Chapter One: School Camp (The First Scenario)

School Camp

Around two and a half months had passed since the start of the second semester. Fall had come and nearly gone, and the promise of winter chilled the morning air. It was the perfect season for a school camp—and that was exactly where I and the other first-years from the Royal Academy were currently headed.

Unlike the first semester and my summer break—both of which had passed me by like a turbulent storm—so far, the second semester had been relatively chaos-free. I’d spent the majority of my free time concentrating on the various clubs I’d set up in the first semester or otherwise pouring my energy into my exploring work. Of course, seeing as how up until this point I couldn’t so much as breathe without someone spreading another inane rumor about me, my new commitment to a peaceful school life had only resulted in my classmates regarding me with even more suspicion. I didn’t let it bother me. It wasn’t like I wanted to be the center of attention after all.

“Surely you’re tired of pretending to be so well-behaved by now. You’re clearly very excited for the school camp, so why don’t you tell me what you’re planning, hmm?” Fey had said, eyes sparkling with unconcealed glee. A few of my other, more bothersome classmates had asked similar questions. But honestly, I wasn’t planning anything. I just wanted to enjoy what was in reality a fundamental milestone on the “fulfilling youth” road map to my heart’s content.

The school camp was the primary event on the second semester’s calendar. All three year groups participated, though each went to a different location. The camping locations themselves changed on a yearly basis, as did the activities we’d be expected to complete there. For a normal school, embracing such a flexible attitude toward an annual excursion would be impossible from both a budgetary and logistical perspective, but the Royal Academy was no normal school. The funding and man power granted to the most prestigious educational institute in the entire kingdom was on a completely different level, allowing the faculty to organize three differing programs every year with little difficulty.

This year, Class 1-A—along with the rest of the first-years—were headed to the Darley Mountains, located in the Trouvere Region in the kingdom’s northwest. Our precise destination was within the section of the mountain range located within the Vanquish Domain—in other words, Godolphen’s natural habitat. While Godolphen held the “von” title that marked him as the head of his family, being permanently stationed in the capital and perpetually swamped with work (not to mention unmarried) naturally meant he had neither the time nor heirs to manage a domain. Therefore, his younger brother had inherited the viscounty instead, along with the workload that came with managing a domain.

An overnight field trip with all my classmates... I can’t believe it.

I’d made some general inquiries about the camp with some of the older students back at the dorm. Like I’d heard elsewhere, they confirmed that while the exact nature of the activities we’d be doing changed on a yearly basis, essentially we’d be broken up by class to complete tasks as a group, competing with the other classes to see who could complete their tasks fastest and most accurately. From what I’d gleaned, it seemed like there would also be ample opportunity to integrate myself with a gaggle of giggling girls by volunteering to help them set up their tent or similar, thereby shooting me straight into the fast lane toward the field trip fling I’d been dreaming of. Even the thought of it sent a flutter through my chest.

And now, at long last, the fundamental adolescent experience I’d been looking forward to for months was about to begin. Even my classmates (disgustingly well-behaved though they usually were) had clearly caught the field trip fever on the journey, with the privately chartered train and the subsequent magicars buzzing with a distinctly excited atmosphere. But no one—and I meant no one—was more excited than me.

And before we all go to sleep, me and the boys obviously have to take turns swapping romantic gossip. I’ll ask everyone who they like, and if anyone’s struggling, I’ll treat them to some advice from my beloved Secret Strategies for the Popular Man!

I squirmed in my seat, heart racing with innocent anticipation. At the time, I was still completely unprepared for the harsh reality looming ahead.

◆◆◆

The base camp we arrived at was situated on the grassy plains which led to the foothills of the Darley Mountains. It was a remarkably picturesque scene, with the mountainsides draped in a leafy cloak of mottled fall colors, gradually fading into white peaks the higher you looked. The various steep precipices of the Darleys had apparently already seen some snowfall, but today there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The air was crisp, and the temperature cool—perfect weather for a school camp.

After all one hundred first-year students had dismounted the magicars and were lined up by class, Godolphen began to speak.

“Welcome, welcome! The secluded Vanquish Domain is honored to host this year’s camp for our Class 1 students. As you know, I am Godolphen von Vanquish, homeroom teacher to Class 1-A, and the overall supervisor of this year’s camping curriculum,” he declared, clearly in an excellent mood. “In accordance with the Academy’s official guidelines, the primary goal of these annual camping trips is to allow our students to deepen their bonds with both nature and their peers while also fostering their physical and intellectual development. As always, this year’s camping curriculum has been designed to facilitate that goal.”

Mm-hmm. Yep, very good. It’s a decent attitude to have toward an indispensable event such as this—just like I’d expect from the Academy’s official guidelines.

“Essentially, you will be divided into your usual class groups and given different tasks to complete, and race to see who can complete their assigned tasks in the shortest amount of time. Of course, the level of quality to which each task is completed will also be taken into account when preparing the final scoring. While the tasks you receive will differ, they have been designed to account for the average abilities of each respective class group, so I am rather confident in saying that the overall competition shall be very close.”

Hell yeah! It’s a class-versus-class competition, just like I heard! Now this is starting to feel like a proper school-based fantasy world reincarnation story!

I snuck a glance at the other students. Everyone seemed pretty enthusiastic, even those in Class D and E. The tasks being tailored to account for our respective skill levels meant they had just as much chance of winning as Class A did—news I imagined they were grateful for.

“Naturally, the evaluations we’ll perform throughout this camp will have a significant impact on your overall grades for the second semester. Additionally, I’ve prepared a small reward to bring out a little more of that ever-vital competitive spirit,” Godolphen said, chuckling. “After working your way through every task, the final destination you’ll all be making your way toward will be the Vanquish family’s holiday estate on the banks of the beautiful Lake Sitting. As you may know, the Vanquish holiday estate also lays claim to another title—that of Yugria’s finest hot springs retreat. While our camp is scheduled to last seven days, once your class has completed all their assigned tasks, you are free to spend the remaining time availing yourself of the scenic beauty and reinvigorating springs our domain prides itself on. I’m not known as one to indulge in luxuries, but this estate is the one exception. I spared no expense on turning it into the most sublime sanctuary for recuperation and relaxation in the entirety of the kingdom. Within the grounds, you’ll find seven unique baths with water drawn from the natural hot springs below, as well as four individual saunas. This estate is my pride and joy—I wouldn’t be ashamed to welcome even His Majesty the King to visit.”

There was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he continued. “Regrettably, our estate is not quite spacious enough to accommodate a crowd of this size exclusively within the guest wing. Classes who arrive later will be assigned to shared rooms within the servant’s quarters, and the final class to arrive will find themselves sleeping huddled together on the floor of the main hall.”

“We’re gonna win no matter what!” I shouted forcefully, the somewhat violent exclamation slipping out involuntarily. I didn’t care about luxurious rooms or whatever in the slightest, but to enjoy the hot springs more than anyone else, I had to arrive earlier than anyone else—it was obvious, really.

Leo smirked, clearly lured in by my inadvertent outburst of competitive spirit. “Obviously. Winning is a given. The question is how we win... Well, we’ll be aiming for a crushing victory, I assume—right, Allen?”

“Hell yeah, we will! Let’s kick their asses, you guys!”

“Yeah!”

Seeing Class A so fired up didn’t seem to intimidate our fellow first-years. On the contrary, it actually seemed to motivate them even more. This was no ordinary mob of students, after all. Gathered here were the kingdom’s best and brightest—an accolade that naturally indicated a certain amount of indomitability. Leo might have declared our intentions of a crushing victory, but looking at the expressions around me, it was obvious said victory wouldn’t come without a fight.

Mwa ha ha...

Now this is more like it!

◆◆◆

Godolphen let out another of his usual warm chuckles. “How excellent to see you all so spirited! Now, one final warning before we move on to your assignments. As I’m sure you’ve already realized, nature itself will be both your ally and your enemy throughout this camp. This is not the Academy, where your safety is all but guaranteed. While within nature’s embrace, a trivial stroke of bad luck or a minor oversight may well lead to disaster. In the past, some students have unfortunately met their untimely ends as a result of the smallest blunders. Do not allow yourselves to be caught off guard. Well, time is of the essence, so let us not delay any further! Rias, if you’d be so kind?” Godolphen said, and Mr. Rias—Class E’s homeroom teacher—stepped forward.

“Ahem. Each class is expected to work their way through five respective ‘scenarios,’ which differ greatly in accordance with your individual abilities, as we’ve stated previously. We shall begin with Class E.” He paused briefly, and when he resumed speaking, his tone reminded me of an army general’s. “Class E, first scenario! You’ve received reports which indicate a horde of orcs has established a lair approximately fifty kilometers north-northwest of your present location. Furthermore, an orc general has been sighted in the area. Response from the private armies of the nearby nobles has been delayed, and the threat of a monster-based disaster is imminent! Your orders are to exterminate the horde and destroy their lair before any damage is done to the surrounding area! Any necessary equipment can be found in the tent to your right, to be selected at your own discretion. You may depart as soon as your preparations are complete, with the second scenario to be provided upon completion of the first.”

I see, I see. So all they’ll give us is the outline and the desired result, leaving it up to us to decide on how we’ll actually approach the scenario.

A ridiculously large marquee-style tent had been pitched to the right, underneath which an extensive array of camping gear, foraging tools, weapons, armor, and other helpful equipment was visible. It wasn’t clear whether we’d be given a chance to return to the base camp to resupply, and with the second scenario not being revealed until after the completion of the first, we’d need to prepare for whatever might be thrown at us as much as possible. At the same time, though, any unnecessary encumbrance could slow down the group’s progress considerably. With that in mind, these “scenarios” were clearly designed to test more than just our stamina and fighting prowess; our strategizing and teamwork would play just as large a part in determining our victory—or our failure.

Still, based on their scenario, this is feeling less like a laid-back field trip assignment and more like a bona fide military exercise... The older students didn’t mention anything remotely resembling this, and that scenario had Godolphen’s drill sergeant disposition written all over it... I’ve got a bad feeling about this.

“Finally, the leader for the first scenario will be Solio Reacher. While you may discuss the course of action among yourselves, all crucial decisions during each scenario are ultimately the responsibility of the nominated leader. Majority votes or the relinquishing of said responsibility to another student are forbidden. That is all.”

Seriously? They’re even installing a chain of command... And since he explicitly said “for the first scenario,” I’m guessing the leader’s gonna change each time...

It was a remarkably nasty stipulation. By putting the onus of all critical decision-making on one student, the faculty had singled out a scapegoat. The group’s safety—not to mention its success—would lay in their hands and theirs alone. It was an incredibly heavy burden for one student to bear—which was exactly what Godolphen wanted. I didn’t doubt for a second the scenarios awaiting us would be teeming with difficult choices where the leader would be forced to pick between two equally plausible (or equally dangerous) options with no reassurance either was the correct path. The smallest error of judgment could easily lead to the downfall of the entire group. How one chose to display their leadership in such a situation—that was what Godolphen wanted to test.

Furthermore, the change in leadership with each new scenario could naturally lead to divergences in the group’s course of action, along with discontent toward the new leader’s decisions. For instance, it was easy to imagine that a more prideful student would feel some frustration at being forced to obey the commands of someone they considered inferior. But if those commands also then led to failure? It was a disaster just waiting to happen.

Well, in the real world such situations were relatively common, so from an educational perspective I could admit the setup did have some merit.

One by one, each class’s scenarios continued to be revealed, the contents of which increased in difficulty each time.

“Class B, first scenario! You’ve received an urgent report from the nearby Flugel Baronry noting signs of an imminent monster stampede! Your orders are to assist the Trouverean forces with neutralizing the threat! You will first proceed to the rendezvous point by marching seventy kilometers eastward from here followed by forty kilometers northward, where you’ll find the village of Yatoma. The deadline for your arrival at the rendezvous point is 10 p.m. tomorrow evening, which gives you thirty-six hours. As you know, any necessary equipment can be found in the tent to your right, to be selected at your own discretion. You may depart as soon as your preparations are complete. The leader for the first scenario will be Alice Masculin. That is all.”

