Chapter 5: I Am the Only One Beside the Fallen Grand Duke's Daughter

Ghost That Devours Iron (2)

Sigmund Academy was named after its founder, the First Emperor Sigmund. He once declared:

‘A fair chance at education. An equal opportunity regardless of status. My school shall be a place that provides such opportunities.’

In that spirit, Sigmund has two types of admissions.

One is the preliminary screening route, similar to early admission in my previous world.

The other is the on-site screening, like a traditional regular admission.

The entrance exam that Rovan was taking refers to the latter.

‘Of course, if you go by numbers, the early route accounts for most of the students…’

After all, you can submit your application ahead of time, and if accepted, you’re guaranteed a seat.

Of course, it costs nearly ten times more than the on-site route, but hey.

‘The Lady was one of those early applicants. Even if she hadn’t gone that way, she could’ve smashed through the regular exam without trouble anyway.’

That support Rexas promised her? That’s what it was for.

As for me, I wasn't even thinking about applying for the academy in the first place.

Unlike the Lady, I didn’t have any backing from a noble house, so I couldn’t go the early admission route.

The on-site screening deadline hasn't passed yet.

And the eligibility requirements are youths aged 14 to 18.

I'm just barely within that range. I didn’t know my exact age, but when I used appraisal magic, I’d shown up as the Lady’s peer.

So there was no reason I couldn’t apply, right?

“See? I’m the right age, aren’t I?”

That's why I'm here to take the exam, you idiot.

“R-right. You're just the right age to apply… but still, how can you suddenly change your story like that? I’m not stupid. I know you weren’t originally planning to enroll!”

Smart. He nailed the real issue.

Because the truth is, I don’t care about the entrance exam.

From the start, I’m not taking it to pass.

I’m taking it to stay by the Lady’s side.

Therefore, I don’t care what I’ll study or what kind of campus life I’ll have at the academy. That part’s meaningless.

But it’s not like I’m lying.

I am here to take the exam.

So all I need is for them to let me in.

“It’s possible I didn’t have the intention before, but just made up my mind now, isn’t it?”

From my perspective, the gatekeeper only had one option left here:

Just accept it nicely and stamp the entry permit.

I looked at him with a sly smile.

Then, the gatekeeper reluctantly sighed.

“…Damn it. I can’t argue with that. I’ll grant you a two-week entry permit.”

“Sounds good.”

“But no more than that! If you want to stay longer, you’ll have to either pass the exam or come back after the admissions period ends!”

That’s fair.

He might seem uptight, but a gatekeeper with no backbone wouldn’t be fit for the job anyway.

Honestly? I kind of liked the guy.

***

Apparently, I’d just barely made it in before the cut-off. After submitting the application, I was given a number tag. On it, the number read ‘516/516,’ indicating the final person.

‘One minute later and I’d have missed it. Good job, Rovan.’

Not that I’m thankful or anything.

As I stepped into the academy’s massive outdoor training field, a crowd stretched out before me.

Judging by a quick estimate, there really were about 516 people standing around. They busily glanced at one another in passing, like nervous meerkats sizing up competition.

Probably scanning the crowd for weak-looking opponents before the entrance exam started.

While I stood idly among them, four professors emerged with pomp from the stage in the center of the field. And then, the old professor among them stepped forward and spoke.

//“Heh heh”//

Thanks to the sound amplification of the magic amplifier, his voice boomed across the entire space, loud enough for even those in the back to hear.

//“Welcome, prospective students. I am Babalch von Gidus, a professor here at Sigmund for the past 52 years.”//

‘Professor Babalch…’

Another familiar face has appeared.

//“We will now begin the entrance evaluation. The format will be observational sparring. Each of you will pair up with someone of your choice and line up along the marked dueling lines.”//

The content of the entrance evaluation that the old professor mentioned was a 3-minute sparring match, observed by professors.

The content was simple.

Each pair would be judged during a one-on-one mock battle. Professors would assess each performance and assign internal ranks accordingly.

A crude method.

But effective.

Sigmund Academy wasn’t some ordinary school.

It was a military academy that discovers and trains talent to be used as military officers.

In a world where swords, magic, and war were the norm, this kind of brute-force trial was a necessary filter to gauge whether someone had the basics to survive.

‘Technically, it was more about assessing “potential” that freshmen who enter through general admission will show at school.’

Anyone who came off as ambiguous or borderline would be flagged for a rematch.

Sparring again, sparring again, sparring again….

