“If the students are expected to risk performance scores in a combat scenario, then transparency ceases to be optional.”

Ruvian said with clarity.

A murmur passed through the back of Class E. Even the Class A scholars, half-expecting a dull exercise, were now tilting their heads toward the confrontation.

Delila’s smile remained in place, polished and professional, but her fingers pressed slightly behind her back.

Ruvian added some more: “And as for declining, I seem to recall that the Academy’s rule codex, in section thirteen, allows students to abstain from sessions that lack instructional equity, particularly when the risk of long-term assessment penalties is involved….”

“Don't you think the Chancellor’s council would find it… interesting, if one class were penalized for a session arranged primarily as a morale exercise for the other?”

He didn’t even care if he remembered it wrongly, which section was it but it was really there. After all, he was the one who edited the Academy’s rule codex for the author.

[You have received +30 Plot Points]

‘Could you tone down the notifications?’

[Sure. Notifications have been made to a more subtle level.]

Now the silence was no longer polite between the two of them.

Delila exhaled slowly. “You… you all have already been granted a concession, three of your classmates for every one of mine. That is no small advantage.” Her voice grew fiercer now.

Ruvian gave a small nod of contemplative. “Yes, and I acknowledged the gesture. But if fairness is what you intended, then allow me to offer a refinement.” (+20PP)

He glanced back at the hall for a brief second, not seeking approval but surveying it, then returned his eyes to her. “There are nine duels scheduled, yes?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“If Class E wins three, we accept a demerit for each of our losses. However, if we win fewer than three… then no demerits will be distributed. Because at that point, it becomes a question of whether your so-called advantage was ever an advantage at all.” (+20PP)

Delila’s eyes sharpened.

She inhaled, about to speak, but she was cornered. If she accepted the offer, she would be confirming the imbalance, and she would have to watch her prized class possibly lose more than prestige.

And if she rejected the offer, she would be confirming, in full view of both classes, that the match was never meant to be fair, that her so-called concession had been nothing more than a calculated leash.

And once that was clear, the outcome of the duels would no longer matter.

Class E could lose every match, and still walk away with the sympathy of those who saw the strings. Worse, her own scholars might begin to see them too.

In a game built on prestige, perception was worth more than points. And Ruvian had just cornered her, so that backing out now would be the same as flinching.

“That,” she said, carefully, “is not how fairness works.”

Ruvian tilted his head slightly, his smile appeared more devious as if he had waited for her to say that. “Oh~ Really?” he said.

“But neither is your version, instructor.” (+20PP)

“So, perhaps let us meet in the middle of two unfair things and call it balance.”

Delila clicked her tongue behind closed teeth but said nothing. Her pride had been nicked.

“Unless, you would prefer we file a formal petition instead. I’m sure the faculty would be willing to evaluate the fairness of first-year combat assessments, especially one arranged with no prior notice and no oversight.” (+20PP)

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Control and uneasiness spread across the hall.

Silvena, lounging with both arms behind her back, offered no words, but her smirk had deepened. The little verbal sparring between the instructor and the nameless scholar from Class E was far too entertaining.

Calyra stood quietly, as still as frost. If she had any thoughts on Ruvian’s display, she didn’t voice them, but her gaze stayed on him longer than it should have. Meanwhile, Rosalin's eyes were wide in awe, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Very well,” Delila said.

Finally, she turned her gaze away, her voice clipped and professional.

“... I’ll accept your proposal.” (+30PP)

***

[Calyra’s POV]

By the time the names had been drawn and shuffled, the hall had settled into a silence that was no longer merely passive but expectant.

Calyra remained where she was, a little apart from the others, one gloved hand loosely resting on the curve of her waist while the other hung at her side.

Her blue eyes, cold and devoid of warmth, scanned the rearranged names on the screen. The light streaming in from the upper windows glinted faintly on her hair, painting it with the fragile blue of midwinter sky.

Silvena appeared beside her without introduction.

She leaned against the balustrade with casual ease, her gaze following the shuffling of Class E scholars with a playful amusement.

“So~ you didn’t volunteer either,” she said with a teasing voice.

“Neither did you. Why?” Calyra replied casually.

