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The Black Female Warrior Races Through – Part 01

The noon sun beamed down, casting a dazzling brilliance upon St. Marguerite Academy.

Bright sunlight poured down on everything—the yard fronting the school building, where students dressed in chess pieces scampered about, the pathways lined with benches, the gazebos—painting them in a magical glow.

Melting snow dripped softly from the tree branches. Half-melted clumps on iron benches silently tumbled to the ground.

Students squealed, while teachers gave instructions.

Tucked away in a corner of the sprawling French-style garden, the four-story girls’ dormitory, far simpler and more charming than the grand library tower and the large U-shaped school building, buzzed with the animated chatter of its residents, their sweet voices reverberating through the hallways covered in pink, floral-patterned carpets, down the oak staircases, its handrails polished to a shine from generations of spirited girls sliding down them, and from the windows of each room, open despite the chill.

“Who stepped on my sandwich?!”

“I can’t find my boots! Where are my boots?!”

“I can’t get my hair right at all!”

“Huh… This horse head isn’t mine!”

Girls were busy running around in the hallways, yelling. One wearing only a white lace underwear despite the cold, another garbed in a majestic, black queen costume over the top half of her body but wearing thin bloomers below, and a girl in the midst of her guise, seemingly unsure of her role, a horse-shaped prop on her head and a bishop’s robe wrapped around her body.

“Teach said to eat lunch now. Hey, everyone, are you listening?!”

The stern voice of the class representative was drowned out by all the noise.

“You’re all acting strange today. Different from usual. Hey, listen to me—kyah!”

She stumbled and fell silent for a moment.

“Hey!”

Her angry voice carried into the distance.

In the corner room on the second floor of the girls’ dormitory resided a particularly spirited girl.

Her name was Avril Bradley, an international student like Kazuya Kujou, hailing from England. She had blonde hair and eyes as clear as the summer sky. Her small nose twitched curiously, her face adorned with a radiant smile.

Two simple yet sturdy beds occupied the shared room. One boasted a magnificent and vibrant quilt cover, crafted by Avril’s grandmother, while the other showcased a floral-patterned duvet. There were two desks as well, one littered with volumes one to four of the Ghost Stories series, the other meticulously organized, textbooks and notebooks neatly arranged. Two sizable wooden dressers completed the space—one left open, revealing an assortment of polka dot and striped clothes, while the other stood closed, with neatly folded clothes and undergarments atop.

Avril, standing in the middle of the room, let out a groan, tilting her head.

Her long legs stretched from simple cotton bloomers. Despite being in her underwear, she stood confidently with her arms crossed.

“Which pair of boots pack a punch?”

“What role are you playing?” came a voice from a corner of the room.

Perched gracefully on the bed with the floral duvet, a girl with almond eyes and long blonde hair tied into pigtails—Avril’s roommate—was regarding her intently, nibbling on a large sandwich, savoring each bite.

Avril spun around and raised her shoulders proudly. “A warrior, of course!”

“Is that so?”

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?”

“Why is that?”

“Because my grandfather is the renowned adventurer, Sir Bradley! His granddaughter cannot be a bishop, a queen, or a horse. I’m clearly a black, female warrior. So, which boots do you think are better?”

“Miss Bradley.” Her roommate gave a disinterested shrug of her shoulders. “Picture a brave female warrior in the Middle Ages. Do you really think she would ask her roommate, ‘Hey, which boots do you think are better?’ It’s quite absurd.”

“Hmph! Fine, I won’t ask for your opinion anymore.”

“The one on the right looks more imposing, but you might slip on the snow. The left one is more suitable for a game of human chess.”

“Hmph!”

Turning her face away, Avril reluctantly picked up the boots on the left and put them on. Still in her cotton underwear, she perched herself on top of her roommate’s dresser—since her own was a jumbled mess—threw out her legs, graceful as a fawn’s, and began fastening the laces.

Her roommate watched her from the corner of the eye, sandwich in hand. Despite taking small bites for a while now, the sandwich remained mostly whole, hinting at a small appetite.

Standing tall in her odd attire of underwear and rugged boots, Avril delved into her own dresser, searching for her costume. It took an unexpectedly long time for her to find it, as she kept tossing blouses, skirts, and sweaters around. Her roommate occasionally cast glances in her direction.

