Even a Scoundrel Gets Tired

9 – Kill Him, No Matter What *Revised*

Leon Venil, heir to the House Venil.

He was in quite a jovial mood.

All thanks to the young man

cowering before him at this very moment.

‘Hee hee hee, to think that Jennison would grovel before me like this…’

The ever-arrogant Jennison.

The one who rampaged through

the academy, trusting solely in his family name.

But that ends now.

During the fifty days he vanished, without a trace,

rumors have spread like wildfire,

throughout the entire academy.

‘Jennison is no longer a Reinhardt’ – the rumor goes.

‘Which means you’re nothing

but a commoner now…!!’

The Venil family was merely a Count,

a title sitting squarely in the middle of the five noble ranks,

Nevertheless, for a commoner like him,

it would remain an infinitely high wall.

So, Leon set his sights on Jenison as the next target.

He commanded the children who readily followed him

to torment the boy.

They, too, knew Jenison

had become a commoner, so they had no qualms.

Still, in the beginning, there was fear.

Rumors were just rumors, after all.

What if the story that he’d been

cast out of his House was false?

The consequences that would follow were

unimaginable, but seeing his indifferent reaction, they realized it was true,

and that truth stopped them from holding back in their harassment.

Tripping, sticking paper on his back, bumping shoulders in the hallway, splashing water –

actions that might seem childish to an outsider,

but the Academy did not tolerate bullying, so they needed the excuse of ‘accidents.’

Even this, they were sure, would inflict great humiliation

on one so aristocratic and arrogant.

*

It didn’t go as planned.

He didn’t react at all, simply laughed everything off.

Where had the unbearably haughty demeanor gone? He was a commoner who knew his place now, it seemed.

It was displeasing.

If he had resisted, there would have been perfect justification for punishment.

Then he could have taken the lead and gleefully humiliated him after bringing him to his knees.

He needed to find some fault, any fault.

And finally, he found his reason.

It was bordering on nitpicking, but what did that matter?

He was a commoner, and a commoner had sighed audibly in the presence of a noble.

Even after striking him soundly, he only laughed. And I laughed to myself too.

‘What are you going to do? …Heh heh… I’m a noble, and you’re a commoner.’

Thinking so, he heaped insults upon the boy’s

commoner mother, reveling in the moment.

And then, finally, the reaction he’d so anticipated erupted.

*

He had crossed the line.

He could tolerate them messing with him.

It wasn’t what he wanted, but it was his fault for acting that way all this time.

It was his karma, so he would willingly bear it.

But touching others,

that changed things.

Especially my mother, Sariel.

She’d spent almost her entire life in bed, enduring relentless pain.

Yet, she always greeted me with a smile, treating me with such kindness.

She lived with such dignity, despite the cutting gazes of those around us.

My only family.

And he dared to insult her in front of me.

How could I not lose myself?

“Wh-what?”

He looked thoroughly flustered, but I was in no state to care.

I was consumed by an unprecedented, lethal intent,

and swiftly, I found a legal avenue to kill him.

I immediately removed the glove from my left hand

and flung it in his face.

“I, Jennison, challenge you, Leon Benil, to a duel of honor.”

The surrounding crowd erupted in murmurs.

A duel of honor.

The only officially sanctioned form of murder within the Empire.

Because honor was supposedly more precious than life to the nobility,

the Empire permitted contests of life and death against those who sullied it.

But there was a blatant loophole in the current situation.

“Do you take me for a fool? You’re a commoner. A duel of honor is a right reserved for nobles.

You think they’ll grant you a duel of honor because you’ve tainted the honor of a mere commoner like yourself?”

That was it, exactly.

Honor was, after all, the exclusive domain of the aristocracy.

As he said, Jennison was a commoner, and lacked proper justification.

That’s what it should have been.

“I think you misunderstand, Leon Benil.

I’m not seeking a duel of honor to reclaim my *own* honor.”

It was for my mother’s honor I risked it, the firstborn of Benil.

Leon could only fall silent at that.

He’d been struck in a vulnerable spot.

That his mother was from humble beginnings was an

undeniable fact, but her status had been that of a Duchess.

