In an open space somewhere in Constel.
First-year prospect, Pielott von Ribanche, stood still, holding the scabbard at his waist.
He wasn't drawing his sword and swinging it, nor was he resting. He just stood straight and breathed deeply. As if that were training.
'...Senior Frondier said it would take some time for him to return.'
Fortunately or unfortunately for Pielott, while everyone had returned to Constel, Frondier alone was not attending school due to personal reasons.
It seemed like the headmaster already knew about Frondier's situation, so there was nothing to worry about.
Naturally, Pielott's training, where he was beaten up every day, was also temporarily suspended. At first, he was happy to finally get some rest, but after a few days, he ended up walking back to this training ground where he used to get beaten up every day.
It wasn't that he missed getting beaten up, but the growth he could clearly feel during training had come to a halt.
'I couldn't do much during the war.'
He had become somewhat humble after being constantly defeated by Frondier, but Pielott was originally a man whose pride knew no bounds.
If it were a game, he would have immediately challenged Aster and gotten beaten up, becoming a slightly twisted hero if he were lucky, or a villain if he were unlucky.
Through training with Frondier, Pielott felt that he had become clearly stronger than before.
He could somewhat cope with Frondier's attacks, and his stamina had increased enough that he no longer got tired easily.
However, even so, Frondier didn't include Pielott in the barrier.
In fact, not only Pielott but also very few Constel students were assigned to the barrier fight. Naturally, there were none among the first-years.
'...I'm still lacking.'
However, even so, Pielott wished that he would be an exception.
Pielott already had the perception that he was Frondier's disciple. Now that the war was over and the evaluation of Frondier had reversed, he even wanted to brag about it everywhere.
Therefore, he had expected Frondier to entrust him with something, but that didn't happen.
As Pielott sighed deeply enough to make the ground sink, one of his friends who used to roll around (?) with him approached.
"So when are you going to draw your sword?"
It was Dier. The man who was originally rated higher than Pielott by Frondier.
Currently, they were both learning from Frondier about their respective shortcomings. Pielott mainly focused on the mental aspects, while Dier, on the contrary, focused on the physical aspects.
"I'm not drawing it."
Pielott replied. Dier tilted his head.
"What, then are you just going to keep standing like that?"
"Yeah, that's the training."
Dier didn't quite understand Pielott's words, but he nodded for now.
Come to think of it, Senior Frondier seemed to have given Pielott similar training before going to war.
"When will Senior Frondier come back? What if he comes back next year?"
"That could happen. Then we'll have juniors too."
Indeed, the time of this year had passed quickly. When they returned, it was already around the time when autumn was slowly transitioning.
From there, Frondier said he would stay for another month, so if something went wrong and he was delayed further, he might really come back next year.
"Among the next first-years, will another prospect appear who surpasses you?"
"...I don't even know if I'm a prospect anymore."
"Haha, after being trained by Senior Frondier, you wouldn't think that..."
Dier, who was speaking with a smile, stopped talking. He closed his mouth on his own, not because of anyone else.
Kicking off the ground, aura rising almost simultaneously. His body cutting through the air as he dashed, he drew the short sword he carried and held it in reverse grip, charging towards Pielott's right side. 𝙧
The short sword, swung with all his might, blocked something, no, Dier's body spun half a turn, overwhelmed by the force. The something that was still extending strangely bent its trajectory and charged towards Pielott.
Pielott swung his sword down and slammed the flying something into the ground. A transparent bead, about the size of a fingernail, he wouldn't have been able to block it if it weren't for Dier's 'eyes'.
Looking closely, the bead was attached to a thread, and the strange trajectory from earlier seemed to be due to its influence.
The bead quickly flew back in the direction it came from.
And from afar, the original owner of the bead, a man, walked towards them step by step.
"To block my bead in mid-air! Amazing eyesight!"
The man said in admiration. If his hands weren't empty, he would have clapped. He was clenching both fists, probably holding the thread. Although it wasn't clearly visible.
"But your strength is lacking compared to your good eyes! Focus on simpler exercises for now! Ah, but does that even matter now? You'll both die here today! Hahahaha!!"
The man laughed cheerfully, as if he had just made a joke. Strangely, both vitality and murderous intent overflowed in his eyes.
Pielott said, dumbfounded by the sight.
"An attack that would have killed us if we hadn't blocked it, and even after changing its trajectory once, he changed it again. He just committed attempted murder twice."
Even while speaking, Dier was still clenching and unclenching his fist, as if his hand was still numb.
"It was incredibly brute force. For such a small bead."
"...For me, it's not the strength that's the problem, but that I can't see it well in the first place."
The man, who had been silently listening to their conversation, started spinning the bead using the thread in his hand.
Flick, flick, flick, a circular shape with rising aura appeared, and the man approached them as if performing acrobatics.
"My name is Adolf! Heir of Wrath, the fifth-ranked devil! Remember it! No, you don't have to!"
"Sorry! You probably don't understand what I'm saying, right? But self-introduction is a rule for devils! Remember this too! No, you don't have to─"
Adolf continued to chatter excitedly on his own.
Dier and Pielott took their stances with tense faces.
"If it's a devil, Belphegor was also a devil."
"He's probably weaker than that."
"Senior Frondier defeated that Belphegor alone, they say."
"But there are two of us."
Just as Adolf was chattering excitedly on his own, these two also only talked amongst themselves, completely ignoring what Adolf was saying.
Their compatibility was unbelievably perfect.
"What would Senior Frondier say if we lose? In front of our graves."
"Wouldn't he look down at us with those cold eyes and say 'How pathetic'?"
Their eyes lit up simultaneously.
"That absolutely cannot happen."