How to Survive at the Academy - Chapter 219

King of the Fools (7)

TL: TangSanFan

ED/PR: Tanthus

The audience held their breath witnessing Tyke’s fervent struggle. Ever since the duel began, Ed Rothtaylor maintained the upper hand. It was pitiable to see Tyke Elphellan gritting his teeth, desperately enduring the onslaught.

After a brief conversation with Ed in the middle of the arena, for some reason, Tyke’s movements began to light up.

Though he charged at Ed with raised guards and a weighty physique, his advances were repeatedly blocked and repelled by a variety of magic and summoning arts. With each setback, Tyke’s injuries increased, yet he showed no sign of concern.

Students blessed with innate battle sense and the Empire’s elite combatants could easily read the experience behind Tyke’s maneuvers.

As Ed calmly dodged and countered using his magic, every strike Tyke unleashed carried formidable power.

But that was all.

No matter how potent the cannon, if it fails to hit its target, it serves no purpose.

Tyke did manage to land a miraculous strike on Ed’s unguarded moment, but it was a fluke that worked only once.

As soon as Ed accounted for the information that the opponent was not just fast but was also employing evasion and feints, his movements became noticeably more cautious.

Even with a chance to counter, Ed did not rush; he read every movement, waiting for the ideal moment when the force was fully committed and impossible to block.

Thus, Tyke fell time and again, tumbled on the ground, increased his wounds, but he continued to rise and rush at Ed with a gnashing determination.

However…

“Princess Sella.”

Sella’s butler, Dest, who was guarding her side and observing the match, whispered into her ear.

“There is no need to watch further; it seems that the eldest son of the Elphellan family will be defeated.”

It was possibly a warning for her to prepare mentally.

The Elphellan family had been unwaveringly loyal to Princess Sella for a lengthy period. Grateful for their allegiance, Sella had often used her influence to aid the revival of the Elphellan house. When the lord of the Elphellan family boldly declared victory in the duel, a smile had crossed Sella’s face.

She knew that Ed Rothtaylor was a formidable person. She had been present at the massacre at the Rothtaylor residence.

Having witnessed Ed summon part of a high-ranking spirit, she couldn’t deny he was no easy opponent.

Yet, it was impossible to believe that Ed would unleash a weapon as constrained as a high-ranking spirit in such a crowded place.

Sella had always pictured Ed Rothtaylor as an elemental master, a topical sorcerer slightly stronger than his peers.

Upon drawing her conclusions about Ed’s capabilities, the patriarch of the Elphellan family confidently promised Sella a victory.

Sella nodded satisfyingly to Estel Elphellan’s confident tale, believing that Tyke Elphellan would surely humble Ed.

Now, however, the reality was starkly different.

Whether Ed was suddenly casting high-tier magic or evading in close combat, his battling style seemed less that of a magician and more of an all-rounder, well-rounded in all aspects.

‘That highest-ranking spirit I saw… was it just one of his many hidden cards?’

Princess Sella clenched her brows, scrutinizing the sparring arena. The outcome seemed predetermined, and Tyke’s efforts appeared nothing more than a futile struggle.

Ed was superior in almost every aspect. Not only to Sella, but to most of the audience watching the duel unfold.

“As a warrior, this student Tyke has incredible mental strength and determination, truly a model for other warriors. He has undoubtedly endured many years of rigorous training. But…”

Tyke dove in with a punch at Ed, only to be knocked back by the now-cooled-down ‘Blessing of the Gale’.

“It’s tragically clear that he was not born with the sense for battle. No matter how much one trains physically and mentally, there’s an innate ceiling to their growth.”

Dest’s words furrowed Sella’s brow.

Having once been a combatant himself, butler Dest could easily discern Tyke’s inherent limitations from his movements.

“Tyke himself must be acutely aware of this. He’s reached the pinnacle through an enormous investment of effort.”

Dest spoke with eyes shut tight.

“However, he’s reached a dead end. I know… because I’ve experienced it myself. Perhaps in a bout with the underclassmen, his sheer effort could have prevailed. But among those aiming for the apex… effort alone is insufficient.”

