"Why, long time no see, Rivermoore. I believe the last time I saw you
was on the fourth stratum. Are you already finished with your nightly
ravaging of the dead?" she asked.
"It's human nature to want the touch of fresh meat every now and again.
I see you've already found yourself a young plaything. Still can't resist the
urges of your lower half, can you, Salvadori Harlot?" Rivermoore replied
with strange familiarity and an overwhelming amount of scorn.
The smile vanished from the witch's face. "…I assume you're prepared
to die if you've dared to call me by that name."
"Ha! Have you already forgotten how I ripped out half your bowels in
our last skirmish?"
"Ooh, I haven't. It hurt a lot. Which is why I can't stop thinking of how
I'll play with your guts while you still breathe."
The air became heavier with every threat they flung at each other. Their
murderous hatred screeched unpleasantly like two giant gears that wouldn't
line up. For those stuck between them, it was sheer torture as their minds
and consciousnesses were shredded.
"Ugh… Ah… Ahhhh!"
"Calm down, Pete! It's fine, it's fine…!"
Oliver wrapped an arm around Pete, who had succumbed to fear, and
desperately tried to calm him. It wouldn't be long before they could simply
no longer bear this.
Chela was painfully aware of this as well and whispered anxiously, "We
have to run, even if it seems impossible. We'll be hit by a stray shot if we
remain in the middle of a fight between a fourth- and fifth-year."
"Yeah… I'll count down. When I give the signal, run as fast as you can."
Chela nodded bitterly at his suggestion. There was no guarantee they'd
be able to get away, but they had no other option. That they were sorely
outmatched went without saying—if fighting broke out for even a moment,
it would hit them as hard as any natural disaster.
"…Okay, now!"
He would cut through the bone fence and run, refusing to stop no matter
what happened behind him. Steeling his nerves, Oliver started to move
when…
"I smell battle."
…gracefully, a familiar Azian girl appeared on the other side of the bone
fence.
"…Nanao?"
"Mm? Ohhh. Oliver, Chela, and Pete. I finally caught up to you, did I?"
Spotting her friends, Nanao jogged over without any sign of caution.
The distance between them shrank before their eyes—suddenly, a new cage
of bones sprouted up, wrapping around and around them all.
"?! Damn—!"
"More meat, hmm? First-years, do not leave my territory, or I cannot
guarantee your lives."
"The more the merrier! Just be patient, little lambs. I'll be there to
welcome you all shortly."
Their words were the signal for the fight to begin—the witch and
sorcerer drew their athames at the exact same time.
"Balthus."
Ophelia's chant echoed. Her chest shone faintly purple, and from the
mysterious light, a giant arm shot forth. Nearly as thick around as her torso,
it scratched around at the unfamiliar realm it now found itself in.
"Congreganta."
Rivermoore followed with a spell of his own. Bones of all shapes and
sizes gathered together before their eyes, quickly forming into a four-legged
beast. Coiled up and ready to pounce, it was like giant, fleshless wolf, or a
lion prowling the realm of the dead.
"Ha! You've given birth to another sinister child again, I see."
"Says the man who refuses to stop playing with bones. I'm surprised
you haven't gotten bored yet."
The two of them bantered, each ridiculing the other's magic. The pair
were inhuman—especially Ophelia, with her bizarre form. Pete, finally
managing to regain some of his sanity, quivered as he opened his mouth.
"…I-is that summoning magic?"
"No. A simple spell wouldn't be able to summon such a powerful
magical beast," Chela responded, her voice shaking. They watched as
Ophelia chanted again.
"Balthus!"
The extended arm grabbed the floor and dragged its way entirely out of
her torso. The witch's expression shifted between pain and ecstasy, blurring
the distinction between them. Covered in dark-red mucus, the giant chimera
was now fully born.
"ROOAAAAAAAAAAARRR!"
A joyous howl surged forth from the chimera's throat, as if to celebrate
its own birth. The atmosphere of the labyrinth quivered with electricity, and
the perfume already in the air mixed with the stench of blood and amniotic
fluid.
"She just gave birth," Oliver stated, his skin covered in goose bumps.
"There's no other word for it!"
At that moment, Ophelia's chimera leaped forward. Its massive arm
flashed horizontally, easily destroying the bone creature.
"Congreganta deformatio."
But in response to Rivermoore's spell, the scattered bones quickly
reconstructed themselves. Whatever he was doing, it was much more
mysterious than the witch's work. Was it puppeteering? A magical beast
familiar? Necromancy? Most likely, it was a mix of all three. The bone
beast, grappling with the chimera, rearranged itself into a giant serpent and
constricted itself with unbelievable strength for something without muscles.
"RAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"
The chimera struggled, letting out a husky howl. The serpent's bones
creaked under the herculean strength. Rivermoore clicked his tongue.
"…So a serpent can't bind it, huh? What monstrosity was gestating in
that promiscuous belly of yours this time?"
"I could ask the same. I don't recall seeing that spinal column before.
Tell me, what corpse did you pillage it from?"
The bone serpent failed to contain the chimera and fell apart again.
Rivermoore began another chant, summoning new bones from behind him.
"Unh… Ugh…"
Pete's hand was tightly gripping Oliver's uniform sleeve. It wasn't
surprising—this was probably his first time ever witnessing a duel between
mages. All Oliver could do was hold Pete's quaking hand so that he didn't
lose his mind to fear.
"Ah—this is a place of certain death. It truly takes me back," Nanao
commented, completely inappropriately. Oliver looked at her, appalled. But
the next moment, she'd drawn the blade from her waist and cut through the
bone barriers surrounding them with one swing.
"Mind if I join in?"
"…?!"
The three first-years couldn't believe what they'd just heard. Even
Ophelia and Rivermoore paused their duel to look at her curiously. Nanao
remained unfazed.
"Oliver, Chela, Pete, if you're going to retreat, now would be the time,"
she called over her shoulder. "Once I join in, it will become a three-way
struggle. In such an equal battle, it will not be possible for any party to
move easily."
Is she stupid? Oliver reflexively thought, but a part of him also realized
she had the right idea. If either of the two duelists were to become
distracted by Nanao's entrance for even a second, the other would strike
them down. It wasn't impossible for Nanao to have an impact on the battle.
"What are you—?"
Even so, he couldn't just stand by and watch her get killed. Oliver
stretched out a hand to grab her shoulder—but just before he could, the
energy radiating from her back stopped him.
"I do not need your concern. Ever since my first battle, the rear guard
has been my position," Nanao said, rebuking his attempt to stop her. Just as
when she faced off against the troll, there was not the slightest glimmer of
hesitation in her eyes.
"A walking corpse has simply been given a place to die—that is all. Go,
you three!"
Nanao shouted and, sword poised, took a step out of the bone barrier.
Oliver had missed his chance to stop her—after a moment's hesitation,
Chela followed after her.
