1-Second Invincible Player in the Game

75. Slave Revolution (3)

Sunday morning.

Rockefeller, who had come to collect documents on his day off, stood before the window and let out an honest remark.

“Quite a sight.”

The rebellion of the Shulafe slaves was deserving of higher praise than he had anticipated.

While the surprising strategy was commendable, perhaps due to their extensive experience in defense, the collective movements were impressively coordinated for students.

Above all, what astonished him was their ability to endure, seemingly disregarding the insurmountable gap even when they held a strategic advantage.

‘…I thought they would be subdued in an instant, but this is unexpected.’

As he reminisced about the battlefield and observed the unfolding situation, a sudden knock echoed through the air.

“Come in.”

The professor rushed in, eyes wide with shock as he reported.

“Professor Rockefeller! There’s a war breaking out among the students in front of the stronghold—”

“I know. I’m watching it even now.”

As he interrupted, the professor hesitated, his posture stiff.

“W-what shall we do then?”

“For now, let it be. I wish to see the outcome.”

It was a rare opportunity.

He had already assessed the individual strengths of the students, but through this clash between factions, he could witness their ability to cooperate.

Moreover, it was not a sight one often beheld.

‘A rebellion of slaves…’

Though there had been several attempts in the history of Frost Heart, all had ended in failure.

The outcome would likely be the same this time.

Rockefeller turned away as he saw the remaining forces of the Bürger faction join with Emerick.

Rustle.

It was at that moment, as he moved with the documents in hand.

KABOOM!

With a sound that struck the eardrums like an explosion, a faint tremor shook the ground.

Rockefeller turned his head again, grinding his teeth.

In the gradually thickening smoke, a shining blonde head.

“That b*stard is up to something bizarre again…”

Hershel gripped his sword, ready to clash with Emeric.

* * *

Emeric swallowed hard.

Snap!

With just three exchanges of blades, he began to falter.

‘…The trajectory of his attacks is fluid.’

When he deflected the sword, the next strike flowed in like water, as if it were a lie.

It felt as though he were swinging his sword against the waves.

No matter how fiercely he struck, he was consumed by the oncoming current…

Emeric wiped the thought of deflecting or dodging from his mind entirely.

“Ugh.”

It was ideal to evade with minimal movement.

Yet the man before him wielded a swordsmanship that made that impossible.

Even in a defensive stance, the foe was one step ahead, blocking his escape.

In the end, it forced him to roll in the snow.

Damn it.

‘How many moves ahead is he reading?’

Hershel’s wooden sword, which should have been deflected, sliced through the very air where Emeric had just stood.

Had he thought to parry, he would have surely been struck.

“Hmph, well dodged.”

Emeric felt cold sweat trickle down as he looked up at the relaxed Hershel.

“…”

With just four exchanges, his swordplay had been unraveled.

He would likely think so.

‘Don’t be mistaken. I’m probing just as much as you are.’

Yet, it was undeniable that under normal circumstances, that last strike would have ended it all.

Emeric straightened his bent back and asked.

“Why didn’t you use Aura? If you had, the outcome would have been decided.”

Had he increased his speed even a little, he would have been struck before he could roll away.

There was no way a man wielding such swordsmanship could be incapable of mastering one of Aura’s applications, the Rapid Strike.

As the question hung in the air, Hershel replied in a flat tone.

“You can’t use Aura right now, can you? Consider it a concession.”

Emmerich forced a laugh.

“I’m a sight to behold, aren’t I? Fine, enough of this probing.”

The blade moved with a whisper.

Feet danced lightly.

Emmerich steadied himself, not to gauge his opponent any longer, but to unleash the swordplay he knew best.

“Haah.”

A deep breath, and then the flurry began.

Whack!

The onslaught of attacks was so dense it served as a shield, leaving Hershel little chance to counter.

Clash!

Yet, when Hershel broke through the defense to strike, Emmerich evaded, creating distance.

Without a moment’s respite, Emmerich pushed his muscles to their limits.

‘The moment I take a single breath, I am defeated.’

In a state of breathlessness, Emmerich poured all his strength into his sword.

Had he overdone it?

‘Oh no!’

The Aura, which he hadn’t even realized had returned, seeped into his hands and blade like a habit.

