Chapter 27: Choosing An Instructor To Fight

“First duel… Ronan V. Dravenholt.”

Arderia’s voice cut through the murmuring crowd, loud enough to reach everyone’s ears.

And then, for a small moment, the entire training field froze.

Even Gray’s eyes narrowed, immediately shifting toward the boy standing beside him.

Of course he knew it.

The Dravenholts were no joke. One of the stronger noble families in the central territory. Not on the same level as his family, of course, far from it, but still… the Marquis Dravenholt held a decent amount of political weight.

And the way Ronan stood there?

Like someone who knew that name meant something.

He lifted his chin, smirked confidently, and turned slightly toward Gray.

“…Now do you recognize me?” he asked, chest puffed out with pride.

But there was no answer.

“…Hey—” Ronan blinked, looking around.

Gray had already turned and walked away.

Without a glance or a word.

“…Tch.” Ronan frowned, muttering under his breath. “So cold… you’re gonna regret not bowing down later, you know…”

He kept mumbling to himself, arms crossed, pacing a little in place.

“Anyway, this is good. This is really good. First duel, front stage, everyone watching. I show off some fancy moves, get praised, and maybe even ranked Silver right off the bat? Haha, yeah, that sounds about right.”

Someone nearby snorted.

He ignored it.

“Oh, and after I win, Lira’s totally going to look at me differently,” he whispered, nodding to himself.

“Girls love strong guys, after all. It’s time to put this family name to use—!”

“—RONAN DRAVENHOLT.”

The shout came again, this time louder.

And sharper.

Arderia’s voice boomed across the ground like thunder.

Ronan visibly jolted.

“…Y-Yes ma’am!”

A cold chill crept up his back as he saw her piercing gaze locking straight onto him from the far platform.

She had her arms crossed, and her brow twitching slightly… she was clearly not in the mood for his dramatics.

“…Eheheh…”

He laughed awkwardly, gave two clumsy salutes in a row, and jogged toward the dueling platform.

“Coming! Coming… totally ready… totally fine…”

But everyone could see the way his shoulders stiffened just a little with every step.

“…..He really is useless.”

Gray muttered to himself, arms loosely crossed as he watched Ronan practically stumble his way onto the platform.

The boy looked like he was dragging his own legs forward, step by awkward step.

“…Maybe he really did buy his way into the first round,” Gray added under his breath, brows furrowing in mild disbelief.

But then…

“Hm, not exactly.”

A voice piped up behind him.

Gray blinked and turned around slightly.

Standing there was a girl, not Lira.

…Definitely not Lira.

She had glasses that glinted slightly under the light, her jet-black hair tied back in a tidy ponytail.

Her uniform was neat, spotless even, and on each side of her waist rested a slender sword, both well-kept and clearly used before.

Her eyes met his.

She looked smart, and a little harp. But also… just a little nosy.

“He’s got a strength-type artifact,” she said casually, pointing her chin toward Ronan.

“It’s wrapped around his waist, under the sash. Boosts physical output by a lot. Without it, he probably wouldn’t even be able to swing that greatsword.”

Gray didn’t reply.

He simply turned his head back toward the arena.

“…Huh?” The girl frowned.

“Hey. Hey, don’t just ignore me.”

She reached out, her hand aiming to grab his shoulder, but before her fingers even brushed the fabric of his coat—

Grip.!

Another hand caught her wrist, holding it in place.

“…Back off.”

The voice was low, tight with something dangerous beneath it.

“—He’s mine, bitch.”

It was Lira.

Standing just slightly beside Gray, her cold eyes burned with a sharp, unsettling glint. Her grip on the girl’s wrist wasn’t casual, it was very possessive.

And threatening.

The girl’s face twisted in mild pain.

“H-Hey—! Let go!”

Gray sighed deeply, brushing a hand through his hair.

’…Fucking hell.’

And just when he thought it couldn’t get more annoying…

[PUAHAHAHAHA!!]

Jasmine’s voice echoed loudly in his mind, completely unfiltered and gleeful.

[OH MY GOD, GRAY! YOU ACTUALLY GOT YOUR FIRST FANGIRL!! SHE’S ALREADY CLAIMING YOU IN PUBLIC!! KYAA~!]

Gray winced.

Internally and externally.

And unfortunately, Jasmine didn’t stop.

