Chapter 42

**<42 - This Wasn't Supposed to Be an Event...>** The chapter boss is powerful. Typically, she could decimate about a dozen peers, as if they were mere playthings under her might. 'I suppose it’s ignorance on their part, but from an observer's standpoint, this feels like watching a horror film.' The fact that they openly ostracize someone like Hestia, who is capable of tearing people apart, is mind-boggling. And this time, the intensity of the bullying is far worse than what I saw in the cafeteria when the novice knight trainees were being tormented. Groups of students gather and laugh, finding joy in ridiculing others, but this is beyond jest – rather a concerted effort by upperclassmen seeking to humiliate. Despite knowing the injustice of it all, no one comes to Hestia's aid. 'Is it because of her appearance?' Mana compression, the method to refine mana quality. Mana cultivation, the practice of increasing mana quantity. Hestia is strong, but she hasn’t mastered either mana cultivation or mana refinement. Her muscles remain unrefined, bulked up in an unfeminine way, and her reputation suffers within an academy dominated by nobility, as she comes from a lowly mercenary background. Contrastingly, those who stand by her become enemies to not one, but five central imperial nobles entrenched in power. To have five such formidable adversaries united is indeed a fearsome sight. Countless are the new students who fear that crossing them could lead to serious repercussions inside or outside the academy. ‘What sort of main boss gets pushed around like this?’ It might seem absurd, but this is fundamentally a fantasy game world. Here, it's possible for a muscular woman with immense potential, obviously powerful at a glance, to be subdued by a frail noblewoman. Of course, Hestia's strength could tear apart any method of cultivation or refinement. "Hey, sisters. You're from Group B, right?" She addressed them confidently, her voice raised. "The cute one with petite stature just over 130 and those bright, sparkly eyes... Ah yes, you must be Oknodie?" "Oknodie? The promising talent of Group A's upperclassmen who surpassed Northern Marquis Irene and son of the Western nobility’s Pretzel Marquisate, Andersen?" "Notable indeed. So this is the standard from the borderlands." The imperial noble girls covered their mouths with their hands and scoffed. Malice flickered in the corners of their smirking eyes. This was a different game from the cafeteria crew’s mere insults – here, they seemed prepared for physical confrontation. "You've said enough if you're looking to start trouble. Now scram." "Oh my. Trying to save face in front of the kid?" "You should’ve stayed quiet while you could. That way, you wouldn't have to suffer." "An army slayer, that's rich." "Oh, look at her shaking fists." "So barbaric. Are you about to strike like you did when you eliminated your mercenary friends?" Hestia wasn't capable of such acts. Her comrades fell not because of Hestia's fault, but due to their own greed. Mercenaries blinded by scores touched the untouchables, got decimated, and then self-destructed in an ugly scramble for points among themselves. This was the ignominious downfall of the Western Mercenary Alliance. The B group noble ladies, uncaring of the truth, continued to deride. ‘Even if she’s not a chapter boss, it’s a pitiful sight to see.’ Hestia's profession is a Berserker. Also known as a Warrior of Berserk. A job that turns rage into power. Often losing rationality, leading to the attack of allies. Understandably, this garnered the worst popularity. A rough profession that neither secures its own rear nor respects allies, and due to its threat, both popularity and perception are the worst. In a battle with a chapter boss or a duel against a formidable opponent, she could be a huge asset – yet her difficult nature makes her a fringe job among players. An unwanted party member with the lowest of trust. Perhaps that’s why I felt drawn to her. The job I aim to master in the academy is also among the avoided. "Wild dogs bark and cower when they face a beast. You ladies fit that description to a tee." "Huh?" "Wild dogs?" "How dare you utter such nonsense against the imperial nobility? Have you lost your mind?" "Ah, I'm sorry." Their faces suddenly brighten, assuming an apology was forthcoming. Did they expect an immediate apology? "I just couldn't believe you were imperial nobles, harassing one person with crude words. I must have mistaken your lack of home training." Expressions hardened among the A group upperclassmen. One of them winked at us from the periphery. "Ah! I've lost strength in my legs." "Who keeps pushing me?" A few girls dressed in pantyhose stealthily approached Isabel, jabbing her ribs with elbows and striking her thighs with knees. "Ugh." Isabel uttered a stifled groan under the cowardly attack. That wasn't something I could stand and watch. "Whoops, I'm feeling so wobbly. I might just fall~" Snatch. "Aaaah!" "Let go of me this instant!" As the girls’ hair was grabbed, they screamed and flailed their arms desperately. They reached out to grab Isabel and my clothes, tried to clutch our hair, but we skillfully waved our arms and pushed them away, sending everyone scattering. "Aaaargh!" "Oww..." The pantyhose girls sat down, crying, their hair plucked mercilessly. "You're all out of control, aren’t you?" "It’s your own fault for charging us so recklessly." The onlookers who didn't want to witness such ugliness retreated. "After all, Hestia here is a member of Group A. A competitor who took the same test as I did. If you insult my competitor, you