“What? That’s way too harsh!”

“Why is ours so much harder than Class C’s?!”

“Yeah! This is completely unfair!”

Class B weren’t pleased with their first scenario, apparently. According to the crude map we’d all been given, the second, northbound leg of their journey would take them directly over the mountains. Distance-wise, it was the same as the circuit that the Academy grounds members of the Hill Path Club completed on a daily basis—but this was a forced march through monster-infested mountains, not a morning jog. In terms of difficulty, the two were fundamentally different. Some of the students likely had little to no experience with mountaineering, and a forty-kilometer hike wasn’t exactly an entry-level introduction. The difficulty level of their first scenario (in other words, how long the faculty had estimated it should take for a group of their capacity to complete each task) was probably close to double that of Class E’s.

Thankfully, Alice—the nominated leader—was soon able to silence her grumbling classmates. Alice was a member of the Hill Path Club, and honestly I’d always found her rather captivating. She was surprisingly approachable for someone with her elegant looks. With a tall and slender physique, she was one of those rare girls who seemed like they’d been born to wear a suit and tie and look beautiful doing so. I had an inkling she was just as popular among the girls as she was with the boys.

Finally, Godolphen stepped forward once again. It was time for Class A to discover our first scenario. Outwardly, he still wore the “good-natured grandfather” disguise I knew so well, but the warm aura he’d had while talking about rewards and hot springs was nowhere to be seen. Before us now was the savage drill sergeant we all knew—and dreaded—from our regular physical education lessons back at the Academy.

The whole of Class A stiffened in unison, bound together by the shared feeling of ominous trepidation that had suddenly appeared in the pit of each and every stomach.

The First Scenario

We waited for Godolphen to announce the particulars of our first challenge with bated breath—particulars which, despite the nonchalant manner in which Godolphen proceeded to rattle them off, we couldn’t have predicted in our wildest dreams.

“Well now, let’s see here... Class A, first scenario. You’ve received a report which indicates an unidentified military force has converged on the summit of Mount Rodria to the northeast, just within the Yugrian side of our border with the Cucola City Federation. Furthermore, said force has already captured one of our defensive strongholds along the border. In the tent to the left, you’ll find eight hundred kilograms of relief supplies. Your orders are to transport these supplies to the stronghold, which you will then recapture. Both the transportation and the recapturing must occur within the next forty-eight hours. Meanwhile, you must also send a detachment to Impala in the Achilles Domain, where the Sixth Battalion of the Trouverean private army is stationed, and relay the same intel to them. After requesting the support of the Sixth Battalion, the detachment must rendezvous with the main force within the same forty-eight-hour period. Take anything else you might need from the tent to the right. Leo Seizinger will lead the first scenario. That is all.”

The sheer absurdity of Class A’s first challenge left us speechless. It wasn’t just us either—all of the other students, midway through their own departure preparations, turned toward Godolphen as though unable to trust their own ears. The rest of the faculty wore blank, impassive expressions, save for the faintest suggestion of pity in their eyes.

“Are you... There’s no way! Do you know how far Impala is from here?!” protested an indignant Stella, her pink pigtails bobbing as she raged. “You’d have to cross two baronries to get there—that’s like 250 kilometers, give or take! Even without stopping to rest or eat, it’s a day and a half’s journey minimum if you’re running the whole time! And then from Impala, it’d be a 120-kilometer hike through the Darleys to reach Mount Rodria... Do you seriously think anyone could manage that in just twelve hours?! I can tell you right now—you go any higher up than the fifth waymark on any of the Darleys this time of year, and you’re just asking for trouble. The monster population out here is nothing like around Runerelia. This ain’t some leisurely hike you’re asking us to do, Sage!”

The Achilles family, to which Stella belonged, were known as the Defenders of the Darleys; it didn’t surprise me she’d be well-versed on the geography and biology of the local area.

You damn geezer...

It was pretty obvious that the little “detachment” part of the scenario was purely aimed at separating me from the rest of the group. My work and training with the Order had given me a fair amount of experience with forced marches—enough so that the difficulty level of said scenario would differ markedly depending on whether I was around to keep an eye on the group’s progress and condition.

Damn it... My late-night romantic gossip sessions... I stared into the distance, watching my stereotypical youthful fantasies fade away.

“Can you do it, Allen?” asked Leo, cutting my mourning period short.

I sighed heavily and nodded. “Yeah... But I’ll need you to lend me Stella as well. I reckon that’ll be the fastest way to get there, in the end. If you’re okay with that, we’ll get going now. Time’s a pretty precious resource at the moment,” I said, and Leo immediately assented.

“I agree. Stella, you’ll join Allen to form the messenger detachment. Get ready to move out.”

Stella, for her part, still looked rather reluctant at the idea. “Yeah, I’ve got a good idea of the area—but wouldn’t it still be faster for you to go alone, Allen? As much as I hate to admit it, there’s no way I’m gonna be able to keep up with your pace for very long. If we both go, I don’t think we’ll make it in time.”

I shook my head. “Soldo once told me, ‘It always seems impossible until it’s done.’” I started, falling back on my now well-established habit of attributing famous quotes from my past life to Soldo whenever I felt it necessary. “Like you said before, we’ve got no chance of making it to the rendezvous point in time by taking the direct route—so we’ve got no choice but to take a shortcut through the mountains instead. With my own Defender of the Darleys to lead the way, I can focus on Scouting and combat. If I went alone, I’d get lost, and we’d fail the very first scenario—or else, I’d have to go at a snail’s pace to avoid getting lost, and we’d run out of time. Same result either way. We’re basically traipsing our way through your backyard here, Stella. Your knowledge is gonna make or break this.” I frowned. “Even with the two of us, I’d say we’re going to be cutting it pretty close. To be honest, we’ll barely have time to stop for a drink. Sleep’s definitely out of the question. Speed’s our biggest priority here, so equipment-wise, we’ll take some cloaks to keep off the worst of the wind and rain, and the most minimal weaponry we can get away with. Don’t bother with fire starters or anything else—I’ve already got the essentials,” I finished. Stella nodded, darting off toward the tent to grab the necessary gear.

“If only this year’s camp was near Dragreid,” Fey said morosely. “Then I could be your guide... Oh, well. We all know you’re an incredibly late bloomer, so it’s unlikely you’ve invited Stella as some sort of uninspired ploy to get some alone time with her—and even if you did, I can’t imagine you’d get anywhere with it. I’m still rather jealous, all the same... Be careful out there, okay?”

Something’s wrong here...

“You’ve been very well-behaved lately, Fey,” I said, shooting her a suspicious glance.

She giggled. “Well, I’m not stupid, you know? You’re something of an enigma, Allen. Most of the time, you seem like you’ve got absolutely zero immunity when it comes to the charms of a woman. You should be a complete pushover—and yet, I push and I push, and nothing happens. Therefore, I felt like it might be time for a slight change in strategy... But if you’re saying you prefer the old me, I can change back right now, hm?” she said, grinning.

“Shamelessly admitting straight to my face that you’re in the middle of another one of your stupid schemes is like the old you, Fey,” I replied indifferently.

“Ha! I’m Feyreun von Dragoon, you know? I go after what I want—without shame or hesitation,” she declared, her eyes narrowed in the dangerous, feline way I usually dreaded.

“Yeah, there’s the Fey I know,” I said.

Immediately the predator was gone, her expression reverting to the meek, gentle one she’d worn before. “I’ll be waiting for you, Allen,” she said, her tone sickly sweet. “Hurry back to me, okay?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Hurry back? Take another look at Godolphen’s face right now, Fey. You can see the joy in his eyes as well as I can. I’d be willing to bet that, with the way he’s planned this out, the main force and the detachment are both in for a very similar challenge, right? The difference is, I’m gonna have Stella on my side too... You’re telling me to hurry up, but I’m pretty sure we’re gonna be the ones waiting for you guys at the finish line—provided you don’t get yourselves into a mess and force us to come and save you, that is. I’m not expecting much, but try your best, okay?” I jeered, purposefully goading all eighteen of my remaining classmates. It worked, of course. Expressions of uncertainty and consternation changed to glares of fierce determination.

Mwa ha ha. These guys have too much pride... It’s just too easy to rile them up sometimes.

Luckily, their susceptibility to being provoked was exactly what I needed to have any chance of arriving in the world of my all-you-can-onsen dreams.

Coco approached Stella and me just as we were about to leave, clutching the poor excuse for a map we’d been given. “Based on what I can remember, there should be a large valley right around here,” he said, tracing the crudely drawn lines as he spoke. “With the knowledge we have right now, I’d say we’ll be following this route until about this point, and approaching Mount Rodria from around here. Of course, the plan might have to change depending on the actual landscape, but if we follow this path—”

Coco went on for another minute or so, giving us a quick but concise overview of the main force’s intended route. Just like I’d predicted, he’d already analyzed the information available, planned a course of action, and even had answers ready for the questions I hadn’t even thought of yet. Coco’s acumen no longer surprised me, but it still never failed to impress me.

Barely three minutes had passed since the announcement of Class A’s first scenario when Stella and I set off, the first students out of every class to leave the base camp behind.

◆◆◆

After watching Allen and Stella begin their journey, Jewel turned to the rest of Class A. “I suppose it’s high time we made our own preparations. I can’t say I relish the thought of letting Allen beat us to the rendezvous point after those remarks of his. How shall we approach this, then?”

At her question, Leo—the designated leader—crossed his arms and closed his eyes, and silence fell as the others waited for his answer. Ten or so seconds passed before he began to speak. “The key part of this scenario is obviously the eight hundred kilograms of relief supplies. For simplicity’s sake, let’s say that means out of the eighteen members of the main force, sixteen of us will each be carrying a fifty-kilogram pack at any given time. Very few of us have any experience with trekking through the mountains, and yet we’ll need to cross over one hundred kilometers of unfamiliar mountain terrain within the next forty-eight hours...” He paused, shaking his head. “No, since we also need to recapture the stronghold within that time frame, we’ll need to arrive with at least several hours to spare. We’ll also need to carry supplies for the march itself on top of the relief supplies... This isn’t going to be easy. I might be the leader, but we’ll need everyone’s knowledge and efforts to clear a challenge of this magnitude. If we can’t work together and surpass this...” Leo gritted his teeth, looking at each of his classmates in turn. “He’ll laugh in our faces.”

A single image arose in the minds of the gathered Class A students: Allen, shaking his head disdainfully while saying “Dear me!” or something similarly condescending. Indignation darkened all eighteen faces.

Leo glanced at Coco, who nodded determinedly. “Leave the route to Char and I—we’re both in the Geography Club. We need to leave within the next fifteen minutes to have any chance at beating him. This is a race against time.”

Coco’s uncharacteristic decisiveness only served to fan the flames already lit under his fellow classmates, like Kate. “I’ll take care of selecting any necessary equipment and organizing the relief supplies. We won’t have the capacity to carry any camping gear, so we’ll need to rely on cloaks for shelter during our brief rests, unfortunately... Well, let’s just complete these scenarios as quickly as we can and enjoy the rest of the week relaxing in the hot springs,” she said determinedly, eyes flickering as she began sorting through the upcoming task in her head. “Besides Coco, who else has some degree of experience with mountainous terrain... Al and Sophie, I’d like your input for this. Leo, you can check our selections once we’re done, yes?”

The ever-positive Al chimed in next, flashing an excited grin. “With me around we’ve got all the water we could possibly need, so there’s no need to pack any, okay? Let’s make Allen eat his words!”

Just a few minutes later, the remaining four classes watched in blank amazement as Class A set off into the grasslands, carrying not a single tent nor sleeping bag among them as they began their march.

◆◆◆

“A scenario like that, and they’re setting off just twenty minutes later without any hesitation... Not to mention the sheer implausibility of children from ducal and marquesal families happily forgoing camping gear when the alternative is sleeping rough on the bare dirt...” Rias shook his head, dumbfounded. “To speak honestly, Sage, that scenario of yours is unreasonable at best. Even the third-years would struggle to complete it. Your class must surely understand that, or they wouldn’t have forgone the extra weight of the camping gear so readily. Their commitment to trying their best is admirable, Sage. How did you whip them into such fine shape in just a single semester?”

