Someone is definitely out to get me.

Oren muttered quietly to himself.

Otherwise, why have I run into this crazy noble girl twice?

This time, a fireball had hit him straight in the face. He hadn’t slept all night either. So it took Oren ages to wake from his coma.

Just as he tried to move, he felt something binding him.

What the hell?

While still thinking this, Oren suddenly opened his eyes wide. A blinding flash stabbed into them. After blinking, he saw the culprit reflecting sunlight.

That insane noble girl stood there, gripping a Longsword as she slowly approached.

“Whoa! Wait! Wait!”

Oren scrambled up, raising his hands to block—then realized they were tied. The girl gave him no time. She lifted her blade and thrust hard toward his crotch.

Clang!

Panicked, Oren spread his legs and scooted back. He dodged just in time. Sweat poured down his face as he yelled at the Longsword buried in the ground.

“What are you doing! You’ve got your period—why go after my little brother!”

“Y-you… you’re utterly filthy-mouthed!”

The girl glared at him with disgust, raising her Longsword again.

“For the sake of all women, I must cut off your future.”

Staring at the gleaming blade, Oren grimaced, cursing inwardly.

Hey… what about that rosy school life? At this rate, my little brother’ll turn rosy first…

“Wait, miss! Seriously, wait!”

Oren shouted, forcing a shaky smile.

“If I recall right, we’re partners, yeah?”

Damn annoying, but true. He kept cursing in his head as he spoke.

“This exam tests mage cooperation too, right? Kill me, and how’ll you pass?”

Oren thought he’d given an unbeatable argument. The girl paused, then asked doubtfully,

“I knew that ages ago. And I don’t plan to kill you.”

“Hah…”

“I just want to chop off your crotch, then drag you tied up to finish the exam.”

“That’s not cooperation!”

Unfazed by Oren’s rage, the girl patted her chest seriously.

“It’s fine. The examiners will understand a flower-like maiden’s feelings.”

“Like hell! You flat-chested violent girl!”

Oren regretted it instantly. The girl trembled, gripping her Longsword tightly.

Panicked, he stammered, “Oops! I didn’t mean it! You’re not flat-chested! Absolutely! Your chest is very…”

Very…

After a long pause, Oren turned away, muttering,

“Sorry. Telling that lie would make me lose my humanity.”

“At least try! Say ‘big’ at least!” the girl yelled, voice cracking with tears.

No… it’s way too small. Is that even human? Are you another race? It’s unscientific—I’d believe you’re the last of the flat-chested tribe.

Suddenly, Oren spotted a faint flash behind the girl.

“Danger!”

He shoved himself up, knocking her aside. A magic ray shot toward his head.

Snap!

The ray burst apart like fireworks before vanishing.

“What!”

Oren heard the attacker clearly. He kicked the girl behind a tree. More rays flew at him.

He muttered under his breath. The rays shifted direction. One sliced his ropes loose.

Free instantly, Oren ducked behind the tree, peering toward the attack’s source.

“What’s happening? Part of the exam?”

He fumbled for his weapon while asking the girl. She rose slowly, whispering,

“Hmm. You were out. We must cross this forest to the academy’s main zone. Each team must also incapacitate three others to pass.”

Passing clearly mattered deeply to her. Leaning on her Longsword, she said firmly,

“But if someone thinks defeating me scores points, killing them back is only polite.”

“Yeah. Defeating ‘us’.”

“You pervert aren’t even on my radar.”

…

Annoyed but not arguing, Oren slowly raised his greatsword.

“But I think we can—”

“Ah!”

A bloodcurdling scream cut him off from the attackers’ direction. Oren froze, then walked out slowly.

“Hey! It could be a trap!” the girl called.

Oren shook his head lightly. “No. That scream can’t be faked.”

To me, it’s too familiar—the sound of the dying.

The girl frowned but followed. Oren parted the grass ahead. Instantly, he saw a youth in traditional Duchy of Sidius mage robes, throat slit, drowning in blood. Before him, a humanoid monster with a sloping forehead, jutting jaw, prominent teeth, and rough skin held another person high. Its tusks bared its lineage.

Orc?

Oren matched it to Dysaia’s descriptions—Ancient Epoch creatures. The girl saw it too, startled but whispering,

“Could that be…”

“The one the Crimson Dragon seeks?”

The orc’s deep voice rumbled in Low Elven. Oren caught the gist. A robed figure, human-sized, stepped forward and spoke calmly in the common tongue,

“Are you Oren?”

The youth shook his head violently.

“As expected. The Crimson Dragon said Oren lived long with the Princess Silver Dragon. He wouldn’t be this weak.” The robed figure waved a hand. “Kill him too.”

Snap!

The orc crushed the youth’s throat. Blood sprayed as the figure lowered his hood. Golden hair cascaded out. Fair skin glowed like jade. Green eyes gleamed cunningly above a straight nose and upturned pink lips. But the pointed ears gave her away.

Elvenfolk!

Oren recalled William’s words: Dysaia hunts the Crimson Dragon and Elvenfolk.

Is this her?

Before Oren could react, the elf’s ears shot up. Furious, she whirled toward his hiding spot and roared,

“Who’s there!”