If someone shows outstanding performance from the beginning, they can immediately receive a good evaluation and pass. But that wasn’t common. Most had to be ground through this gauntlet until their talent—or lack thereof—became clear.

The professors weren’t amateurs eating their experience through their asshole. They’d been doing this long enough to sniff out a raw gem when they saw one.

In that way, about 100 of these 516 people will ultimately remain.

This system was easy to recall.

You'd be an idiot if you couldn't remember it.

Because this exact entrance exam was the opening of the first episode of Eternal Eclipse.

It was the prologue played by our protagonist who arrived from the countryside.

“Ah, there she is.”

Right on cue, I finally spotted her.

A girl standing out in the distance with her unmistakable appearance.

Long, fluffy, golden curly hair that looked like you could sink into them.

Bright orange eyes that practically burned with fire.

‘Eclipse Larima.’

The backwoods bumpkin who recklessly came to the capital with a sack of coins her rural village scraped together.

And the protagonist of Eternal Eclipse, the world I had been reincarnated into.

My first impression of her, even from a distance, was…

‘Wow. She really does look like an idiot.’

I was honestly just surprised how perfectly she matched her in-game depiction.

Same went for Lady Karalin, that Rovan bastard, and even Professor Babalch. So I guess this level of accuracy wasn’t all that unnatural.

//“…That concludes the explanation. Let the exam begin.”//

As soon as the order was given, students scattered in all directions, each making a beeline for the opponent they'd already picked out.

“Uh, uhhh-ohh… This is bad. There are way too many people! Waaah!”

Eclipse was no different.

She looked hilariously lost, spinning in circles like she had no idea what to do.

Typical of her idiotic nature.

That airheaded attitude would land her in five separate trial matches during this sparring exam.

A whopping five times.

If that sounds like a lot, it’s because it is.

In fact, she’d go down in history as the most trialed applicant of the 65th class.

Her “barely passed” status would spread like wildfire throughout the entire school.

And the reason?

Because the girl who was destined to become a hero couldn’t bring herself to swing a sword if it meant hurting someone and seeing others in pain!

‘Is she an idiot?’

She was.

Even in the game, she carried a debuff early on called 「U-Uugh, I Can’t Hit Them…」, lasting until a certain point.

No, seriously, that was the actual name.

It was a debuff that blocked all normal attacks and attack skills until one of her allies got hurt in front of her.

The standard way to use her was to throw a beefy butcher-looking guy on the frontlines, deliberately let him take a hit, and then her stats would finally come online.

It was a setting that made no sense to me back then, but seeing her now in real life? It actually felt natural she’d come with a handicap like that.

‘That blank face made it all click. A world that only makes sense once you see it in person… huh.’

Still, she would finally get a passing score at the end of her fifth match.

And the opponent she beats?

None other than Rovan von Sorbe.

After defeating him, she secures her admission to the academy.

So, I approached Eclipse and spoke to her.

“Hey.”

“Eek! Y-yes?!”

She flinched so hard it was almost cartoonish. I mean, sure, when a guy looking like a totem pole twice your size suddenly looms over you, it’s hard not to freak out.

Still, that shrill voice was drowned out by the murmuring crowd.

“If you can’t find anyone to spar with later, or if you get stuck taking too many matches and get into trouble, pick me. I’ll get you through.”

“A-all of a sudden?!”

“I don’t mind. Actually, it’ll be better for you. I’m someone who can cure that chronic disease of yours.”

“Eek, chronic disease? I-Is this that ‘illegal private tutoring’ thing I've only heard about?!”

I left without explaining. Just dropped the line and walked off.

Why’d I say something like that?

Because right now…

“Hey, you, you there! Want to spar with me? I’m Rovan von Sorbe, heir to the Sorbe barony—”

That bastard, the one who kicked dust in my face.

Wasn't I here to beat up that unlucky son of a bitch who is still slinking around looking for someone weak to pounce on?

If I were to choose this guy right now as my sparring partner—

And absolutely crush him the moment the match began, leave him crawling in the dirt in disgrace and get him disqualified from the field—

Then Eclipse would never end up fighting him, like she did in the original story.

And I can guarantee you—if that doesn’t happen, she won’t get into Sigmund Academy.

Later in the story, it becomes clear why she managed to pass her final trial against Rovan.

It’s because Rovan provoked her.

'He definitely said something like, "You bumpkin reek of backwater village life, dumb hick potato-picking lowborn peasant trash…." I don't even remember the whole insult. I just listed a few potential ones.'

