I Don’t Remember the Number of Regressions of the Villainesses Who Have Returned.

The blade, enveloped in a blue aura, sliced through the grass.

With speed like a hawk targeting its prey.

-Clang

The sword strike was blocked by a hair’s breadth.

At that moment, Aslan’s aura began to surge.

From his heart to his legs.

From his legs to the ground.

The crimson-red aura raced across the earth.

The surrounding temperature rose.

Small pillars of fire sprouted from the ground like seedlings, blooming open like flowers.

The frost on the blade aimed at Aslan gradually evaporated due to the increasingly hot greatsword.

The flickering red flames began to envelop Aslan’s greatsword like roses, and their stems moved as if to wrap the chilling blade in vines.

It was Aslan’s secret move, created to block Gwen’s coldness and defeat her.

“[Kokinos Kipos]” (Crimson Garden)

A kind of domain to block all of Gwen’s cold energy.

Gwen’s blade, unable to be imbued with cold, was nothing more than a light strike.

However-

“I’ve seen that technique too many times.”

Gwen had already experienced it.

-Crackle

A thin layer of ice began to form on the surrounding grass.

As if creating a giant circle centered around herself, Gwen’s cold energy began to spread endlessly.

The surrounding temperature, which seemed to surpass the noon heat of midsummer just moments ago, began to turn as frigid as the center of an iceberg.

The crimson roses on the earth wilted in an instant.

The steam created by the evaporation of the cold energy in Gwen’s blade cooled the bright red sword.

“The sword of the Reinhardt cannot fall so easily!”

Aslan, sensing he was being pushed back.

He rotated his aura even faster with a powerful battle cry. As a result, the cold within Gwen’s vast domain began to melt away.

“I don’t know why you charged at me, but today I will win!”

Once again, steam began to rise between their two swords.

It contained a crimson blaze like a sword being forged in a smithy.

-Clang

The two swords clashed again with a thunderous roar.

Despite possessing memories of the future, Gwen could not completely overwhelm Aslan for some reason.

The memories and experiences were in her head, but her body, as a Sword Expert, could not contain it all.

That dissonance caused her body to move out of sync with her thoughts.

It could be described as being stuffed into a baby’s clothes from decades ago and trying to move.

However, even in that situation.

“Aslan, I have no problem cutting you down.”

—–

I watched the spectacle of flames and ice dancing and intermingling from afar as if watching a show, and spoke.

“Even her rampage is flashy.”

When I saw Gwen appear suddenly, I sat far away in a spot to spectate and confirmed one thing.

She’s in a frenzy.’

The kind where you charge without distinguishing friend from foe.

Even from this distance, I can feel Gwen’s genuine intent to cut him down.

But didn’t they say your eyes lose focus when that activates?

Even seeing it from this far away, Gwen’s eyes are perfectly focused on Aslan.

‘Well…I guess there are focused rampages too!’

Charging at a fellow ducal heir in broad daylight with full release aura, if that’s not madness, then what is it?

I lay down on a large, secluded rock where the shockwaves from those two wouldn’t reach and watched them.

It seems class won’t be able to proceed until that flashy mess ends.

“It looks like it will take some time before it’s over.”

I spoke my prediction like a question to the man next to me.

“It appears so.”

He nodded as if it was the correct answer.

“Do we not need to stop that?”

I spoke intending to say, “Aren’t you supposed to stop it?” but,

“It’s fine. That, too, is swordsmanship. I don’t stop those who converse with their swords. Rather, the students are watching and learning from the ducal heirs’ swordsmanship, so this is a lesson in itself.”

‘Is it okay for the professor in charge to say that during his class?’

The person next to me right now is the teacher in charge of this period’s swordsmanship class.

Why is he standing next to me even while they’re fighting?

I’m going crazy trying to read the room.

‘My head already hurts dealing with my Sponsor, and now even the professor is causing a fuss!’

Yes.

The Sponsor who had been sending me money.

The first thing I wanted to do upon coming to the Academy was rendezvous with my Sponsor.

Originally, finding me alone amidst countless nobility would be like trying to find a companion at an amusement park.

So I didn’t expect them to find me in a single day, but…

I didn’t aim for it, but I became a famous figure at the Academy thanks to various incidents.

However, they’re not coming.

With rumors spreading to this extent, we should have rendezvoused already.

Sensing something strange, I tried to find my Sponsor and realized one thing.

There’s nothing I can do.

I don’t know my Sponsor, but my Sponsor knows me.

The scope is too wide for me to predict the Sponsor.

And if the Sponsor had met me, they would have revealed themselves long ago.

The situation has already diverged from the developments I knew, so I can’t even make predictions based on the plot anymore.

Just like now.