He recognized he had broken the agreed terms, but the sword had already been unleashed.

If this continued, he would shatter his own neck along with the wooden sword.

But then, Emmerich’s eyes widened in shock.

Crack!

The scabbard, which had sent the sword flying, began to split apart.

Had the blade inside broken? A sharp ping echoed in the air.

Soon, the scabbard shattered into fragments, raining down upon the ground, while the broken blade plunged deep into the earth with a thud.

Emmerich felt the throbbing pain in his wrist and released the hilt of the sword he had gripped so tightly.

Then he trembled at his fingertips.

…It was merely a single index finger.

He had laid down his wooden sword, yet with just that one finger, he shattered the blade encircled by the aura.

Emeric could not help but acknowledge Hessel, who raised his finger in triumph.

The indestructibility, a form of aura manipulation that pushed defense to its limits.

‘An indestructibility of an unfathomable realm.’

There was nothing he could overcome.

Not the leader’s qualities, nor his swordsmanship, nor even the depth and manipulation of the aura…

Emeric let his shoulders droop under the weight of Hessel’s haughty gaze.

“The match is decided. Will you accept our proposal?”

“…I will.”

For some reason, he did not feel bad about it.

It was a refreshing defeat, and losing to a strength that was beyond measure was hardly a shameful thing.

If that were the case, it could be deemed a valuable experience.

Should the tales of this man stir the world in the days to come, Emeric found satisfaction in the thought that his name might also be among them, and he smiled.

At that moment, the window of the stronghold burst open, and an old professor in a nightcap shouted furiously.

“You rascals!! What are you doing in front of the stronghold on a Sunday morning!!”

Oh dear, I must make my escape.

* * *

Emeric was taken aback when he wielded the aura.

Had he not been so adept at deception, had he drawn a second sword, he would have likely bid farewell to the world.

But that was all in the past now.

Let’s set aside thoughts of him.

I sat in the dormitory room, gazing at the black cat.

The cat, with its face buried in a dish at the door, tore at the fish.

Today, after devouring it all, it vanished like smoke.

‘It seems to be taking its time with the food more and more.’

‘Well, isn’t that just a sign of adaptation?’

‘But why does that cat seem so well cared for?’

‘There’s something to that.’

As Jonathan’s questions were brushed aside, a knock echoed through the air.

Knock, knock!

“Hussel von Tenest. A letter for you.”

It seemed the twins had received something after all.

Boredom had settled in, so I opened the door with a light heart, glad for the distraction.

Then, I snatched the letter from the professor’s hand and hastily shut the door.

Because of the residents of the Shulafe district loitering in the hallway.

“Hey? Hey? The door’s open. Hussel! Are you leaving a gift here?”

“Ugh, what is this? Show your face. I came to thank you.”

After the incident, they began to speak of me as if I were some kind of hero, their words dripping with awkwardness.

Of course, I couldn’t blame them for their feelings.

The Shulafe district had undergone many changes; first, all the weapons that the Bürger district had swept away were now in the hands of the first-year students, who were set to practice in the dungeons.

And we had decided to no longer call the people of Shulafe slaves, opting instead for the term workers.

But the most significant change was this:

Minimum wage.

From now on, the pay for commissions would start from a base rate.

Of course, it varied depending on the intensity of the work, but it meant we would earn about 30 percent more than before.

Yet, it wasn’t all good news.

When we defeated the Bürger district, an incident had occurred.

– Even if the higher-ups told you not to touch them, thinking you’d fall under their command is a mistake.

The Rethe had gathered in droves in Shulafe.

Given their position, it was unreasonable to expect their cooperation.

In fact, they hadn’t even participated in this battle.

– What a rude little brat. Can’t you keep your mouth shut?

– W-well…

– Senpai. These guys are just trying to reap the benefits without lifting a finger. It’d be better to take a cut from them.

– That sounds good.

Atra readily accepted my proposal, and it was decided that half of the wages earned by Rethe members would go to public funds.

Since they had no intention of blending in here anyway, it was better to squeeze some money out of them.

And thus concluded the tale of the slave revolution.

“Shall we read the letter, then?”

Upon seeing the name inscribed on the envelope, a flicker of confusion washed over me.