Godolphen chuckled delightedly. “I’ve done nothing of the kind, Rias. Those children have whipped themselves into shape, to adopt your phrasing. Furthermore, as I’ve said before, I have no time to squander on milksops who claim they tried their best. The only thing that matters is results,” he said, stroking his long white beard. There was something sinister in the way his mouth had turned up at the corners. “It always seems impossible until it’s done... Such profound depth in so few words. It’s strange to think a mere sentence could offer such a detailed glimpse into the adversities and hardships Soldo Vineforce has surely overcome throughout his life.”

With that, he clapped his hands. “Well! I, too, should be off, lest I find myself left behind by my charges. What an excellent exercise this is shaping up to be!” Chuckling again, Sage Godolphen turned to leave.

“This is a school camp, not a military exercise”—or so the remaining teachers wanted to say, but none dared to voice the thought.

◆◆◆

“How good’s your nightgaze, Stella?” I asked while we ran.

“Nightgaze? I can use it most of the time without my speed suffering too much, but during combat, it’s pretty much one or the other.”

Hmm.

I had a pretty decent understanding of Stella’s physical abilities, seeing as she was not only a member of the Hill Path Club but also the captain.

Her captaincy was actually the result of some structural changes the Hill Path Club had gone through at the beginning of the second semester. Stella, obviously, had taken overall charge of the club, while Leo was now the vice captain. Strictly speaking, Leo was marginally more capable out of the two of them, but he’d turned down the top role for several reasons. Firstly, as the heir to a ducal family, Leo was too busy with the various functions and dinners that came with said status to also keep the entire club running smoothly.

The larger reason, though, was that he didn’t believe he was suited for the role, especially the “instructing others” aspect of it. I could see where he was coming from. Leo’s magical aptitude level was ten or twenty times higher than the majority of the other club members. Naturally, the challenges he tackled during club training sessions were remarkably different to everyone else’s, and it wasn’t easy to give advice on overcoming challenges you’ve never had to face yourself.

“Being able to explain how different techniques work in detail isn’t the be-all and end-all of being a captain, you know? Everyone’s got a different approach to things. I think there’s a lot to be said for setting a good example and giving them something to work toward, and leaving the more detailed advice to the managers...” I’d said at the time.

Leo had glanced at Stella and smiled. “No. I misjudged Stella. At first, I thought her personality was a little too rough and impulsive for something like this, but I was wrong. When it comes to the Hill Path Club, she’s attentive, caring, and always has everyone’s best interests at heart. I don’t think there’s anyone better suited to lead this club, and honestly, I know there’s a lot I can learn from watching how she runs things,” he’d said, deadly serious as always.

Stella had seemed a little unsure of how to respond to Leo’s straightforwardness, so I’d jumped in with a helpful quip to lighten the mood. “Don’t be rude, Leo! Sure, Stella might be a little more rugged than most guys I know, but she’s not as rough a girl you’re making her out to be!” Sadly, my innocent banter had only earned me a solid jab in the abdomen from the girl in question. Apparently, Japanese conversational norms didn’t translate very well to my new world.

Incidentally, Dan—who’d been the third vice captain during the club’s founding phase—was now too busy with the Sailing Club we’d set up together to continue in any sort of leadership role and was now just a regular member of the Hill Path Club.

Well, any further digressions aside, Stella was the current captain of the Hill Path Club, which therefore meant I had a decent grasp on her level of ability, and also meant that said ability was pretty impressive. She usually completed our daily training circuit in about one-and-a-half hours, which included the full forty-kilometer lap of the Academy’s ground and ten sets of hill sprints, each of which added about one kilometer to the total distance. All in all, her average speed measured up at about thirty-three kilometers an hour, which (excluding myself, since I was more of an honorary coach than an actual member) made her the third fastest member of the club after Leo and Dan. She’d overtake Dan pretty soon too, as far as I could tell. Dan’s energies were now mostly concentrated on the Sailing Club and the Emissive Magic Club, the latter of which he’d joined in pursuit of the wind magic we’d need to bring our sailing dreams to life. Stella, on the other hand, was focused solely on the Hill Path Club.

Unfortunately, Stella (and Leo and Dan, for that matter) hadn’t been able to master even the basics of intermittent magical compression, which would make it impossible for her to keep up with me for the entire 250-kilometer journey ahead of us. We’d need to take breaks to give her a chance to compress and restore her mana, or else it would run out midway. Covering such a ridiculous distance in one go would be hard even for me, although I was more worried about my muscles giving out rather than my mana.

Working backward from the time we’d need to arrive at the rendezvous point, I made some quick mental calculations before starting to speak again. “You’re in charge of determining our route and pace until we get to Impala. We can stick to the main road or take some shortcuts—it’s up to you. I’ll handle any monsters we come across by myself, so just focus on the route and conserving your mana. The only thing is, we’ll need to get there within twelve hours, including breaks. Okay? Once we leave Impala and head into the mountains, we’ll have to slow down quite a bit, so you’ll be able to restore your mana while we walk. There’s a lot more that can go wrong once we’re out there though, which is why I want to dedicate as much time as possible to the second leg of the trip.”

In response, Stella merely nodded—and, after thinking for a few seconds, she increased her speed just slightly.

◆◆◆

We ran and ran, stopping occasionally to rest and refill our waterskins at one of the many rivers and streams. The route Stella had chosen for us followed unpaved country roads the whole way. While there were apparently some feasible shortcuts here and there, she’d decided that running along the roads would most closely mimic the training we did in the Hill Path Club, which would ultimately result in our earlier arrival in Impala. While the shortcuts might have decreased the overall distance we’d need to cover, scrambling over rocky hills or running through waist-high grass would slow us down enough to render the shorter distance moot.

The art of Strengthening Magic-enhanced running was one of life’s greatest pleasures. Well, to me, at least. For everyone else, using Strengthening Magic was as natural as breathing—but with the memories of another world to compare this one to, I felt differently. It took understanding your body’s limits and function to an entirely new level. How can I make myself that little bit faster? How can I use less mana to achieve the same result? Losing myself in the simple yet profound pursuit of minute improvement, the journey went by in a flash.

We arrived in Impala just before 8 p.m., having covered 250 kilometers in just under ten hours. Unlike most rural towns, Impala had the unique feature of being surrounded by a large moat. As Godolphen had explained, the Sixth Battalion of the Trouverean private army was stationed in Impala, and it seemed like the town was something of an important strategic position in the area—which made sense given their proximity to the border. The moat would help them provide civilians with a refuge in case of both military and monster attacks.

“You’re amazing—we got here even faster than I thought we would,” I said, offering Stella my waterskin where she’d collapsed to the ground as soon as we’d crossed the drawbridge.

“Don’t...talk to...me with that...unfazed look on...your face,” she replied resentfully, gasping for breath between the words.

She must’ve been right on the verge of running out of mana entirely...

“Hey, I’m not exactly in great shape either, you know? My legs are killing me...” I sighed. “Usually, I’d get you to introduce me to the local fare and rest up a bit, but sadly we’re not gonna have the time. I’ll go over to the garrison and deliver the message, so just wait here and focus on compressing your mana as much as possible. I’ll be back soon.”

It was the truth. I still had plenty of mana to spare, but physically, I was exhausted. The soles of my feet ached the most, but everything else hurt too. However, the hot springs Godolphen had lured in front of us were waiting, so I had to keep pushing forward—even if there was a small part of me that was starting to feel as though I’d fallen right into another of the old man’s traps.

Leaving Stella at the entrance to the town, I passed through the gatehouse and headed for the garrison, the entrance of which was guarded by a singular middle-aged, battle-hardened knight.

“Hmph. We were told you’d be departing at ten in the morning, which means... You made it all the way here in just ten hours? And you still seem to have energy to spare... Not many your age could push themselves to such an extent,” the knight said, glaring at me. “I can see why Stella—a rare prodigy among the already prodigious Achillies family—has deigned to acknowledge you. Very well, Allen Rovene. I’ll allow you to court Stella—if you first defeat me in combat!” With that, the man drew his longsword, pointing it toward me in a clear challenge.

“I have a message for the Sixth Battalion! We’ve received word that an unidentified military force has captured the defensive stronghold on the summit of Mount Rodria, near the border with the Cucola City Federation! The urgent assistance of the Sixth Battalion is requested! Yeah...I think that covered everything,” I said and immediately turned to leave.

“What the— Wait just a damn minute!”

◆◆◆

“This is going to be close...” Leo muttered, frowning.

The main force had maintained a rather quick pace thus far, gaining themselves a marginal bit of elbow room. If they could maintain their current pace for the rest of the day, then even with the necessity of slowing down at night and during the latter, more dangerous half of the trip, they’d reach their destination with two or three hours to spare until the deadline. However, it was a thin margin to work with, and running into any unexpected trouble could easily lead to failing the scenario. Coco seemed to think the party was unlikely to encounter any particularly dangerous monsters along their chosen route, failing a terrible stroke of luck. Leo didn’t tend to leave anything to luck, however—and he didn’t intend to start now.

“It is,” agreed Coco. “The scenario’s been designed that way. But if we want to come up with a way to make even more time for ourselves, we’ll have to think outside of the box. If Allen were here, he’d definitely have come up with a ridiculous suggestion already, but...” He sighed, shaking his head. “Does anyone have any ideas?”

Char—otherwise known as Charme Harlonbay, and Coco’s fellow Geography Club member—raised her hand timidly. “Um, er... The route we came up with, it mostly follows the mountain trail marked on the map, right? So there’s a lot of twists and turns... Especially after the rest point at 2C here, where it forces us to make a significant detour just to keep going in the right direction,” she said haltingly, tracing the route with a finger as she spoke. “If we could leave the trail around here and take a shortcut through the mountains... Of course, the mountain trail probably follows the terrain, or otherwise avoids unsafe monster habitats... But there’s a chance we might be able to do it. It’s worth investigating, at least... I think...” she trailed off, tapping her index fingers together in the universal gesture of uncertainty.

Leo nodded and turned to Dan. “It’ll be dangerous to go alone, but do you think you’d be able to look into the feasibility of a shortcut like the one Char suggested? I know it’s a lot to ask, but we don’t have the flexibility of splitting a scouting party off from the main force right now—we can’t afford to slow down even a little. But I know you can easily catch up with us, and I trust your judgment. If you say we won’t be able to bypass the trail, I’ll happily accept it, and we’ll continue at our current pace while you’re gone under that assumption. I’ll take your pack for now, so just focus on getting there and back.”

“No worries! I’ll be back in thirty minutes,” Dan said, slipping off his pack and taking off at a run in one smooth movement.

With her suggestion being recognized—rather than ridiculed—Char breathed a sigh of relief, before turning to Coco grumpily. “Still, why did you make me suggest it?! I know you had the same thought already!”

Coco smiled. “So did you, Char. You realized it as soon as we started going along the ridge back there, right? You need to be assertive and suggest anything you think of, like you did just now. I might have had the same thought in this case, but there’s definitely other things only you can come up with—things I’d miss. The same goes for everyone. If we hold back... Well, I’ve got a bad feeling things will only get harder from here regardless, but especially if we don’t all work together.”

“You know, you’re starting to sound a lot like Allen!” Fey said, cackling. “Ah... I’ll take Dan’s pack, Leo. I’m not great at fighting, but I’ve got plenty of energy to spare. If you’re carrying double the load, it’ll impact our response if we get ambushed or something, yeah? And if our best fighter isn’t leading the charge, everyone else will end up getting even more tired.”

“Can you actually carry any more, Feyreun?” Leo asked, somewhat astonished. In addition to her own fifty kilograms of relief supplies, Fey was also already carrying another twenty or so kilograms of the additional equipment Kate had deemed necessary for their march.