"Oliver, take Pete and run."
"Chela?!"
Once she was past the bones, she also drew her athame. Unexpectedly,
she smiled and said over her shoulder, "Let us protect one friend each. That
should work, don't you agree?"
Oliver's breath caught in his throat. His heart ached uncontrollably at the
thought of Chela going to her death to protect a friend.
"...!"
Turn around and run! the logical part of his brain screamed. That would
be the correct response. If he stayed, it would just increase the likelihood of
them dying together. Pete was losing his grip on his sanity. They wouldn't
get a better chance of escaping.
And yet, Oliver thought, How many times do I have to endure this? It
burned him inside to take advantage of the kindness and dedication of
others in order to survive. How many more times would he have to suffer
through this—watching someone die to protect him when he wanted more
than anything to keep them safe?
"Dammiiiit!" he howled and stopped. Oliver drew his athame from its
sheath.
Chela stared at him in shock, but he was past caring what she thought.
That fact gave him an ironic comfort.
His direction was clear: He was going to join in on this unwinnable
superhuman battle. He would never survive, but somehow he'd snatch
victory from the jaws of defeat. As a mage, he hardened his resolve—
"Ignis!"
"—?!"
"Gwah…!"
Suddenly, a crimson flame consumed the unearthly beings, setting them
alight.
"That's enough. I thought I warned you two about bullying new
students," a new voice echoed. It was stern and disciplined, fundamentally
different from the other two.
Oliver turned to look down the hall to see a mage in a Kimberly uniform
just like them, his athame drawn resolutely.
"…Ash cannot answer you. I see you still fire first and ask questions
later, Purgatory," Rivermoore sneered. Somehow he had managed to form a
shield from the bones and had avoided the flames.
The other man snorted. "Please don't use that terrible name in front of
the new students. Don't worry, you four. I won't let them hurt you anymore,
or my name isn't Alvin Godfrey, Kimberly student body president." He
spoke softly, yet they heard him clear as a bell. From the burning corner of
the hall, another figure moved.
"Hear that? Fun's over. Now be a good girl, Lia."
"Carlos…!"
Ophelia, who had been hiding in the shadow of her charred chimera,
waiting for the chance to strike back, suddenly realized someone was
standing behind her with a blade pressed to her neck. Rendering the witch
immobile, the fourth older student spoke up in a friendly manner.
"I'm Carlos Whitrow, your cool fifth-year prefect. Nice to meet you,
kittens," they said and, with their free left hand, blew a kiss. They were slim
and androgynous, with a very unique way of speaking. Most of all, their
beautiful high-pitched voice was so entrancing that it made Oliver and the
others forget where they were. Their frame was that of a man, but Oliver
couldn't immediately place their gender.
"Your punishments will be handed out later. Salvadori, Rivermoore, if
you understand, then get back to your workshops. Deep-dwellers like you
two have no business on the higher strata," the older student calling himself
Godfrey said sternly.
Two tongues clicked in frustration.
"…All the bones I'd gathered were burned in this farce. Lucky you,
succubus."
"Oh, you're the lucky one, scavenger. Go fester in your rot until I come
to kill you next time."
"Heh-heh—funny!"
They nastily argued one last time before melting into the darkness. Once
they departed, Godfrey sighed and lowered his blade.
"They're gone, huh? …I have some idea of what happened here. You
four certainly are unlucky, getting caught by the likes of them so early into
the year," the man said sympathetically. He gave a gentle smile. "First, let
me thank you for holding out until we arrived. It would have been much
more difficult if any of you had gotten kidnapped. I'd hate to have to chase
them into the depths."
"They never hang out on the upper strata, but right after the entrance
ceremony, they'll poke out their heads for a bit. I guess it's only natural to
be curious about new faces, no matter what year you're in."
Whitrow chuckled tiredly. It took a little while before Oliver and the
others realized that the joking conversation meant they were saved.
His legs still quivering, Oliver stepped forward and bowed to the older
students.
"…I'm Oliver Horn, a first-year. Thank you very much for saving me
and my fr—," he began, but Godfrey raised a hand.
"Save the formalities. Let's get you out of here quickly. I'd love to hear
you praise my heroics, but I'm sure you're exhausted as well. We can get to
know each other more during the day."
And with that, he pointed down the hall. Whitrow, who had taken a
position behind them, chimed in.
"You heard the man. I'll guard the rear, so follow Godfrey's instructions.
There's no safer place in all of Kimberly than within a fifty-yard radius of
him."
Ironically, it only took them a few minutes to reach the exit while following
their guide through the labyrinth. The moment they burst through the
familiar front door, the voices of their friends called out to them.
"O-Oliver!"
"And there's Nanao, too! Oh, thank goodness…!"
They ran over with undisguised relief. Katie grabbed Nanao's arm with
both hands.
"I turned around, and you were just gone… I was so worried!"
"Forgive me, Katie," Nanao apologized weakly. That was when Oliver
noticed the older student behind their friends. She had a scholarly, witchy
air to her; her long bangs covered her left eye, but he could see a kind
glimmer in her right one.
"Oh!" Katie exclaimed. "Let me introduce you. This is Ms. Miligan, a
fourth-year. She found Guy and me wandering the halls and guided us out
here."
"The upperclassmen are always tasked with this job at this time of year.
Don't sweat it. Still…" The girl named Miligan paused and sniffed the air.
"Perfume and death. You four certainly reek of danger."
"We found them trapped between Salvadori and Rivermoore," Godfrey
explained from over Oliver's shoulder.
Deep sympathy filled Miligan's face. "That's terrible. You'd have been
safer stuck between a cerberus and a hydra."
The hopelessly accurate expression made Oliver dizzy.
Miligan chuckled, then turned. "I'll see you to the dorms. President
Godfrey, Senior Whitrow, you can head back in now."
"Thanks, Miligan. Seems a few more people are still lost inside. See
you."
Before Godfrey even finished speaking, he and Whitrow had turned
back toward the academy. Katie tried to ask something, but they were
already too far away.
"…They're gone. I didn't even get to ask their names."
"Those two are extra busy this time of year. You can greet them properly
later," Miligan gently insisted before leading the six of them toward the
dorms. "Did you have enough fun on your night adventures? Now, let's
head back."
Once they reached the dorm courtyard, Miligan left them with nary a
lecture. In the silent darkness, the six of them looked at one another.
"It's, uh, pretty late, huh? Guess we should break—"
Katie started to speak when Oliver cut her off, grabbing Nanao by the
collar.
"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" he asked, his voice shaking with
rage. The other four were so surprised that they couldn't even react.
"…Huh? Wait, Oliver?!"
Katie quickly tried to stop him, but he firmly kept her at a distance with
his other hand.
"I can forgive you for following us alone into the academy at night," he
continued harshly. "Every new student is going to be naive and curious, and
I'm at fault, too, for failing to explain the dangers."
