Part 5: Test (3)

... When Quinier said the footprints were clear, that was strictly by her own standards. A third-year’s standards, that is.

Footprints rarely left clean impressions in a forest, where creatures often walked over fallen leaves and branches. They were so hard to distinguish that a casual observer might see nothing more than shallow depressions.

In fact, from Quinier’s perspective, Frondier would have earned a passing grade simply by answering “a bear.” She had already pointed out the tracks and their direction.

Rather than focusing solely on the footprints, one could look along the trail and use the broken branches and displaced leaves to estimate the creature’s bulk. Add the forest habitat, the size of the prints, and the length of its stride, and even a guess of “a bear” had a reasonable chance of being right.

‘But narrowing it down to a Red Bear among all the bear monsters? That would take a true master tracker.’

Edwin seemed to have noticed it too, but even many third-years had yet to properly master Tracking Skills. It was not a core skill, after all.

“Frondier, is that... Divine Power?”

Edwin’s question intrigued Quinier as well.

Everyone believed Frondier had no Divine Power, but that was all it was—a belief. Could he actually have received some kind of Divine Power? From a god of hunting, perhaps?

“It’s a secret.”

Frondier smiled.

Plenty of people kept their Divine Power secret. It was rare among nobles, though. Their families usually advertised it first, often making it difficult to conceal even if the recipient wanted to.

But the Roach family already had the famous Atzier. They might have decided they could afford to keep someone like Frondier’s power hidden.

“I see... A secret...”

“Well, now that we know what it is, let’s get moving. There’s no need to approach a Red Bear cautiously.”

Leaving Edwin to his muttering, Quinier took the lead.

Behind her, Frondier tilted his head.

“Why don’t we need to be cautious?”

“Because it’ll attack us when we approach, rather than running away.”

“But wouldn’t it still be better to catch it by surprise if we can?”

At his question, Quinier opened her fan.

“I can take it down without any of that.”

“... Oh.”

Frondier let out a brief murmur of admiration, and Quinier’s shoulders lifted with pride.

‘I should make a good impression while I have the chance.’

Her steps grew more spirited.

* * *

“Frondier, what kind of weapon do you use?”

“A dagger. Would you like to see it?”

“Oh, this is a standard-issue weapon. Are you sure you should be using something like this?”

“It’s what I’m most used to.”

After Frondier identified the creature that had left the tracks, Edwin’s questions for him noticeably increased.

Frondier answered kindly, showing no sign of annoyance. He readily showed Edwin the dagger at his waist as well. There was no reason to make a bad impression, and these were questions he could answer normally. They were perfectly understandable things for Edwin to be curious about, too.

“All right, let’s quiet down. We’re nearly there.”

“Yes.”

At Quinier’s words, Frondier and Edwin lowered their bodies.

Walking a little more slowly, they spotted a bear covered in red fur in the distance.

Though “spotted” was not quite the right word. It was looking at Frondier and the others too. They had been approaching each other all along.

Quinier stepped forward.

“Now, this mission is about upperclassmen teaching their juniors, so stand back, Frondier.”

“I thought I’d be learning teamwork in combat too.”

“That’s for next time.”

Most of the path Frondier would follow at Constel was one Quinier had already walked. Fighting together as a team would come a little later. Their current roles did not fit together in the first place.

“Watching is a way of learning too.”

Frondier nodded in genuine agreement and stepped back. Once she saw that, Quinier advanced a little farther.

And Edwin stayed right where he was.

‘... Must be nice.’

He thought about Frondier. His looks had surprised Edwin at first sight.

It was easy to overlook because of his reputation and the way people perceived him, but Frondier was remarkably handsome. And it was more than mere good looks. His face possessed a dignity and refinement that seemed to embody what a “noble” ought to look like. Combined with his perpetually languid expression, it gave him a peculiar air.

Then there was his prestigious family, the Roach family.

Frondier’s older brother Atzier was an incredible monster in his own right, but Edwin had no particular feelings about him. He was senior even to Quinier and had already graduated from Constel. Besides, Edwin had never witnessed his skills firsthand.

Frondier, however, was different.

He might have earned the derogatory nickname “the Human Sloth” for always sleeping in class, with his sleepy eyes and languid expression, but his actions since then had been impressive.

So had his words and behavior at the Mistilteinn meeting. Some had called it reckless, but judged solely by the outcome, it had been a sufficiently brave and meaningful act.

And then there were the Tracking Skills he had just demonstrated. Surely that was the work of a high-ranking god.

‘That should have been me.’

If he had done just a little better, could he have prevented his family’s downfall?

Frondier possessed things Edwin had every reason to envy.

If the Behertio family had not fallen...

If Edwin were even a little more fully a “noble”—

“Edwin!!!”

The shout snapped him back to his senses. Quinier’s voice came from his right.

When had the fight moved over there?

He hurriedly turned his gaze, only to see the massive body of the bear lunging at him, its eyes bloodshot.

ROOOAAR!

“... Ah.”

The bear’s roar sounded distant and hollow.

His sword—was he holding it? Was it at his waist? On his back? There was no time to draw it. No time to block in the first place. No, not even time to dodge.

Oh. This...