I had assumed it was from my twin, but it was, in fact, from Aol.

Why, after all this time, had he sent a letter when he had never done so before…?

With caution, I tore open the envelope to reveal its contents.

Inside was a single, large yet brief sentence.

[When you meet, take good care of them.]

Meet? Who was I to meet?

And “take good care”? What on earth did that mean?

The fact that no name was mentioned suggested that the person in question was someone Hessel knew, and thus, it was likely he hadn’t referred to them directly, but still…

“…Could it be that this letter was sent by mistake?”

That seemed the most probable explanation.

This was Frost Heart.

A place where even visitation was denied, a realm of human rights violations.

* * *

The successful candidates of the third trial were free until Wednesday.

With nothing left to do, I thought perhaps I would tend to some personal matters, and so I found myself on my way to Nille’s workshop.

As I stepped through the lobby of the stronghold, making my way back to the dormitory,

I heard the distinct sound of heels clicking—tap.

I halted in my tracks.

In the center of the lobby stood a familiar woman, her eyes wide with surprise.

…Look at her, lost in thought.

She didn’t even notice I was nearby.

Such was the extent of Leana’s gaze, captivated by something else.

That something was the faculty.

More precisely, it was an elderly woman, her back straight despite the years that had weathered her.

From a distance, I watched as Leana, oblivious to my presence, cautiously approached her, and I couldn’t help but chuckle softly.

Inside, she must have been wondering if this was all just a dream.

After all, the very person who had inspired her to become a knight stood before her.

Focusing my ears, I caught the strained whisper of Leana’s voice, as if it had been squeezed from her throat.

“Um, excuse me… Lord Bellen?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you perhaps remember me? I am Leana of the Derebian House.”

I walked on, letting their conversation wash over me.

This was a significant event for Leana, one that would leave her quite shaken, as it was common knowledge among them.

【Bellen Tol Arbana】

Perhaps the ‘Peldira of Loss’ had desperately tried to block out that memory from Leana’s childhood.

Even at the tender age of seven, Leana was known as a pretty girl within the territory.

In a world filled with all sorts of perverts, there were those who harbored ill intentions toward noble ladies.

Thus, kidnappings, regardless of status, were not uncommon, and by unfortunate chance, Leana became a target, swept away by a human trafficking ring while still innocent and terrified of the world.

Yet, just in time, she was rescued by the knight Bellen, who appeared like a hero, and they journeyed together for ten days back home—a memory that would forever remain in Leana’s heart, shaping her life like an adventure.

However, perhaps it would have been better if that memory had remained just that—a memory.

“Who are you? Hic. You lot, hurry and bring me some drink.”

She was in such a state that the smell of alcohol wafted from her.

The professors beside Bellen were merely there to support her, fearing she might fall.

The reason she ended up teaching at Frost Heart was rather absurd; it was simply because they provided her with ample alcohol.

Now, she had become a shattered idol, beyond any help.

“B-Bellen?”

Noticing the dissonance, Leana’s complexion seemed to pale.

Yet, this was a trial she must face.

To make that woman, drowning in despair and waiting to die in her drunkenness, her mentor.

If she failed, she would remain forever stagnant, reduced to the level of a mere bystander.

“Ugh, hic. Uh? Wait a moment.”

I averted my gaze from the hiccuping Bellen and tried to slip away, blending into a passing group of students.

But then…

“Hey? You saw your great-aunt and didn’t even say hello?”

Bellen shot a glare in my direction.

To me, a great-aunt referred to my grandfather’s sister.

Her name was Bellen Tol Arbana.

For now, with a different surname, we were strangers.

I did not stop my steps, thinking it might be the ramblings of a drunkard or perhaps a comment from someone I knew nearby.

It was at that moment, with the crowd staring at Belen in astonishment, that I was about to cross the threshold of the fortress.

Thud!

Someone placed a hand on my shoulder.

“You insolent wretch…”

I turned to look at Belen, offering a polite smile.

The young woman who once thrived alongside Koulo in their youth, Belen Tol Arbana.

If you provoke her, it’s game over.

“Seems the drink has clouded your judgment, mistaking me for someone else.”

“Shut your mouth. Even a blind man would recognize that filthy face of yours.”

Huh?