devalue my own accomplishments as the top of Group A." The upperclassmen from Group B huffed and puffed. "Guess someone who took first place among backwater bumpkins now has a high horse?" "Looks like talking won't suffice." "Miss Lotto. Show them how it's done." Among the ladies clad in traditional empire uniforms that skipped not a patch of bare skin for pantyhose, one stood out in a different attire. All it took was covering up – pantyhose weren’t mandatory under that doctrine. She wore a provocative bodysuit, her shoulder-length hair announcing her defy-all approach. Step-step... The girl advanced with light steps, delivering a kick into the air, generating a considerable gust. The sound of air being sliced and the sharpness of the trajectory seemed more than enough to shatter bones. "Kyaa! Lotto is so cool!" "Please, just one wink!" The imperial noble girl, Lotto, receives an enthusiastic welcome. Her demonstration reinvigorated the spirits of the upperclassmen. "See? The body trained by a professional combatant, instructed in martial arts by my family. There's a sparring ring right here, but if you face me in it, you're going to get hurt, you know?" "How about apologizing now to our sisters? If you prostrate yourself and say 'I'm sorry for being an uncivilized barbarian from the edges of the land,' maybe we could be lenient?" "Oh my." "Giggle." "Goodness, how lewd~ If you did that, wouldn't you feel so ashamed you'd wish for death? Fufufu." Irritated, Hestia stepped forward. "Cowards. If you have a beef, come at me directly. Do you imperial nobles really need to stoop to picking on a little kid to save face?" "It's alright, Hestia. Remember, I am the top new student from Group A." I pointed to the girl they called Lotto as an example. "If you’re so confident, come to the sparring ring. I'll face you then." It seemed the B-group ladies had their faith in Lotto. But I knew this girl. The midterm of the first semester of our first year. The time when Hestia's eyes roll back from rage-induced slaughter. A corpse, lying on the ground, limbs torn, face frozen just like hers. Or, if one triggered an early entrance. Before even the admission, a noble girl gets split in two in a fit of rage – the noble dying with that very same face. No matter which route, she's always the first B-group student Hestia kills. This is the lauded <Martial Lotto>, cheered on by the crowd of noble girls. 'How can the dates coincide so perfectly?' The day before the school entrance ceremony. Even if Hestia doesn’t go berserk, there’s an event where an accident occurs during a spar, and one student gets terribly injured. Here, the severely injured student ends up in a cast, and that student is 'Lotto' as well. 'Do the producers have a thing against bob-haired characters?' Such thoughts cross my mind, as no matter which path, she meets a dreadful fate and dies before the first semester of year one concludes – the villain NPC, doomed to fail. Such boastful provocation from her did nothing but evoke pity in me. [You will undertake the event <Group Rivalry (2)>.] [You will step into the duel in Hestia's stead.] Winning is a given, but I must be careful not to injure or kill her by regulating my strength. * * "A duel between the top A-Group upperclassman and B-Group's warrior maiden, Lotto!" "Where?" "In training complex, sparring ring number three." The rumor spread like wildfire. Over a thousand students gathered to witness the event. Considering there are a total of 2130 students in the 981st cohort, roughly half of them were present. For Oknodie, victory is certain. The intervention was to prevent Hestia's early downfall, but... The actual thoughts of the students who saw the standoff were completely different. "Really? A duel with such a tiny kid?" "This is too much." "Is it right for a noble trained in martial arts to do this?" Even the reasons that established the duel were questionable. "They accepted a duel from the kid who stood up for a girl being bullied?" "Where's the nobility's dignity?" "Trash. Is the Empire just filled with heartless, cruel women becoming nobles?" A barrage of scorn and jeers erupted from all around. Even the noble girls who entered the stands blushed with shame. A noble trained in martial arts was bullying a little kid. Even in their own views, it was an unspeakably pathetic fight! As the mood in the stands overwhelmingly sympathized with Oknodie, one of the upperclassmen from Group B insinuated slyly. "The kid’s name is Oknodie, right? Perhaps being half-orc means she's overflowing with strength?" "That's right. If her blood is mixed with the likes of orcs, should we even consider her the same as us humans?" A friend of the lady who made the insinuation chimed in. "Unbelievable. In this day and age, to make such racially discriminatory comments. You call that speech?" "Despicable empire scoundrels. The thought that they are of the same nobility as us makes my skin crawl." "Just go die." A cascade of condemnation. A shower of boos. The most startled by the jeers and ridicule aimed at the 133cm tall child and the 165cm tall imperial noble martial artist stepping into the ring for a disgraceful reason was Oknodie herself. 'Why are they like this? It was the complete opposite in the game.' - Birds of a feather flock together, as they say. - Did those sweaty, muscly lumps just stick to each other? Titter. - Ugh, just the thought is revolting. - Go Lotto! - Teach those nasty muscle monsters a lesson! The crowd's reaction had done a complete 180. Author's Note (Afterword) It's all about the difference between muscle-bound male characters and adorable girls.