Nanao stood there silently, her face a blank mask as Oliver raked her
over the coals. He stared deep into her eyes.
"But inserting yourself into a duel between two older students is neither
of those. You said yourself that a walking corpse had merely found its place
to die."
"..."
"You knew it was suicide, but you tried anyway! No, death was exactly
what you wanted, wasn't it?!"
"Calm down, Oliver!" Chela exclaimed, unable to stand by and watch.
Realizing he'd gone a little too far, Oliver gritted his teeth.
"I understand how you feel," said Chela. "I was going to ask her about
that later, too. But now that it's happened, perhaps we should all discuss it
together."
This undid some of the tension; taking Nanao by the hand, Chela led her
and the others to a corner of the courtyard. They took their places around a
small fountain, and she chanted a deafening spell to cover them.
"Now we needn't worry about eavesdroppers. Nanao…you can take
your time, but would you please tell us what on earth brought you to do
that?"
Chela sat down on the fountain bench, bidding Nanao to sit next to her.
Katie also sat down, but Oliver stubbornly remained standing. Guy and Pete
stood with him. With everyone's eyes on her, Nanao eventually began to
open up.
"Oliver is likely correct… I have long since lost the will to live," she
said and, somewhat meekly, gripped the fingers of her right hand. "But
more importantly, it is hard for me to feel that I am truly alive right now."
Her five friends balked at this unexpected confession. Nanao, looking up
at the foreign night sky with a distant look in her eyes, told them of her
past.
She'd long ago stopped counting the number of enemies she killed—and
the number of her fallen allies. Her reasoning was simple: As long as there
were adversaries to defeat, there was no meaning in keeping count.
Similarly, if their numbers were to reach zero eventually, then keeping
count along the way wouldn't change anything.
""""""Haaah!""""""
She parried the charging spear, brushed it aside, and cut down the enemy
before her. She'd been doing this all day, ever since the sun reached its
zenith. After repelling countless waves of attackers, the girl and her
surviving allies were able to keep breathing for just a little longer.
"Huff! Huff! Huff! Huff…!"
The mountain path was narrow. They'd been here for what seemed like
hours, fighting to protect their retreating main force from a follow-up
attack. From their impromptu defensive setup on the mountain path, they
were able to resolutely drive back the overwhelming enemy forces trying to
get through.
This was a miracle in itself. All they had to repel an army of fifty
thousand were two hundred soldiers. They were well past the point of
forming any sort of strategy. Hours of hard fighting had left them with less
than half their original numbers. However, they remained in high spirits.
None of them tried to turn tail and run, and even their slain allies toppled
forward with their dying breaths instead of back. For fighting on the front
lines was a small, young girl, and no one could afford to be cowardly with
her around.
"What's the matter, Kiryuus? You're shaking in your boots!"
"Damned suicidal maniacs," cursed Souma Yoshihisa, commander in
chief of the Kiryuu clan's forces. A passage from his own book on the art of
war that he'd written years ago surfaced clearly in his mind: It is not the
master whom you must fear on the battlefield, but the man with nothing left
to lose. It felt like some kind of joke. How perfect it was for this situation!
"What's the matter? You outnumber us a hundred to one! No need for
fancy plans or maneuvers! If you truly are the great Kiryuu warriors of
legend, then just a single one of you should be enough to clear the path!"
Someone was taunting Yoshihisa's men from the hilltop. The voice was
clear and pleasant on the ears, yet also incredibly infuriating. How was it
that this cut through the warriors' battle cries?
Yoshihisa glared up at the speaker. At the top of the rise stood the losing
side's leader, a small-framed warrior. This person was the sole reason they
were so tied up, stoking the battle spirits of their bruised and battered
compatriots and turning them into top-class, suicidal soldiers.
"…She banishes fear from the soldiers' hearts; her very existence allows
them to fight against colossal odds. She is a hero, this…child."
Yoshihisa's face twisted; he could not accept this. From the sound of her
voice, he could tell she was very young. At first, he assumed it was a boy
who'd just had his coming-of-age ceremony and took pity on him—but the
moment he realized it was a girl, his head spun so badly, he nearly toppled
over. After an hour, his opinion began to change; now, after three hours, he
realized his initial pity had been completely pointless. A girl? Ha! This
thing was nothing so lovely.
"…Let loose the arrows," Yoshihisa muttered after a long silence. His
second-in-command recoiled.
"Are you sure, Father? They are so few…"
"Do it. If even a child can taunt us without repercussion, then our honor
as warriors is long lost. Is it our job to add pages to the tale of their heroic
deaths? Answer me, Yasutsuna!" Yoshihisa responded, calling the warrior
before him by name.
Yasutsuna looked down and grimaced. After some struggle, he looked
up again.
"Vanguard, pull back! Archers, forward!"
"Mm."
The front line of soldiers retreated, and in their place, the archers
stepped forward. Seeing the enemy army move, the girl could feel that the
end of the long battle was approaching.
"It seems they are no longer willing to oblige us," she muttered and
chuckled. They lacked any sort of shielding and thus had no means to
defend against arrows. The enemy had realized this from the beginning. The
fact that they only now employed them meant they had been forbidden from
doing so before. It would be dishonorable to dispose of a mere two hundred
soldiers from long range.
But now that stubbornness had crumbled. An army of famous Kiryuu
soldiers led by the storied commander Souma Yoshihisa, a man of strategic
wisdom and valor, was trading honor for results against one rebel army
camped on a hill. To her, this was cause to shout for joy.
"To the horses!"
But it wasn't over yet. In response to her signal, someone behind her
moved. Hidden right on the other side of the ridge, where the enemy army
below couldn't see, were a hundred horses. Now set free, they quickly
appeared on the mountain path. The girl hopped up onto one, then looked
over at her allies as they followed suit. With a perfectly clear smile, she
spoke to them.
"Men! Let us go—to our final battlefield!"
"""""""Rahhhhh!"""""""
The warriors' spirits were untouched by sorrow. Then, turning to the
land of death at the bottom of the hill, the girl charged forward in a straight
line.
"Wha—?!"
"Impossible! They still had horses?!"
The blood drained from the Kiryuu soldiers' faces when they saw this.
Naturally, they'd expected their enemy to make one last, desperate charge
before the rain of arrows swept them away. But they'd only accounted for
human speed. Who could have predicted that at the last moment, after
losing soldier after soldier in multiple clashes, this ragtag band would still
have enough horses to mount an assault?
"I come for General Yoshihisa's head! Meet me with your swords,
Kiryuu warriors!" the girl loudly proclaimed from the front of the line. The
archers, who had struggled to set up on the narrow mountain path, were
unable to get behind their spearmen in time. They offered little resistance to
the oncoming horses. The screams and howls of soldiers, as well as the
cracks of breaking bone, echoed across the battlefield.
