Arc 30: Aura

An unexpected commotion erupted at a certain mansion. A single man had thrown the building into chaos.

His gaze was sharp enough to cut, his eyes as clear and merciless as a reflection in a blade. Atzier de Roach strode boldly through the front entrance of another man’s mansion.

“Vincenz von Kollmann.”

Facing the knights guarding the mansion, Atzier pulled a sheet of paper from inside his coat.

“You are under arrest on charges of leaking information concerning the knights directly under the imperial family, conspiracy, and accepting bribes. If you surrender and come quietly...”

He struck the butt of his spear against the floor.

THUD!

“Only you will die.”

“Y-you crazy bastard! Kill him!”

Vincenz bellowed down from the second-floor railing. At his command, the knights charged Atzier.

Atzier swung his spear lightly with a swish, knocking aside the incoming blades and striking wrists in the same motion. Those struck squarely dropped their weapons. Meanwhile, his spear traced an arc, striking the knights across the sides of their faces one after another.

“Urgh!”

The knights were fully armored, helmets and all, yet somehow every one of them went flying when Atzier’s spear struck. Each was knocked unconscious by the impact.

He had spoken as though he would kill them all if they resisted, but instead he used the flat of his blade or the shaft to knock them out. There was no need even to kill them.

‘... Hmph. If that’s all he’s got.’

Vincenz scoffed at the sight.

There was nothing remarkable about Atzier’s movements. No matter how closely he looked, he could find nothing flashy—only small, simple motions. Subduing all the knights without killing them was impressive enough, but Vincenz could have done the same.

He was certain he could win. The knights had lost only because they were utterly incompetent. He had paid good money to hire them and assumed they would be decent, but they were all show and no substance.

With a broad grin, Vincenz walked to his room. He took the spear he had so lovingly displayed in one hand and stepped out again.

By then, every knight on the first floor lay sprawled on the ground. Only Atzier remained standing in the center.

“You there!”

Vincenz shouted and held out his spear. Its ornate shaft and brilliant luster caught the eye. The blade in particular gleamed beautifully in the chandelier’s light.

“Look at this spear! If you have eyes, you should recognize it! This is Kyriotetes, known as the spear wielded by an angel! They even say it rivals legendary weapons!”

“Impressive.”

Atzier’s voice remained unchanged. Despite his words, it was impossible to tell whether he was impressed at all.

With a sharp grunt, Vincenz leaped over the railing. He swung his Aura-infused spear downward and landed softly, using the pressure released by his Aura to keep his body aloft.

“When two fighters are equally skilled, their weapons have always decided the outcome.”

“That’s true enough.”

Vincenz gripped his spear in both hands, its point aimed at Atzier. Atzier, meanwhile, merely rested the tip of his own spear on the floor.

Vincenz’s arms tensed. Aura surged up and rippled along the entire shaft. The blade no longer merely reflected light; infused with Aura, it shone on its own.

SWISH!

Vincenz’s eyes flashed open, and his spearhead shot toward Atzier like lightning.

And then—

WHOOSH!

Vincenz stared blankly at his empty hands.

His spear was gone. Kyriotetes, the spear of angels said to rival legendary weapons, had vanished.

No. It hadn’t vanished. He had lost his grip. The instant Atzier lightly touched it with his own spear, Vincenz had let go without feeling a thing.

“What...?”

While Vincenz was still staring blankly at his hands, Atzier spun the lower end of his spear around and swept him off balance. Vincenz crumpled helplessly to the floor and looked up at him.

“Let me ask you one thing.”

Atzier pressed his spear’s point against Vincenz. Despite his effortless victory, displeasure spread across his face.

“Why are you so weak?”

“Wh-what...?”

Vincenz raised his head, wondering if he had misheard.

Weak? Him?

‘You crazy bastard. You’re the one who isn’t normal!’

That spearhead had merely brushed his weapon, and it had flown out of his hands. He hadn’t even felt it slipping free. How was anyone supposed to counter a technique like that?

“That spear. You called it Kyriotetes?”

“... Yes. A man like you would never even see one in his entire—”

“I’ve seen better. That’s why I’m asking.”

Murderous intent filled Atzier’s eyes.

Vincenz couldn’t understand why Atzier was angry now. During their confrontation, perhaps, but surely there was no need for it anymore.

“There’s someone I know.”

Atzier moved his spear to Vincenz’s throat.

“He had a weapon even more absurd than the one you were just holding. He swung it around without a trace of fear.”

Blood trickled down Vincenz’s throat. It was as though Atzier’s anger were spreading from the tip of his spear.

“And yet he put that weapon aside to develop his own strength. He sought instruction, suffered injuries, took beatings, and rolled in the dirt. That was how he grew stronger, believing it was the only way he could survive. All while enduring a time when everyone around him thought he was pathetic.”

Vincenz had no idea who Atzier had been talking about all this time. But he knew he had been caught at one hell of an unlucky moment.

“I’ll ask you again.”

Atzier’s icy gaze settled on him.

“What right do you have to be so weak?”

* * *

My older brother Atzier had served as a substitute teacher at Constel.

This was part of the standard progression in Etius, too. Once the Main Quest “Attack” was thwarted, Ales would inevitably be expelled from Constel or flee without a trace.

Atzier was the one who briefly filled the sudden vacancy in Basic Combat Skills.

But as the title suggested, he was only a substitute, staying until the next permanent teacher arrived.

Who would that teacher be? Of course, I already knew the answer.

“It’s so nice to meet you all!!”

His voice was even more exuberant than in the game, and I was already filled with dread.

The students gathered in the auditorium for class stared blankly at the man skipping in from the entrance.

He was a little shorter than the average man in this world, with an excessively youthful face.

Professor Pascal.

Gamers called him “the Brat.”

