaic tone, "Indeed, but beyond that—another purpose hath brought us here. We witnessed thy splendid displays in battle, and thus have come to ask—wouldst thou join our student council?"
His speech had a peculiar rhythm, but at least it was understandable.
It was recruitment season for the student council's first-year intake. Normally, students applied voluntarily, and the council evaluated applicants.
But it seemed this year, the council was doing the headhunting themselves.
Then again, it made sense—every top first-year was gathered here. Of course the student council would want to extend an invitation.
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