“Mm, I don’t think I’d like to be anyone’s pawn. Even if the prize is tempting, it hardly feels worth crawling for~”

She chimed, her voice sweet but edged with mischief.

“How odd. I thought pawns-for-hire was your specialty. I was certain you’d be the first to kneel, if the payoff was good enough.” Nᴇw novel chapters are publɪshed on novelfire(.)net

She spoke coolly, as if stating facts rather than insulting her best friend.

“My, my, careful, love, facts can sound so cruel in your mouth. Should I be flattered that you know me so well~?”

Calyra turned, gave Silvena an unimpressed side-eye of a marble statue, then said nothing.

Silvena gasped lightly, covering her mouth in mock surprise.

“Was that… emotion? From you? You’re breaking character, darling. Cute~”

Calyra looked at Silvena again but this time with a predatory glare as if about to bite her face off. Silvena’s grin only widened and lifted her hands in mock surrender.

“Alright, alright, no need to bite me~” she purred.

Then leaned back with a self-satisfied smirk.

“By the way, I know you're thinking about it too, that it was a perfect trap, right? One that would have played out exactly as intended… if that scholar hadn't opened his mouth.”

Calyra allowed herself a glance toward the one in question, the dark-haired scholar from Class E who had so cleanly upended the rhythm Delila had been composing.

He stood now in the formation, quiet and composed, giving no indication that he had just rewritten the rules before the session even began.

“You know him?” Calyra said, not as a question, but as an observation. (+10PP)

Silvena shrugged. “Should I~? I don't know… I’m more interested in results than his name. Let's just see how this will go.”

Calyra said nothing more.

She understood what Silvena meant by that. Delila’s voice suddenly broke through the quiet, louder than necessary, as if eager to reclaim command of the room.

“First match, Rosalin Varion of Class A.”

The announcement rang out like a polished bell, and Calyra finally turned her gaze away from Ruvian, watching as Rosalin stepped forward with unhurried grace, the crimson arc of her ponytail swaying behind her.

‘They say she’s the Knight of Varion’s daughter. I wonder how much of that title she’s earned…’

…

[Ruvian’s POV]

Ruvian stood quietly among the sea of Class E bodies, eyes steady as three of their own stepped forward, their movements cautious.

Delila’s voice rang out, clipped and clear.

“Garen Elswick, Mikael Dorn and Linnea Cale of Class E.”

The syllables dropped one by one, as if she were calling out inventory rather than names.

Ruvian’s gaze narrowed, shifting from the stage to the trio now stepping into position. The taller boy – Garen, strengthened his grip around the hilt of a sparring blade.

Mikael stood beside him, broader, sturdier, but already shifting from foot to foot in restless anticipation.

Linnea, smallest of the three, moved with sharper intent, but her fingers tapped twice along the length of her staff.

Across from them, another set of steps broke the stillness.

Only one.

Rosalin Varion.

Somewhere to the side, Delila stepped back. Meanwhile, Ruvian’s attention had already withdrawn inward.

The holographic pages looming within the corner of his vision.

Skill Activated: [Character Sheets]

He had tested this ability before on Dain, and once, out of sheer curiosity, on his own family. Dain had yielded several insights, hints of emotion and potential layered beneath statistics. His family, in contrast, had returned barely anything.

───[CHARACTER SHEET]───

◇ Name: Rosalin Varion

◇ Age: 16

◇ Occupation: Velthia’s Scholar / Heir to House Varion

◇ Temperament: Steadfast, Disciplined, Fiercely Honest

◇ Current Mood: Calm / Measured Focus

◇ Status: [Healthy]

◇ Relationship Status: Unknown (Pending Interaction)

◇ Traits:

 • Daughter of the Knight of Varion

 • Trained Since Childhood

 • Values Strength Earned, Not Given

 • Keeps Personal Honor Above House Politics

 • Quietly Competitive with Fellow Nobility

——————————————

His eyes skimmed the floating sheet.

Ruvian almost smirked.

‘Daughter of the Knight of Varion. Trained since childhood. Competitive… She always did feel too polished for a side character.’

He remembered writing half of that into her backstory himself. Then, Ruvian slid the next page with his mental thoughts.

And the next details of her attributes were revealed…

PP= 860

ME= 180