-Boom

Aslan’s greatsword struck the ground hard, kicking up a massive cloud of dust.

Behind it, the sound coming from within the dust cloud was a constant thundering, as if hammering heated iron without rest.

“As expected of Gwen and Aslan.”

The rapid barrage of strikes was intense enough to feel the urgency just from the sound.

-Clang

Rather than the blades clashing, it sounded like a blade was deflected as something flew through the dust cloud.

The back of a man drew closer.

“It’s Aslan.”

The professor and I carefully moved three steps to the side.

“Three…two…one.”

In tandem with the timer, Aslan was thrown towards me.

‘He looks awful.’

Aslan, who I had described as shining just moments ago, was now covered in dirt with an expression worn by exhaustion like a laborer.

“Aaron?”

“…Yes.”

Gwen, who had run over at some point, standing behind me.

“Are…you okay?”

“Yes. I’m fine.”

Despite coughing up blood here and there.

“That’s a relief.”

“Thank you for your concern.”

I bowed my head to express my gratitude.

‘But I did it to avoid her eyes.’

“Then please step aside for a moment.”

“Huh?”

“That bastard, it’ll take a while to bring him to his senses.”

‘…Excuse me?’

She’s drawing her sheathed sword again while talking to me.

She’s serious.

The moment I thought I should stop her-

“That’s enough. I don’t know what caused your anger, but if I let it go any further, I’ll probably have to resign as a teacher.”

The swordsmanship professor blocked Gwen’s path.

‘So that’s what he meant.’

The reason he was just watching from the side. It was to stop them at a truly dangerous moment but to avoid getting on the bad side of the ducal heirs.

Indeed, it was strange for the homeroom teacher to yell without regard for the ducal heirs. This is the normal response of a professor.

Stopping a duel between ducal heirs is an action you have to be prepared to be marked by both of them for.

“…I understand.”

Gwen also realized the professor had waited despite it being class time and sheathed her sword again.

‘Do they select Academy professors based on their timing?’

Both the homeroom teacher and this professor move with such peculiar timing.

“Next time…”

As Gwen got caught by the professor and the scolding began, I walked in the direction Aslan had flown.

I approached Aslan, stuck between trees in the distance, blankly staring at the sky, in a pose I had seen somewhere before.

“What thoughts are you so absorbed in?”

For an aura user of Aslan’s caliber, he should have the strength to break the trees and get up.

He must be contemplating something.

“The thought that I still have a long way to go.”

Aslan with a blank expression.

It seems getting overwhelmed by Gwen was quite a shock.

Indeed, when someone you have always fought a rivalry with and worked hard to surpass easily dominates you like it’s nothing, the reality check hits hard.

There was only one thing I could say to him in that state.

“That’s only natural.”

What are you saying to someone who is a (future) Sword Master?

I’m just cheering him on in my own way.

“Why are you trying to catch up to Gwen, who started running long before you, when you’ve only just begun?”

Even if he’s a fool who laughs like this, his mental state is surprisingly fragile.

The real Aslan is a man who hides his pain with a smile, living in a noble society that doesn’t suit him without anyone to voice his thoughts to.

So, let me say a few words to back him up.

So he doesn’t lose heart here.

“You’re saying I’ve only just started running?”

He turns his gaze to me as if hearing those words for the first time.

“Yes.”

Eyes filled with suspicion, as if thinking I was trying to mock him.

I decided to boldly give the encouragement I wanted to.

“Is merely defeating Gwen your dream?”

Aslan flinches slightly at my words.

At this point, Aslan’s dream is probably to surpass Gwen.

“Your destination and Gwen’s are different.”

“Huh?”

It must sound absurd.

To him, who worked hard just to defeat Gwen once, it must have sounded like I was mocking his efforts to chase after Gwen.

But this must be said.

To prevent the future where he achieves his dream of following Gwen’s path instead of his own, only to spend years in the despair and futility of accomplishing a dream that has lost all meaning, without any small purpose.

“So, Sir Aslan. Run.”

So that the future where he runs again in the war, chasing Arcana’s back to stand by his side, may come sooner.

“Don’t tread on Gwen’s trailing shadow heading towards her goal, but head straight towards your own goal.”

To the point where you can stand beside Arcana, the Sword Saint.

“You’re not someone who will stop at mere scratches on your legs, are you?”

Aslan just stared at me after hearing my words.

“…Ha.”

The dull eyes that seemed somewhat dark transformed into blazing pupils filled with fighting spirit.

“That’s right. The Reinhardt’s heir can’t be idle here with a long face!”

He breaks the tree with his strength and rises from his spot.

“Thank you! Aaron!”

Aslan showed that foolish smile I always saw, even in my previous life, with his back to the sunlight.

“For what.”

Is it that hard to lend a hand to a fallen friend?