A Returner’s Magic Should Be Special - Chapter 17

Episode 17. A Returnee’s Promotion Exam (3)

Dezir Armang continued speaking.
“But even if I can manipulate many things, fundamentally I can’t touch the past events that the Shadow World deals with, or the Clear objectives themselves. That’s why you have to study history.”
Because of these reasons, historical studies had developed abnormally in this world.
To the point where specialized teams composed of historians moved to handle the Shadow World exclusively.
“So the books you’ve brought are… connected to the Shadow World we’ll face in the Promotion Exam, is that what you’re saying?”
“That’s the idea.”
Romantica stared at the enormous stack of papers with such evident revulsion that she doubted she could read through it all even if she stayed awake for three days and nights straight.
“You’re certain these historical events are related to what we’ll face in the Promotion Exam?”
It was a sharp question that cut to the heart of the matter.
Dezir Armang spoke flatly.
“No.”
“Then—”
“I’m not taking counterarguments, Romantica.”
“Ugh.”
Romantica thrust her thumb downward in protest, but there was no chance Dezir Armang would change his mind.
“This is history I’ve deduced to have the highest probability of appearing on this exam. If you don’t like it, read every history book in this library.”
It was a jest tinged with malice, but amounted to nothing short of coercion.
Dezir Armang cast a sympathetic glance at Romantica, who was visibly wilting.
‘I don’t really like using such forceful methods…’
He exhaled deeply.
But there was nothing to be done about it.
He couldn’t very well tell them that he’d come from the future and therefore knew which Shadow World would appear on the Promotion Exam.
“Read all the history books here and summarize the contents simply, then submit it to me.”
Romantica buried herself in the plush armchair.
Her protruding lower lip was as long as her discontent.
“Aaaaahhh!”
Romantica closed her eyes and let out a small groan. She gathered her churning memories from deep within and exhaled them along with a sigh.
Dezir Armang seemed to have a natural talent for tormenting people. At this point, it was practically torture.
“Seriously, that guy must be a sadist.”
Rustle.
The sound of page-turning ceased. Fram was already absorbed in reading a book.
“Still, he’s doing it all for our sake.”
Romantica shot back.
“No doubt about it.”
The fact that it was all for them—that was the problem. Because of that, she couldn’t bring herself to rebel or refuse.
For her, the fact that she was nobility felt like something forgotten long ago. Though that was precisely why she’d stayed here in the first place.
Romantica picked up a book. But the contents wouldn’t penetrate her mind at all.
Studying while in such a state was useless. She closed the book.
Dezir Armang was reading intently.
Romantica whispered Fram’s name low enough that he wouldn’t hear.
“Fram.”
“Yes?”
“Haven’t you been spending a lot more time with Dezir lately?”
Fram tilted his head, his expression blank and innocent.
“Huh? What do you mean?”
Romantica narrowed her eyes.
“It’s weird. You two seem incredibly close. Did you go somewhere without me?”
“W-well, if you ask if I went somewhere, then I suppose I did go somewhere…”
“Where did you go leaving me out? And now that I look closer, you’re wearing clothes I’ve never seen before… Are you two on a date?”
“…!”
Flinch.
Fram’s body trembled.
He quickly averted his gaze from Romantica’s eyes and turned his attention to his book.
“Hmm, so an event like this happened in 1417. I should definitely remember that.”
“Did you just ignore me? Caught red-handed.”
Romantica spoke playfully, tickling Fram’s ribs.
Fram desperately covered his mouth with his palm, squirming to keep silent.
In the midst of their foolery, Fram’s elbow accidentally brushed the desk.
A book that had been precariously balanced on its edge tumbled to the floor with a soft thud.
“Stop messing around and just read.”
“I’m sorry, Dezir.”
“Sorry~”
Romantica bent down to retrieve the fallen book.
But a hand reached it first. Her gaze traveled up from the smooth hand to its owner.
She felt her breath catch in her throat.
Eyes like frozen ice, and platinum hair cascading elegantly to the waist.
“Azest… Kingscrawn.”
Romantica’s tone toward Azest was decidedly cold.
“What brings you here?”
Romantica’s voice took on an edge of curtness.
Though one might have expected Azest to bristle at such a challenge, she seemed unmoved.
She passed by Romantica entirely and took the seat in front of Dezir—the gesture of someone wholly indifferent to her, as if her only interest in this world was Dezir Armang himself.
“It’s been a while.”
“It has.”
It truly had been.
They hadn’t seen each other since the Entrance Exam, not once during the semester—nearly two months since their last meeting.
Two months.
Long enough, perhaps, or perhaps not long at all.
Yet it was time enough for loyalties to be decided.
“You made the right choice joining the Blue Moon Party. It suits you perfectly.”
“In what way?”
“In that you’re both at the apex.”
“Unfortunately, that’s no longer true.”
Azest paused before continuing.
“You’re here now, Dezir Armang.”
Dezir rested his arm on the desk and propped his chin on his hand.
She meant that he had surpassed her—that much was clear.
“I hear you passed through the Tournament.”
“I did. Lucky, I suppose.”
“That hardly suits you. Someone whose specialty is calculation should know better than to credit luck. Though it doesn’t matter—what’s done is done.”
The moment Dezir passed the Tournament, his party had already secured a place within the top thirty of all Hebrion Academy.
Top thirty.
In other words, they had earned the right to compete in the Promotion Exam.
“Then the next time we meet—”
“—will be on the battlefield. In the Promotion Exam.”
Dezir followed the thread of her thoughts.
There could be only one reason. There was only one reason for Azest to have come here.
“You came to declare your challenge?”
Azest fell silent, caught off guard that he had read her intentions so precisely.
“You show respect to a worthy opponent, declare your intentions before the fight. That’s your way, isn’t it?”
Azest’s eyes searched his.
Gazes of different colors crossed, each searching the other’s eyes for something to understand.
“And you see me as your rival.”
Yet Azest found nothing in Dezir’s expression.
It had always been this way.
His face, touched with amusement, was strangely serene—no flicker of disturbance to be found.
Reading his thoughts was impossible. He resembled a seasoned politician.
“You know me far better than I expected, Dezir Armang.”
Azest continued speaking.
“That’s right. I do see you as my rival.”
“That’s quite an honor.”
Azest lowered her head slightly.
“…Even with such mockery, I find myself without a response. I overlooked you entirely—a hundred percent error on my part. I owe you an apology for that.”
Her words carried the unyielding tone of tempered steel.
When Azest lifted her head, her platinum hair caught the light like spun gold.
She was breathtakingly beautiful—so much so that her refined, graceful features evoked the image of a fair princess far more than any sense of severity.
Always measured in her bearing, always restrained in her speech. And that inexplicable, staggering talent.
She was a perfect knight.
“But that doesn’t mean I intend to lose to you. I will defeat you with all my strength. That’s all there is to it.”
Her words were firm, yet something trembled beneath them—unmistakably the note of competitive fire.
The desire to surpass another. The drive to overcome a worthy rival and press forward. It was the greatest engine of her strength, of her growth.
Recognizing that passion within her, Dezir felt genuinely pleased.
‘The plan is unfolding as intended.’
Everything had gone according to Dezir’s design. During the Entrance Exam, he had displayed his power far more extravagantly than necessary.
And in doing so, he had defeated Azest Kingscroun—the most promising talent of her generation—and claimed victory.
One could claim his motivation was to enter the Alpha Class, certainly.
But Dezir had dimly foreseen that he, a commoner, would be assigned to the Beta Class instead—so that was not his true purpose.
Azest Kingscroun.
By defeating her, he would become the mountain she must climb.
That was Dezir’s plan.
A great Sword Mage.
During the Shadow Labyrinth’s exploration, she had been the strongest of them all. If she could grow even stronger, Dezir would gladly become her rival.
No—he had to.
‘Because you are the key to conquering the Shadow Labyrinth.’
Dezir’s gaze always looked far ahead.
He saw the whole, not merely what lay close at hand.
And within that whole.
Azest was a brilliant hope in Dezir’s design.
“I look forward to a worthy contest, Azest Kingscroun.”