In a whisper that seemed to resonate with Tyke’s plight, Dest continued.

It was a wall.

What stood before Tyke, guard raised, was an imposing, impenetrable wall, too tall and solid to climb or circumvent.

The fists of the dullard and those of a genius, although similar in motion, were entirely different.

From the slightest body movement to the instantaneous perception of the enemy’s actions, the ability to instantaneously shift and leverage the focal point of force, the agility to use inertia and gravity as a momentum—these realms are entirely separate from mere training and sensation.

While figures like Clevius, Zix, Taely, and Veros had an innate momentary sense, Tyke was not born with it.

The delay in honing skills can be overcome with hard work.

If it takes twice as long to master a kick, then one must train twice as long.

In truth, Tyke had days when it took five, ten, twenty times longer. Such obstacles can be overcome with willpower and training.

But once one hits the ceiling of effort, what looms ahead is an insurmountable wall.

As the story goes, a tortoise overtakes rabbits napping by the roadside, with sheer grit, but reaching the end of the path, what stands before it is a colossal boulder, unscalable to any but a rabbit.

The umpire whispers to the tortoise: to proceed further, you must leap.

– BANG!!

Tyke rose again, his consciousness blurring. Yet, teeth grinding, he pushed himself up and raised his guard.

He took a deep, heated breath.

-Huff

-Aah

As his surrender seemed nowhere in sight, the academy staff began to prepare for the conclusion of the duel.

The prowess of the academy’s best had been amply displayed before the audience.

Moreover, the dynamic of the duel had reached a stage where continuing would be meaningless.

As the duel dragged on, Tyke’s close combat patterns had been entirely deciphered.

His punches were powerful, but he lacked unpredictable assault patterns based on combat sense, and once in proximity, he couldn’t find a way to exploit Ed’s vulnerabilities.

Without any prelude or sudden attacks to throw the opponent off balance, like the ‘Stone Skin’ technique that could mitigate some physical impact, high-tier magics hammered repeatedly would render it ineffective in no time.

In every aspect, there was no longer any way for Tyke to defeat Ed Rothtaylor.

The blond nobleman is monstrously strong.

Yet Tyke couldn’t help but smile.

“I’ve lost, Ed Rothtaylor.”

An abrupt declaration of defeat left not only the audience but even the academy staff startled.

Despite numerous defeats, Tyke Elfellan had never once thrown in the towel before.

No matter how clearly the duel had been decided, he was never one to give up.

But even though he uttered such words… he still kept his guard up.

“…?”

“I had a premonition of defeat right from the start. It’s not the first time I’ve tasted defeat in a duel based on pride… Each time, it damaged my pride, and it was miserable. Being brought to my knees before bastards who hadn’t trained a tenth as much as I was infuriating and shameful.”

“Didn’t you say you were accustomed to it? You didn’t seem to take it so emotionally in reality.”

“Sure. To others, it may have seemed like I was someone who maturely accepted defeat. But in truth, I just didn’t want to show how upset I was. It hurt my pride.”

Tyke knew all too well that defeat is bitter.

Becoming so accustomed to defeat that you no longer feel its sting is even more dangerous.

Even if you’re battered and rolling on the ground from countless setbacks, you must never lose the aspiration to rise and advance.

That was the treasure Tyke had held onto until the very end. His pride might be worn and tattered, but he clung to its fragments and never forgot the searing sense of indignation. That was the way Tyke Elfellan lived.

“However, for some reason today, I don’t feel bitter.”

“… Excuse me?”

“Probably because my opponent is someone like you.”

The bandages were frayed and hanging loosely from Ed’s arms.

The exposed wounds and muscles, tones honed through numerous brushes with death.

The thorny path was not difficult to conjure up in Tyke’s mind, and he spoke with a clear voice.

“─ Is the path still clear?”

Tyke realized something. His own path was now obstructed.

A gigantic wall stood tall, blocking any advance forward. He could barely manage to sidestep.

Ed pondered for a moment at Tyke’s hearty question before responding.

“For now, yes.”

“That’s truly enviable.”

Having said that lightly, Tyke prepared himself for the last clash.