He wasn’t a villain, but plenty of gamers wished he were.

“Ahem.”

Standing in the center of the auditorium, Pascal cleared his throat and spread his arms wide.

“Hello! I’m Pascal Schiltz, and starting today, I’ll be teaching Basic Combat Skills at Constel. It’s a pleasure to meet you!”

Pascal beamed and waved his arms about. The students smiled awkwardly back.

Even if they tried not to judge him at first glance, his appearance and mannerisms were far too childish.

“And I’m a knight from the Imperial Palace. Impressive, isn’t it? That’s why I get to teach all of you!”

Some students’ eyes lit up at Pascal’s boasting.

Naturally, the knights of the Imperial Palace were in a different league from some half-baked private order. Even their lowest-ranking knight received special treatment.

And Pascal was no low-ranking knight.

“Now that you’re in your second semester, you’ll be learning about Aura in earnest. I didn’t just decide that on my own—it’s part of Constel’s curriculum!”

This time, most of the students’ expressions truly changed.

Aura. It was the stuff of dreams for combat-track students.

As I’d mentioned before, Aura and Mana were different names for the same substance, known as “energy.”

But while magic-track students quickly learned to use Mana and cast magic, combat-track students took much longer to use Aura.

Some never managed it even by the time they graduated from Constel.

There were several reasons for that. First, combatants could fight without Aura.

A mage who couldn’t use magic wasn’t much of a mage, but a swordsman without Aura was still a swordsman. That made learning Aura less essential, and so it came later.

Another reason was that Aura manifested differently in each person.

Constel guided students toward suitable ways to use it, but mastering it was up to the individual.

Unlike magic, using Aura involved no fixed spell formula. Just as everyone’s bones and muscles differed, each person released Aura in their own way.

“For reference, this is my Aura! Keep your eyes wide open!”

Pascal opened one hand. The students’ expressions said, Surely not. But their suspicions proved correct.

A low hum sounded, like an engine gently starting up.

“Wow...!”

Pascal drew Aura from his bare hand. Its shape was unmistakably that of a sword.

Because Aura was a release of energy, ordinary people and those with a poor sense for energy either couldn’t see it or could barely make it out.

... To be honest, I probably couldn’t have seen it until recently, either. Fortunately, all my fighting so far seemed to have paid off. I could see it clearly.

“Aura without a weapon...”

Someone murmured in admiration.

Ales, our former Combat Skills teacher, had once said this:

[“Once you reach the pinnacle of Aura, you can turn it into a weapon with your bare hands, without a physical weapon.”]

In other words, Pascal had reached the pinnacle of Aura—a level even Ales hadn’t attained.

... Well, that phrasing had several catches, but even setting those aside, there was no disputing that Pascal was an exceptional knight.

“What do you think? Amazing, right? Amazing, right? Hahahaha!”

If only he hadn’t said that, he really would have been showered with admiring looks. Instead, the students returned to their awkward smiles.

“You can use Aura as a weapon with your bare hands like this, but even if you can, you’re better off holding a weapon. Aura amplifies a weapon’s sharpness, strength, and durability, drawing out its inherent power to match.”

I thought as I listened to Pascal’s explanation.

It was probably true for every student, but my top priority this semester was Aura.

Few people could rival me in either the quality or quantity of my weapons, but all I did was swing them around.

It was like trying to cut down a tree with an incredibly good chainsaw without turning it on. Sure, the teeth would cut into the wood, but that wasn’t what it was truly capable of.

A weapon’s true performance depended on its wielder’s Aura. In other words, every weapon was actually particular about its owner.

Just as owners chose their weapons. Of course, there were extreme cases like “Excalibur ? Alpha” that outright insisted on doing the choosing themselves.

“Now then, I should demonstrate just how powerful this Aura is.”

As he spoke, Pascal looked around at the students. Their gazes naturally turned toward one person, an automatic reflex, like well-trained dogs.

Aster Evans, of course.

“You there, with the pitch-black hair! You’re Frondier de Roach, right? Come up here.”

Naturally, Aster responded to the call by... not getting up.

What? Why was he just sitting there?

“Frondier de Roach!”

“... Oh, do you mean me?”

Only then did I realize he had called my name, and I looked at Pascal.

He smiled and beckoned me forward.

I didn’t understand, but since he had called me, I went up anyway. The students watching me wore much the same expression I did.

“Um, what should I do?”

“Oh, it’s simple. What happens when Aura hits an ordinary weapon is far too obvious, so we’re going to show everyone what happens when Aura clashes with Aura.”

... Aha. What a splendid and admirable idea.

“... When you say Aura clashing with Aura, you mean...”

“Yes, yes, Frondier. Bring out your Aura. You have a weapon ready, right?”

“...?”

I wasn’t particularly close to the other students in Combat Skills. I was the Human Sloth, after all.

Even so, this time I darted my eyes toward them, instinctively pleading for help with my gaze.

Even the students who hated me would be on my side for this one.

“Um, Professor. I don’t think Frondier can use Aura.”

“That’s right. I think you’re mistaken. The one who recently learned Aura is Aster Evans, right here...”

Just as I’d hoped, they were saying exactly what I wanted to hear.

At their words, Pascal glanced at Aster and grinned.

“Oh, of course I know. Aster Evans! Truly impressive! I know all about him.”

Then he looked back at me.

“Now, show us your Aura, Frondier.”

...?

What? Was he incapable of having a conversation? No, he’d been following along just a second ago.

As if to snap me out of my confusion, Pascal spoke.

“Frondier, you can use Aura, can’t you? I know all about it!”

Then Pascal put on a dashing expression, as though he had seen right through me. Still holding his Aura sword, he took his stance.

... Ah.

So you could die like this in this game, too?

Shitty game.