Fey merely winked in response as she swung Dan’s pack upward and threaded her arms through the straps so it sat on her front, mirroring the even heavier pack on her back. An audible groaning sound came from the ground below as she did. “I can—it’s not a particularly womanly look though, is it? I could never do this if Allen was around. He’d just call me ‘gorilla girl’ or something again, and wound my delicate heart...” she said, flashing everyone a mischievous grin.

◆◆◆

The group stopped for a short rest at the stream located near point 2C on their maps, which was where Dan found them.

“I’ve had a look. There’s a pretty tall cliff we’d have to traverse, but if one person could scale it and secure a rope, I think we’d all be able to get over it without much trouble. I spotted a cluster of irkvines on the way back, so I’ll cut some of those. They’re actually surprisingly strong for how thin they are. If we go one at a time—and carefully—they shouldn’t break on us. I’ll go start getting everything ready, and wait for you guys there,” Dan said, before setting off back in the direction he’d come from.

The main force reached the cliff face just as Dan did, the latter with a bundle of vines spilling from his arms. The former, on the other hand, were staring up at the nearly vertical precipice with identically blank amazement.

Pisces turned to Dan, grimacing. “Sure, we should be fine with a rope and all... But how are we meant to get a rope up there in the first place? It’s gotta be more than fifty meters high!”

“Huh? Well, someone’s gotta climb it barehanded, of course. It’s a little dicey at some parts, but I climbed up about halfway earlier as a test run and I reckon it’s doable. We’re gonna have two ropes going—one for us to climb, and the other for bringing up our packs. I’ll go up first, so I’ll show you how to tie the packs on now...” With nimble movements, Dan quickly braided several of the vines together to make a sturdier rope, before looping it through the straps of his pack and revealing a secure knot.

“Hey, wait a minute! You gotta slow down, Dan. I couldn’t see what you were doing at all!” Pisces said hurriedly.

“I learned some basic ropework back home, but that was something else... You’re ridiculously fast, Dan,” Coco murmured, impressed. “It’s a double bowline knot, right? I know how to tie one, so leave this to me—you can start climbing.”

Dan nodded, and then he was gone, shooting up the vertical cliff face as smoothly and easily as a gecko.

“Dan never talks about himself much...” Pisces muttered, staring blankly at Dan’s swiftly shrinking form, “but seriously, how does a count’s kid end up like—well, like that?”

◆◆◆

Dan scaled the cliff in mere minutes, securing the ropes to some of the sturdier-looking trees nearby and lowering them down to the rest of Class A. “Ready to go!”

“Leo, you should probably go last, in case monsters find us while we’re here,” Vesta said thoughtfully, adjusting his glasses. “The first and last climbers will be the most vulnerable as the group size decreases. Kate and I should probably go up first to haul up everyone’s packs, since we’ve got decent mana reserves but limited fighting ability. We’re risking too much by having Dan waste his mana on hoisting supplies.”

“In that case, the five of us with limited mana reserves—me, Dolph, Coco, Parley, and Sophie—should probably go up first and start making our way forward, right? We’re the ones limiting the group’s overall speed, so if we start earlier than the rest of you, we should be able to make up even more time. We all need to do what we can to secure ourselves just a little more leeway,” added Lala. Ever since Char had shared her opinion earlier (with Coco’s encouragement), everyone had started contributing their own suggestions.

If they wanted to complete these scenarios, there was one thing they needed to avoid most of all: infighting. The bright students of Class A had all immediately realized that fact, but unfortunately, their dedication to avoiding internal discord had also made them hesitant to share any ideas whatsoever lest it result in a disagreement. However, they’d now realized the challenges before them wouldn’t be overcome without ingenuity and a little bit of risk.

It wouldn’t be long, however, until Class A came to learn the true consequences of the decisions they’d just made.

◆◆◆

“What the— Wait just a damn minute!” cried the weathered knight in an attempt to get me to stop, but I didn’t have any time to waste listening to any more of his delusional gibberish. Completely ignoring his protests, I kept retreating at the same brisk pace, which was when he decided to begin his (entirely unsolicited) introduction.

“Hmph. Unsociable little brat, aren’t you? I’m Maxim Achilles—Stella’s uncle. I realized how great she’d one day become the moment she was born. I trained her and nurtured her as though she were my own daughter...” He glared at me. “How far has your courtship gone? Huh? Don’t tell me... Without even coming to introduce yourself, the two of you have already... Already k-k-kissed?! Or worse?!”

My head hurts... I feel like it’s gonna explode...

“Stop following me. It’s creepy,” I said over my shoulder, picking up my pace.

“I see, I see... You’ve got something to hide, don’t you? And you’re not even willing to man up and take responsibility... You shameless bastard!” the man screamed, his voice trembling with anger.

Well, this conversation clearly won’t get us anywhere.

I started to run as fast as my legs would carry me.

◆◆◆

“Stella! There’s some crazy guy chasing me! We have to run!”

Stella, who’d been sitting cross-legged and focusing on compressing her magic with the aura of someone meditating themselves into a trance, looked up—and screamed as I scooped her into my arms like a newlywed bride and kept running at full speed.

“Wh-What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” she screamed, her face just inches from my own. “And why the hell would there be some crazy guy chasing you?!”

“STELLAAAAAA! It’s me! Uncle Maxim! And you, you little bastard—if Stella was here, why didn’t you bring her to see me?! How could you leave a beautiful girl on her own at this time of night?!”

Stella tilted her head in palpable confusion. “Uncle Maxim...? But he’s usually really easygoing and, well, calm... What the hell did you do to make him so angry?”

“Like hell I’d know! I was just minding my own business, and all of a sudden he starts spouting crap about how he’d let me date you if I beat him up! Then he kept going about how I had something to hide, and how I needed to man up, and how I was a shameless, philandering piece of crap or something... And, well, here we are.”

“AAAH! Stop embracing her! Stella hasn’t even let me hug her these past few years!” Maxim shouted. “But listen here, you little scoundrel! Stella and I bathed together until she was eight! Are you jealous?! Huh? Huh? Wait, you’re not jealous...? Don’t tell me you’ve already—”

I could clearly see the vein throbbing in Stella’s forehead. “Put me down, Allen,” she said, unusually calm. “I need to punch my uncle.”

“Nope. It’s a waste of time and mana.”

“What are you two talking about, huh?! Stop whispering sweet nothings right in front of meeeee! You’re too damn fast, you bastard! Let me join iiiiiin!”

“...”

◆◆◆

Dusk had fallen over the mountains by the time Coco, Dolph, Parley, Sophie, and Lala set out, with the five members of Class A with the least mana to spare aiming to cover as much ground as they could before the others finished scaling the cliff.

Coco was the first to notice something amiss. “Something’s wrong... It’s quiet. Too quiet,” he murmured.

He’d barely finished speaking when the surrounding silence was shattered by two large rocks crashing through the trees, snapping branches in half as they plummeted toward the group. Thanks to Coco’s intuition and the hindrance provided by the branches, the others were able to detect the danger just in time to attempt to throw themselves out of harm’s way. Unfortunately, with their movements impeded by the heavy packs, their reactions were slower and clumsier than normal, and to everyone’s horror both Coco and Sophie were struck.

“Sophie! Coco!” Lala shrieked, her face pale.

Though Coco had managed to activate his Magic Guard in time to shield himself, it hadn’t been enough to negate the blow entirely. Blood trickled from his forehead as he slowly sunk to the ground with dazed, sluggish movements that hinted at a concussion. Sophie groaned. She’d almost managed to escape the rock’s path, but had been just a second too late; the rock had fallen directly on her right foot, pinning her to the ground.

“Jyantcrows... Earth affinity...” Coco mumbled. “Have to...open ground...”

“Stop talking, Coco! Parley, you cover him—Lala, you take care of Sophie! We need to go back to the ridgeline, away from the trees! I’ll keep them off us until we get there!” Dolph said, readjusting his grip on his staff. Seconds later, a fireball shot out of the tip and went streaking toward the two large, coal black silhouettes overhead. The jyantcrows—who had already started conjuring another set of boulders—screeched as the fireball blazed past them, followed by another, then another. While Dolph’s attack missed both of the monsters by a small margin, it did result in them dropping their half-formed projectiles in confusion, both of which landed well away from the group.

After helping Lala free Sophie’s foot, Parley scooped Coco into his arms, taking care to support the other boy’s neck and head. “Try to stay still!” he said, and started running. Lala picked Sophie up in a similar manner and followed after the pair a moment later.

“Dolph...” Coco groaned, his expression vacant and dull. “No... You need to conserve your mana...”

“It’s not like we’ve got much choice right now!” Dolph replied, flinging a steady stream of fireballs at the jyantcrows all the while. The additional intensity of his attacks prevented them from forming anything larger than a pebble.

Eventually, their awkward retreat came to an end as they reached the ridgeline and the sky opened up above the group. As the group entered the clearing, the jyantcrows had ceased their attempted attacks and were now circling overhead.

“SCREEEEEE!” The piercing cry, let out by one of the monsters, echoed through the mountains around them.

“Dolph, swap with me and look after Coco,” Parley said. “I’m pretty sure they won’t try to flatten us again, not now that we’ve got the advantage of visibility. They’ll probably try for a direct attack instead—and in that case, I’ll have the best chance at taking them down.”

Dolph nodded, gently lifting Coco from Parley’s arms. As though they’d been waiting for that very moment, the jyantcrows stopped circling and shot toward the group in a pincer attack.

“Leave this to me,” Parley muttered, taking a deep breath. Dropping into a half crouch, he stood his ground, waiting until the jyantcrow in front of him was nearly within reach of his spear—and then he spun around and thrust his spear, putting all his power into the sleek movement. “Too slow!”

The jyantcrow screeched as the head of Parley’s spear pierced it through the chest. However, the second jyantcrow didn’t flinch or retreat at the cry of its comrade as Parley had hoped, but continued on its direct trajectory toward the boy. The carcass of the first monster still dangled from his spear, throwing off Parley’s reactions. While his skills were theoretically enough for him to hold his own against B-Rank monsters such as the elementally affined jyantcrows, Parley’s experience came from the training yard of the Avinier estate, rather than the field. Unfortunately, actual combat never went as smoothly as a supervised bout.

“SCREEEEEE!”

Parley somehow managed to spin back around and aim his spear at the jyantcrow before it struck, but with the additional weight of the first’s carcass throwing him off-balance, the jab met only air. The jyantcrow shot past the shaft and struck him directly in the chest, sending the boy flying.

“Parley!” Dolph cried. He rushed toward the crumpled figure of his classmate, careful to avoid jostling Coco too much as he did. Parley only let out a low moan.

“It must have...a nest nearby...” Coco mumbled, barely audible. “It won’t give up... Thinks we’re targeting its young...”

Dolph glanced up. Just as Coco had said, the jyantcrow hadn’t fled, but was in the middle of conjuring another boulder to drop on their unsuspecting heads.

Dolph frowned. There was only one enemy left, but with three of the group now out of commission, he and Lala had to ensure no further harm came to the wounded while also attempting to defeat their enraged foe.

At that moment, a cry that seemed to shake the very air around them came from above—and as though in response, a flock of jyantcrow fledglings took flight from the trees the group had just retreated from, darkening the sky with their sheer multitude.

Dolph flinched as he felt a cold bead of sweat run down his back.

◆◆◆

After somehow managing to shake off the weird old man, we headed toward the mountains as planned. It wasn’t until we arrived at the foothills that I realized I was still carrying Stella, at which point I promptly let her down.

Awkward...

Stella didn’t talk to (or even look at) me for another hour thereafter, simply leading the way at a brisk and somewhat angry pace. The atmosphere was so uncomfortable, I seriously began to suspect that the encounter with Maxim had actually gone exactly as Godolphen had planned—a trap I’d walked right into, obviously...

There’s no way I’ll make it through a whole day of this awkward silence. This is torture. Stella’s mana should be decently replenished by now, though... We’ve gotta pick up the pace, or we’re gonna be cutting it close.

It was time to break the ice. “You know, you were a lot lighter than I expected, Stella!” I called out, hoping she didn’t pick up on the forced cheerfulness in my tone.