"Haaah!"
At the very center of this melting pot of chaos, the girl leaped off her
saddle, her body arcing smoothly through the air. She landed gracefully on
the other side of the scrambling archers, right in front of the spearmen.
"What…?!"
"She jumped in alone?"
"Don't get full of yourself, little girl!"
In response to the raging warriors' welcome, the girl drew the sword
from the sheath at her waist. This was her only weapon, and it wasn't even
half the length of a normal tachi. Not only that, but she wore little more
than the bare minimum of armor.
"Haaah!"
She let out a breath and then dashed forward.
The spears that thrust forth to stop her pierced only air, but the Kiryuu
warriors were a hair too slow to understand this. Their eyes couldn't even
follow her shadow before they sensed her right in front of them.
"Gwah!"
"Gaaah!"
The moment they reached for their swords, she cut them down. Blood
sprayed into the air behind her as the girl rushed through the army, not
pausing even for a second. She moved from soldier to soldier, hiding from
their spears literally under their noses. One by one, she slaughtered them,
hopping between their blind spots.
"Father, get back!"
Somehow the Kiryuu forces' second-in-command, Yasutsuna, managed
to apprehend the danger and bellowed at his father-in-law. How could this
be? The girl was small yet superhumanly fast. With every jump, she played
the spearmen for fools. Their close formation to protect the general was
now working against them—the small girl with her wakizashi short sword
was nimbler than any of the warriors in bulky armor pressed up shoulder to
shoulder against one another.
"…Curse you!"
There was no longer any purpose to the personal guard. As the girl
approached with blazing speed, Yasutsuna lost his wits and drew his sword.
Unlike the other warriors, he was not about to let his guard down. With the
sword in his hand, the training etched into his body, and a tempered heart—
he met the girl in battle.
"Raaaaaah!"
A fountain of blood erupted from a nearby spearman, and at nearly the
same time, a small figure jumped out from the shadows. Yasutsuna, who
had predicted this, swung with all his might, intending to cleave her in two.
It was a merciless frontal strike, a scoff at any fancy trickery. The girl's size
and speed, which allowed her to dance around the Kiryuu warriors, would
be meaningless against it.
"Haaah!"
Which was why, when she chose to meet him head-on and let her sword
clash and grapple against his, his astonishment was indescribable.
"Wha…?!"
He went straight from astonishment to shuddering with fear. He was
being pushed back. In size and strength, he should have outdone her, but her
sword pressure was so fierce that he had to give ground.
"Ahhhhhhhhh!"
With every second that passed, this pressure increased. The sword his
father-in-law had gifted him for his entrance into service screamed under
the unexpected stress. Fear overcame Yasutsuna. What is this? What is this
thing masquerading as a girl?
"Oh…oh…ohhhhhh!"
Giving up the struggle against this encroaching power, he jumped back.
Don't be scared. If you can't crush her by force, use a technique. He'd never
missed a day of training in reverse attacks. But this time, he failed. As if to
put all his intentions to waste, the girl was already under his nose.
"Wha—?"
He'd lost the moment he'd taken a step back. None of the Kiryuu
warriors had been able to even get in her shadow, she was so fast. And until
this moment, Yasutsuna could not have predicted just how fast she could be
in the pursuit.
The girl's blade passed through the man's defenseless torso like the
wind. Small and fast, bold and effective. Yasutsuna's eyes had seen these
qualities in his enemy, yet his observances still weren't enough—for he had
failed to accept the most important point of all.
"Gah!"
Strength. This girl was incredibly strong. Far stronger than he could
hope to compete with using his own sword. Concluding that this was why
he had failed—the man died.
"Haaah…!"
Once her opponent was slain, the girl finally stopped. But not by her
own volition. The reason was obvious—it was a miracle it had taken her
this long. After fighting a defensive battle for hours, not to mention
employing those incredible moves just now, the girl was overwhelmed with
exhaustion. Her body groaned, as if someone had dropped lead on her back.
"Surround her!" Yoshihisa shouted immediately, and she was beset by a
ring of people who wanted her dead. She scanned her surroundings to find
herself trapped by a wall of spearmen, with not a single gap.
"…Well, well. You certainly spared no effort for me. I'm honored," the
girl calmly said to the line of warriors ready to crush her. Yoshihisa glared
at her bitterly, but her eyes were tranquil, holding no fear or anxiety. She'd
never hoped to survive. Just like the soldiers under her, she was a suicidal
warrior as well.
"You did well for your age. Would you like a piece of candy as a reward,
little girl?"
He wanted to rage and insult her, but as a general, he couldn't stoop so
low. So instead, he suppressed his emotions and opted for sarcasm instead.
The girl chuckled and shook her head. "Unfortunately, it isn't candy that
a warrior craves in their last moments, but a fair fight," she stated plainly.
She still wishes to fight, even after all this? Yoshihisa stared at her, half
incredulous and half afraid.
"I hear your son-in-law, Yasutsuna, is a top Kiryuu warrior. If you wish
to reward me for my exploits, please grant me a duel with him," the girl
said, completely serious.
The moment he heard those words, Yoshihisa lost all self-control. "…
You don't even know who you just killed…?"
His voice shaking, the shadow of despair crept over his face. His
reaction was what put the pieces together for her.
"It can't be…"
She shifted her gaze to a place not too far outside the ring of spear tips,
where the body of her latest casualty lay. Even in death, the crest of his
house was proudly engraved on his armor.
Yoshihisa desperately forced his voice to stabilize but was unable to
suppress his emotions entirely. It was difficult to tell whether he was crying
or laughing.
"Yes, he was an excellent warrior… But he was more than that." He
began bragging about his son in a way he'd never done before, even when
drunk. "He loved songs, poems, and flowers. For someone like me with
only talent for war, he was like the brightest star. You had no idea, did you,
girl? No, I'm sure you didn't."
He gritted his teeth hard while the girl stood there, frozen and silent.
Yoshihisa exhaled deeply and, once he'd regained a bit of composure, spoke
softly.
"Don't worry, girl. I won't torture you. I would not employ such
methods on a valiant warrior who fought till the very end of a losing battle,
and especially not on a child."
"..."
"But I won't ask your name. You will die a nameless soldier, and no one
will remember you. That is my revenge," Yoshihisa stated solemnly, then
raised his right hand high for all his men to see. "Do it!" he barked and
dropped his arm. The soldiers stirred, hesitating for a second, then stabbed.
"..."
In that brief extension she was given, behind gently closed eyelids, the
girl thought—
Finally, my end is nigh, and yet I was not able to find happiness in
battle.
It was truly disappointing. She'd fought so hard until the very last, yet
her life was going to end without her achieving her greatest wish. It was too
much to bear on her journey to the other side.
