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Beyond the forest lay a gently sloping hill. Normally, the dense canopy of trees would have provided ample cover, but thanks to Class A’s fire magic, hiding there was no longer an option.

Countless flames and plumes of black smoke rose from the forest, concealing us from Class A’s view for now. It was a temporary advantage, one I was keen to exploit before the smoke cleared and the entire training field became visible.

Still, it worked in our favor for the moment.

“…Doesn’t seem like they’re chasing us,” Vannabelle, her bunny ears twitching, let out a sigh of relief, using her heightened senses to compensate for the obscured visibility.

“Vannabelle, Numelin, and Farah are all close-combat specialists. They won’t recklessly approach. Besides, Class A’s strategy is centered around long-range attacks, with their magic students as the core.”

I added my own observations to help them understand the plan better. Farah nodded repeatedly, tapping me lightly on the back.

“Nyaha! As expected of you, Leafa. You’re really observant.”
“I stayed in the rear to figure things out.”

I wasn’t exactly a front-line fighter, and Class A likely underestimated me. It seemed holding back on using Ars Magna had been the right call after all.

“…But,” Vannabelle muttered, “if what you’re saying is true, then Class A is just gonna keep attacking with magic, right? How the hell do we beat that?”
“Yeah, exactly~ The only one who can still use magic is Alfe~” Numelin chimed in, echoing Vannabelle’s concern.

It was clear to me, too, that to turn the tide of this battle, I’d have to use Ars Magna. Resolving myself, I brought it out and showed it to the two of them.

“A magic tome…”
“That’s right,” I confirmed. “With this, I can use magic too. And thanks to Aether Overproduction Syndrome, I won’t run out of magic power. Of course, that same condition has also stopped my physical growth, but still…”

As I confessed the truth about my illness, Vannabelle exchanged an uneasy glance with Numelin.

“…So, it’s because of a sickness…” Vannabelle muttered, self-frustration creeping into her tone. She ruffled her long, beautiful hair in agitation, her movements rough. Gently, Numelin reached out, smoothing her hair back into place as if to comfort her.

After a moment, Vannabelle seemed to calm herself, albeit awkwardly. She murmured a quiet, hesitant “Sorry” to me, avoiding my eyes as she scratched her head again, clearly uncomfortable.

“…Wait, I realized something. Never running out of magic power is kind of insane, isn’t it? Why aren’t you in the magic division?”

It was a question I’d expected, though it felt very much like something Vannabelle—a hardworking type beneath it all—would ask.

“I have no talent for magic,” I replied plainly. “That’s why this tome lets me skip several steps in the process.”
“Master specializes in alchemy,” Hom chimed in, unusually eager to add her perspective. “This Ars Magna, crafted with exceptional skill, elevates Master’s magical combat abilities to rival even Lady Alfe’s.”

Perhaps she was pleased to finally showcase my abilities to Vannabelle. But to truly make Hom happy, I knew I had to ensure we won this battle.

“So, what’s this grand plan of yours? We’re not just going to sit around waiting for Class A to burn through their magic, are we?”
“Of course not. I’ll explain now.”

Even though I was confident this was the only way to defeat Class A, explaining the plan directly to Vannabelle made me feel slightly tense. After all, the strategy hinged on using Numelin as bait—something Vannabelle might not take kindly to.

“First, Numelin,” I said, turning to her. “I need you to move forward and smash your battleaxe into the ground as hard as you can. Kick up as much dust as possible.”
“Okay~!”

I met her eyes and spoke slowly to ensure she understood. She responded with her usual carefree tone, smiling brightly.

“Keep it going as long as you can, repeatedly.”
“If it’ll help us win, sure~.”

Her cheerful acceptance was a relief, but it was short-lived. Vannabelle shot me a sharp glare, her eyes narrowing.

“…Hold on. Are you planning to use Nume as bait?”
“Yes, I am,” I admitted.

I was confident in this plan. Vannabelle probably understood, at least deep down, that there was no other option.

“Couldn’t you and Alfe just use magic to raise some dust? Wouldn’t that work?”
“If Class A realizes I can use magic, the entire strategy falls apart. Alfe also needs to save her magic for another task.”

The smoke rising from the forest, which had bought us time against Class A’s attacks, was beginning to dissipate. We didn’t have much time left. Yet if I couldn’t convince Vannabelle here and now, there was no telling what she might do.

“If it were me—”
“I must respectfully disagree, Lady Alfe.”

Hom, quick to anticipate what Alfe was about to suggest, cut her off before she could finish.

“Draining your magic too quickly would ruin Master’s strategy. Neither Lady Farah nor Vannabelle can use magic, nor do they have the strength to kick up enough dust. I cannot see anyone but Numelin fulfilling this role.”
“If she takes the lead like that, she’ll stand out!”

Vannabelle raised her voice, her frustration clear, as she challenged Hom’s calm explanation.

“That’ll make her an obvious target for Class A! I can’t just sit back and let my best friend take on such a dangerous role! That’s why I told her to just give up, and yet—”
“Belle!”

Numelin’s sharp voice cut through Vannabelle’s protests, stopping her mid-sentence.

“Don’t speak about giving up! You’re always so cool and never give up, so don’t stop now!”
“But you—”
“That magic sword you carry is a symbol of your indomitable spirit! How could you forget that~!”

With tears welling in her eyes, Numelin grabbed Vannabelle’s wrist, the one holding her magic sword, and shook it as if to jolt her back to her senses.

“How could I forget?! But even if it’s to win, I can’t just go along with sacrificing my best friend as bait!”
“I’d rather see you fight to the end than give up because of me!”

Numelin’s firm declaration echoed in the clearing. She cupped Vannabelle’s cheeks tightly with both hands, forcing her to meet her gaze. Her battleaxe slipped from her grasp, hitting the ground with a heavy thud.

“Numelin, you…”
“Remember that time when we got stranded in the snowy mountains as kids? You told me, ‘Don’t worry, I’ve got this.’ Just say that again, like you did back then~!”

Tears spilled down Numelin’s cheeks as her voice cracked. Caught off guard, Vannabelle hurriedly sheathed her magic sword and clumsily used the back of her hand to wipe away Numelin’s tears, her expression torn between frustration and guilt.

“Belle~~~!”
“Alright, alright! I get it, so quit bawling already!”

Whew, it seemed we’d finally managed to convince Vannabelle.

“…Alright then, let’s continue. We don’t have much time left.”
“Yeah, got it. So you’re using Numelin as bait, but it’s not like we are just going to sit on the sidelines, right?”

Farah asked while using her magical eye to scan Class A’s movements. Judging by the disappearance of the emblem-like pattern in her pupils, it didn’t seem like immediate danger was upon us—yet.

“Of course not. Farah, I want you to lead the charge for a surprise attack on Class A. Think you can handle it?”
“Well, with these eyes of mine, sure.”

Grinning broadly, Farah tapped the corner of her eye with her finger, brimming with confidence.

“I’ll dash right in with my speed. If we cause enough of a stir, it should divert attention away from Numelin.”
“Belle~!”

Vannabelle, her voice now full of strength and resolve, puffed out her chest in determination. Numelin threw herself at her in response.

“I already told you, stop crying, Numelin~!”

For better or worse, it really was fortunate to have these two here. Their unwavering trust in one another would bolster their teamwork and likely buy us a significant amount of time.

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