There was no way he could survive—

Someone seized his shoulder. He tipped off balance. His feet left the ground, and the sky spun dizzily above him.

The bear’s paw swept past with a whoosh, grazing the tip of Edwin’s nose.

“Fron... dier—”

As Edwin flew backward, he saw Frondier. He had pulled Edwin back.

But the bear’s assault did not stop. Small wounds covered its body, and its bloodshot eyes were blind with rage. Those were probably wounds Quinier had inflicted.

“Hup!”

Before the bear could attack again, Frondier threw his dagger.

CLANG!

The dagger flew toward the space between the bear’s eyes with astonishing accuracy, but its forepaw blocked it.

It was sheer bad luck. The claws it had swung at random had intercepted the blade.

‘He’s in danger.’

Quinier hastily thrust out her fan.

But then—

GRAAAAAAR!

The Red Bear roared.

The air-shaking cry made Quinier’s hand freeze for an instant. Nearby, every hair on Edwin’s body stood on end.

THUNK!

Yet at that very moment, a dagger buried itself in the bear’s left eye.

Amid that terrifying roar, Frondier alone made not a single wasted movement. He had launched a second dagger right in the middle of the Red Bear’s cry.

As though he had known it would roar.

“... What...”

What was that?

Could a human really remain that calm?

The bear screamed in pain, its movements slowing.

That was the end. It gave Quinier far more than enough time to kill it.

THUD-THUD-THUD!

Six blades shot from the tip of her fan and drove straight into the bear’s body.

All six wounds were fatal, and at least two of the blades would each have been enough to kill it on their own.

The Red Bear died instantly, stood for what seemed an age, then took another age to fall.

It collapsed with an earthshaking crash, sending the grass surging. As leaves fluttered down, Quinier hurried over.

“Edwin, Frondier! Are you all right?”

“Oh, yes. I’m fine.”

Frondier’s voice was calm. He approached Edwin, who had ended up on the ground, and held out a hand.

“You’re not hurt, are you?”

“... Uh, no.”

Edwin took his hand and stood.

After helping Edwin up, Frondier exchanged feedback with Quinier about the fight.

Meanwhile, as Edwin watched him, an inexplicable irritation and an unbearable anger crept into his eyes.

* * *

After the Joint Mission, in a private laboratory at Constel.

“I’ll leave the supplies you requested here.”

“Oh, Edwin. Thank you, as always.”

Edwin set a box packed with assorted supplies on the desk.

Binkis, the teacher who had sent him on the errand, was busy with her research.

Binkis was the quintessential researcher. That was the kindest way to put it.

To be blunt, she was obsessed with her research.

She was a Summoner.

Her talent specialized in “observation”: she watched and memorized other people’s techniques, then applied them to her summons.

Her summons took the form of Golems. Because she assembled and constructed these summons herself, she could make them imitate other people’s techniques.

Binkis was currently building a Golem.

This time, it was not a summon. She was making a true Golem that could operate on its own.

“It looks a little different from the one I saw before.”

“Yes, this one’s a Metal Golem.”

A Metal Golem. In other words, metal—a material intimately familiar to Edwin, who was beloved by Hephaestus. And a Golem, at that.

Edwin looked at Binkis.

“Don’t tell me... you’re doing this for me?”

“Well, more or less. You said you wanted to see an actual Metal Golem, didn’t you? Consider it my thanks for everything you’ve done.”

Professor Binkis smiled a little sheepishly.

She truly was deeply grateful to Edwin. His assistance had been a great help.

Above all, with his Divine Power, he showed such exceptional talent with metal, fire, and Golems that Binkis often found herself asking him for advice.

Touched, Edwin gazed blankly at the Golem.

Then he noticed an enormous spear beside it, proportioned to match its immense frame.

“Does this Golem use a spear?”

“Yes. You know how I saw Atzier use a spear in person the other day? I was incredibly impressed.”

Edwin clenched his fist at that.

Atzier again.

Atzier. Frondier.

Lately, the Roach family kept getting on his nerves.

Edwin’s swordsmanship was ordinary. Since his talents lay elsewhere to begin with, it was actually remarkable that he could even match the second-year average.

He believed that no matter how hard he tried, even if he devoted himself to the sword until the day he died, he would never become a master of weapons on Atzier’s level.

That did not make him despair. Edwin had little interest in combat anyway. Metal casting and Golems were his specialties.

But even attempting to build a Golem required immense funds. For a Fallen Noble like him, that kind of money felt impossibly out of reach.

Edwin gazed quietly at the Metal Golem.

‘If I had the money, could I build a Golem like this too?’

He was looking at it with nothing more than that thought in mind when—

‘Huh?’

He froze as though rooted to the spot.

With the Divine Power he had received from Hephaestus, he could see the metal Golem’s entire structure at a glance. Its joints, moving mechanisms, core, and even its Mana Circuit—everything.

‘... This Golem.’

He could also see many signs that it was unfinished. One of them held his gaze.

‘It doesn’t have a master yet.’

A Golem was bound to obey orders, so a spell formula designating its master had to be inscribed into its design.

That space was still blank.

... In other words, if Edwin chose to, he could become its master.