Even so, she wasn't given much time to ruminate. The deadly spear tips
raced toward her defenseless chest and back—
"Boy, I just can't get used to this country's culture."
A totally unfamiliar man's voice cut through her final thoughts. "Would
you mind explaining this to me? What sort of logic is it that not asking her
name is revenge? Does this have anything to do with the Bushido I learned
about the other day?"
"…?"
The stranger continued, unabated. Tired of waiting for the end that
wouldn't come, the girl slowly opened her eyes to see that the spears
thrusted toward her had all been frozen in midair an inch from her body.
"Wh-what…?"
"My spear! My arms won't move—"
The warriors half screamed. Some mysterious power had frozen them
midthrust, and they couldn't take a step in any direction. Baffled by what
was happening to his men, Yoshihisa looked up—there, in the sky, was the
source.
"A Western sorcerer…!" His voice trembled with equal parts fear and
anger. The girl looked up, in a daze.
In midair stood a man on a broom.
"Of course, I understand some things. I love songs, poems, and flowers,
myself. This country's food is delicious. And normally, it is my policy to
keep my nose out of other people's business."
As he spoke, the man flicked the short sword in his right hand. It was a
full size shorter than even the wakizashi in the girl's hands. There was also
a thin wooden rod about the same size at his waist. But what really stood
out was his golden, spiraling hair.
"And yet, before my eyes, I see a child with enormous potential trying to
die a pointless death. As a teacher, this is the one thing I cannot ignore," the
man pontificated, his face very serious now. His feet still on the broomstick,
he flipped upside down and dropped his head to her eye level. His clear
blue eyes were alight with uncontainable curiosity.
"Nameless girl, would you care to come to my country and learn to be a
mage?" he asked, extending an invitation she didn't understand in the
slightest.
"..."
The girl was sure she was experiencing some near-death hallucination.
And yet, compared with her previous daydreams, the beginning was quite
bizarre.
"…Very well, then. I accept."
She nodded, still not comprehending even a bit of what he'd just said.
But she was curious. If this was a dream that would eventually evaporate
like foam—then for now, that was all the reason she needed.
Upon finishing her lengthy story, Nanao sighed heavily. Her friends all
swallowed. None of them had imagined such a bloody tale; they could find
nothing to say.
"It was a terrible battle. Not even a tenth of our forces had any hope of
surviving. I, too, should have died back there. Then…Lord McFarlane
appeared. He saved my life in a most unexpected way."
Clenching and unclenching her fists, Nanao stared at her hands as if she
couldn't believe this was reality.
"Ever since then, I've felt like I was in an extended dream. I thought I
had died on that battlefield, and this was all an illusion before I was taken to
the other side. If this is real, then how absurd a reality it is. How can it be
that a mage appears the moment I am to die, saves my life, and whisks me
alone off to an academy across the ocean?"
A light smile surfaced on her lips, but it quickly vanished, and
everything about her body language exuded tension and stress.
"So I was desperate. Desperate to fulfill my dearest wish before I
awoke."
"…Your dearest wish?" Oliver repeated.
Nanao nodded. "'Enjoy not the sword of vengeance, but the sword of
mutual love,'" she stated.
"What's that?"
"It's an ideology passed down in my sword academy. In essence, a
proper swordsman must not meet hatred with hatred and fight for revenge.
To have a duel with an opponent one accepts and respects, with no
animosity between you—on the path of the sword, this is called shiawase."
Katie cocked her head at the unfamiliar word from another language.
"…Shiawase?"
"Happiness… Fortune… My studies are lacking, so I know not the
proper translation," Nanao replied, failing to find the right word.
Oliver immediately picked up on the implication, and a shiver went up
his spine.
"You call a duel to the death with one you love and respect…
happiness?" he asked, voice stiff.
Nanao smiled at him sadly. "Mm… Twisted, isn't it? I understand that.
Emotions can be shared without a clash of swords. Talking, touching, and
caring for each other is true happiness—from a normal point of view, this is
natural."
She spoke as if gazing at a distant star, then dropped her gaze to her lap.
"And yet, that is battle. That is when swords, not words, connect people.
Thus, even if it is a twisted happiness, it is still happiness to be sought out."
No one could say a word. Having expressed the cruelty of the world
she'd lived in, Nanao quietly raised her head. With tears swimming in her
eyes, she looked straight at Oliver.
"Thus, Oliver, when you and I crossed swords—I felt that more than
ever before."
"...!"
The boy froze, as if his heart had just been pierced. Her eyes still locked
on him, Nanao continued.
"In that moment, I was overcome with joy. Here, I'd finally found my
shiawase. Which is why I asked that we might continue, in a true duel. And
with my death by your blade, I'd go to the swordsman's paradise."
She cut off, closing her eyes. As if delirious with fever, she looked to the
sky. After a long silence, her shoulders drooped dramatically.
"But of course, you refused me. I should have expected as much. It
wasn't right of me to ask someone I barely knew to help me in my dark
endeavor. And yet, I am a helpless fool who cannot even consider such
things. I was so hurt, disappointed, and miserable at being rejected…that in
my despair, I began seeking my own death."
Her voice was hoarse, and tears dropped onto her balled fists. Katie
quickly moved to put a hand on her shoulder, but Oliver could only stand
there in a daze. Somehow his actions had caused the girl before him to seek
death—that, he knew.
"Did your duel with Oliver truly leave that big of an impression on
you?" Chela asked, placing her hand on Nanao's fist.
Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, the girl nodded. "You should
experience it for yourself, Chela. He's not just strong and skillful. Oliver's
sword has an unfathomable weight to it. His training and study that's built
up over time, as well as all the experiences, emotions, and concerns that
became the cornerstones of his style—getting to experience that up close
through our duel made my heart flutter."
Her extremely detailed description made the boy's heart skip a beat.
Katie folded her arms in thought. "Um, so to summarize what you're
saying, Nanao…"
About ten seconds passed as she sank into deep thought. Sticking out her
pointer finger, she eventually uttered her conclusion.
"…you got depressed because Oliver rejected you—is that what I'm
hearing?"
"Sorry, Katie, but would you mind shutting up?"
"What?!"
With a single sentence, Oliver sliced through his opponent's guard for a
lethal blow.
A smile tugged at Nanao's lips. "Nay, she's mostly right. Was it the
person I was infatuated with, or the sword? As long as swords are wielded
by humankind, perhaps there is no real difference."
"Hear that, Oliver?"
"Not much difference there."
Guy and Pete spoke in unison.
Oliver pressed his head into his hand, feeling a headache coming on.
Chuckling, Chela interjected. "Truly, a swordsman's way of thinking…
But I can't say I don't understand. That feeling of clashing against the
perfect opponent—no matter the subject, there is no replacement for that
moment of joy."
After Chela had indicated that she understood, her expression once again
became serious as she looked at Nanao.