“Huh? Are you saying I don’t have any muscles or something?”

Crap... I guess people in this world don’t necessarily take being “light” as a compliment...

It made sense now that I thought about it. Even back home, it hadn’t been a universal compliment—it was more of a modern thing, and even then, only in some parts of the world. In this world—and especially for people like Stella who were aiming to become a knight—being “light” was more of an insult than a form of flattery. My unfortunate talent for putting my foot in my mouth was as reliable as ever.

I scrambled to clear the air. “No, of course not! You’ve obviously got heaps of muscles, just like a veteran knight! With all the training you’ve been doing, you’re built like a brick! But at the same time, you’ve got those delicate curves—”

Stella spun around and closed the distance between us with a few steps, placed her hands on my shoulders, and smiled at me sweetly in a way I didn’t find reassuring in the slightest. “What the hell is wrong with you, telling a girl she’s built like a brick?! Thickheaded asshole!” With my shoulders still locked in her iron grasp, she drove her knee deeply into my abdomen.

I doubled over in pain, emitting a noise similar to that of a frog in the process of being run over by a truck.

What the hell?! So she did prefer being called light?! So she was just denying it out of embarrassment, not anger...? I seriously don’t understand girls.

◆◆◆

Though my attempt at flattery had only served to anger Stella, the awkward mood did lighten somewhat after she’d taken said anger out on my delicate organs. With tears in my eyes as I rubbed my tender stomach, I wheezily explained the plan to Stella. “Thanks to you, we managed to save a good bit of time on the journey to Impala, which means we’ll probably be able to meet up with the main force somewhere around here,” I said, indicating on the map, “between the seventh and eighth waymarks. Ideally, we’ll get there about twenty-four hours from now, around nine o’clock tomorrow night.”

Stella, who until this point had been glaring daggers at me, tilted her head in confusion. “Come on, Allen... That plan is just reckless, no matter how you look at it. First of all, aren’t we meant to rendezvous with the main force at the stronghold? How can you be so sure we’ll be able to meet up with them midway? We’ve got no way of knowing which route they’ve ended up taking! Plus you want us to get there in just twenty-four hours... We might not be carrying stupidly heavy packs, but we’re still talking about crossing over one hundred kilometers of mountain terrain here! I said it before, but this ain’t some leisurely hike, Allen!”

“Well, we’ve got nothing to worry about when it comes to the rendezvous—Coco’s with the main force, after all,” I replied, shrugging. “He briefed me on their route and plans before we left, so there’s not much chance of missing them.”

Stella blinked. “He briefed you...? You mean the quick chat you had before we left? How the hell could you have planned out an exact meeting point in just a few minutes—not to mention with only a crappy map like this to go off?! You guys are seriously underestimating these mountains!”

I couldn’t fault Stella’s disbelief. It would have been impossible for anyone to do what she was suggesting—anyone but Coco, that was.

“Don’t worry about it. Coco and I have been on a whole bunch of exploring requests together, as well as all the stuff we’ve done with the Geography Club. Obviously we couldn’t iron out all the details in such a short time, but as long as I know the basic route he was planning to follow, I can pretty much predict exactly how Coco would have chosen to move once I see the actual terrain. Plus, if they had to take an unusual turn for some reason, Coco would definitely leave some sort of message for me, you know?” I declared confidently.

Stella stared at me blankly for a moment, mouth agape, before continuing her protests. “Fine. Let’s say we will run into the main force there—but even then, how are you planning to get there in just one day? If we head straight from here to the stronghold, even forty-eight hours would be cutting it close as far as I can guess. But we’ve only got half of that, and you want to go off course to meet up with the others? Plus, we’ve got no idea what kind of monsters we’re gonna run into on the way, which will only slow us down even more...” She sighed. “It definitely makes more sense to aim for the stronghold first, recapture it before the deadline, then go meet up with the main force—”

“No,” I said, cutting her off. “If we do that, the main force won’t make it to the stronghold with the relief supplies in time. We’ll fail the scenario.”

“Where’s the evidence for that? You should have a little more faith in—”

I shook my head, cutting her off again. “You’re the evidence, Stella. You being here instead of there—that’s the evidence. I said it before we left, right? That you being here would be the fastest way—in the end. You know more than anyone about the terrain and monsters around here. If you had stayed with the main force and left me to go to Impala alone, you all would have reached the stronghold with time to spare, and we’d be gambling everything on whether or not I’d make it in time. My sense of direction has never been great, so as far as gambles go, it would’ve been a pretty risky one—which is exactly what Godolphen wanted, I’d say.”

Stella didn’t respond, so I continued. “That’s not the only reason, though... You saw Godolphen’s stupidly excited expression, right? This is his stomping ground just as much as it is yours, Stella. That geezer wouldn’t set up a challenge we’d be able to pass just because we came up with a solid plan. Nah, to outdo that old fart, we needed more than just the most perfect, logical plan—we had to take that plan and blow it sky-high. We needed a breakthrough. Getting you to accompany me to Impala so I could meet up with the main force earlier was just that.” I grinned. “It’s not that I don’t have faith in those guys, Stella. I have complete faith in them. That’s why I know they’ll have made it that far by the time we catch up. It definitely won’t have been a walk in the park, though...”

Stella remained silent for a moment, her gaze fixed intently on the ground. Finally, she lifted her head. “I get it, Allen. When you said this way would be faster, you didn’t mean just for you—you were talking about the entire scenario. But you still haven’t answered the actual question. How are you planning for us to get there in such a short time frame?”

I thanked my lucky stars for Stella’s quick understanding and keen judgment. If we hadn’t been able to see eye to eye here, it would spell disaster for the rest of the scenario. She hadn’t simply accepted my plan without question, and I hadn’t expected her to. I probably would have been just as hesitant in her shoes. She hadn’t taken my suggestion at face value, but had asked the necessary questions, probing for information and piecing it together until she’d arrived at the same conclusion I had. There was no hesitation in her eyes now.

“From here, I need you to lead us on the most direct route toward the new rendezvous point. Don’t worry about avoiding monster habitats—just whatever the most direct route would be if there were no monsters anywhere in these mountains. That’ll save us plenty of time, right?” I grinned. “And we’ll leave the rest up to my wind magic.”

Stella’s face paled, her previously keen gaze turning to the glare of a woman staring down a pervert. Her hands drifted upward to cover the exposed gap between her thigh-high socks and the bottom of her shorts almost unconsciously.

Wait, no—

◆◆◆

The swarm of jyantcrows blocked out the last of the fading light as they approached, darting and weaving above Dolph and the others. The newcomers weren’t anywhere near as large as the first two jyantcrows, but a few were still alarmingly sizable.

“This is all my fault,” Lala mumbled, tears brimming in her eyes. “I just wanted to shave off a little more time... I was being too greedy.”

Dolph shook his head. “We all agreed to your suggestion, Lala. It’s not your fault at all,” he said, as kindly as possible. “But let’s hold off on the postmortem until later, okay? Right now, we just need to hold our ground until the others catch up. Jewel will be able to help, and the others are carrying some salves and stuff too. It’s not likely that too many of these new ones will have an elemental affinity, and if we work together, I’m sure we can hold them off until help arrives.”

Parley stood up with some difficulty, using his spear as a crutch. “I won’t dishonor myself...any further. I don’t need...protection. I can still fight!”

Sophie nodded, sending beads of sweat trickling down her ashen face. Using her glaive as a substitute cane, she hobbled away from Lala, dragging her crushed foot behind her. “It’s pretty badly broken... I can’t fight—not like this—but I’ll handle myself one way or another, so Lala can focus on the fight. If you’re wasting your energy on protecting me, we won’t last until the others get here.”

“All right. Come over near me and Coco; I’ll try to block anything that comes this way while taking them down. Coco, don’t move an inch.” Dolph grinned. “Those classmates of ours will have definitely realized something’s not right, so I reckon there’s probably at least a few of them on their way already. Let’s give them something to look forward to—here they come!”

As Dolph shouted, the jyantcrows began their attack, diving toward the party from every direction at once. Lala immediately sheathed her sword and unclipped the monster-leather whip from her belt. In an instant, it was like she’d transformed into a different person entirely. She swung her whip with astonishing speed, cracks echoing in the sky like thunder. One after another, the jyantcrows began plummeting to the ground below, each leaving a fine mist of blood in their wake.

“Still haven’t learned to fly like your folks, huh? Don’t worry, I’m happy to give you a little practice. Let’s see if you can avoid the monster herding skills of the girl Granny Moo from li’l old Donco praised as ‘more beautiful than the moon itself when she holds her whip’... That’s right! Larla von Liencoul is here to treat y’all to a little lesson!” she screamed, cracking her whip once more.

Utterly bewildered by Lala’s sudden transformation, Dolph turned to Sophie with a look that seemed to say, Who is that? What’s going on here? Did you know about this? Sophie, however, was just as stunned as he was, and merely shook her head slowly in response to his silent interrogation.

“As long as we’re around these parts, these cushion stuffers won’t lay a single talon on our friends! Eh, Dolph?” Lala said, her beautiful lips twisting into a terrifying snarl as she continued to turn jyantcrow after jyantcrow into individual showers of blood.

“Er... Yeah!” Dolph answered after a pause, somehow managing to swallow his initial reaction of, How the hell does turning them into blood and guts classify as a “lesson”? Instead, he simply nodded, though he couldn’t bring himself to meet Lala’s eyes—nor prevent himself from backing away just a little.

◆◆◆

Simultaneously...

The majority of Class A was still waiting to begin their ascent of the cliff when they instead found themself confronting another, more unexpected challenge. Vesta and Kate had both made it to the top of the precipice and were hauling up the first pack when Fey had spoken.

“Something’s coming...”

At first, the sound was nothing more than a faint rustling, like someone wandering through the fallen leaves on a pleasant stroll. But gradually the rustling got louder and louder, and the footsteps heavier and heavier. Tension rippled through the students of Class A, and by the time the monster finally came into sight, expressions of utter despair adorned nearly every face.

First came its wriggling nose, immediately followed by twitching ears. Sleek silver fur shone in the fading light as the creature slunk out of the trees, at least two meters long from head to tail. Even after entering the clearing, its green eyes remained fixed on the ground, nostrils flaring as though following a trail. The creature’s behavior was neither hostile nor frightened, a rarity for a monster stumbling upon humans in such isolation—and that was exactly what had sent a shiver down every spine. It paid no attention to the way they stiffened in unison, flicking its tail idly as it continued its search. The simple movement sent an even colder chill down their spines as the members of Class A collectively realized that what they’d taken to be a singular tail was, in fact, three.

“A vulpyne?! And a tritail at that... Oh, this is bad,” Char said, her voice coming out as more of a groan. “Usually the Royal Order gets called in to deal with anything more powerful than a protail...”

Despite the wealth of information available on monsters at this point in Yugria’s history, little was known about vulpynes. The prevailing theory argued that they weren’t an innately monstrous species, but were instead created when a silver fox—generally a rather timid animal—developed an unnatural appetite for the magical organs of other creatures, including humans. Their most distinctive feature was their tail—or tails. The longer a vulpyne lived and the more magic stones (or mana cores) it consumed, the more tails it would grow, serving as a barometer of sorts for its strength. A request for the subjugation of even a two-tailed specimen would receive the highest difficulty rating of A-Rank from the Explorer’s Guild, and eyewitness reports of a vulpyne with three or more tails would result in the immediate response of the Royal Order itself. Examples of Named vulpyne—individuals so infamous for the tragedy they’d wrought that they’d entered local (or widespread) legend—were too numerous to count. There weren’t many Rondeneans who hadn’t heard the gruesome saga of the Nine Tailed Demon, the vicious vulpyne who’d eventually been defeated by an alliance of elite warriors from every kingdom and nation-state on the continent.