Even when she passed away, she remained a Duchess.

Therefore, insulting her would be a sufficient cause

and Jennison had seized upon it, striking unexpectedly.

“Accept it, Leon Bernil. If you possess any wit at all, you know what it means to flee from this duel, yes?”

To flee a duel of honor was to confess one’s own lack of it.

In aristocratic society, a sullied honor meant the fall of one’s family’s prestige, and a plummet in social standing.

For him, riding the elite course of Class A,

it would certainly return as a severe blow.

But Leon was confident.

“I can’t fathom with what confidence you would request such a thing, honestly.”

“….”

“The power I know you possess is so weak, I question how you even entered Class A.”

It was the truth.

Most cadets subtly knew that Jenison’s

entry into Class A was thanks to the Duke’s

influence.

The reason, of course, was his power, pitiably weak to the point of being laughable.

Naturally, no one would look kindly upon such a weakling who was also arrogant and

pushy,

and this was now one of the reasons Leon Bernil

harassed Jenison.

“That’s my concern.

You won’t evade the duel request, will you?”

“Heh heh. Of course not. Why would I throw away an opportunity to play with you as I please?”

And so, a ripple of commotion began to stir in the Academy.

*

“Why not yield now, Jenison?

If you do, I might just spare your arms and legs.”

Seeing him grin like that made me nauseous, wanting to vomit.

I will kill him without fail.

Scatter his blood all around, burn his flesh, leaving no trace.

I won’t stop until those lips beg for death.

Resolving myself thus, I took my bag and entered the 1st Training Ground.

It was filled with cadets.

From upperclassmen who came for the duel’s safety,

to cadets who had simply gathered to watch the duel.

More than anything, the biggest reason would be wanting to see me, who has a terrible reputation, be miserably

defeated by the son of the Leon family.

Thinking that, I slowly trod upon the dirt floor of the training ground.

“What are you doing? Are you not even going to wield a proper weapon?”

He spoke, his eyes fixed on the bag in my hand.

His weapon was, without a doubt, a famed blade.

From his youth, he displayed a talent for raw power. His mana, characterized by sheer, unyielding ‘Tenacity.’

As long as he didn’t surrender, his mana would continue to flow, inexhaustibly.

This meant he could constantly imbue his sword with mana and reinforce his body’s physical prowess.

This trait placed him among the elite, comfortably within the mid-ranks of Class A.

Compared to his talent, mine was pathetically meager, to be sure.

My swordsmanship skills barely scraped the bottom of the academy’s barrel.

Yet, I possessed the confidence to win.

I didn’t lock myself away for fifty days, enduring such insults at the academy, only to fail now.

I couldn’t even show my face if I couldn’t beat

a mere neighborhood punk.

‘It’s not impossible to fight with this ability. It may even surpass theirs.’

Of course, applying this method required

a mental fortitude that defied imagination.

And this was a match where killing was sanctioned.

A sparring match or contest would be different, but a match where bloodshed was permitted… that changed everything.

The very first skill I mastered was how to kill a man with sickening ease.

His demise wouldn’t bring trouble to my house, either.

Without such restraint, there was no need to hold back.

“The duel of honor between Leon Benil and student Jenison will now begin.”

Professor Oliver from Class B stood before me, explaining the rules of engagement.

Professors had to be invited to supervise matches such as these, ensuring the safety of the spectating students.

Truthfully, I found it

easier to simply kill.

“…and this is only a wish of mine, but try your best not to kill each other.”

It seemed that no bald person would be a bad person.

The light that shines from his head must represent his halo.

“You fool, this is your last chance.

Kneel now, beg like a dog, and perhaps I’ll find a reason not to break you.”

I flashed him a wry smile, gesturing a mountain-shaped hand sign as I retorted,

“Stop flapping your gums and get in here already.”

As the words left my mouth,

it was a fine sight to behold, the way his face flushed crimson.

“You’ll regret this…”

Even his final words reeked of a third-rate villain.

Thus ended our pre-fight banter.

We lunged at one another as

the sound signaling the start of the duel echoed around us.