The Noble Lady Without Magic Aims to Become an Adventurer! - Chapter 18

At the entrance to the knight department’s training grounds, four men sat at the reception desk. They were likely instructors from the academy. Beside them sat an elderly man with a white beard, flanked by two younger examiners.

So, these people will decide the results?

In the center of the training ground, a few more examiners stood holding wooden swords.

“Place your hand here,” one of the examiners instructed.
Ah, this is for the magic power assessment.

A crystal was placed on the desk for the test. Suppressing my magic power completely, I placed my hand on the crystal.
“…No magic power, huh? A woman without magic power—it’ll be tough to become a knight,” the examiner said.

“I understand,” I replied calmly.

“Hmph. Take your exam ticket and line up over there,” he said, writing “No Magic Power” in large letters across my exam ticket and handing it to me with a dismissive attitude.

Behind me, Fars had his turn. His ticket was marked “Magic Power: Moderate.”

For a commoner, Fars had a relatively high amount of magic power. I overheard the receptionist muttering something about him being a promising candidate.

As for me, having no magic power means more unfair treatment.
The thought left a bitter feeling in my chest.

“Examinee Marloa! Step forward. You will now engage in ten consecutive sparring bouts with an examiner. Dropping your sword at any point will result in disqualification.”

I was handed a wooden sword.

Ten bouts with this, huh? It’s lighter than my usual sword—this shouldn’t be a problem.

The examiner looked bored, but I ignored him. His demeanor made it clear he shared the same disdain as the receptionist. He wanted me to fail.

Before the signal “Begin!” was even called, the examiner suddenly lunged, aiming directly for my throat.

What a dirty move!

Anger surged through me. I stepped to the right, closing the distance between us, crouched slightly, and used my free hand to deliver a punch to his face. Following up, I drove a kick into his stomach.

The examiner fell backward, landing on his rear, his face a mask of rage.

Well, of course, he’s angry. But attacking my throat without warning? That was completely out of line.

Feigning innocence, I tilted my head and asked, “Oh my, the examiner seems to have fallen. What should I do now?”

“You! You’re disqualified!” he roared, his face red with fury.

Seriously? He’s the one who started it, and now he’s throwing a tantrum?

“Excuse me, but wasn’t it the examiner who attacked my throat first? I wasn’t informed of any rule prohibiting counterattacks,” I said with a deliberately polite smile.
At that moment, the elderly man with the white beard, who seemed to be overseeing the exam, approached us.

“Now, now. Didn’t I say it was a sparring match? Can’t you follow the rules?” he admonished the examiner.

The examiner hurriedly apologized to the white-bearded man, but then turned to me and barked, “You apologize too!”

“I’ve done nothing wrong. I only defended myself when attacked. If you’re unable to handle a simple counterattack, perhaps you should reconsider your position,” I said, maintaining my composure.

“Hmph, fair enough,” the old man said with a nod. “Vino, you take over.”

A younger examiner named Vino stepped forward. Up close, his commanding presence and perfectly balanced posture made it clear he wasn’t just an instructor—he was likely a true knight.
“Are you Marloa?” he asked. “Becoming a knight without magic power is no small feat. Let’s make this sparring match serious. Begin whenever you’re ready.”

He stood casually, holding the wooden sword in one hand, his stance flawless.

No openings.

Testing his reactions, I launched an initial strike, but he dodged effortlessly and countered with remarkable speed.

His sword is unbelievably fast!

I barely managed to block and deflect his blows.

This is going to be tough.

Somehow, I managed to endure ten exchanges, focusing entirely on defense and countering where I could. When the final blow landed, Vino stepped back and smiled.

“Congratulations,” he said warmly.

Behind me, Fars was cheering enthusiastically.

“Who taught you the sword, Marloa?” Vino asked.

“Reco trained me at first, and later, Revien Ashul,” I explained.

“Ah, that explains it. No wonder you’re strong. I look forward to seeing your progress,” he said with an approving nod.
“Thank you,” I replied, bowing before heading to the reception desk to finalize my results.

“Congratulations,” said the receptionist, who had been so dismissive earlier. “You’re strong, aren’t you? Here’s your stamped ticket. Head to the administration office to complete your paperwork.”

His attitude had softened significantly after watching the sparring match.

“Thank you,” I said politely.

Instead of going straight to the office, I waited for Fars. He was sparring with Vino as well.

I could tell he was relying on brute strength, but his training with Reco had clearly paid off—he managed to avoid Vino’s attacks and even counter effectively. Eventually, he completed all ten exchanges and earned Vino’s praise.

“Fars, congratulations! Now we can relax,” I said with a smile.
“Thanks, Marloa! And congrats to you too. Isn’t Vino amazing? He’s got to be a real knight—he’s incredible! My new role model for sure,” Fars gushed.

“I’m glad you think so,” I replied, amused by his enthusiasm.

We headed to the administration office to complete the enrollment process. We learned that dormitories would be available in two weeks. The staff explained that top performers in the written and practical exams would be given private rooms.
We received a detailed explanation of the dormitory arrangements and necessary paperwork for enrollment.

A two-person room sounds nice, but having a private room would be amazing.

As I thought about academy life and all its possibilities, my excitement grew. However, the thought of how my father, the marquis, would react dampened my mood slightly.

The staff handed us our enrollment documents along with a magic sheet.

“What’s this magic sheet for?” I asked.

“Oh, this is used to notify top-ranked students. It’s like carrying your address with you. Even if you’re staying at an inn, the notification will reach you. Convenient, isn’t it?”
It seemed slightly different from the magical correspondence Hubert used to send reports to Otto. I found it intriguing.

After thanking the staff, we left the academy and took a carriage home, chatting excitedly about the sparring matches.

Back at the estate, we went straight to Otto and handed over the documents. Knowing he would handle the procedures was a relief.
I wonder when my father will notice.