Academy Saintess of My Chūni Writing Days

Do you know that?

Generally, throwing dirt or spitting in someone’s face during a duel is considered a dirty tactic.

When swords clash, or when magic meets magic, throwing a flashbang that you’ve hidden in your pocket is seen as a criticized act.

For the same reason, using guns and bombs is absolutely a no-go in duels. Just having those things puts you at an advantage, so it’s seen as something completely separate from your own skills.

Naturally, using drugs for doping is also forbidden. It’s well-known that doping substances, whether medical or magical, cause tremendous harm to the user’s body. Of course, aside from that, using them gets you labeled as ‘cowardly’ since it’s not really about your ‘own strength.’

But here’s the twist!

In this world, there exists a bizarre mindset where anything else is considered fair play as long as it doesn’t fall under what’s previously stated.

For example, while firearms and explosives are off-limits, creating a similar effect through magic is completely okay. There are cases where mages carry wands that look almost exactly like guns, and many mages use explosive magic.

Isn’t it evident that you need skills to handle guns or bombs well? Special forces don’t just wing it!

Doping works the same way. Not with drugs, of course, but casting spells on oneself or enhancing one’s body with amazing artifacts is simply considered skill. Even these methods aren’t without risks; using body enhancement always has its backlash afterward.

Ah, right. I’ll give magic a pass since that can be considered your own skill. But come on, artifacts, that’s just not fair, right?

If a middle-aged man is wielding one, you can assume he probably earned it through some event or other. But what about a ‘teen who inherited a legendary sword from his family’? Isn’t that no different from doping?

There is one person who can defeat others with just the training swords from the Academy without any artifacts, but calling that a ‘case’ feels a bit off, so let’s ignore that for now.

Lastly, the act of throwing dirt or spitting in someone’s face.

Though the above actions are somewhat tolerated in general combat, throwing dirt or spitting is seen as something that shouldn’t happen between two people. When facing beasts or demons, it doesn’t really matter, though.

Isn’t that strange?

We’re all fighting for our lives anyway, so where’s the cowardice in that?

But that’s not where the oddities end.

While it’s absolutely unacceptable to throw dirt or spit to obscure someone’s vision, it’s fine to shower someone’s face with Holy Power as a technique, even if that power is from a weapon.

In the end, both acts serve the same purpose of obstructing vision, right?

How bizarre.

*

“Here… please use this…”

Having pulled an all-nighter, I dozed off throughout the class. In fact, I was so used to dozing off during class that the teachers didn’t even bother to wake me.

Rather, since I started wearing the Saint’s Robe, the frequency of the teachers reprimanding me decreased. Only Seo-A, our homeroom teacher, yelled at me for not paying attention.

Ah, the power of authority is quite useful.

Moreover, the reason my grades can still average out is probably that the church forces us to study beforehand and review afterward.

“Saintess, what happened yesterday?”

Lynn was taken aback, but I didn’t have the energy to answer, so I silently handed her a buckler. She put down her scratched practice buckler and took the one I offered.

Truth be told, this was also a used buckler, but it was in much better condition than the one typically kept in the church in the city, which rarely had to face demons or beasts due to the lack of combat forces.

Seeing that, Lynn thought I was being considerate by giving her something of better quality.

“Thank you.”

Well, I suppose she’s not entirely wrong.

It wasn’t just ‘that,’ though.

I had my reasons for being out all night, but I didn’t elaborate.

“Well then, good luck today…”

I wanted to sound lively, but about half my brain was already lost to sleep, so my voice came out all droopy. Of course, the kind-hearted Lynn merely smiled back.

Other kids helping Lynn in her practice also threw out encouraging words from time to time. Even the cadets who followed Lynn cheered for her.

Of course, Kihmuhir wasn’t swayed by mere cheerleading. Whether others supported her or not, she believed only in her own judgment.

Elves, in general, carried an attitude of not caring about others’ gazes.

Certainly, some students came to see Kihmuhir. E-Class students from the Academy, probably those who hadn’t let go of their grudge after witnessing Erica losing to her in real-time.

However, they mostly watched silently, evident that they found it difficult to openly cheer for Kihmuhir in front of Lynn, who never showed any negative emotions despite dueling Kihmuhir three times in a row.

There’s an old saying that a single word can repay a thousand debts. Lynn’s behavior seemed to embody that saying. Even if they wanted to criticize her, they couldn’t bring themselves to. That talent, in a sense, could be considered a skill worthy of admiration.

Though it seems Kihmuhir had different priorities.

There were no formalities like mutual salutes. No teacher to enforce such rituals, and Kihmuhir didn’t seem to want to either. Since the first duel, Lynn also stopped insisting on a greeting. She merely stepped up onto the stage and lifted her sword toward Kihmuhir.

There was no need for a starting signal.

Once Kihmuhir confirmed Lynn’s stance, she charged at her like lightning.

Clang!

By now, Lynn had somewhat adjusted to Kihmuhir’s attacks. She successfully intercepted the first blow with her sword.

It looked a bit tough to say she deflected it lightly, but at least she didn’t show any signs of panic.

As Lynn’s sword was slightly pushed back, her hand holding the sword was pulled up. Kihmuhir didn’t miss that opening and followed up with a stab with her left hand, but—

Clang!

A sound unlike the clash of swords rang out.

That’s because Lynn had a buckler firmly gripped against the back of her hand.

She adjusted the buckler’s grip tightly with her left hand and held the sword with both hands, creating a shape where the shield seemed to cover both hands. The sword Lynn held was a military arming sword.

While it had been designed to be wielded one-handed, the handle was long enough to allow for two-handed gripping for battles against beasts. Although in a face-off against Kihmuhir, using both hands would still be quite a stretch given their strength differences.

Having both hands firmly gripping the sword and the bulging shield in one, the shield’s range of movement was narrow compared to holding it in one hand. However, since the sword acted as a support, it was nearly equivalent to gripping the shield with both hands, thus transferring much more power and stability.

Just as Jian and Rina had shown her before, Lynn held the shield diagonally and deflected Kihmuhir’s strikes.

In that moment, Kihmuhir’s eyes widened slightly.

“Ha!”

Lynn shouted as she swung downward with her sword. She didn’t put all her strength into it. Since she was holding the shield at an angle with her left hand, it would be hard to deliver a powerful downward strike.

But it was a sword, after all. A finely honed blade can easily cut through a soft human skin with just a slight downward motion.

No matter the force, a sword swung right in front of your face is something you can’t avoid.

Consistently, Kihmuhir swiftly dodged to the side with a disturbing fluidity.

Naturally, the sword missed. But—

Crunch!

A sound confirmed it was Lynn who was slightly caught off guard. She gritted her teeth tightly, making a sound that resembled grinding teeth.

With all her might, Lynn brought her descending sword to a halt. Then, she turned her wrist to level it and flicked it sideways.

It was a method Rina had used during our first duel. While not an exact replication, it was an adaptation.

Still, Kihmuhir, with her superior skills, didn’t hesitate and bent lower at the waist. Unlike my awkward tumble when I panicked, she wouldn’t lose her balance and falter.

Huff,

As if predicting that Kihmuhir would move that way, Lynn quickly stepped back. After failing to land two attacks, there was no choice but to avoid Kihmuhir’s soon-to-follow attack.

However, perhaps due to the urgency of her movements, Lynn’s step faltered a bit. She stabilized herself quickly, but her foot positioning still looked a bit off from below the stage.

Kihmuhir didn’t miss that chance. As if she had identified the weakness of her prey, she surged forward again.

Lynn hurriedly brought her shield crashing down to parry Kihmuhir’s sword—it was merely a stroke of luck.

But, that stroke of luck completely reversed the flow of the duel.

Elves are immensely vulnerable to magic. This lack of defense against the magic-wielding Demons explains their previous defeats.

In contrast, Holy Power had no impact on Elves. More accurately, it was incredibly beneficial. With a single bottle of Holy Water, they could heal wounds to the extent of not leaving a scar, while humans could only achieve full healing after several doses.

So, if anyone were to use Holy Power while fighting an elf, they would undoubtedly be seen as foolish.

But I firmly oppose that notion.

The way Holy Power is utilized can pose a sufficient threat to your opponent!

For instance, the intense light characteristic of Holy Power can obscure an opponent’s vision.

Especially if the opponent is an elf, known for their sharp sight. Just like the light emanating from Lynn’s shield now.

Kihmuhir hurriedly covered her eyes with one hand, momentarily disoriented.

That shield? Yeah, that was my masterpiece.

Thanks to it, I pulled an all-nighter transforming it.

The momentary confusion was shared by Lynn, who hadn’t known the shield had been enchanted. But unlike Kihmuhir, whose physical sight was blocked by the intense brightness right before her, Lynn, with her solid senses, quickly regained her composure.

That single moment.

Any regular person would have let that slip by without a second thought, but Lynn was a cadet at the Officer School, trained on how to move in actual combat.

In that single moment, she corrected her stance, properly gripped her sword, and adjusted her foot positioning, returning to a sound and stable posture, one that wouldn’t budge even if pushed.

And—

“Ha!”

With a battle cry, she swung her sword down.

Kihmuhir, possessing both excellent vision and acute hearing, would not take long to recognize that strike.

But just because they were sharp senses, one missing means there are gaps elsewhere. Elves could see without light during the night; while humans might rely heavily on sight, elves depended on it even more.

Because that sight couldn’t keep up with the incoming attack, even Kihmuhir, who leaped backward in haste to create space—

“—Ah.”

Blood trickled down.

Not from Lynn, but from Kihmuhir.

A slender but visible cut ran vertically across Kihmuhir’s right cheek. The red blood flowed from that wound, dripping down.

Both Lynn and Kihmuhir wore expressions of shock.

I suppose everyone here, witnessing an elf with such a look, and realizing their blood was red, were learning this for the first time.

…To think I was learning that too. Kihmuhir, having no rivals in the Academy, was a powerhouse. E-Class students who followed her were wide-eyed at the scene.

Everyone held their breath.

How would Kihmuhir react?

She could either go wild at the sight of blood or grow colder in anger. Perhaps she would be injured worse than Lynn had been. Should I intervene?

But I was confident that Kihmuhir’s thoughts were completely far removed from all that.

Because I could see her lips twitch slightly while gazing at Lynn.

Kihmuhir, no doubt an elf.

*

Lynn landing a hit on Kihmuhir could be considered remarkable progress, but it wouldn’t seal the deal for victory in this duel.

With her vision restored, Kihmuhir was still fast and strong, and Lynn had only improved slightly, not at a genius level.

Even if Kihmuhir’s perspective on Lynn shifted a bit, she would never hold back.

On the other hand, Lynn continued to fight relentlessly.

She raised her shield frantically, trying to fend off Kihmuhir’s increasingly fierce attacks, but the difference in physical abilities was absolute.

However, considering the lack of Holy Power being invoked afterward, she had truly made a commendable stand.

In the end, the scene painted was of Kihmuhir pinning down a fallen Lynn with her knee pressed against her breast and a sword leveled at her. Lynn finally shouted her surrender.

I now understood when Lynn would cry out in surrender.

She was just vocally expressing it since there was no instructor to end the duel. If an instructor had been watching, Lynn probably wouldn’t have stopped until told to.

Refusing to back down and finally culminating in a state of utter defeat before conceding felt very much like Lynn.

As always, Kihmuhir gazed at Lynn for a significant moment before lifting the knee pinning her down.

Simultaneously, she pulled Lynn up by her arm.

Lynn stood up, a dazed expression on her face as Kihmuhir guided her to her feet.

And then, Kihmuhir stared intently at Lynn’s face for a while. Despite blood still trickling from Kihmuhir’s cheek, Lynn was in a much worse state. Obviously, the more she defended, the more battered she became.

With her mindset of only surrendering when facing a moment where her life was in danger, she had no room to choose ‘to end easily.’

Fortunately, it was better than the first day. At least her mouth wasn’t stained with blood.

“That relic.”

“Huh?”

“That shield you’re holding, it’s amazing. How old is it?”

Lynn was distinctly startled that Kihmuhir was talking to her. Of course, her tone was far from friendly. It felt as though she was casually inquiring, but yet Kihmuhir’s eyes were piercing into Lynn’s face. Her grip on Lynn’s arm remained firm.

Elves are highly sensitive to Holy Power but bear a critical vulnerability to magic; thus, they can’t normally use Holy Power directly. To perform miracles from the Goddess, one must harness magic, but Elves lack magic in their bodies to initiate this process initially.

However, thanks to a branch from the Divine Tree Arlil, blessed by a deity that she cherished upon crossing to this world, they could ‘extract’ Holy Power.

The reason Elves, despite their disdain for the church trying to convert them, can’t sever that relationship is partly due to their ongoing efforts to maintain relationships with saints.

Only saints or esteemed clergy could create such ‘relics.’

Truth be told, it might not even be worth calling a relic. Nonetheless, an impressive amount of Holy Power resides within. Kihmuhir might have mistook it for a family heirloom passed down through Lynn’s lineage.

“This….”

Lynn murmured as she turned her gaze.

At the end of that gaze stood me.

I get it. I handed the buckler without saying anything. Of course, it’s natural for them to wonder whether it’s a centuries-old relic or freshly forged.

Honestly, I’m not even aware of when it was created.

I borrowed it from the church storage with permission from Father Nguyen and enchanted it after pulling an all-nighter. Enchanting bullets takes an extensive amount of time, but doing so for a large piece of metal was literally a time crunch. Truth be told, towards the end, I relied a bit on the power of miracles.

Having enchanted it, the performance is likely slightly better than an ordinary enchanted weapon… right?

I snapped back to reality when I noticed everyone around was staring at me.

Well, I did bring it, after all.

But I didn’t think it was that impressive. Did they think it was extraordinary after watching me win against an elf?

Yet, Kihmuhir’s gaze directed toward me was heated.

…Huh? Not cold?

Ah, that’s right. I just explained it before, and I forgot. I must be really sleepy.

Elves consider Holy Power so precious that calling such an object a relic indicates either that they believed I had the authority to lend it out or that I was capable of creating such an item myself. It could be either; the public perception of my achievements might not be so grand, but I’m still a saint.

Wait, hold on, does that mean the warmth in her gaze is—

…Feels like I’m about to get caught up in something grievously annoying.

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