* * *

A thunderous roar of voices seemed ready to tear the roof from the Main Building of Hebrion Academy.
Panels reinforced by magic rose where the ceiling should have been, their enchanted steel frames bearing the weight easily.
The panels displayed the interior in full detail—more than ten thousand spectators, nearly two hundred faculty supervisors, and thirty Promotion Exam participants.
The stands embraced the central Shadow Gate like the tiers of a colosseum.
Inside was nothing less than an arena.
Not an inaccurate description in the least.
The space had been converted into arena configuration specifically for today.
The crowd was diverse—far more outsiders from across the realm than internal staff or students.
Though tickets commanded an exorbitant price, the name “Hebrion Academy Promotion Exam” guaranteed instant sellout.
The Promotion Exam at Hebrion Academy was, without question, one of the most thrilling spectacles available.
Young men and women with a minimum of safety guaranteed fought tooth and claw for rank and position.
Moreover, since all participants were elite enough to place within the top thirty at Hebrion Academy—the world’s premier institution—expectations for a high-caliber exhibition were entirely reasonable.
The Promotion Exam was one of Hebrion Academy’s most lucrative ventures.
“Now we’ll establish positions,” Dezir said.
He turned first to Romantica.
“Romantica, your role is sniper. Use Detection Magic from a distance to locate enemies, then strike them down one by one.”
“……I’m not sure if sniping will work even against the Alpha Class.”
“Don’t worry. That’s what we trained for, isn’t it? Detection Magic can take as long as you need. But the moment it locks onto a target, don’t give them time to react—fire the Sniper Magic immediately. No matter how strong the Alpha Class is, they can’t respond to what they don’t see coming.”
“I understand the strategy. But there’s a problem. Long-range sniping is new to me, so I don’t know how much force to put into each attack.”
“Remember the sphere you practiced with? It’s hardened to the same density as a human skull.”
Romantica’s eyes widened.
If the practice sphere she’d been striking from a distance possessed the same durability as a human head, then she simply needed to calibrate her force accordingly.
“Ah, so that’s why we did those drills.”
From that moment on, Dezir had mapped out her role with crystalline clarity.

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