[GET READY TO START YOUR VERY OWN FANCLUB!~ I BET SHE’S ALREADY PLANNING YOUR FIRST ANNIVERSARY! Fufu~]

’Shut up,’ he muttered silently.

Jasmine only giggled harder.

Meanwhile, Lira hadn’t let go yet.

Her eyes were still locked on the girl’s, her expression flat but barely hiding the twisted jealousy underneath.

Gray could feel the temperature around them drop slightly.

Not to mention…

A small crowd had begun forming around them.

Whispers, amused glances, curious looks.

The air was getting heavier by the second, and Gray could already feel Jasmine laughing inside his head, waiting for things to escalate again.

So, naturally, he did the smartest thing possible.

He slipped away.

Or at least, he tried to.

Thud!

He bumped straight into someone, the impact soft but firm, like walking straight into a wall wrapped in silk.

“…My bad,” he muttered, not even looking up at first.

“Oh?”

The voice made him stop.

He blinked and looked up.

And immediately wished he hadn’t.

Standing before him, with her arms loosely crossed, was none other than… Arderia.

Her smile was faint, almost polite, but there was something far too knowing behind it.

“…Were you that cautious of me, Gray?” she asked gently, tilting her head just slightly.

“…Weren’t you supposed to be calling out the challengers?” Gray cut in, his voice flat, not bothering to sound respectful.

Arderia blinked, mildly amused by his interruption.

Then, without looking at him, she turned her head toward the platform and casually raised her voice.

“Second Duel, George Oxmol!”

Her voice rang across the courtyard like a whip crack.

Then, just as smoothly, she turned her gaze right back to Gray.

“So,” she said, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.

“You were saying?”

Gray’s mouth twitched.

’The fuck is this woman’s problem…?’

He shifted his eyes to the platform for a moment, where Ronan was just being helped down.

He looked like he’d been through a meat grinder.

Still breathing, though.

So… not entirely useless.

“…Was he a friend of yours?” Arderia asked casually, studying his reaction.

“No,” Gray replied immediately.

“Never seen him in my life.”

She raised an eyebrow at his words.

“You were in the same group during the second trial, weren’t you?”

“Nah.”

Another instant answer.

No hesitation or change in expression.

This time, it was her mouth that twitched.

“…Liar,” she muttered under her breath, but didn’t push it.

Just then, the second duel ended with a clang of metal and the sound of someone coughing blood.

Arderia turned toward the name panel floating beside her, her gaze flicking to the glowing letters, then suddenly paused.

Her eyes widened slightly.

“…Fingercrusher.”

The moment the name left her lips, a soft stir moved through the crowd.

And without a word, Gray simply turned and walked toward the platform, slowly adjusting his black gloves.

And Arderia watched him go, her smile returning, just a little wider than before.

“…How fun.”

The moment he reached the small platform, he was instantly met with five instructors, each one of them looking quite buffed, and staring at him like he was some kind of prey begging to be hunted.

But even with those hard gazes, Gray… smiled.

Like he’d been waiting for this moment all day.

“Fingercrusher, which one of them will you choose to be your opponent?” the referee asked from the edge of the platform, voice clear and professional.

Gray didn’t respond at first. His eyes lazily scanned the five instructors as if he were picking out meat at a butcher shop.

One… two… three… oh?

His gaze landed on the one Ronan had practically pissed himself in front of, the biggest, meanest-looking one of them all.

The one whose arms looked like tree trunks, with veins bulging like ropes and a jagged scar running from his collarbone to his temple.

But more than that…

A faint red glow shimmered at the tip of Gray’s fingers.

Invisible to everyone else… but not to… Jasmine.

[Fufufu~]

That same instructor… his hands clenched just slightly. Barely noticeable, but Gray caught it.

Because Puppet Strings had already latched.

Like invisible threads wrapping around tendons, nerves, muscle… little by little. Gray raised his hand slowly, his smile spreading just a bit more.

And then, he pointed.

“That one.”

“You sure, kid?” The instructor narrowed his eyes, stepping forward.

Gray tilted his head with a mocking smile.

“Why? You scared?”

CRACKLE!

“Tch. Cute.”

The man snorted at his arrogant words, cracking his knuckles to intensify his ’scary’ demeanour.

He stepped onto the center of the platform.

The other four instructors moved back to the edges, watching with folded arms and amused expressions.

And up in the stands, Arderia crossed one leg over the other, her fingers brushing her lips.

“…Let’s see what the little monster can do.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep