SMMA 71

Chapter 71

Professor Thunderstep’s question from before—“Why didn’t you face the bulls? Where did they go?”—flashed unexpectedly through Ihan’s mind.

Focus.

He turned his attention forward.

The elemental bull before them radiated an unnerving aura—two sources of power distinctly woven: one the signature of external enhancement magic, the other the energy of potions working from within. To that layered mana was added a foreign current, parallel but alien.

The force of a spirit?

Ihan couldn’t say for certain—yet one does not mistake ordinary bulls for half-ice monstrosities. Frost clung to the floor with each stomp of its hooves.

“Ihan—it’s watching us. Think it’s going to charge?” Derregue asked tensely.

“Not at first… but maybe I angered it by lighting the room.”

“……” Both Derregue and Giselle turned to glare.

“What? We couldn’t fight blind. If it rages from that—it’s just deranged.”

“Arguing whether the bull is strange isn’t the point here…” Derregue muttered.

“Ask him if normal strikes will even hurt it, Choi,” Giselle ordered curtly—still using Derregue as a messenger.

Still not over this… Derregue sighed.

“Physical hits will probably do nothing to the elemental half. And none of us can enchant weapons midbattle…”

Many monsters resisted plain steel. Adventurers had to carry enchanted blades, or learn to channel mana into weapons themselves.

“Anyone here able to imbue mana, even a little?” Ihan asked.

Derregue raised his hand. Giselle raised hers as well. Then Ihan raised his too.

The look Giselle gave them was as if they’d both sprouted horns. Fine, Derregue—but this one? This noble scion not even from knightly blood?

“I meant Derregue,” Ihan said blandly. “But if we can all strike, so much the better. Let’s spread and jab.”

By fortune more than planning, this trio was formidable. Ihan and Derregue were among the best in class; even if Giselle sneered, her dual blades were nothing to scoff at.

Of course—their chemistry was abysmal.

“Ask him which stands center, Choi.”

Obviously, the one taunted most will be targeted, Ihan thought.

“Surely it ought to be you, our Chief. Tell him that, Derregue.”

Giselle answered with a single raised finger. Derregue sighed again.

“Rock-paper-scissors?”
“Rock-paper-scissors.”

Fate chose: Ihan center, Giselle right, Derregue left.

Derregue thought grimly that it was the first time he had seen Giselle smile so… broadly.

Despite the light, the bull did not yet lunge.

The plan was simple: approach from three angles. When the beast responded, the targeted one focused purely on evasion, while the other two pressed.

But evading… that is the hardest role.

By unlucky draw, Ihan would be bait.

Snort—

Mist of ice jetted forth, the bull roaring with a voice sharp enough to flay nerves.

Warning. Clear as words: Leave or die.

Ihan’s reply was magic.

“Spring forth—move!”

Globes of water burst into being, hurled at the bull. Startled into dodging, the elemental shied sideways—the blasts crashing upon the floor with bursts of spray.

“Impressive… wait.” Derregue suddenly noted: the trajectory was odd—angled downward, hammering from above, driving the beast toward one side…

That rat… Giselle gritted her teeth. Of course she saw it too. He was herding the bull toward her.

But she had planned the same.

Flash!

Her twin swords came free, her body swaying with sharp grace. Drawing the spirit’s gaze, she danced, luring it past.

She slashed for its jaw, a duelist like a matador slipping aside. Steel struck—but only stung the icy half. Her blade frosted instantly; the wound sealed itself in moments.

The bull pivoted with uncanny swiftness—huge but agile. Giselle beckoned with steel, daring it back.

CRASH!

It was hammered aside—as if slammed off course by invisible force.

Ihan shimmered into view, transparency peeling off. His training sword shattered to dust in his hands.

“……”
“……”

It could be said, perhaps, in defense—that Ihan had needed a distraction to angle a decisive blow. He doubted Giselle would have agreed willingly anyway. Best show the results.

“Do you think this will work, Ihan?!” Derregue cried.

“No problem! We’ll never be grouped again after this assignment!”

He grinned, vanishing again into blur, sprinting behind.

“Feet—seize the earth!”

Power surged through him. His eyes sharpened, every motion of the bull magnified clear.

He infused mana into the practice blade—though he knew it already doomed.

The bull still watched Giselle—giving Ihan his window.

Slash—!!

The wood cracked apart under the mana’s strain, bursting even as it struck. But the strike hurled the elemental sideways regardless.

Ihan’s hand trembled with numbness, but he shouted: “Now! Out, before it rises!”

“R-right!”

Derregue dared not even glance at Giselle. Her seething wrath was palpable.

Outside, Angrago chewed his lip by the exit. He and others of Team Three had returned already—but worried for those inside.

“What if Wadanaz uses Derregue again?”

“Moradi’s with him. She’ll keep him straight.”

“…I hope so.”

But unease still shadowed them. It felt like tossing lambs with a wolf.

When at last the trio emerged—safe—the Tower exhaled in relief.

Thank the gods.

“Derregue! You’re safe!”
“Moradi—you fought well—”

But the atmosphere was… odd.

Ihan cold and silent, Derregue stiff, Giselle radiating murderous air.

No one dared address her. Angrago shrank from the killing glare.

“Derregue, how was it?”

“Well enough. You?”

Others shared their tales: throwing torches, hurling fire, distracting and fleeing. Many had solved with wits, none by contest.

Derregue’s mouth dried. Right… Professor said ‘face and escape.’ He never said ‘defeat.’

He and his squad had lost themselves in the mood—their talk of fighting making him forget.

Soon all groups returned, some bruised, some soaked in frost.

“Well done, all of you,” Ingerdel praised. “Some simply escaped, as instructed. And some, though not asked, subdued their foe—commendable, though not required.”

Whispers darted. Eyes flicked toward Giselle, who looked ready to kill. No one dared press.

“How did it feel?” the professor asked.

“Faster than expected.”
“I hadn’t thought strikes would vanish uselessly.”

“Exactly. And that was the lesson. To meet, to withstand, and to realize—it isn’t so fearsome once encountered.”

“Truly!” Tigers nodded fiercely.

Even retreat was thrilling. Facing fear shrank it—this was the wisdom.

“Fighting monsters is same as swordsmanship. Stay calm. Learn what they are. If you cannot win—learn how to retreat. Today you learned lessons no words could teach.”

Derregue nodded slowly. Yes, indeed… though their group had taken it further.

“And,” Ingerdel added. “For the semester, these groups will remain.”

“……”

Derregue froze. Turned. Saw Ihan and Giselle both wearing the same stiff dread.

Ihan whispered, “Should I apologize for before?”

“…Better keep me between you two at all times,” Derregue muttered.