"However, when it comes to a deadly duel, I cannot overlook this. Is a
practice match not enough?" she asked, half knowing the answer already.
"Since you are both students here, it follows that you should have multiple
chances to spar."
After some silence, Nanao shook her head. "If the goal was to improve
myself through a rivalry, that would be fine. However, the swordsmanship I
learned is, at its core, a tool for killing. My soul simply cannot get into a
duel with no lethal stakes."
"So you can't get serious unless it might cost your life? Talk about
difficult…" Pete frowned and hmm'd.
Considering everything that had been said so far, Chela nodded. "I see…
Yes, I understand now. It's quite a deep-rooted problem. However, first of
all, I'm glad you decided to open up to us," she said and placed a hand on
Nanao's shoulder, looking her straight in the eyes. "And so let me say this,
as a friend: It's time to change your manner of living, Nanao."
"…Chela."
Nanao looked up at her.
Chela's tone became more firm, as if to make sure her message reached
Nanao's core. "Those of us here and this academy are most definitely not a
dream or illusions. You don't need to panic; we won't suddenly disappear
on you. Without a shadow of a doubt, you are alive. And you are living a
new life here."
She gripped the girl's shoulder harder, as if to prove they both truly
existed.
"Cease this tomfoolery of looking for a place to die. Kimberly will give
you plenty such opportunities, whether you go looking or not. As long as
you endeavor to learn magic here, the specter of death will always be
nearby. It is for this reason that we need strong wills, so we can banish it."
The authority with which she spoke made Guy, Pete, and Katie
instinctively sit up straight. What the ringlet girl was sharing with them was
the key to survival in this magical environment.
"Nanao, you asked earlier if it was the person or the sword you were
infatuated with. And you suggested that there perhaps wasn't much
difference between the two."
"…Mm, I did say that."
"Then look at the person. You and Oliver needn't use swords to see each
other. If you wish it, and he agrees, you can exchange words or even
touch." She paused. With an extremely kind expression, Chela looked
between the two before her. "If you do that, I am sure you will experience
joy. After all, that short duel was enough to affect you this much. The time
you two spend as friends will surely be special, too. And Oliver isn't the
only one here. You have Katie, Guy, Pete, and of course me—everyone here
wants to spend their future with you. No one wants you to give up on your
life so easily."
Chela's gaze swept across the group, and Nanao's followed. For the first
time, she noticed the anxiety, concern, and irritation within each of her
friends' eyes.
"…She's right. It would be boring if you just kicked the bucket after our
crazy first encounter. Let's have some more fun, Nanao. We can hang out
and do dumb stuff," Guy said, caught up in the moment. After a pause, he
smiled with slight embarrassment. "Plus, I'd gotten my hopes up about you.
The way you took down that troll, I was sure you'd do something crazy
again." He laid his honest feelings bare.
Next, the curly-haired girl—Katie—gripped Nanao's hand.
"The next time you're in danger, it'll be my turn to come rescue you. I
won't let you die. We're friends now… I couldn't bear always being saved
without ever saving you," she announced and closed her eyes, making an
oath to herself.
Pete followed with a comment of his own. "There's no reason to rush to
your death. I have plenty to learn about this place, too. If you consider what
lies ahead, there's nothing wrong with having more familiar faces around,"
he said, stone-faced as usual. But for a boy who was typically so reserved, it
was his best attempt at encouragement.
Once the three of them had said their piece, Chela's gaze moved to the
last member. "Oliver, what do you have to say?"
Everyone's eyes focused on him. The silence this time was the longest
yet. After careful consideration of the Azian girl and himself, Oliver
solemnly opened his mouth.
"…When you're trying to survive at Kimberly, you can't afford to be
around people with a death wish. They'll just drag others into their own
messes. Just like what almost happened earlier."
It was the strictest opinion so far. Katie leaned forward, ready to defend
Nanao. But with a hand, Oliver stopped her and continued.
"So I only have one question for you. Can you promise me, Nanao, that
no matter what happens in the future, you won't rush to your death? That
you'll always swing your sword with the intent of living?"
This was the only thing he wanted to know. As long as they called this
place home, he couldn't back down on this. The other four swallowed hard.
Nanao stared into Oliver's eyes, unmoving, as the others observed them.
After a long time, she suddenly swung both arms up.
"Hyah!"
Moving so fast that her hands whistled through the wind, she slapped
both her cheeks.
"…Forgive me. I was a coward and a fool."
When she removed her hands, bright-red handprints were left on her
face. But in exchange for that pain, the light had returned to her eyes. The
emptiness was replaced with a forward-facing resolve.
"It is false to think that not fearing death is to be obsessed with it. And
I'd become so lost that I couldn't even remember such logic," she muttered
as she stood from the bench. Straightening her back with dignity, Nanao
bowed her head deeply toward her friends.
"Oliver, Chela, Katie, Guy, Pete—I am truly sorry, you five. I swear to
you now, I will never attempt to throw away my life again. From this day
hence, I shall value my life as I remain by your sides."
After firmly swearing, she raised her head. All her friends in view, she
smiled innocently.
"So if you wouldn't mind, please teach the ways of life here. Although, I
must warn you, I am a dunce in all areas of life but the sword. Honestly, I
was completely unsure whether I could keep up in any of today's classes,"
she said, scratching her head in embarrassment.
Her friends were filled with relief upon hearing her resolve.
"Of course we'll help you out. Pete's just getting started learning magic,
too. You're not too late to anything," Oliver said.
"Indeed. You have me, too, and as my pupil, you will have nothing to
fear. At this point, you show more promise than Guy."
"Wait, what did I do?! Chela, am I that talentless?"
"It simply means you must put more effort into your studies. But don't
worry—I've already cooked up some assignments for tomorrow."
"I've got a bad feeling about this. Especially that smile! Pete, let's do
our best tomorrow, huh?"
"Don't drag me into this!"
Guy took the initiative to lighten the mood between the six of them.
They would have chatted all night, but eventually, Chela stood up from the
bench to put an end to it.
"We should be going, else we'll miss curfew. I hate to say it, but let's
head our separate ways for today."
"Huh? Whoa, look at the time! Nanao, let's get back to our room! We've
gotta get ready for tomorrow!"
Katie hurriedly stood up and pulled Nanao by the hand. They
disappeared into the girls' dorm, and soon after, Guy and Pete made their
way to the boys' dorm. Once the four of them were gone, Oliver and Chela
waited alone in front of the evening fountain.
"…Sorry, Chela. You really helped me out."
"It was no big deal. Not when it involves a friend's life anyway," she
replied, smiling gently. After another pause, she quietly added, "I can also
understand losing my calm in that situation. Do you feel responsible?"
Oliver's expression stiffened when she pointed this out.
The ringlet girl continued, as if she could see into his mind. "What
Nanao felt in your duel—I suspect she wasn't alone. In that moment, you
responded in kind."