Everyone tensed, instinctively shifting into familiar stances for the fight to potentially come, which was precisely when the vulpyne raised its head for the first time. The monster’s green, eerily glowing eyes locked onto the unfortunate group—eyes which then narrowed as its mouth twisted up at the corners, as though the beast was smiling at them. It opened its mouth to emit a chilling, high-pitched scream that caused everyone to flinch, and then it sprang forward, weaving between them to lunge directly at Jewel.

To her credit, Jewel—primarily a holy magic user—didn’t falter, instead using her cherished scepter as a makeshift wedge to avoid the monster’s deadly fangs. Unfortunately, her own strength wasn’t enough to withstand the implausible force of the vulpyne’s blow. Her scream echoed off the cliff face as she was sent flying toward it, crashing into the sheer rock with a dull crunch.

The beast wasn’t done with her, however. It was chasing after her before she’d even tumbled to the ground, fangs poised to tear through the soft skin of her exposed throat. In an instant, Reggie (also known as Regina Sunheart, hailing from Jewelry’s familial Reverence Domain) threw down her beloved dual swords without hesitation, instead seizing one of the vulpyne’s three tails and yanking with all her might. With a powerful swing, she sent the monster skidding a few meters away, giving her enough time to position herself between it and Jewel. Now weaponless, Reggie spread her arms wide as if to say, You’re not getting through me. Just a moment later, Beld had stepped between her and the vulpyne, steel quarterstaff primed to strike.

A low, irritated growl rumbled in the beast’s throat, its gaze still fixed intently on Jewel.

“This isn’t good. Once they’ve marked something, vulpynes will never stop hunting it. Even if we somehow manage to scare it off now, Jewel will still...”

Vulpynes were known for their intelligence and cunning. While they’d flee if the odds were against them, that didn’t mean they’d given up on their prey. In fact, numerous reports existed of cases where one of the monsters had tracked down and killed their quarry years after the poor victim had first escaped, sometimes even journeying to distant lands to find them.

It was at that moment Leo unleashed his mana, letting it penetrate the very air around them. The vulpyne shrieked as it took the bait, turning away from Jewel for the first time since it’d identified the girl. Its eyes were now locked firmly on Leo as it retreated a good ten meters to the side before letting out a resentful howl.

“Form a wedge formation around Jewel. Beld, you’re at the head. Al, you cover me,” Leo said quickly.

“Got it!”

A wedge formation was, as the name suggested, a triangular arrangement of one’s troops. The apex of the triangle faced the enemy, with the most important member of the unit (usually the commander, but in this case Jewel) located at the center of the rearmost row.

As everyone shifted into formation, Leo and the vulpyne began to move. Holding his sword just slightly above his shoulder, Leo darted toward the monster, preparing to strike. The vulpyne bristled, fur and tail standing on end. Within seconds, it had conjured a blindingly intense, heavily concentrated fireball, which it promptly hurled toward the approaching boy. Leo showed no indication of evading the deadly missile however, instead continuing to close the distance between them without wavering from his straight path. The fireball was just inches away from Leo when it collided with an icy projectile courtesy of Al, sending it careening into the distant cliff. Under the cover of the resulting collision and clouds of dust, Leo closed the last few steps, looking every bit like a creature of legend himself as he brought down his blade with righteous resolve.

◆◆◆

“Sorry we took so long! We got ambushed by a stray vulpyne before we could climb up, but Leo took care of it for us! Are you guys okay?!”

“Al! You’re just in time!” Dolph shouted in reply. “That big bastard over there is giving me a lot of trouble—it’s got nastily powerful magic, and my affinities aren’t much use against it! Can you handle it for me? And Jewel—check on Coco and Sophie, please! Everyone else, focus on the small fry!”

The reinforcements—Al, Jewel, Dan, Pisces, and Elena—quickly joined the fray.

“Come on, come on! If y’all don’t start gettin’ serious about this, you’re never gonna learn to fly properly!”

They didn’t so much as glance at Lala as she berated the jyantcrows in a tone that was terrifyingly inconsistent to the ladylike eloquence they’d come to expect from their classmate. The unexpected encounter with the vulpyne had flustered them, but not enough to affect their innate instincts for self-preservation.

“Ice Bullet!” Al cried, immediately beginning to shoot a round of the quickly conjured projectiles in the remaining parent jyantcrow’s direction. When it came to casting magic, no incantations or spells were actually necessary. However, with some slight misuse of his supervisorial authority, Allen had stubbornly enforced a culture of naming and incanting one’s spells in the Emissive Magic Club, and before he knew it Al had found himself complying. His Ice Bullet spell—another of Allen’s suggestions—involved conjuring dozens of almond-shaped, highly penetrative pellets, fired one after another at top speed from the tip of his wand.

The wand in question was crafted from anju wood, the cultivation of which formed the primary economy in the Engravier Domain that Al’s family preceded over. Unlike Dolph’s two-handed staff, Al’s wand was on the smaller side, designed to be wielded in a single hand. Affixed to the tip was an ice-affinity monster stone which gleamed like a diamond.

As the reluctant captain of the Emissive Magic Club, Al had found himself in charge of motivating and guiding a whole host of talented students like Leo and Jewel—people far more magically gifted than himself. For some people, such pressure would be overwhelming. Al, however, had used that pressure to fuel his own motivation. He’d devoted himself to not only his responsibilities as captain but also his own training and experimentation, and in no time at all, his abilities had improved dramatically.

The icy barrage struck true. The formidable jyantcrow had distanced itself from the attackers on the ground, dropping deadly boulders from the safety of its native aerial domain. However, the buffer zone it had maintained offered no refuge from the sheer density of Al’s Ice Bullets. Blood-soaked feathers caught the breeze in a grisly dance as they drifted down upon the group. Wounded though it was, the mature jyantcrow didn’t back down, instead twisting in midair and diving straight toward Al while leaving a shower of blood in its wake. Al shifted his stance, preparing to cast his shorter range but highly lethal Ice Lance spell.

“Out of the way, Al! Don’t waste your mana!” Parley shouted.

Al managed to jump to the side just in time to evade the jyantcrow’s swoop—and the thrust of Parley’s spear, as the other boy ran the flock’s leader through. A chorus of mournful screeching vibrated the air as the fledglings, realizing what had occurred, scattered and vanished into the darkening night.

◆◆◆

After the remaining members of the main force had scaled the cliff, the group decided to take a short break. Some had disagreed, instead suggesting they plow ahead, but Vesta’s opinion—that forgoing recuperation to make up for lost time was a far riskier approach—was the one Leo had agreed with.

A single wrong move could have resulted in an irreversible tragedy—the lesson they’d learned from their respective encounters had shaken everyone quite considerably, and thus, Leo had decided a brief rest and a fresh start was essential to avoid future hasty mistakes.

“I’m sorry,” mumbled a miserable Coco. “I should have noticed sooner... I was nothing but a burden during the battle too.”

“I’m the one who should apologize!” Parley replied, visibly frustrated. “I humiliated myself worst of all! I should have been able to handle monsters like that, but... But I just got too worked up at being in my first actual battle... I completely lost my composure!” He ground his teeth. “Allen called us all amateurs before summer break, saying we couldn’t handle being explorers like him—I should have listened. I just couldn’t shake my stubborn prejudice that exploring work was somehow inferior, that it was for commoners, not people like us... I wasted the entire summer on safe training instead of gaining real combat experience like I should have! I’m a disgrace...”

“No, I’m to blame. If I hadn’t—”

After waiting for Lala, Dolph, and Sophie to voice their own supposed shortcomings, Leo stepped in to put an end to the discussion. “Ultimately, it’s the leader who’s responsible for everything that happened today. I’m to blame. We’ve all identified where our challenges lie, so we simply need to ensure we don’t make the same mistakes again.” He frowned. “What we need to focus on right now is the challenge ahead. I didn’t anticipate us draining our mana and stamina to such an extent this early in the scenario. We’ve essentially lost Dolph until he can replenish his mana, and frankly, that’s going to hurt our chances. I’m not blaming him, of course, but I was relying on his light magic as an essential part of the overnight leg of our journey. The plan was to position those with minimal nightgaze around him, thereby avoiding hidden obstacles along the path—which is why we only brought two lanterns. With things as they are now, our pace will be severely limited overnight. However, if we don’t make it to the fourth waymark by dawn tomorrow, our chances of completing this scenario will be little to none. If anyone has any ideas, now’s the time to share them.”

The waymarks Leo referred to were a rather ambiguous unit of measurement, used almost exclusively in regards to mountainous terrain. Any well-traversed hikes or paths were eventually furnished with ten waymarks along the route. The distance between one waymark and the next wasn’t based on distance or elevation, but on the expected time it would take a traveler to journey between them. A mountain trek totaling one hundred and twenty kilometers from start to finish, for instance, might feature five of its ten waymarks throughout the first eighty kilometers. Though the remaining distance may have only accounted for a third of the total length, with factors such as monster encounters and steep terrain increasing the difficulty, the time required to traverse those last forty kilometers could potentially equal that required for the first eighty. Thus, the other five waymarks would be installed at irregular intervals along the rest of the route to reflect the challenge posed by each stage.

Of course, the waymarks had been measured with ordinary people in mind, not the kingdom’s best and brightest students. The members of Class A had (rather reasonably) assumed they’d be able to traverse the second half of their journey without any significantly greater difficulty than they’d experienced in the first leg. All of them had also understood the risk of setting out on said journey with only two lanterns—had known that light was a lifeline when darkness fell over the mountains. It was a risk they’d accepted in order to make their eight hundred kilogram burden a little easier to bear. Unfortunately, their gamble had backfired.

Silence fell over the group. Once again, the path ahead demanded yet another decision, the outcome of which was as unforeseeable as the last. It was Jewel who finally broke the silence.

“Well, by this point, I don’t think anyone could disagree that the Sage was indeed the mastermind behind this particular scenario... He most likely predicted we’d plan a route directly through the jyantcrow’s territory—I daresay he actually hoped we would, in fact. However, that also means he believed we’d be able to defeat them. Let us learn from the experience we’ve gained here, and proceed forward with a renewed focus on the risks we deem favorable to take.” She smiled. “For the time being, Fey and I will split Dolph’s share of the supplies between us, so he can focus on compressing his mana. Hopefully, that should give him the opportunity to replenish his reserves before the night grows too dark, allowing him to light our way throughout most of the journey and thereby improving our pace too. We cannot allow ourselves to admit defeat simply because of a trivial setback such as this, after all.”

Upon hearing Jewel’s suggestion, Fey flashed the other girl her usual impish grin. “That’s our Jewel for you, everyone—the pride of the ‘Dauntless and Decisive’ Reverences, in the flesh! But there’s a good chance we’re gonna need your healing magic to save our lives, and I mean that quite literally. You need to preserve your mana just as much as Dolph does. I’ll carry his pack by myself, okay? Just make sure Allen never hears about how I hiked up a mountain looking like a pack animal.” She giggled.

Jewel merely stared at the other girl. As talented as Fey was, even she couldn’t go on forever while carrying twice the load of everyone else. Sooner or later, Fey’s own mana would run dry, and that was another risk they couldn’t afford to take. Leo was also staring at Fey, brows furrowed as he weighed up the decision.

Before he could decide, however, Beld raised his hand. “I’ve still got mana and energy to spare, but that’s about it. I’ll take Dolph’s pack, at least for now. We’re probably not going to come across any monsters around here that you guys won’t be able to handle without my help, after all. Besides, Fey—you were carrying Dan’s pack for ages already. I know you’re strong and all, but even you must be feeling some strain after a few hours of that, right?”

Fey nodded, smiling delightedly. “You’re always so thoughtful, Beld... Well, seeing as I’ll have my hands free, I might see if I can make a few minor adjustments to Dolph’s staff during our little stroll. I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to fashion it into something of a makeshift torch with a bit of tinkering... Everyone, keep an eye out for fire-affinity monsters, okay? With a fire monster stone or two, I should be finished while the night’s still young.”

“I’m pretty sure one or two of the fledglings Lala knocked down earlier had fire magic...” Dolph trailed off, frowning. “Er, adjustments? You’ll... You’ll be able to put it back to normal later, right?”