But who wouldn’t snap after hearing something like that?

In that sense, truly, Rovan was the only one here capable of dragging out Eclipse’s true potential.

And without that? She’s done.

It would be quite troublesome for me if that happened.

If Eclipse doesn’t get into the academy, this whole world will be twisted from its very foundation.

She wouldn’t meet the people who are supposed to help her awaken her talent.

She’d never grow.

She’d just go back to some farming village and fade into obscurity.

Then stopping the Demon King's imminent uprising will be like trying to catch a star in the sky.

When the Demon King’s forces emerge, humanity won’t have a hero.

Which means I—me, personally—would be stuck having to save the damn world just to keep Lady Karalin safe.

What a pain in the ass.

I wasn’t here to be a savior.

I was here to ensure Lady Karalin’s happiness.

So no, I didn’t want to interfere and cause that kind of butterfly effect.

Instead, I’d take Rovan’s place in her fifth match and get her the win she needed to pass.

That bastard's going to fail anyway, so it doesn’t matter.

Eclipse and Rovan wouldn’t have a clue what I’d just done for them.

Thud.

Thud.

So, I walked up to Rovan—still wandering around, trying to rope someone into a duel—and called out:

“Hey, Purple Boy.”

I greeted him with a cheerful smile.

“…What? Did you just—wait, you’re that…?”

“You know me, don’t you?”

Hehe.

That smug, deliberately mocking grin made his eyebrow twitch, as if he'd seen something he shouldn't have.

“Of course I do. You’re that disrespectful northern mongrel from earlier. Wait, don’t tell me…?”

“I came for you. Let’s duel.”

His face twisted in anger.

“Hah! First you're rude, now you're stupid. You’ve come to the wrong person if you want a match!”

“So that’s a yes?”

However, Rovan looked at my face and hesitated, wondering where all that confident bluster had gone.

Does he not have any thoughts even after seeing that I still wasn't backing down?

But, he must have realized there was no escape.

And so, he relented.

“…Fine. I accept. But I have a condition.”

“A condition?”

Even now, still trying to run that silver tongue of his.

“Hmph. Wooden practice swords are boring. So both you and I will use real swords. I’ll be wielding my family’s heirloom sword, the treasured sword ‘Azeroth.’”

Oh, you want to use real swords…?

“In front of me…?”

“…Hah! Of course in front of you, you muscle-headed oaf.”

Hah… Azeroth, Azeroth…

Yeah, I know that sword real well.

“Isn’t using real swords against the rules? Everyone here got issued practice weapons.”

“Hmph, scared? If both parties consent, the rules don’t matter. What, getting cold feet now?”

“So there is a clause like that in the rules.”

“You can run away anytime, coward.”

“Fine. I accept.”

“W-what?! Seriously?!”

I agreed without the slightest hesitation—

And with a smirk full of mockery.

To him, proposing a duel with real sword was his trump card—his last desperate shot at intimidating me into backing down.

But what would I ever back down for?

…If anything, this just played right into my hand.

“But if either of our weapons breaks, there’s no liability. That clear?”

“Tch. Don’t talk nonsense. Azeroth will never break!”

And that’s when it stirred.

The old friend inside me began to writhe, slowly rising, twisting through my core.

["Ssswwooorrdd…? Ssssworrrrrd…!! Kehh, kehihihk… tasty sword, right there… Burga wants to eeeat… ehehehehe~!!"]

‘Stay still. I’ll let you have your fill today.’

["Maaasteeer… maaaster… hurry… ehehehe!"]

Every weapon of iron or steel contains a soul.

More precisely, a spirit.

My Epic Skill, “Ghost That Devours Iron,” is a predator of such spirits.

Once devoured, the weapon loses its structure, its integrity crumbles into ash.

The consumed spirit becomes part of the ghost, eternally bound, forced to lend me its power.

The downside?

I have to hear its cry. Like constantly.

But I’ve spent nearly my entire life with this thing—this ghost named Burga—

Ever since long before I stripped the barbed wire from the Lady’s horse.

Through every battle I’ve fought. Every war-torn field.

Still… it’s rare for Burga to sound this ecstatic.

“You idiot. You don’t even know your place… Are you that desperate to die?”

“Save the last words.”

On some level, I understood why Burga was salivating like this.

That treasured sword of his, Azeroth…

Yeah. It’s a damn good weapon.

Well then…

Today’s menu just turned gourmet.

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