A Returner’s Magic Should Be Special - Chapter 4

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 4: The Returner’s Entrance Exam (3)

Romantica and Trebury relaxed as they watched Dezir’s display.
“A commoner couldn’t possibly have received proper training. It’s actually fortunate—we were worried having a Sword Mage on our team, but that burden just lifted considerably.”
“So aside from that deadweight… it comes down to just the two of us competing in the end, doesn’t it, Romantica?”
“I suppose it does. Let’s give each other a good match.”
They shook hands.
While Romantica and Trebury chatted, waiting for the entrance exam to begin, Dezir and Azest maintained their silence.
The waiting room swelled with chatter from the other students, filling it with a low, restless hum.
Then came the announcement.

-The entrance exam event for Group D has been determined. The event is as follows.
[Rank 10 Shadow World: Ernste Plain Sprint]

-The Clear condition for this Shadow World is to cross the finish line faster than the other participants.
The finish line is located 8 kilometers from the starting line. Magic usage is permitted, and attacks between participants are also permitted.
The Student Safety System is in effect. Pain sensation is suppressed to 90 percent, and any student who wishes to forfeit and calls out their surrender will be expelled from the Shadow World.
If a participant receives damage that would be fatal, they will not actually die but will be disqualified and expelled from the Shadow World currently in progress.
Rankings will be determined from 1st through 4th place.

“A sprint is at least manageable. I heard Group B has to face a troll.”
“If it’s competitive, does that mean we have to fight each other?”
Romantica and Trebury were both absorbed in speculating about the Shadow World they were about to enter.
Only two remained silent. Azest sat motionless, tracing her fingertip along the guard of her sword, while Dezir stayed apart from the clamorous group, stretching his body with casual ease.
Then the flat, mechanical voice returned.

-The gate will open shortly. Participants are requested to form an orderly line before the gate.

The Group D participants lined up before the gate. Moments later, the gate’s doors swung open and light poured forth. Ripples of luminescence wavered in all directions.
The light enveloped them, and soon their figures vanished without a trace.

-You have entered the Shadow World: “Ernste Plain Sprint”.

When they opened their eyes, they stood in a vast plain stretching in all directions. Everything shimmered with a verdant blue, and flowers bloomed abundantly across the landscape.
A massive river crossed through the center of the field, carrying the full essence of spring. The air was warm, the sunlight brilliant. It was remarkably serene.

-The race will begin in 3 minutes. Participants are requested to take positions behind the starting line.

Hearing the announcement, Dezir looked down and saw a long starting line drawn horizontally across the ground, just as the voice had described.
The participants soon took their positions behind the line, arranged in order according to Group D’s roster. By coincidence, Dezir and Azest ended up standing beside each other.
Dezir was regarding Azest with an odd gaze when, suddenly, she turned her head toward him.
As their eyes met, he awkwardly nodded in greeting.
“Oh, hello?”
……
She offered no response. Her expressionless face merely swept over him once.
Dezir felt embarrassed and lowered his gaze. At Azest’s waist hung a unique single-handed sword that seemed to blend a broad sword and a two-handed sword together.
And above it, platinum hair gleamed faintly, suspended in the empty air. Her face was so devoid of expression that not a trace of emotion could be found.
Dezir thought Azest was remarkably emotionless. Though she spoke little, the impression she gave was not shyness but rather coldness, as if edged with steel.
Come to think of it, that was how it had been then too.

Azest Kingscroun.
A 6-Circle Ice-attribute Sword Mage, and a Queen-rank Swordmaster—the supreme Sword Mage.
The way she led the battlefield, always at the forefront, was like that of a goddess of war itself.
One of the final six members of the Shadow Labyrinth Expedition.

She had certainly been an extraordinarily emotionless woman back then as well.
“You.”
As Dezir Armang lost himself in thought, Azest spoke to him.
He flinched.
Dezir shrank back unnecessarily. Judging by the way the other participants continued conversing on the opposite side, it seemed their exchange wouldn’t carry to them.
“You’re weak.”
……
It was an utterly sudden personal attack, but Dezir answered without seeming to mind.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t. You’re weak. Your magic is bottom-tier. Your physical abilities are below average. Even being generous, a sixth-Circle Shadow World is your ceiling.”
She stated facts he already knew with perfect clarity.
Their eyes met.
A strange current flowed between Dezir Armang and Azest.
Dezir knew this atmosphere intimately. He’d lived through such moments countless times in his previous life. Like the stillness before a storm arrives. The trembling instant before powder ignites.
‘Is she asking me to fight right here?’
Thinking that, Dezir braced himself.
“You can relax. Unlike what your mentor said, I have no intention of attacking you.”
Dezir was taken aback.
“Why not?”
Azest’s hair stirred slightly in the breeze.
She turned her gaze away from Dezir Armang as though her business with him was finished, fixing her eyes ahead.
“I have no hobby of attacking the weak.”
Dezir managed a rueful smile.
Just then, an announcement chimed.