Fey merely shrugged, flashing another of her familiar grins. Her nonchalant response—and the way Dolph’s expression stiffened thereafter—drew a chuckle from the rest of the group.

“Things might not have gone entirely smoothly so far, but realistically, there was never going to be a perfect way to overcome this scenario—not with the burden we’ve been given,” Jewel said, her voice cheerful. “Like Lala said earlier, let’s just focus on working together to secure ourselves a little more leeway.”

Silently thanking the two girls for skillfully lifting everyone’s mood, Leo turned to Coco. “Honestly, we don’t have the time to turn back, but still—is it safe to keep pushing on through the forest? I’m loath to even consider abandoning our mission, but at the end of the day, everyone’s safety comes first.”

Coco nodded firmly. “Those jyantcrows should be back at their nest by now, and it’s highly unlikely they’ll come out again before the sun rises tomorrow. They’re not a nocturnal species. As long as we move carefully and avoid provoking them, we’re fine to keep going.”

◆◆◆

“It’s like we’re on a leisurely hike...” Stella muttered, astonished. “Allen, do you think I should start learning wind magic too? Is it the kind of thing anyone can learn?”

We were enjoying what essentially amounted to a pleasant stroll through the mountains—all thanks to my wind magic, of course. Encountering a swirling storm of virulent mana was enough to make almost any monster flee in fear, and even the more hostile ones were shaken enough to let us defeat them with ease. I did detect a handful of monsters that seemed more formidable here and there, but a few simple detours kept us safely out of their reach.

When I’d first explained my plan to use wind magic to secure ourselves a risk-free route through the mountains, Stella’s response had been highly skeptical, to put it lightly. “I’ve heard of the technique where people use an external mana circulation loop to scare monsters away, sure. But seriously, you expect me to believe you can keep that loop maintained for twenty-four hours straight while also trekking through the mountains? You’re pulling my leg, Allen.”

But just as the saying went, seeing was indeed believing. Several hours had passed since we’d entered the mountains, and the number of monsters (or even wild animals) we’d seen during that time could be counted on one hand. We’d made excellent progress, and by the time we’d passed the fifth waymark—which Stella had previously described as an undertaking for someone “just asking for trouble”—my dubious classmate had apparently seen the light, hence her question.

“Should you start learning wind magic? Hmm... You’re the only one who can answer that, Stella. What’s your aim in life? What kind of person are you trying to become?”

Stella, clearly confused by the line of questioning, merely responded with a suspicious glare. After realizing I was clearly waiting for her answer, though, she brusquely gave one. “I want to become a strong knight. Stronger than anyone else.”

“Why, though? Why do you want to become a strong knight?”

She glared at me, probably thinking I was setting the stage for another of my usual (and unappreciated) jokes. “What’s wrong with wanting to be strong, huh?! Nothing! I was asking you seriously, Allen!”

I returned her glare with a determined stare of my own. “My question was serious too. There’s nothing more important than making sure you truly know why you’re aiming for the life you want.” Stella remained silent, apparently recognizing the genuine sincerity behind the words, so I continued. “The reason I started developing my wind magic wasn’t to use it as a tool to become stronger. I’m not opposed to the idea of becoming stronger, but only because I believe a certain level of strength will be necessary for me to achieve the things I want. Mastering wind magic is actually one of those things. Controlling the elements, having the power of the wind at your fingertips—I mean, the sheer thought of it gets your blood racing, right? So the way I see it, neglecting my wind magic to focus on becoming stronger would be putting the cart before the horse. But that’s just me. From your point of view, I’ve probably got the whole thing backward, huh?”

“I don’t really get it... But basically, you’re saying learning wind magic’s not a very practical way to get stronger?”

I shook my head. “Not exactly. There’s no right or wrong answer, in the end. That’s why it’s so crucial for you to have a really solid idea of the person you want to become and of what you truly want to achieve.”

“What I truly want to achieve...” Stella repeated under her breath, and when I nodded in response, it was with the solemnity of a worshipper offering a prayer.

“And if you don’t figure it out, you’ll regret it all your life”—or so I wanted to add, but I swallowed the words and changed the topic.

“During summer break, I got roped into a darkwolf extermination mission thanks to my work with the Royal Order.”

A flicker of unease crossed Stella’s expression. “A darkwolf?! Was it a stray or something?”

I didn’t realize she’d be so surprised... “Nah, there was actually a whole pack of them, led by one called ‘Black Thunder’ or something.”

“You’re already at the level where you’re getting assigned to tackle Named monsters, huh...” She sighed. “Sorry for butting in. It’s just that darkwolves have caused a lot of trouble back home in the last few years too... I’ve got my own history with them,” she said, making no attempt to hide the bitterness in her voice.

I shrugged. “Well, to tell the truth, I personally didn’t end up exterminating a single one by the end of the mission. Most of the hard work was done by Captain Suzunami from the Sixth Legion, and Dante—he’s from the Third Legion, same as me. Both of them were crazily strong, and honestly, I couldn’t take my eyes off them. On the other hand, my wind magic did let me perceive the pack’s movements and any particularly dangerous attacks. I can pretty confidently say it contributed a lot to the overall success of the mission, and by extension, to the strength of our unit as a whole. Basically, what I’m trying to say here is that strength comes in different forms, you know?”

“Different forms...”

Thereafter, Stella fell silent once more, clearly deep in thought. There was nothing else I could offer her; she’d have to land on an answer for herself. As we continued forward, I focused on keeping any curious monsters well away from our path, wanting to make sure Stella had the time to let her thoughts run their course.

Eventually, she raised her head once more. “Pretty sure the answer’s not gonna come easily... But I think I understand why it’s so important. I need to figure out why I want to become a knight—figure out what it was that called me to that path in the first place... I’ll make sure to think about it seriously once this is all over. Thanks, Allen.” The sad smile she gave me—a striking departure from the angry frown she usually wore—somehow made her seem more childlike and innocent.

“By the way, the other guys focusing on wind magic in the Emissive Magic Club are really giving it everything they’ve got—more than me, sometimes—but they’re still barely past the starting line. Dan too—now that he’s got a goal in mind, nothing can stop him,” I said. His goal, of course, was to master the use of wind magic for sailing, but I figured that was a minor detail. “So I’d recommend against dabbling in it if you don’t have a clear goal of your own in mind, because those guys will leave you in the dust.”

“Right... So even Dan is getting into it...” Stella replied, recoiling in what appeared to be horror. I nodded vigorously.

Gotta make sure she really understands just how difficult the path to becoming an awesome wind mage is, after all!

◆◆◆

In order to recover some of the time they’d lost, the main force set off at what most would consider to be an unreasonable pace as soon as dawn broke on the second day. In the end, they hadn’t been able to gain any significant ground on the overnight leg of their march, and taking any potential shortcuts through the darkened forest had been deemed too dangerous. If they were going to do the impossible, it would have to be on a well-lit stage—such was the conclusion the group had come to after the poisonous moth debacle. The moths had been drawn to the powerful torch Fey had fashioned out of Dolph’s staff and had subsequently paralyzed several of the students, forcing them to waste their precious antidotes, Jewel’s mana, and more of their already limited time.

Veering from the marked trail where necessary, the group spent the second day beating the shortest path to their destination in a quite literal sense, leaving a trail of monster carcasses in their wake. They pushed forward with barely a moment’s rest, and by the time the sun started to descend toward the mountains, they somehow found themselves arriving at the sixth waymark. If they continued at the same pace, they’d theoretically arrive at the stronghold three hours before the deadline—just as they’d originally planned. However, making up for their lost time had come at a significant cost. Every single member of the main force was battered, bruised, and utterly exhausted. In order to maintain a uniform pace throughout the day’s march, they’d redistributed the supplies between them to account for their differences in both magical and physical strength, which meant everyone was now almost uniformly fatigued. While their respective mana reserves had suffered the most over the two-day trek, the physical aspects of their trial—overworked muscles, sleep deprivation, and malnutrition, despite the field rations they’d eaten while on the move—had taken just as much of a toll on the group. Of course, their ordeal was far from over, and they all knew that as their physical exhaustion continued to worsen, their mental faculties would begin to diminish too.

They were in no condition to continue at their current pace—but if they didn’t, there was every chance they wouldn’t make it in time.

The unease of their current situation bred impatience, and impatience led to mistakes, which gave rise to even greater exhaustion. The students of Class A marched in silence, any thoughts of conversation muted by the dull thunk of their sluggish footsteps.

But the harder things get, the more crucial it is to keep your head up—or so thought the ever-positive Al as he lifted his gaze from his muddy boots, which was when he spotted the distant tendril of smoke rising from somewhere roughly halfway between the sixth and seventh waymarks.

“Hey, look! There’s smoke over there... Maybe some monsters are fighting?”

Everyone looked up at the mention of “monsters,” albeit without the positivity that had fueled Al. As Stella had warned, the number of monsters had increased dramatically after they’d passed the fifth waymark, and the main force had found themselves forced into battle with such frequency that they’d lost count.

“No, that’s campfire smoke... It’s Allen,” Coco said with a sigh of relief, much to the astonishment of the others.

“You’re joking, right? It’s only been, what, a little over thirty hours since they left the base camp? It was 250 kilometers from there to Impala, and even if we say they somehow managed to take a shortcut through the mountains straight here, that’s another 150 kilometers as the jyantcrow flies,” Char said, incredulous. “That’s too fast even for Allen, considering the monsters he’d have to deal with along the way—and he’s also got Stella with him, so he couldn’t move at his usual pace anyway. It’s probably just a couple of explorers using the mountain trail.”

Coco shook his head firmly. “Only Allen would dare light a campfire in such a conspicuous spot—I’m sure of it. The placement of it... Unless we changed our route entirely, there’s no way we’d miss seeing it no matter how much we veered off the path. I’m pretty sure that’s why he’s done it. It’s a signal to let us know where to go. I didn’t say anything earlier because I didn’t want to get everyone’s hopes up, just in case something went wrong, but... Yeah, as soon as he said he’d be taking Stella with him, I assumed he was planning to join up with us somewhere along the way. I just didn’t think it would be this soon...”

Jewel giggled softly, amused. “Well, I can’t imagine how he’s managed it, but I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised... It is Allen we’re talking about, after all. Remember what he said? ‘It always seems impossible until it’s done...’ Clearly he’s just performed another of those impossible feats he seems so partial to.”

Al laughed too. “All right, let’s keep our heads up and feet moving! Those two must have pushed themselves pretty hard to beat us here, right? If we keep plodding around like we are now, they’ll never let us hear the end of it!”

Allen’s waiting for us... That single thought lit a new fire under each and every one of them, their previous despondency reduced to nothing but smoke and ash.

◆◆◆

“Hey, everyone! Great work! You definitely walked right into one of Godolphen’s traps, huh—I can tell just by looking at you! Well, the meat’s already grilled, so grab yourself some and dig in! Oh, I’ve also got the stuff ready to go for a soup—did someone bring a pot?” I said. I’d tried to make the greeting sound appreciative—or encouraging, even—but for some reason, it had the opposite effect, as my classmates immediately slumped onto the hard ground.

“How...? How are you still so energetic, Allen? Didn’t you just run all the way straight through the mountains? Seriously... Did you steal a magicar or something and drive it here?” Pisces muttered.

I immediately denied his (rather offensive) assumption. “I wouldn’t just steal a magicar! How rude... To be honest, I thought we wouldn’t meet up with you guys until later tonight somewhere around the eighth waymark, but Stella’s sense of direction is just too good. With her leading the way, the journey here was basically a hike.”

“A hike...?” someone muttered, and as if on cue, eighteen heads drooped in dismay.

Leo frowned. “Quite frankly, we’re in pretty bad shape right now, so having you two back is going to be a big help, but...” He sighed, and when he started speaking again, it was as though he was forcing the words through gritted teeth. “In the end, that just means we’re relying on you to clean up our mess. It’s frustrating, but evidently this is the extent of my capability as a leader right now—and it’s not enough. Everyone did their absolute best to ensure we made it this far. It’s my guidance that was lacking.”

Does he always have to make everything so difficult?