"…!"
It felt as if he'd been struck through the heart; Oliver couldn't think of a
single reply. How could he even refute it? He was indeed the same. He'd
forgotten himself in that duel, so desperately had he wished to see what
would happen when they crossed blades. At the very least, in that moment,
his feelings were no different from Nanao's.
"But then you rejected it. For that reason, I believe Nanao's pain was
even greater. Of course, I'm not blaming you. In fact, I'm relieved you were
able to calm down. The last thing I want to see is two of my friends fighting
to the death."
A heavy silence followed. After a while, Chela continued, a troubled
look on her face.
"But the moment you two crossed swords, you realized your destinies
were intertwined. I hear this is a rare phenomenon in the world of magic
and swords. Perhaps you and Nanao formed such a connection. If it's true,
I'm equal parts fearful and envious."
Chela stopped abruptly and put her hand to her breast, as if to
desperately try to quell the raging fire burning within.
"Pardon. It seems I was hit by a wayward spark. Your duel was so
bright, I could hardly manage to watch it," she said jealously, then quietly
turned on her heel. Her proud figure disappeared into the darkness.
Even after she'd gone off to the girls' dorm, Oliver remained behind for
a long time until his pounding heart returned to normal.
The morning after their troubled night—to put it mildly—the six of them
met up back in the courtyard where they'd had their conversation.
"Good morning, Oliver!" Nanao exclaimed excitedly as soon as she saw
him. Oliver was taken aback by the stark difference in her mood.
"Y-yeah, good morning."
"You seem in high spirits today. Feeling better?" Guy asked, grinning.
"Good morning, Guy and Pete!" Nanao responded, grinning similarly
from ear to ear. "Forgive me for worrying you last night!"
She bowed her head. Pete huffed and turned away.
"I wasn't worried… But I guess you do seem more like yourself now,"
the bespectacled boy added quietly.
Oliver and Guy looked at each other, exchanging wry smiles.
"We are all here now. Now—to the academy!" Full of energy, Nanao
rushed to lead the way—then slowed, instead walking next to Oliver. She
beamed at him innocently.
"…Nanao, why are you next to me?" he asked, confused.
"To observe you more closely, of course. Milady Chela told me to see
you without the sword."
"I don't think she meant for you to study me up close…"
"Am I bothering you?" she asked, suddenly anxious. He couldn't exactly
brush her off after last night, so Oliver sighed in resignation.
"No, I didn't say that. You're free to be wherever you like."
Having earned his permission, Nanao swung her arms and legs in a
dramatic expression of joy. She stuck to him like glue as they walked.
From the side, Guy and Pete studied Oliver's expression.
"…I think I see a smile."
"I think I do, too."
"Guy! Pete!" Oliver shouted at them as they jokingly whispered to each
other, feeling as if he were the only adult around.
Katie, who had been watching from behind, pulled on Nanao's sleeve
from the side opposite him. "Ahem… N-Nanao? If you stick too close to
him, you could get in trouble for violating, um, academy conduct. Oliver is
a boy after all, you know?" she said, pulling on her harder.
Guy and Pete brought their heads together again.
"…Seems a storm's brewing."
"I think so, too."
"You two!" the curly-haired girl erupted, and the boys scattered like
baby spiders. Chuckling, Chela watched as Katie chased after them.
"A very fine, lively morning. Not so bad, is it, Nanao?"
"Mm, indeed!"
Nanao nodded without hesitation. Seeing her overflowing with life and
energy, Oliver breathed a sigh of relief. He could sense the sword wasn't the
only thing in her life anymore.
Their first period of the day went by without issue. After making it through
their magical history class and exiting the classroom, Guy and Nanao both
grabbed their heads in a show of pain after the huge amount of knowledge
that had just been crammed into their brains.
"Man, this is gonna be rough… There's so much stuff to remember in
magical history."
"Oh, the words are spinning in my head."
The two moaned together.
Pete rolled his eyes and sighed. "You two are sad. You'd fail out of a
normal academy with that attitude."
"Don't feel like you have to remember it all at once. Start with the basic
bits first, then connect the dots from there. Otherwise you'll forget it right
away, and then what's the point?" Oliver said, trying to teach them the
secret to studying. Just then, he spotted a familiar girl running toward him
from the end of the hall. It was Chela, who had been attending class with
Katie in a different room.
"Oliver, you need to come with me!"
"Chela? What's wrong?"
"Katie just ran out! She heard they were going to execute the troll that
attacked her! She's trying to stop it!"
Oliver's eyes went wide. He chased after Chela as she led the way,
neither of them wasting a single moment.
The housing for the magical beasts was on Kimberly property, but for safety
monitoring and habitat preservation reasons, it was situated far away from
the academy building itself. The land area surrounded by fences was large,
but in reality, this was only the tip of the iceberg, and most of the facility
cut into the underground labyrinth. It expanded and shrank depending on
the number of creatures being cared for, so it was impossible to get an
accurate picture of its full scale. However, according to alumni, the most
dangerous creatures were kept on the lowest levels.
As for trolls, their living space was on the surface. Everyone was free to
observe them from behind a fence, and there were no real barriers to
touching them directly. Creatures that killed thousands of nonmagicals
every year didn't even rate as dangerous for mages.
"There are very few things that truly infuriate me."
In a corner of the facility, a man in a black cape stood solemnly before a
giant cage that was used to quarantine sick creatures. Inside the cage was a
troll—the same one that had gone berserk during the parade—that was
cowering from the man's overbearing presence and shivering in fear of its
imminent death.
"One of them is repeating myself to the same person. There's nothing
that irritates me more than having my precious time wasted by fools. That
time spent talking could be better spent on valuable mental pursuits."
And between the man and the troll, her back to the metal prison, stood a
girl. She faced the man head-on, looking him straight in the eyes. Who else
could it have been but Katie Aalto?
"Repeating myself once is already vexing enough. But to make me do it
a second time, I have no choice but to assume I am actually speaking to a
human-shaped monkey. First-year, do you wish to be a monkey?" the man
coldly asked.
Summoning all her resolve, Katie responded. "Please don't change the
subject. I'm begging you—don't kill this troll!" she implored with all her
might.
The man cracked his neck. "Don't kill it, you say? Let me ask—what
position are you in to make such a demand?"
"I'm the one it attacked and injured! I believe that gives me the right to
say something!" That fact was her only card to play.
But it was to no avail; the man didn't budge an inch.
"You seem to misunderstand. Any beast that harms a human must be put
down. This is for the safety of the students, including you."
Rather than a conversation, it was more like a teacher giving a one-sided
lecture. The man glared coldly at the demi-human cowering behind Katie.
"Let's say I let this troll live. How will you take responsibility for the
risk that would create? Would you retrain it? Even a kobold would have
more luck surviving that."