—The race will begin in ten seconds. Participants, prepare yourselves.

* * *

—Race start!

The moment the announcement rang out, the lined-up participants burst forward as one.
Azest and Trebury shot ahead in the lead.
In a race, the most decisive factor is physical ability. That’s precisely why Dezir Armang and Romantica, both Sword Mages, couldn’t hope to catch the two swordsmen.
Each time the feet of those two leaders struck the ground, dust rose in thick clouds. Their speed was such that in less than five minutes, they’d already opened up a gap of two full courses between themselves and the rear.
Dezir Armang and Romantica lagged far behind. By coincidence, their running pace was nearly identical.
“You acted so superior, but look—you’ve ended up like this too.”
Dezir Armang spoke between ragged breaths.
“Focus on the race, why don’t you?”
Romantica’s pride stung, and she answered with a deep scowl.
“Even if I focus on the race—huff, huff—like this, the two of us… we’re disqualified for sure, aren’t we?”
To Dezir Armang’s words, Romantica said nothing.
Because it was an accurate assessment. Her breathing had already grown considerably ragged. At this rate, catching up would be impossible even in a lifetime.
“You’re in the same boat, then.”
“Hah, please, just shut up. Please.”
Romantica shot him a look of annoyance. But discovering that he still held her in his gaze, she grew even more irritable.
“Ugh! You’re infuriating! Why in the world are you making that face?”
“Well, it occurred to me that even a two-Circle Sword Mage isn’t all that special.”
……!
Romantica’s expression hardened.
Blatant contempt. It was an affront to her, no question.
‘I’m being disrespected by this nobody?’
Romantica’s fury ignited.
“You know, I was going to hold back, but now I think otherwise.”
As Romantica extended her arm forward, the current of wind shifted subtly.
“Open your eyes and watch closely. The true power of a two-Circle Sword Mage—something a commoner like you could never reach, not in a lifetime.”
Romantica’s gaze, as she invoked her magic, turned toward a distant forest.

Swift the Air!

High-speed incantation magic deployed.
The spell erupted in an instant, streaking toward the forest. And there, within that forest, were Trebury and Azest.
‘Is this an easy victory, then?’
Meanwhile, the Sword Mage Trebury Tykers had already convinced himself of triumph.
Dezir and Romantica had fallen so far behind that they were no longer even visible.
Unless he took a nap right here, this gap would never close.
His lips curled upward.
‘Heh heh heh, those fools are all mages. In terms of physical ability, we swordsmen have the advantage by default. This was always a test favored toward the blade.’
With that thought, Trebury glanced sidelong at Azest.
In truth, he was considerably amazed.
He had risen among the ranks of prodigies, earning his place as a Sword Mage of the highest tier. Among his peers, he could count on one hand those faster than himself.
‘I never imagined there’d be someone who could match me.’
Trebury reflected on his own arrogance toward his opponent.
‘But where are the other participants by now?’
As this thought crossed his mind, Trebury turned to look behind him.
That was when he felt the wind’s direction shift subtly.
Whoosh.
It began as a gentle breeze. But immediately, violently, a gale tore through. A wind so powerful it seemed ready to cleave the very sky itself. The trees throughout the forest released long, piercing screams.
“Wait, hold on!”
The tremendous wind pressure began dragging him backward. Before his body could be lifted away, he quickly drew his sword and drove it into the ground.
The colossal wind pressure pulled at his frame as though it would tear him apart.
‘A spell!? At this magnitude, could it be Romantica?’
All Trebury could do was endure with all his strength. He rapidly recovered his composure. Though he’d been startled for a moment, he didn’t believe a mere wind could do anything to him.
‘It seems they mean to blow me backward with this wind, but in my armor, my weight is nearly a hundred kilos. As long as I hold the sword, there’s no way I’ll be swept away.’
Trebury’s reasoning was sound.
If the plan was merely to send him flying with wind pressure, then Romantica had already failed.
‘They tried to stop me with something this weak? That’s not befitting a Second Circle mage — it’s sloppy and crude magic.’
Making this judgment, Trebury lifted his head and looked straight ahead.
His eyes went wide.
“What is that?!”
Screech!
Azest, who had been in the lead, was pressing forward. She had drawn her blade and was cutting through the wind itself, advancing toward her goal.
As though desperately trying to escape this place.
The way she split the wind as one might slash through cloth was, without question, a level of swordsmanship worthy of respect from a fellow blade-wielder.
The fact that she was pushing through this typhoon-like gale was astonishing, but Trebury could not fathom her purpose.
“Why? She’ll only exhaust herself. It would be far more advantageous to wait for the wind to pass…….”
Trebury’s words cut off. The trees before his eyes were shaking uneasily. They seemed to have shallow roots, and under the force of the wind, they began to sway as if about to be torn free.
“Wait, hold on!”
Crack-crack-crack!
The trees’ roots tore free, releasing a thunderous boom.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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