Chapter 46: Special Professor (3)

A hollow chuckle slipped from between Elisha’s lips. “What on earth are you so confident about?”

At this point, more than anger, what intrigued her was the identity of the cocky cadet standing before her. To her, he didn’t look like anything special. Even when she activated her “Cursed Eye” and scrutinized Dale from head to toe, she found nothing particularly noteworthy. If she had to name one thing, it was that the mana radiating from his soul stigmata was about half of what the average cadet had.

But having less mana could, in no way, be a strength. People said too much of anything could be bad, but mana was the exception—the more one had of it, the better.

Yet, the way he stood there so boldly suggested he was hiding something. She wondered what it was, but was unable to figure it out. So, she said, “Vincent.”

“Yes, Professor.”

“Don’t let your guard down.”

Although she didn’t know much about the cadet, she knew Lucas well. Since their academy days, he wasn’t the type to place blind faith in someone without a solid reason. The cadet likely had a trump card. Until it was revealed, she couldn’t afford carelessness.

“Understood.” Vincent nodded with crisp formality and lowered his stance without drawing his sword, shifting his hips back. With sharp eyes, he studied Dale’s every move.

Dale, in turn, chuckled. “Keep staring like that, and you’ll burn a hole in me.”

When no response came from Vincent, he added, “You’re not very talkative, are you?”

In a cold voice, Vincent replied, “You talk too much.”

Dale shrugged casually. “Doesn’t matter for me. But you? How are you going to teach in Professor Kane’s place if you’re so bad with words?”

“You don’t need eloquence to teach Practical Combat Tactics.”

“Ah! Sure. I guess that makes sense.”

“What does?”

“That name you used—Practical Combat Tactics. That’s what the course was called five years ago. It’s now called Practical Combat Training.”

“So what?” Vincent asked.

“What do you mean so what?” Dale replied. It was more than just a name change. “If you graduated five years ago, you’ve been active as a hero for at least that long. But I don’t see any of the usual scars, nicks, or cuts on your arms or hands.”

A hero with five years of field experience and no visible scars? That meant one of two things: Either they were so overwhelmingly strong they never got touched, or they fought in a style that didn’t leave any openings to get hurt.

Dale looked at him and said, “You didn’t draw your sword despite the warning not to underestimate me. Your stance is overly weighted toward the rear, especially your hips, which isn’t typical for a standard swordsman.”

The cadet glanced down at the sheath strapped to Vincent’s left side and nodded. “I’m guessing you specialize in quick draw, a style built around decisive, short duels.”

Vincent’s expression stiffened. His opponent had hit the nail on the head. Vincent inhaled sharply, as if to say he had no intention of continuing this chat. He gripped the hilt of his sword. From his soul stigmata, a light burst forth, and silver mana wrapped around his body.

He’s definitely good with mana, Dale thought.

Dale could guess that just by the way the mana spread evenly through Vincent’s energy networks. No part of his body was neglected, which meant he had excellent control. But that wouldn’t be enough for this fight.

Dale let every muscle relax and concentrated all his mana into his soul stigmata. Vincent’s eyes narrowed, and his expression twisted slightly. It was as if Dale was standing there with his guard completely down, gathering mana only in his soul stigmata, and not preparing his body at all—like a sprinter refusing to take a starting stance. It screamed: “You’re not worth the effort.”

A vein bulged visibly on Vincent’s temple, and he said, “Let’s see how long you can keep that arrogance.”

Like a war drum sounding the charge, Vincent burst forward. In a blink, he was right in front of Dale, sword flashing out. A silver arc of steel flew at terrifying speed.

Dale didn’t flinch. He watched the sword’s trajectory to the end, then spread the mana concentrated in his soul stigmata into three places: his left leg, his right arm, and his sword. Using his left leg as an anchor, he braced himself and met the silver strike head-on.

Normally, the sheer gap in the amount of mana between him and Vincent would have made blocking that attack impossible. But by not wasting energy and reinforcing only the parts of his body that needed it, Dale managed to withstand the blow.

Professor Baldwin’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What in the…”

She analyzed what had happened. To manipulate mana with such precision, releasing exactly the right amount, at the right time, in the right place, and against Vincent’s quick draw, no less?

Even if Dale had choreographed this ahead of time, it would still be an incredibly difficult feat of mana control.

Vincent clicked his tongue and leaped back to create distance. His specialty was a style that thrived in brief, explosive bursts. After one strike, it required a moment to reset.

However, Dale suddenly said, “You shouldn’t keep your eyes locked on your opponent when retreating.”

It makes you blind to what’s underfoot, Dale added in his mind.

Dale slammed his foot down and unleashed the Berald Combat Style: Tremor Step. The training ground cracked with a thunderous roar, right where Vincent had intended to step. Unlike when he had drunk the Soul Stigmata Amplifier Potion, Dale couldn’t shake the entire training ground this time, but it was enough for now. Dale poured more mana into the hand gripping the sword.

