Chapter 75: A Different Kind of Battlefield

Chapter 75: A Different Kind of Battlefield The lectures that followed felt like a distant hum, the words of the professors blurring into an irrelevant drone. I attended the classes physically, my body occupying a chair, my pen occasionally scratching a note onto parchment. But my mind was elsewhere, caught in the swirling vortex of what was to come. The hunt was on, and I was the prey. Every ambitious student, every slighted noble, every warrior with something to prove would be coming for my rank. My first instinct was to let them have it. I should just step down, I thought, staring out the window at the drifting clouds. I want a simple life. I don’t need the pressure, the constant challenges, the eyes watching my every move. The benefits of being Rank 1—the priority access to training grounds, the extra stipends—they meant little to me. I had my own methods, my own money. A quiet life with Yumi was all I truly craved. Then, a sudden, chilling realization struck me, sharp and cold as a shard of ice. The room. The luxurious, spacious dormitory suite that had become our home. The soft bed Yumi crawled into after a nightmare. The kitchen where we’d experimented with Earth-food recipes. The garden where she chased shadow-butterflies. And Masha—my fiercely loyal, sharp-tongued maid who had become an irreplaceable part of our strange little family. All of it was a privilege of Rank 1. If I lost the top spot, I’d lose it all. We’d be moved to a standard dorm, Masha would be reassigned, and the quiet sanctuary I was building for Yumi would crumble. My fists clenched under the desk. No. I couldn’t let that happen. For her, I had to hold this ground. I had to retain my spot. And for that, I needed to become stronger. Ding. The chime from my wristwatch sliced through my thoughts. A holographic notification shimmered above it. [DUEL SCHEDULED: Ashen Crimson vs. Noora Whitehound] [VENUE: Wisher’s Arena] [TIME: Tomorrow, 1:00 PM] [Failure to attend will result in automatic forfeiture and rank demotion.] I glanced across the room. Noora was looking at her own watch, a small, confident smile playing on her lips. She met my gaze and gave a slight nod. The challenge was set. The bell for lunch break finally rang, and I was one of the first to leave, needing air. But I didn’t get far. Leaning against the wall in the corridor, looking as if she’d been waiting all morning, was Julie. "I was waiting for you," she said, her voice soft but firm. "I know," I replied, stopping in front of her. "The deal." "You haven’t forgotten the end of it, have you?" "I’m on it," I assured her. Before I could say more, another voice, dripping with playful venom, joined the conversation. "My, my. Isn’t your harem increasing at an exponential rate?" Seraphina purred, gliding to a stop beside us. She gave me a sweeping, appraising look. "Today I witnessed that little moment between you and Noora, and now this lovely chef girl. You’re quite the collector, aren’t you?" "It’s not like you see," I said, already feeling a headache forming. Julie, however, bristled. She turned to Seraphina, her expression surprisingly fierce. "You are entirely wrong, Seraphina. I can never date a boy like him." Seraphina’s amusement only grew. "Oh? And what do you mean by ’a boy like him’?" "I mean he’s a scheming, greedy, manipulative man who uses people for his own benefit!" Julie declared, her voice ringing with conviction. "How could any girl possibly like him?" The air immediately turned glacial. Seraphina’s playful expression vanished, replaced by a mask of cold fury. A faint, dangerous shimmer of mana began to leak from her, and her fake smile was terrifying. She looked ready to tear Julie apart. Seeing the storm about to break, I quickly stepped between them. "Seraphina," I said, my voice calm and firm. "I have business with her. So, I’ll make my leave." I grabbed Julie’s arm and pulled her down the corridor, leaving a fuming elven princess in our wake. My plan to play wingman for Eren began, as most of my plans did, with a calculated lie. I found him in the library’s restricted section, poring over a dusty tome titled ’The Art of the Flowing Blade: Whitehound Family Secrets.’ He was so engrossed he didn’t notice me until I dropped a book on the table next to him. "Studying hard?" I asked casually. He jumped, then scowled. "Ashen. Don’t sneak up on me like that. And yes, I’m trying to improve. The duel with Noora... she’s not going to be easy." "She isn’t," I agreed. "But raw strength isn’t everything. You need an edge. Better conditioning, faster mana recovery." I tapped the book he was reading. "This is only half the battle." Eren frowned. "What’s your point?" "My point," I said, leaning against the bookshelf, "is Julie. I heard she’s a genius in culinary arts. Not just cooking—nutritional alchemy. She creates meals specifically designed to boost a warrior’s stamina and mana regeneration. If you really want an edge, you should ask her for advice on a proper diet. A few of her meals could probably do more for you than a week of training." I saw the seed of an idea plant itself in his eyes. He was competitive to a fault. The thought of a secret weapon, even a culinary one, was irresistible. "You think she’d help me?" he asked, hesitant. "She respects strength and dedication," I lied smoothly. "Show her you’re serious about improving, and I’m sure she’d be willing to advise you." With the bait set, I moved on to my next target. I found Julie in the training grounds, not practicing, but sketching in a notebook, observing other students spar. "Preparing for our restaurant?" I asked, sitting beside her. She jumped, startled. "Ashen! You... I..." "I have a proposition," I said, cutting to the chase. "You want to get close to Eren, right? But he sees you as just a chef. You need to show him you understand his world." She looked down, her cheeks flushing. "How?" "He’s been training relentlessly. He’s pushing his body to its limits. He needs someone who understands the balance between combat and recovery. I heard you’ve been developing some energy-boosting snacks, using mana-infused herbs." It was a complete shot in the dark, but her eyes widened, so I knew I’d hit close enough. "I... I have been experimenting," she admitted. "Perfect," I said. "Tomorrow, Eren will be training at the secluded western grounds. He goes there to avoid distractions. You should ’happen’ to be there too, maybe practicing your own knife skills for the kitchen. When he takes a break, offer him some of your snacks. Frame it as a fellow artisan sharing their craft. He’ll see you as more than just a girl with a crush; he’ll see you as a peer." Her face lit up with a hope that was almost painful to watch. "You think that will work?" "I know it will," I said with unearned confidence. The next afternoon, I watched from the shadows of a large oak tree as my little drama unfolded. I had told both of them to come to the same quiet, out-of-the-way training ground at the exact same time. Eren arrived first, swinging his sword with fierce determination. A few minutes later, Julie appeared, carrying a small basket and a set of gleaming kitchen knives. She began practicing her vegetable-slicing techniques on a nearby log, her movements precise and focused. Eventually, Eren took a break, slumping onto a bench, breathing heavily. Julie "noticed" him and walked over, her steps hesitant. "Prince Eren," she said softly. He looked up, surprised. "Julie? What are you doing here?" "I... I often come here to practice," she stammered, holding out her basket. "I happened to have some extra energy-boosting rice cakes. They help with stamina recovery. Would you... like to try one?" Eren looked from the rice cakes to her, a flicker of understanding in his eyes as he remembered my words from the library. He took one, his gruff exterior softening just a fraction. "Thank you," he said, taking a bite. His eyes widened slightly. "This is... actually really good." They started talking. It was awkward, stilted, full of nervous pauses. But it was a start. They spoke of dedication, of the endless pursuit of perfection in their respective crafts. He talked of the weight of his family’s name, and she spoke of the joy of creating something that could bring strength to others. From my hiding spot, I smirked. My promise to Julie was in motion. The pieces were moving exactly as I’d planned. Now, I just had to worry about my own battle. I turned my thoughts to Noora and the Wisher’s Arena. The chaos was coming, but for the first time, I felt like I was the one conducting the storm. ------------------------------------------------------ This novel is uploaded at Web Novel.