Finally, she found the warrior’s outfit—a tunic and a thick leather belt—and put it on. From somewhere among her belongings, she retrieved a huge bow and quiver, strapping them firmly to her back.

“Is that a harp? Are you going to play music?”

Avril chuckled. “You fool. This right here is a bow!”

Fully immersed in her role, she took on a power stance and stared down at her roommate. Wearing a tired look, the roommate continued munching on her sandwich in silence.

“Well then, simple-minded villager. I shall embark on a quest to slay monsters. And upon my return, you better present me with the fairest maiden in the entire village!”

“Yeah, yeah. You can handle the role of the fairest maiden in the village yourself. What an odd roommate to have. Thanks to you, my peaceful school life is hanging by a thread. If only you weren’t always brimming with boundless energy.”

“Very well, off I go on my quest. But first… let’s fuel up!”

“Eek!”

In a mere instant, the hands that had been holding the huge sandwich were now empty, as Avril, the savage warrior, snatched it and devoured it voraciously.

The roommate couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “My sandwich! The sandwich that my little brother made!”

“Mmm, yum! Your brother has skills. See you later!”

“Hey!”

As Avril darted into the hallway, her roommate’s irate voice rang high behind her, accompanied by the resounding call of the class representative, “Pay attention!”

Avril blinked, readjusting the bow on her back. She pursed her pretty lips and lifted her chin. Her blue eyes glinted fiercely.

And so, the granddaughter of a deceased adventurer, a fifteen-year-old girl aspiring to become an adventurer herself, elegantly raced through the corridors of the girls’ dormitory, a warrior darting through hails of arrows in the battlefield, a lonesome soldier charging straight into enemy lines.

The class representative spotted her. “You there! Avril Bradley of the second floor’s west wing! Have you submitted your homework? Those who haven’t finished their homework are not allowed to participate in the human chess tournament. Are you listening? Hey!”

“…”

“What? Say something!”

“…”

Avril averted her gaze with the cold silence of a true warrior. Then, she leapt past the class representative and scurried away.

“Huh? Are you running away? You’re always so chatty, but now you’re silent? Not Avril too…” The class representative’s distressed voice resonated forlornly in the clamorous hallway. “Something’s off with everyone today… It’s like they get possessed during human chess day… I-I’m scared…”

Avril’s figure became a small black dot as she disappeared into the distance.

Clumps of snow fell outside. The sun was shining bright.

---

Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle…

Noon had arrived at St. Marguerite Academy.

With each passing moment, the sunlight grew stronger, casting its radiant glow upon the breathtaking snowscape of the French-style garden. The snow melted, creating a shimmering silver spectacle, as if it were atop a delectable cake adorned with fresh cream.

Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle…

The female warrior Avril was striding gallantly along the dazzling, sun-kissed path.

However, with her dainty and adorable appearance, her fluffy black tunic, and the way she would stop and tilt her head, one could argue that she resembled not a warrior but rather a medieval troubadour, carrying a small harp on her back.

It was almost as if she would sit down at any moment and pluck the harp strings, serenading with sweet, melancholic melodies, telling tales of tragic love between princesses and knights that featured dragons and other mythical creatures.

“Where is my target?”

Suddenly, she uttered disturbing words that belied her outward appearance.

Raising her shoulders stalwartly, she lowered the bow from her back and let out a sigh. Instead of singing sweetly about tragic love, she nocked an arrow onto her bow, pulling it taut with all her might.

“Might as well embrace the opportunity to run around and hunt prey. Hah!”

Avril’s blue eyes glinted dangerously. She directed her gaze into the distance.

“Enemy spotted!”

Up ahead was a flowerbed maze, where withered black twigs twisted and turned, resembling an eerie collection of human bones.

Here and there, the snow glistened, and from within its depths emerged a petite girl, clothed in a satin dress reminiscent of a vibrant red rose.

Elaborate pleats, delicate lace, and intricate frills adorned the magnificent dress. Cascades of golden hair flowed down her back, swaying like the tail of some ancient mythical creature. Thin wisps of smoke rose from a small ceramic pipe clasped in her hand, adding an air of mystique. A vibrant red garland graced her golden head.

“Victorique de Blois. No…”

Avril’s eyes gleamed with an even more perilous intensity. Her grip tightened around the bow and arrow.

“The legendary Gray Wolf!”