082 The Strongest Sisters

Noblesse Oblige had four seasons.

We’d had the entrance ceremony in the spring, a grueling summer, a fleeting autumn, and now we were right in the heart of winter.

It was a bizarre season, one where beautiful white crystals rained down from the heavens. Thanks to my Time Lapse, I could see the vivid, beautiful hexagonal shapes of the flakes as they fell. This pure white snow was a natural miracle.

But at Noblesse Academy, "white" had a habit of turning black or red in a heartbeat.

The pristine powder on the ground was currently being ground into the dirt, stained a vibrant crimson. In the arena, surrounded by a crowd of lowerclassmen and intermediate-year students, the finals for the—admittedly out-of-season—Sword-Magic Cup were underway.

The tournament had finally resumed after the faculty finished installing new magical wards to ensure no one could ever use teleportation magic inside the ring again, topped off by the arrival of a new professor specializing in defensive magic.

The girl standing in the center of the ring was smaller than even Carta. She had a youthful, innocent face and pale green hair tied in twin-tails. Despite her appearance, she radiated an ominous mana that inspired the kind of awe only a Noblesse upperclassman could command.

In her hands, she gripped a Death Scythe that was comedically oversized.

There were only two people in this entire academy who possessed the Dark Attribute. One of them, obviously, was me. It was a rare affinity; you could search the whole world and rarely ever stumble across a user.

They say your attribute reflects your personality. It was probably about as scientifically sound as a blood-type personality test, but everyone seemed to buy into it regardless. Historically, every famous Dark Attribute user had been a cruel, bloodthirsty monster.

And the name of the second user at this school was—

"Is that all?"

She flashed an impossibly cute smile while swinging that massive Death Scythe with a series of heavy whooshes.

The weapon and the smile weren't the only terrifying things about her. Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh. Every time she sliced the air, the scythe seemed to... disappear.

As you moved up in years at Noblesse, the curriculum shifted to emphasize individuality. You were expected to take a step beyond the basic magic that anyone could use. If you were good at Fire Magic, you mastered flames; if you were good at Wind Magic, you focused on long-range bombardment. By refining your unique mana, you were expected to birth an entirely new form of magic.

Her absolute, one-of-a-kind magic was a single strike unleashed with such overwhelming speed that the weapon itself became invisible to the naked eye.

"Three years... thanks for all the hard work."

Despite her angelic smile, her scythe ruthlessly buried the upperclassman from Duran Swordsmanship and Magic School—a guy who had been hailed as one of the strongest in his school’s history.

Wait, let me correct that. He’s just barely alive.

"The winner: Noblesse Magic Academy upperclassman, Sierra Witch!"

The crowd erupted in cheers that sounded more like screams.

"Incredible... So that’s Sierra-senpai of the Noblesse Elite Four?"

"Being that cute and that strong is just cheating."

"But seriously, isn't she a little too tiny?"

I couldn't really blame the lowerclassmen for their excitement. Sierra was one of the strongest people at Noblesse Academy. The only one clearly above her was Eva Avery—though, to be fair, Eva was a complete outlier in every sense of the word.

The "Noblesse Elite Four" was basically just a fancy title the students had come up with to categorize the absolute best among the student body. Sierra Witch was one of them. She was only 149 centimeters tall, though she apparently insisted to anyone who would listen that she was a full 150. Between that and her hamster-like cuteness, she had a massive fan club.

"Sierra-senpai is so cuuuute!"

"I just took like a hundred magic-photos!"

"Senpai! Look over here!"

Sierra just had to wave a hand and half the men and women in the stands were practically knocked unconscious.

Meanwhile, the man standing next to me was being unusually quiet. Usually, he was a total loudmouth. Uh... what did I call him again? Protein? Sasami? Vitamin? Mineral?

Whatever. It's Duke.

"Whoa... she’s amazing. So that’s the legendary Sierra-senpai." Duke let out a breath of genuine admiration. It was rare to see him look that stunned.

"Even a guy with a brain made of pure muscle can recognize how dangerous she is, huh?" I asked.

"Yeah. Honestly, she scares the hell out of me. I thought her arms looked delicate, but they’re packed with incredibly dense, toned muscle. I’ve gotta know what her workout routine is."

I stand corrected. He’s exactly the same as always.

But the muscle-brain had a point. Sierra possessed freakish physical strength. It wasn’t a product of her mana; it was pure, innate talent. That terrifying speed of hers was born from those muscles.

"Still, the fact that she has the same Dark Attribute as you, Weiss... that's spooky. That scythe is the stuff of nightmares."