“Ugh!” Vincent stumbled for a brief moment as his foot landed on the cracked floor of the arena. As expected of a seasoned hero, he didn’t fall completely, quickly regaining his balance.

“You’re already too late.” With mana focused on both legs, Dale kicked off the ground and used Wind Step. As though he were soaring through the air, he shot forward.

Dale exhaled a low breath as he gripped his sword. The mana gathered inside his legs naturally flowed upward through his meridians and into the sword, and a gray aura ignited along the edge of the sword.

Compared to the silver aura glowing on Vincent’s sword, Dale’s was dimmer and much smaller in scale. Yet, he said, “But this should be enough.”

In battle, it was not always about who had the most power. After all, whether a person had a fist-sized or a finger-sized hole through their skull, they died just the same. As long as they had just enough strength to wound their opponent, what mattered more was how they wielded that strength.

Swish!

A flash of gray light shot forward.

“Gah!” Vincent staggered back, clutching his bleeding forearm. His sword slipped from his hand, landing on the ground with a clear metallic ring. He bit down on his lips and lowered his head. “I yield!”

Silence blanketed the training ground, and Dale could feel every astonished gaze fall on him.

Elisha said with disbelief, “Wh-what on earth…”

She quickly activated her Hero Watch, checking and rechecking the cadet roster for Dale’s information. Then she shot a sharp glare toward Lucas. “Professor Kane, what is the meaning of this?”

“Ah! Hmm. Didn’t I tell you? His rank doesn’t reflect his actual skill.”

“Do you really think this is a situation you can brush off with a comment like that?”

“Hmm!” Even Lucas had to swallow his words under Elisha’s razor-sharp tone. Truthfully, he was just as shocked by what had unfolded.

I knew Dale would win, but to win so overwhelmingly… How did he grow this much in just a month? the professor wondered.

Even when Dale had significantly less mana, he had once pushed Lucas into using his “Blessing of the Blood Warrior.” As Dale’s mana had vastly improved since then, Lucas had expected the cadet to beat Vincent, but not this decisively. Lucas wasn’t even confident he could beat Dale himself at this point.

As he furrowed his brows in confusion, Elisha called out to him again, “Professor Kane? Are you even listening to me?”

“Ah, yes. I’m sorry.”

Elisha sighed deeply and shook her head. “Ugh, forget it. Judging by your face, you don’t have any answers either.”

Lucas cautiously approached her and asked, “Um! About what you said earlier, about resigning…”

“That? I was joking.”

“What?”

She casually explained, “Obviously. Even if a special professor has more authority than regular faculty, they don’t have the power to fire another professor. I just wanted to see you flustered for once. Never imagined it would turn out like this though.”

Elisha lit the cigarette held between her lips, arms crossed casually.

Lucas stared at her in disbelief. “You were seriously joking?”

Who in the world makes a joke like that with such a dead serious face? he thought.

“Well, I also meant it as a bit of a wake-up call. The cadets lately have been abysmal,” she added.

“That’s…” Lucas faltered, unable to argue back.

Aside from irregulars like Dale and Yuren Helios, the current third-year cadets were, to put it bluntly, below average. It was especially striking since the previous year’s batch was one of the strongest in history. Still, knowing that it had all been a misunderstanding, Lucas felt a little embarrassed about getting so worked up.

Elisha clicked her tongue. She glanced at Vincent, who stood hunched over, still clutching his bleeding arm. “But. I’ll admit, I didn’t see this coming either.”

Vincent wasn’t a hero ranked in the top hundreds, not one of the so-called Rankers. However, he was a veteran with over a dozen real battles against demons under his belt. She hadn’t expected him to lose this easily.

Looking at Dale, she asked Lucas. “You didn’t disguise Yuren Helios as him, did you?”

“Yuren’s in Class A for Practical Combat Training. This is Class C. And come on, just look at that guy. How does that look anything like the continent’s most beautiful, flower-like man?”

“Hm. Personally, I find Dale more appealing,” she said.

“Sorry, what?”

Elisha’s amethyst eyes suddenly glinted with a chilling light. “Anyway. If someone ranked that low on the cadet list has this much power, I’ll need to conduct a more thorough check.”

“A more thorough check? Wait. You don’t mean…” Lucas’s eyes widened in alarm.

He knew exactly what she was referring to. Before he could stop her, Elisha was already striding toward the cadets. “Dale.”

“Yes, Professor?”

“There’s something I need to confirm. Come here.”

Dale tilted his head in confusion and stepped toward her. Before he could react, Elisha shot her hand out and grabbed his collar roughly. Then, her lips crashed into his.

“Mmgh?!”

Her tongue forcefully invaded his mouth, sweeping it greedily.

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