Katie's breath caught in her throat. The man sighed at this completely
predictable reaction.
"'Have a heart! Don't kill it!' No matter the age, some irresponsible
dullards are always spouting such drivel. You have no intention of doing
any of the work yourself; you simply want the temporary satisfaction of
saving a life. All the while pretending to not know how many other humans
the subject of their mercy will go on to kill. First-year, what is your name?"
"…Katie Aalto, sir," the girl nervously replied.
Suddenly, everything seemed to click for the man. "Aalto—ah, those
Aaltos. Now it makes sense. Even among the fools of the pro–civil rights
movement, none chase the fad of the day quite so persistently as them. My
sympathies. You were unlucky to be born to them."
Oliver arrived just in time to hear this. The man glanced at him for a
second, but that was all.
As Katie's friends contemplated how to intervene, Katie herself gritted
her teeth in anger over the insult to her family.
"I'll pretend just this once that I didn't hear you insult my parents.
Please don't kill this troll. I'm not all talk. I'll convince him to not attack
any more humans," Katie pleaded, desperately holding back her emotions.
But instead of humoring her, the man burst into exasperated laughter.
"…Convince! Convince it, you say! What, are you going to talk to it? I'd
love to see that! Perhaps you'll do it while sitting around a table on the
terrace sipping afternoon tea?"
"Stop laughing!" She shouted so loudly that her voice cracked, quieting
the man's laughter. That was the limit of her self-control.
Katie glared at the man, forgetting that he was an instructor. "We can
communicate with feelings, even if we can't speak each other's language.
Even if we're different species…!" the girl insisted, her voice about to
break.
In the face of such passion, the man's smile vanished from his face. "…I
see. I suppose I can't laugh if you are this far gone," he muttered, voice low.
At the same time, he quite naturally drew the wand from his waist.
"Dolor."
His wand tip pointed at Katie, he chanted the spell without hesitation.
The moment he flicked his wand, pain like she'd never experienced raced
through the girl's body.
"Guh…! Ee… Ah-ahhhhh…!"
"Katie!"
The girl fell to the ground, writhing in agony. Unable to stay silent any
longer, Oliver and the others jumped in. They stood before their suffering
friend, covering her. Chela glared daggers at the man.
"You would cast a pain curse on a first-year…?! That's going too far,
even for an instructor!"
"Too far? Not at all. Pain is an excellent teacher." The wand whistled
through the air like a whip as the man continued, his tone completely level.
"No matter how highly refined the lecture, it will only bounce off the ears
of fools. But everyone feels pain. Suffering alone teaches the foolish and
the wise alike. Thus, education cannot be effective without it."
From his matter-of-fact tone, it was clear he believed this from the
bottom of his heart. A chill ran up Oliver's spine.
"I am attempting to elevate that monkey over there to the human realm,"
the man stated coldly to the five kids protecting their friend. "If you're
going to interfere, then perhaps you need guidance as well."
As he threatened them, all five of them instinctively reached for their
athames. But at the same time, everyone there seemed to understand that
resisting was pointless.
"...!"
Their only choice was to bow down and beg for forgiveness, Oliver
decided and released his hand from the hilt. He could easily imagine this
instructor's "guidance" was simply torture by another name. So rather than
expose his friends to that, he was prepared to swallow any humiliation—
"One second, please. I admire your beliefs, but surely the whip alone is
not an effective educational tool."
Just before Oliver could open his mouth, a familiar voice intruded upon
the battlefield. The boy looked to see who it was and saw a female student
standing there, her long bangs covering one of her eyes. He remembered
her—she was the older student who had shepherded them to the dorms after
getting caught up in the academy's encroachment last night. Perhaps her
tone was just that influential, but this time, the man couldn't ignore the
intrusion as he turned his attention to her.
"Fourth-year Miligan, eh? What do you want?"
"I actually came here to tell you that an objection has been raised in
regards to the troll's execution. The interested party should arrive soon."
Not a second later, a white cape fluttered behind Miligan.
Pete let out a small exclamation of joy. There stood Master Garland, like
a ray of light in the darkness.
"That's enough, Darius. The use of the pain curse in education was
banned five years ago."
"…Garland. I have no intention of deviating from my teaching
principles. More importantly, what is this about an objection to the troll's
execution?" the teacher named Darius shot back indignantly.
Garland looked from Katie, collapsed on the ground, to the troll stuck in
the cage. A stern expression on his face, he replied, "The investigation into
the parade incident's source isn't satisfactory. I proposed we keep the troll
alive as evidence, and the headmistress agreed."
His words were an unshakable opposition to Darius's actions, especially
by bringing the headmistress into it.
Darius clicked his tongue. "You're all so soft… Are you one of those
pro–civil rights fools, too?"
"No, I have always been in staunch opposition to the movements
involving demi-humans. However, the mages you call 'fools' are currently
quite influential. An execution carried out without a proper investigation
will be like giving them a silver bullet."
Garland remained incredibly calm, pointing out the deficiencies in
Darius's plan without resorting to harsh words. A heavy silence settled
between them.
Eventually, Darius turned on his heel. "Have it your way. But if it is
allowed to live, it will only crush that monkey under its foot," he spat, then
walked away.
"I'm not…a monkey," an unexpected voice shouted after him. "I won't
be…so easily…crushed…!"
Her friends stared in amazement as Katie sat up in intense pain,
struggling to get the words out.
Even Darius turned to gaze at her in wonder. "…What a surprise. I kept
the spell mild, but you can already speak? It would appear monkeys these
days are dull in both mind and nerves. Evolution weeps," he said spitefully
before leaving for good this time.
Unable to let it go, the curly-haired girl tried to go after him. "Ah…
guh…!"
"Don't force yourself to stand, Katie!"
"I'll lessen the pain for you…!"
Oliver and Chela rushed to the aid of their friend as she screamed and
curled up in agony. But before they could do anything specifically, the older
student who had come with Garland whipped out her wand.
"Are you okay? You sure are a crazy one," Miligan said softly, waving
her wand and casting a pain-lessening spell over Katie.
The fog of suffering gone, Katie stared at the figure before her. "It's
been a long time since I've seen a student not break from that instructor's
'guidance.' You've got guts, girl." The witch praised her fiierce battle with
a smile.
As the pain subsided, Katie's brain began to function as normal again.
Once she could make out the person talking to her, she called out her name.
"Oh…Ms. Miligan…?"
"I'm glad you remember me. I haven't forgotten your name, either,
Katie Aalto."
Miligan extended a hand, and the curly-haired girl cautiously took it. As
she helped the girl up, the witch with long bangs looked over at the troll
shivering in the cage.
"This troll's execution caught my attention as well. As fellow lovers of
demi-humans, I think we can help each other in many ways. If you ever
have something on your mind, feel free to come talk to me."
"Oh—y-yes!"