Azariah Lav

A girl practicing with a sword. 

It was a fairly common sight on the academy grounds, but what caught Damien's attention was her sword. 

Although she was tall for a girl and her body was well developed in all places... the sword in her hands overshadowed it all. 

A huge two-meter long chunk of metal that normal people didn't have a chance to lift. 

Yet she nonchalantly performed lunges with it. 

It's really fantasy. 

It was hard for Damien to follow her movements, but one thing was certain. 

Wow, she's really good—

Swoosh! 

A deafening sound stunned his left ear. 

A moment later, Damien felt a warm trickle on the side of his neck. When he touched it, he realized what it was. 

Blood...? 

Belatedly turning his head to the left, goosebumps ran across his skin. 

There, in the large tree behind him, protruded the hilt of a huge sword that had flown past him a moment ago. 

Crack—! Thud!!! 

A moment later, the tree fell to the ground with a loud crack. 

Did I just... almost die? That was close. 

"Is there someone here...?" 

Sensing someone else's presence, the almost-killer-girl, now without a sword in her hand, froze in place before running up to him. 

"I'm sorry! I really didn't mean to!"

Before Damien realized it, she was already on her knees with her head down. 

He frowned slightly because he knew this girl. 

Azariah Lav. 

Freshman, specially transferred at the beginning of second semester and now my junior. But first of all… 

Steel Princess, whose behavior was the epitome of that title. 

"Gray robe… second year?" 

Muttering to herself, Azariah bowed her head once more. 

"Ah, you're my Senior! Sorry again!"

At this point Damien was again too immersed in his thoughts to listen to it. 

Azariah's morning workouts. 

This was usually an event that the main character can't participate in until the beginning of Year 3. 

It was all about the strict curfew that was set in the male's dormitory. 

But for Damien, whatever arrangements he had with the commandant, it didn't exist. 

He even managed to escort women to his room, what Curfew could we talk about? 

"What's your name, Junior?"

Damien asked her, looking at her lowered head. 

It would be weird to know the name of someone who only recently transferred and hasn't participated in anything yet. 

Her head came up quickly as she placed a hand on her large chest, introducing herself, as etiquette would have it. 

"I'm Azariah, Azariah Lav." 

The Duchy of Lav, one of the Six Duchies of this world, a warrior family responsible for defending the Empire's Southern Border from the Savage Sand Tribes. 

"I'm Damian, just Damian." 

"Nice to meet you, Senior Damian!" 

Perhaps because it had only been a week since her transfer? She was very different from the Azaria he knew. 

Back then, she truly deserved the title of Steel Princess. Her face usually only had two expressions: "Mhm?" and "Mhm.", and the number of her phrases could be counted on the fingers of one hand. 

Though some things about her remain unchanged even now. 

Azariah still loved the sword. It hadn't even been a week since she'd come to the Academy, but she was already training hard.

"Ah, wait a moment." 

After rummaging in the pockets of her uniform for a few moments, Azariah held out her handkerchief to Damien. 

Only then did he realize that the scratch on his neck from her sword was still bleeding. 

Why am I getting hurt so much lately? 

Damien directly took her cute pink handkerchief she held out to him. 

It smelled pretty nice. 

Putting it to his neck, the handkerchief quickly became soaked in blood, but it seemed to have slowed the bleeding noticeably thanks to that. 

"Tsk." 

Damien couldn't contain his irritation. 

His uniform was already stained with blood. 

It seems my first day at the Academy is going to go differently than I expected. 

"I'm sorry..."

Taking his reaction in her own way, Azariah lowered her head again. 

It seemed like she had really unintentionally done it. 

Damien turned around, glancing at the fallen tree and the huge sword still stuck in it. 

Could this really have come from her sword just slipping out of her hands while she was lunging? That's terrifying. 

And above all, was there even a point to doing lunges with a huge blunt sword?

Even with his limited knowledge, he couldn't make sense of using a huge sword in such a way. 

Perhaps geniuses think otherwise? 

So he asked Azariah about it. 

"Uhm... it is... I just got bored doing the usual swings?"

I take that back.

Shaking his head with unspeakable emotion, Damien looked at the surrounding forest where she was practicing. 

Several trees had been cut down, also lying pathetically on the ground like the one behind him. 

As far as he remembered, defacing on academy grounds was a serious offense. 

Apparently noticing where Damien's gaze was directed, Azariah panicked. 

"Don't get me wrong, I didn't do it on purpose. Ragnel just slipped out of my hands during practice."

She named her sword? 

What's more, that name... 

Now I understood where the name came from. 

Demonic Sword Ragnel. 

One of the best late-game weapons a protagonist can get. 

"So...umm...can you not tell anyone about this?"

Still kneeling, Azariah lowered her head even lower. 

How naive and carefree. I shook my head to myself. 

Sooner or later she might end up with a bastard who's used to taking advantage of other people's weaknesses, blackmailing women and bringing them to his room... 

She was lucky to meet the good me. 

"Get up off your knees."

Unlike Damian, seeing women on their knees wasn't something he was used to. 

Reluctantly Azariah rose to her feet, revealing her red knees. 

The ground here was quite hard. 

"About my request..." 

And she still seemed worried about it. 

"Never mind, I didn't see anything. The trees probably fell by themselves from the strong winds." 

Azaria shook her head vigorously, but Damien wasn't done talking yet. 

He thought for a moment, taking another look at his body. 

To say that it was in bad shape is to say nothing. 

He still vividly remembered the beautiful line that described his condition. And that's why… 

"Become my training partner." 

All Damien had was a savage fighting style that relied entirely on his developed instincts, while I had no combat experience beyond a couple of school lunch fights. 

He would rate himself as a newcomer to the gym for the first time. And right now a veteran of this gym was standing in front of him, shyly scratching her head and stepping from foot to foot. 

"...Do you really want to do this?" 

Damien raised one eyebrow at her uncertain words. 

"Is that a rejection?"

"No! It's just... just... just... You are not going to break if you do this?" 

Azaria said bluntly, looking him in the eye. 

Did I really look that pathetic for a girl to look at me like that? My manhood was taking a hit.

Damien raised his other eyebrow, grinning. 

"Nope. Who knows, maybe you'll be the one sobbing, asking me to stop?" 

"Impossible. This has never ever happened." 

Azariah answered instantly, not hesitating for a second. There was a steely confidence in her voice. 

"You know, there's a first time for everything." 

Dropping this in many ways strange phrase, Damien felt the competitive spirit awaken in her. 

"Anyway, don't you have to go?" 

Judging by how high the sun had risen, classes were about to start. 

"Ah, that's right!"

At a speed that was hard for his eyes to follow, Azaria walked past him, grabbing her sword and getting ready to leave. 

But before she did, she stopped and turned to Damien. 

"But what about you, Senior?"

"It's okay."

Main characters have to come in at the very last minute, don't they? 

While he wasn't the main character, he suppose the same applied to the main bastards. 

Azaria tilted her head to the side, not understanding, but soon stopped thinking about it. 

"See you to-morrow morning, then, Senior Damian!"

Vigorously waving goodbye to him, Azariah quickly disappeared from her spot. 

What a funny girl. 

Damian thought as he watched Azariah with a huge sword larger than her own height quickly disappeared from his sight. 

With that, he too advanced leisurely toward his classroom.