Despite knowing he was defeated, he was ready for this one final exchange. Perhaps he had an inkling.

His will remained steadfast, but his body had reached its limits. Tyke’s robust spirit outmatched his failing physical strength.

One genuine, all-out punch. If it landed, he would win; if not, he was defeated.

─And it would not land.

Knowing this allowed Tyke to declare defeat in advance.

However, a declaration was just that. As long as he had strength left, he would keep throwing punches. He had lived life unyieldingly. Knowing that Tyke wouldn’t end it here, Ed kept his guard up.

You don’t overturn a lifelong philosophy on a whim.

*inhales deeply*

With a deep breath, Tyke threw his punch.

– Whoosh!

– BOOOOOOOOM!

Utilizing wind magic to shift the trajectory, Ed avoided Tyke’s punch effortlessly.

At once, Ed plunged ‘Point Explosion’ right into Tyke’s unprotected midsection.

With no guard raised or mental preparedness, on top of being utterly drained of mana, Tyke was defenseless.

The impact bore straight into Tyke’s body without resistance.

– BOOOM!

– Crashing sound

When the dust settled and blew away, what was visible was Tyke on his knees, utterly collapsed.

He seemed unconscious, yet his expression was peaceful.

– Cheers erupted!

The victor received an outpouring of acclaim.

Flowers thrown from the stands decorated the sky, gently alighting and gathering on the dueling ground floor.

Ed bowed his head to Tyke, still kneeling with his head hung low, before acknowledging the spectators with another bow.

Once again, cheers leapt from the stands. After a sustained applause in the heat of the moment, Ed Rothtaylor motioned for silence with a raised finger.

The crowd hushed. It was time, however brief, for a speech on his glorious victory.

Princess Sella squeezed her eyes and bit her lip hard.

If Tyke had won, she would be there praising her role and giving thanks.

By her gracious intervention in a moment of crisis for his house, as a warrior, he was able to stand here with honor.

All glory would be directed to Princess Selahah.

A declaration that would elevate her stature, witnessed by numerous nobles, and even by Emperor Clorel himself.

However, plans had crumbled. Even considering Ed Rothtaylor’s strength conservatively, he turned out to be much stronger than anticipated, with a rate of growth far exceeding expectations.

He, a backer of Princess Phoenia, would likely elevate her name even further with this victory.

Just as Sella was about to breathe a sigh, still with her eyes closed…

“Today’s victory is possible because of Princess Sella of House Rothtaylor, who methodically guided us with a calm hand through the calamity of our household and always seeks an objective view of the world,”

– a proclamation that made everyone’s ears doubt what they heard.

“It’s a great honor for me, Ed Rothtaylor, to have had this duel witnessed by the great Princess Sella. While there was a time when you doubted me and regarded me with hostility, it was a necessary act as a ruler who embraces all things. The original sin of the Rothtaylor clan is not without cause, after all.”

Attention from the audience was now focused intensely on Ed Rothtaylor’s words.

“However, I am aware. It’s only thanks to the decisive and principled Princess Sella, who spearheaded the response during the Rothtaylor household tragedy and guided the masses, that I stand here firmly alive today. Therefore, I offer my sincerest gratitude for that day, for steering the erring Rothtaylor clan back on the right path, and for guiding us toward virtue with admonishment and rebuke. Today’s glory is all thanks to you, Princess Sella!”

Amid falling petals, Ed Rothtaylor’s noble words continued.

The crowd began to chant “Long live!” and called out Sella’s name. It felt as though Sella had become the main character of the duel arena.

Even Emperor Clorel, whether proud of Sella or simply pleased, patted her head with a satisfied smile. It was indeed a moment of pride.

‘What’s going on…?’

The only one who couldn’t grasp the situation was Princess Sella herself.

Ed Rothtaylor had no reason to support and praise Princess Sella.

Yet, he stood there nonchalantly, applauding with a sincere expression, as if attributing all accomplishments to Princess Sella.

‘What’s happening here…?’

Only Princess Sella stood, face stiff as the crowd cheered, sensing that…

── This man is plotting something.

His motives… invisible to Sella’s eyes, as if shrouded in thick fog.