Chapter 95. "Of Course, I’ll Win." (3)
“Well, he’s certainly sturdy. After taking such a beating and still being alive, that’s something,” Baizik commented lightly.
“I didn’t hit him hard enough to kill him, Elder,” Astrid replied matter-of-factly.
Ashray groggily regained consciousness, the sound of voices buzzing faintly in his ears. Pain surged through his entire body—not the dull ache of muscle fatigue, but the sharp, searing pain of having been thoroughly pummeled.
‘No, it’s not like I was beaten. I was beaten…’
He had been utterly crushed.
Completely and thoroughly defeated.
He hadn’t even managed a single effective strike and was beaten down as if he were a mere toy.
As a Weapon Master, he prided himself on his combat skills, but he had been overwhelmed by his sister, who hadn’t even used a weapon.
Yet...
“Oh, you’re waking up, I see,” Baizik remarked.
“Finally awake? If you’re feeling better, sit up. You’re heavy,” Astrid added.
Heavy? What was she talking about? Ashray’s hazy mind struggled to make sense of her words. Then, he realized where he was. The warm, soft sensation against the back of his head was Astrid’s lap.
She had let him rest his head on her thighs.
‘Never thought she’d do something like this...’
“I think my head still hurts a little,” Ashray mumbled, seizing the chance to linger in the comforting sensation.
“I see,” Astrid replied coolly. “Well, lie down a bit longer, then.”
Relieved, Ashray allowed himself to relax, but then his mind wandered to the final moments of the fight.
He distinctly remembered the sight of Astrid wearing her academy uniform—a short skirt, pulling him close by his armor before delivering relentless knee strikes to his chest.
“…Pink…”
Ashray muttered the word unconsciously.
Astrid’s brow twitched. Pink. She had a good idea what he was referring to. Ashray, unaware of her rising irritation, kept muttering, recalling the vivid image in his mind.
The academy’s uniform for female cadets had a shorter-than-average skirt. Combined with the way she had grappled him and landed her blows, it was no surprise that Ashray’s memory had fixated on that detail.
“Ashray, you didn’t...”
Astrid’s tone was low and dangerous. Realizing what he’d just said aloud, Ashray quickly clamped his hands over his mouth. But it was too late. Astrid’s piercing glare bore down on him.
“Get up. Right. Now.”
***
“No matter how blessed by the stars she may be, Lady Astrid’s sheer physical prowess is beyond imagination,” Baizik remarked.
“You flatter me, Elder,” Astrid replied. Despite her words, her tone carried neither humility nor embarrassment. It was more like she was stating an obvious truth.
“Still, I hear your defenses against magic are significantly lacking.”
“That’s true, but I don’t think it matters much,” Astrid said, casting a glance at Baizik. She wasn’t sure how he knew about her vulnerability to magic, but she didn’t care.
“Everyone has weaknesses, don’t they, Elder?”
“Indeed.”
“But if someone’s strength is overwhelming enough to render their weaknesses irrelevant, doesn’t that suffice?”
“That’s true as well.”
Baizik chuckled at Astrid’s confidence. Her reasoning wasn’t wrong. No one was without flaws, but if one was strong enough to ensure those flaws couldn’t be exploited, they were still formidable.
“But what if the enemy is far away? Suppose someone like me, a mage of my caliber, were to target you. Could you win?”
“That’s—” Astrid started to respond instinctively but stopped herself. Baizik wasn’t like Emilie. She couldn’t dismiss the idea so lightly.
“You are overly specialized in offense, Astrid,” Baizik said kindly, his tone more akin to a father advising his child. “Against me, Ashray would have a better chance.”
Astrid didn’t argue. Despite her brash and bold nature, she wasn’t reckless enough to deny Baizik’s point.
Especially since, in this body, she wasn’t the real Astrid. And, even if she were, Baizik wasn’t someone she could afford to take lightly.
“Ashray, wouldn’t you agree?”
Still dabbing at his bleeding nose with a fresh cloth, Ashray looked up with a dazed expression.
“Elder is speaking to you, Ashray. Pay attention,” Astrid scolded.
“Yes, well…”
Ashray resisted the urge to make a cheeky comment about how provocative her skirt had been. He knew better; if he did, he wouldn’t live to see another day.
“If you were to duel a mage like me, Ashray, and the distance were sufficient, do you think you could endure at least one attack?”
“With you, Elder? I’m not sure. But against most mages, I could survive one strike and close the distance.”
“That sounds right. And you, Astrid? Could you endure even one attack?”
“That’s…”
Astrid hesitated. If a mage had enough distance and time to prepare a spell, dealing with it as a warrior could be tricky.
Someone like Ashray, with his ability to withstand attacks while closing the gap, might manage.
But Astrid’s reliance on overwhelming offense left her vulnerable in such scenarios.
“Astrid, this is your weakness. You should address it.”
Astrid opened her mouth to ask how but quickly closed it. The thought of asking for advice stung her pride.
“You’re wondering how, aren’t you?” Baizik said knowingly, smiling. “Don’t worry. Your future husband is already working hard on that problem.”
***
“If it’s a Magic Register you’re looking for, I have the schematics,” Emilie said.
Leopold had spent considerable effort locating Emilie in her workshop. It was cluttered with books, experimental tools, and various magical apparatus.
Finding the petite Emilie amid the chaos had proven challenging, but he finally discovered her at a desk in the far corner.
The strange, pungent smell of chemicals made Leopold’s nose twitch, but he maintained his composure.
“That’s wonderful—”
“I’m not giving it to you.”
Leopold’s excitement vanished in an instant.
Unbothered, Emilie continued scribbling in her research journal, speaking nonchalantly. “Even if I have the schematics, they’re not on paper. They’re in my head. I haven’t built one yet, and I see no reason to do so for Astrid. Why should I?”
Her tone grated on him. Leopold felt irritation bubbling within him but held it back.
“Then, what must I do to convince you?”
“Hmm…” Emilie finally closed her journal and looked up. Leopold remained standing beside her desk—she hadn’t even offered him a seat, an egregious breach of etiquette.
“Well, how about you make me happy this weekend?”
“What do you mean by that?”
Leopold’s confusion was apparent, but his sharp mind pieced it together quickly. Based on Baizik’s earlier words, Emilie likely meant—
“Are you suggesting I spend time with you, Cadet Emilie, for your amusement?”
“That’s right,” she said with a smile, resting her chin in her hand. “Take it however you like.”
Her serene expression, coupled with her scholarly beauty, could have captivated any other man. But not Leopold.
‘Is this really okay? How can I entertain another woman when I have a fiancée? Even if it’s for Astrid’s sake, isn’t this wrong?’
He had been the one to tell Astrid to leave safely and return without worry.
Now, here he was, being asked to do something that felt like betrayal. It didn’t sit right with him.
“…No, thank you,” Leopold said firmly. “I am an engaged man. I cannot act in a way that would dishonor my fiancée.”
With that, he turned and walked away without hesitation.
If Astrid lacked magical defenses, so be it.
He would protect her himself. That was far better than betraying her trust.