"What are you talking about?" I looked at him.

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"Sierra might act dark, but her attribute is actually Light with a lean toward Wind. 'Death Scythe' is just a nickname the students gave her."

"Wh-What?! That thing is Light?!"

Yes. Sierra was a Light user. She didn't have a cruel personality; she was actually a very caring person (or so I’d heard, anyway; I didn't actually know her). The reason she used a weapon like that was related to the circumstances of her birth.

Which meant the real Darkness was...

"Next up, the final match! Eleanor Witch versus Gibria Orso from Duran Swordcraft High School!"

"...Witch?" Duke tilted his head. This guy really is clueless.

"They’re sisters," I explained.

"Wait, for real?! Now that you mention it, I think I might’ve heard that..."

Unlike Sierra, Eleanor was tall. However, she was a nervous wreck, fidgeting and shaking much like Carta did. Her hair was a pale pink, and her shoulders were quaking as she walked into the ring. Sierra was actually having to push her from behind to get her to move.

"Man, the older sister is a completely different type, huh?" Duke remarked.

I sighed. "You really don't know anything, do you?"

"Eh?"

"Eleanor is the younger sister. Sierra is the older one."

And Eleanor was...

I activated my Dark Eye to read their conversation.

"Eleanor, you listen to me—you absolutely have to win!" Sierra commanded.

"B-but... he looks so strong..."

Gibria was a giant, standing well over two meters tall. The attacks launched from that massive frame possessed even more destructive power than Duke’s. But upperclassmen from Duran weren't just about brute force; they layered magic onto their strikes, making them much more than just simple physical hits.

"So you’re the Eleanor I’ve heard about? I’m going to kill you," Gibria growled. He sounded plenty motivated.

The match began. Eleanor spent the entire time trembling, using her quick reflexes to barely dodge Gibria's onslaught. The arena was covered in layers of defensive magic, but Gibria’s greatsword was enchanted to nullify magical formulas. Every time he missed, the ground didn't just crack—it shattered. It was a classic Duran strategy: specialized anti-magic combat. On top of that, he was fast and likely had incredible defense.

"B-Big sister! I can’t win this!" Eleanor wailed.

"Stop scurrying around like a rat!" Gibria roared.

Eleanor was stuck entirely on the defensive. Honestly, it looked more like she was just running for her life. But as far as I was concerned, the match was already over.

Duke, watching the lopsided exchange, let out a pitying groan. "Oof. I’m shocked she’s the 'little' sister, but she’s getting wrecked."

Yeah, sure.

There was no way a guy like that could ever beat Eleanor.

"Hah! Unlike that midget sister of yours, you’re pathetic! Die, Eleanor!"

In that instant, Eleanor’s fear evaporated.

Gibria swung his greatsword down with everything he had, but Eleanor caught the blade with a single hand. A deep, muddy blackness swirled around her palm.

Darkness.

She was the other person in the academy who possessed the rare Dark Attribute.

"...You... you just called my big sister a 'midget,' didn't you?"

And she was a severe, borderline-psychotic siscon.

"Huh? What?"

The greatsword in her right hand began to groan and creak. Her specific ability was Corrosion, and it was currently surging through both of her arms. Neither magic nor steel could maintain its form when faced with her Dark Magic. It was a twisted attribute, birthed from an obsessive, warped love for her sister.

Anyone who insulted or harmed her sister was a dead man walking. That was the essence of her "Darkness."

At least, that’s how the character settings described it.

"God, siscons are terrifying..." I muttered, the words slipping out of my mouth.

Eleanor didn't just break the greatsword with her Corrosion; she shattered it. She lunged at Gibria, tackled him to the ground, and began to systematically pulverize his face. Because her fists were imbued with Corrosion, his defensive magic crumbled the moment she touched him.

The white snow was quickly stained red. Sierra stood on the sidelines, offering a casual, lighthearted cheer. "Go for it, Eleanor! Get 'em!"

No one could step in to stop it. Gibria hadn't surrendered yet. Well, he couldn't surrender because he was too busy being punched in the throat. All we could do was watch until his mana gave out and he lost consciousness.

"A piece of trash! Like you! Insulting! My! Big sister! How! Dare! You!"

"Agggh... st-stop... hgggh—"

The only sounds in the arena were the wet thuds of fists hitting meat and Sierra’s airy cheering.

"Go, go! We’re gonna win!"

Ah, yes. This. This was exactly how a new semester at Noblesse Oblige was supposed to start.