Chapter 36 - Perseverance Theory, Sweet Cookies, and Horrible Crimes (4):
The destructive event in the training arena didn't go unnoticed for long. Soon enough, security guards and the chief of security rushed over, looking alarmed.
It was understandable, given the unusual frequency of attacks this year. And now, someone had managed to cut through the sturdy outer wall, while several students appeared to be under some sort of mental curse, sitting on the floor with teary eyes.
Their pale faces said it all: class was not going to resume anytime soon.
The lecture was temporarily halted for "further questioning." Professor Lian attempted to explain, visibly flustered, while the security chief, unable to believe him, was horrified, suspecting some demon had tampered with the professor's mind.
The conversation seemed likely to continue for some time.
While Professor Lian was engrossed in explaining, the students exchanged glances quietly. As if they'd planned it beforehand, they moved to a spot just out of the professor's sight. Soon, they had gathered together in a corner of the arena.
Most of them looked as pale as ghosts.
Contrary to popular belief, mastery of the sword required both skill and intellect to grasp its principles and mysteries. Most of the students, like Cain, had pieced together the truth. Those who hadn't had likely heard about it from others.
A heavy sense of guilt weighed down on them. None of them seemed to know what to say, gazing at each other in silence, until, once again, it was Cain who broke the quiet.
There was something he had to know.
"What… what kind of condition is Professor Lian really in?"
The level of the mind-sword, a realm thought unattainable. Imagining the trials and suffering Professor Lian must have endured to reach that point was nearly impossible.
Yet, this man claimed that he could no longer wield a sword. He had admitted he might never reach the pinnacle of his lifelong pursuit.
For a master of his caliber to abandon everything and let go of the sword… the situation must be far graver than they'd realized.
"I thought something was strange a while ago," a girl finally muttered.
Sure enough, she explained her observations with a serious expression.
"Even when students greeted him warmly, or when a student came by to thank him for his help, he seemed oddly downcast."
For a teacher so dedicated to his students to sigh instead of smile in response to their kindness was telling.
The implications were clear.
The aftereffects of his ordeal were far worse than anyone thought. It wasn't just about losing his strength; the pain was likely so severe that even going about daily life was excruciating.
For such a strong-willed person to be unable to mask his suffering… just what kind of pain had he been enduring alone?
The very thought made their hearts ache. Their eyes stung, and they struggled to hold back tears.
It was overwhelming just to accept the situation, but reality was cruel. Before they could fully process their emotions, another awful truth confronted them.
One student, pale-faced, asked, "Do you remember the fox-kin masseuse we kicked out?"
For some reason, Professor Lian had summoned a masseuse to class, openly lying on a massage bed with his coffee in hand, receiving a massage from a professional.
Everyone had objected to this unorthodox behavior. Due to the frequent attacks, strict regulations had been put in place regarding outside personnel.
When they insisted on protocol, the frightened masseuse quickly fled, worried about punishment.
Though they couldn't stop Lian from sipping his coffee in class, they had managed to chase away the masseuse, leaving all the students baffled.
"But was that masseuse really there just to give him a massage?"
On second thought, something felt off.
Would Professor Lian have summoned a beastfolk masseuse just because he wanted a massage?
Fox-kin were renowned for their illusion magic. Though they weren't known for healing, they excelled at relieving pain and distracting people from their suffering.
Would Lian have called her over because of some tacky ad promising "an out-of-this-world experience with soft fox hands"? Or had he disguised an illusionist as a masseuse to help him cope with unbearable pain?
The answer was painfully obvious.
"…We were the ones who pushed the professor into hell."
The fox-kin, disguised as a massage therapist but truly a gifted illusionist, was likely Professor Lian's only hope for respite from his terrible pain.
But they had stripped that hope away.
Driven by the pain he couldn't bear on his own, Professor Lian had likely begged to be relieved, even just for a moment. And they had been the ones to ruthlessly take that relief away.
Their faces grew even more remorseful.
Many came from proud knightly families. Some declared they were no longer fit to hold a sword, while others said they would gladly lay down their lives to beg forgiveness from their professor.
Cain felt similarly, but…
"Your way of apologizing is all wrong."
He spoke resolutely, declaring this to the disheartened group.
"Throwing your lives away isn't taking responsibility—it's running from it! Do you think that Professor Lian would be satisfied if we all just threw ourselves off a cliff?"
A weighty responsibility rested on his shoulders.
"We don't have much time to help him."
It was obvious from this class alone.
The only reason he would go back on his word about not abusing his authority by opening another unscheduled class was simple: he likely didn't expect to make it to the next term.
"So, we can't give up on him. Even if he's given up, it's up to us to hold on."
They were the only ones aware of his condition.
And thus, it was up to them alone to save him.
If this became public knowledge, demons would undoubtedly target him, so they'd have to act solely on their own.
It was more than a mission—it was a duty.
"…I get what you're saying, but if his injuries could be healed, don't you think he would have done it already? Have you forgotten he's a mage?"
A fair point raised by one of the students, but Cain had already anticipated it.
"There's a way."
If a genius mage capable of casting grand spells couldn't heal it, then no amount of magic would work.
So they'd need something beyond magic.
"Artifacts. That's the only option we have left."
The mystical power of artifacts—miracles beyond logic.
If they could find the right elixir in a dungeon, there might still be a way to save Professor Lian.
"…Of course, I realize this is an idealistic plan. The odds are close to zero, and there's a higher chance we'll all die trying than succeed."
Some artifacts amplified mana, granted strange powers, or extended life by centuries.
But finding an artifact with the right properties, and then retrieving it from monstrous guardians, was nearly impossible.
It was far more likely they'd all die.
But.
Even so.
"Let's go save Professor Lian together."
Cain's words hung heavy in the air as the students nodded solemnly.
They knew there were times when even the impossible must be attempted.
No one raised any objections. None of them intended to.
"What a foolishly brave idea. All of you will die meaninglessly."
A voice broke in. A small girl with black hair and blue eyes approached them. She looked like a student herself, yet she wore no academy uniform.
"But I have to admit, I don't hate your courage."
She struck a dramatic pose.
While her pose was certainly eye-catching, not a single student was impressed by her display.
"Consider yourselves lucky, kids."
She called them "kids" even though she barely looked to be over 150cm herself.
Her voice still quivered slightly, and her eyes were swollen and red, as if she'd been crying recently. A crumpled tissue clung to her nose like a tiny mustache.
Respecting her in this state was a tall order.
But unfazed by their reactions, she proudly declared to the group:
"The Mercenary Queen, Karyn, will join your quest!"
Thus appeared their snot-nosed savior.
Perhaps I am destined to never be fired.
I sighed deeply, despairing at my fate.
My carefully planned disaster of a lecture had been thwarted by the protagonist's sudden awakening. I'd tried to smooth things over, but even that failed.
Pressed by the relentless security chief, I finally admitted that the wall hadn't cracked due to age, but rather, because my student had become a Swordmaster.
The title of "teacher of a Swordmaster" was, predictably, not going to get me fired.
So, once again, I had failed.
Looking utterly defeated, I summoned my students.
I didn't have the energy to keep going, so I figured I'd just wrap things up and dismiss the class.
But something seemed off.
No one answered my call.
I looked around, but there wasn't a single soul in sight.
It was as if all my students, fed up with my class, had abandoned the arena without permission and simply walked out.
My once-pale face brightened as color returned to my world. The grayness surrounding me blossomed with vibrant hues. A wave of joy surged within me, lifting the corners of my mouth in a victorious smile.
Unable to contain my excitement, I shouted aloud:
"I DID IT!"
…At last, the world had sided with me.