I clapped him on the shoulder, smiling ruefully. “Cheer up, Leo. You made it this far with one less person than the old geezer planned for when he came up with this scenario. That alone is pretty impressive, but the fact that it was Stella, with her knowledge of the area—not to mention her stamina and fighting skills? Honestly, managing to make it here by this time is probably the best result anyone would be capable of reaching in your position. That’s why I waited here, because I knew there was no way you’d have been able to make it any farther ahead with the hand you’d been dealt. I’m guessing you had a lot of tough decisions to make along the way, but no matter which option you picked, I’m pretty sure none of them would have gotten you here any earlier than now.” I shrugged. “You valued my opinion and immediately decided to assign Stella to the messenger detachment, right? And now we’re all here, ready to work as one. That’s another testament to your leadership skills, Leo. Of course, I know everyone else definitely gave it their all too, otherwise you would’ve had no chance getting this far.”

Leo’s bitter frown had softened a little by the time I’d finished speaking, and the others—who’d previously appeared to be impersonating funeral attendees—perked up somewhat too.

“Seriously, there’s not a single soul in the whole of Yugria who’d even suggest that Leo Seizinger—a guy who doesn’t know the definition of overexerting oneself despite being a walking example of it—would ever try anything but his hardest,” I said, grinning. “I mean, you’re not Pisces, after all. But enough about all of that—I’m starving! Stella and I waited for you guys, since we knew you’d be here before long. Darley buffalo’s on the menu tonight, freshly killed and freshly grilled! Stella reckons it’s the best thing you’ll ever eat—anyone hungry?”

“What the hell, Allen?! I tried my hardest too!” Pisces spluttered, his sheer indignance finally bringing a proper smile to everyone’s face.

Yep, this is more like it! We’re on a field trip, after all—gotta make sure we enjoy it!

◆◆◆

“This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted!” Jewel exclaimed, having finally worked up the courage to tear off a chunk of the meat. The rest of my chronically well-behaved classmates were just as initially hesitant of—and subsequently impressed by—the Darley buffalo. I’d cut out a few sizable chunks of the meat and spitroasted them whole over the naked flames before carving off strips with my dagger in a style reminiscent of churrasco. The only seasoning I’d brought along was salt, but there was no better spice than hunger to make any meal more appetizing—and a dash of the refreshing atmosphere that came with eating local-sourced ingredients alongside a bunch of your friends in such a scenic outdoor setting didn’t hurt either.

When my classmates had first arrived, I’d found myself adorned with a particularly clingy Fey demanding praise for her supposed hard work on the journey here. My heartfelt compliment—that even without being there, I knew she’d given it her true, gorilla girl all—had earned me a cheerful grin and the experience of having my cheek pinched so hard I thought it would tear off.

“How the hell are you still so energetic...?” I grumbled, blinking away a few tears as I rubbed my stinging cheek.

“You deserved that, Allen,” Leo said, walking toward me. “Feyreun really did give it her all. It’s because of her support—both physically and mentally—that we made it here at all.” He paused to tear off another chunk of meat with astounding elegance for someone eating with his bare hands. Clearly, a good upbringing left traces even the wilderness couldn’t strip away. “By the way... Why aren’t we being attacked by monsters right now?”

“Oh, the smell lured a few of them in, but it’s been easy enough to chase them off with my wind magic.” I shrugged. “These days, most monsters turn tail and run when I threaten them with a slight breeze, unless they’re especially strong or something.”

Leo remained silent for a moment, then nodded, flashing me a wry grin. “I see... So that’s how you managed to get here so quickly and even had the time to cook. I wondered why you’d intentionally convinced everyone your new form of magic was only useful for flipping skirts, but I understand why you were hiding it now. The possibilities it presents terrify me a little, to be honest. Unfortunately I don’t think I’ll ever be able to control my mana circulation with the precision it demands...” He sighed. “Well, it was just like you said—assigning Stella to your detachment was the fastest way in the end. I had my doubts, but I guess you knew this would work all along, right?”

Hang on, I never tried convincing anyone it was for something as stupid as that! And it’s all your fault I had to use it during the Nova Cup anyway!

“I didn’t know anything. There was no way I could’ve, not with so many variables at play. All I had was the determination to figure out a solution for any problem, no matter what trouble came our way. Success is just the end product of adding a whole bunch of that determination together. But let’s leave the boring talk for later, yeah? My special ‘springtime of life’ soup is just about ready to eat!”

For some reason, the mere mention of the soup—which I’d put my heart and soul into preparing—made my recently rejuvenated classmates look back at the ground in sullen synchronization.

“What the— Why the hell do you all look so depressed?! Sure, the color might be a little, well, that... But it tastes pretty good, okay?!” I gave the angrily bubbling soup (which admittedly was currently purple on account of the natural pigmentation of the vegetables I’d added) another stir and offered everyone a bowl again, but to no avail. The bubbles didn’t hint at dangerous fermentation or anything either—the soup was just boiling. “Come on, don’t hold back! There’s plenty to go around!”

Unfortunately, each attempt at encouragement only seemed to add to the mysterious tension that now hung over the clearing like a wet blanket. No one answered, not even to refuse the offer. It was as though they thought merely opening their mouths could result in death. Even the usually easygoing Al refused to meet my eyes, instead resolutely staring into the crackling fire.

A few more moments passed before Leo finally stood up, his stiff but determined posture closely resembling that of a soldier readying himself for an unwinnable battle. “If we don’t know why we’re eating, how do you expect us to find the willpower to carry it through? Tell us, Allen,” he said, now less reminiscent of a soldier and more so of an overworked diplomat attempting to negotiate the terms of surrender. Of course, I recognized the words instantly—it was the same thing I’d once told him while trying to trick him into eating Thora’s cooking.

Why would you need willpower to eat my cooking, though? Don’t lump my soup in with Thora’s breakfasts... I know everyone thinks I’ve got an unrefined palate or whatever, but it’s not like I’ve ever cooked for any of them before— Oh, wait...

I’d just remembered the time I went exploring with Al and Coco and forced everyone at the campsite into joining a “dark hot pot party,” as the game had been known back in Japan. The gist of the game, as I understood it, was that everyone would bring a mystery ingredient into a darkened room and add it to a hot pot, which would then be consumed in the dark without anyone knowing exactly what it was they were eating. Apparently, it was common practice for people to add in things not usually considered hot pot ingredients as a joke, leading to a fun-filled and rowdy time for all. Having been devoid of friends in my previous lifetime, I’d obviously never experienced a dark hot pot party for myself, but I could keenly remember how jealously I’d listened to the other students at my university sharing their dark hot pot anecdotes.

In fact, I’d plagiarized one such anecdote entirely for my own long-awaited encounter with the party staple, specifically involving the addition of cowhide shoelaces to the meal. The guy I’d stolen the idea from had proclaimed it to have been a huge hit, but my attempt hadn’t resulted in quite the same level of success. Al hadn’t picked up on the joke, and had instead mistaken the shoelaces for noodles which he’d proceeded to slurp down with considerable gusto. My attempt to explain the “joke” after the chaos had finally calmed down went down about as well as a clown at a funeral.

Yeah, I was definitely in the wrong there... I’m guessing that story got twisted somehow, and now everyone thinks that hot pot is proof of my nonexistent cooking skills.

In order to alleviate everyone’s concerns, I answered Leo’s question with the solemnity it demanded. “Why you’re eating, huh...? Well, first of all, because there’s nothing better than filling your stomach with delicious food, right? But if you want a more specific reason, I’d tell you that this soup contains ingredients known to supplement the natural recovery of stamina and mana, such as the dramant mushrooms and the oxaligrass roots I foraged on the way here. If you want to enjoy the rest of our camping trip without running out of energy, then this is exactly what you need.”

My explanation only resulted in bewildered expressions and silence, until Vesta stepped up to voice what was clearly a shared thought. “What in the world are you thinking, Allen? The use of plants with restorative properties can also damage your natural recovery in the long term, and their use is forbidden according to Academy rules. And there weren’t any types of recovery aids provided with the rest of the equipment and supplies, only salves and ointments. If we’re caught using them, we could be disqualified for cheating!”

Ugh... You’re all too damn obedient!

If you relied on professionally brewed potions on a regular basis, sure, you’d probably permanently impair your natural ability to recover. When it came to an amount as small as this—a few loose mushrooms and roots chucked into a soup—though, the “damage” he was referring to wouldn’t be significant enough to notice, and would disappear from the body at the same speed as the meal itself. Essentially, it wouldn’t harm you in the slightest. A quick scan of the rest of my classmates, however, told me they were just as appalled as Vesta.

That crafty geezer... He knows exactly how much these guys love following the rules. I’d bet a hundred riels he purposefully “forgot” to mention anything about whether or not those rules applied out here...

“Vesta, you’re gonna have a hard time if you keep treating this camp the same as you would a normal class within the nice, safe Academy walls. What did Godolphen say the primary goal of this trip was, according to the Academy’s official guidelines?”

“He said, er...‘to allow our students to deepen their bonds with both nature and their peers while also fostering their physical and intellectual development,’ right?”

“Exactly. Now what does deepening your bond with nature actually mean? It means using nature’s bounty to ensure your own safety and success—pretty obvious, as far as I see it.”

No one replied for a while, probably sent scrambling by the lack of any factual evidence for my otherwise plausible explanation. For prodigies like my classmates who nearly always just knew the right answer, my hypothesis (which also completely contradicted the ‘accepted’ rules) definitely posed quite the dilemma.

But still, this is taking way too long...

It was getting to the point where I started considering just directly asking Godolphen—who was spying on us from a distance—to confirm my theory to my stubborn classmates, but reluctantly decided against it. No one else had seemed to notice his presence, and I assumed he’d prefer to keep it that way.

Still, I’m kinda surprised... I didn’t really think he’d literally trail the main force all the way here.

I’d expected him to follow us, of course; even in a world like this, there was no way any respectable school would allow its students to wander around the mountains for a week unsupervised. However, we also wouldn’t get the true benefit of the military exercise (which was what this camp essentially was) if we’d known help was right around the corner the entire time. The whole idea was to put us under pressure.

As soon as you left the relative safety of a town or city’s walls, one wrong step could lead to death. That was the reality of a world like this one—even if you were a gifted Academy student, and even if Sage Godolphen himself was lurking in the bushes nearby. Everyone took various measures to reduce the risk of taking that wrong step, but no amount of preparation could ever fully ensure your safety—not when monsters roamed the land. The risk was even higher out in the remote wilderness, of which the mountains we currently wandered were the perfect example. While researchers and explorers had determined the distribution ranges of most monster species to an extent, this wasn’t like a video game with exact spawn points. You could never fully predict where you’d encounter a monster. It wasn’t just civilians or even explorers who were in danger either—even the Royal Order suffered several monster-based casualties each year.

The skills drilled into us at the Academy were aimed at allowing us to minimize danger in the most effective way possible: by being capable of fending for ourselves without relying on outside help. Theoretical learning had its limits, though. Eventually, we had to venture out and put those skills to the test if we wanted to keep improving. Ultimately, the words of pencil pushers who issued orders from the safety of their offices without ever even setting foot in the field themselves carried little weight in a world like this one, regardless of said pencil pusher’s status or position.

That didn’t just apply to military organizations like the Order either. It was just as true in merchant conglomerates, fisheries, agriculture, and any and all other industries. Like Godolphen had said during our first day in class, graduates of the Royal Academy were expected to be“more than bigheaded bureaucrats who cannot leave the safety of their desks.” One’s status as an Academy graduate came with an unbelievable amount of power, and with that came a certain amount of responsibility, as Godolphen would have us believe.

But back to the matter at hand: As long as Godolphen remained in hiding, revealing his presence wouldn’t help me in the slightest. If anything, it would probably lead to some sort of point deduction, and he almost definitely wouldn’t confirm my theory anyway—which left it to me to attempt to convince them.

“Have you guys ever heard the saying, ‘food is medicine’?” My question was met with a show of blank expressions—which wasn’t surprising really, considering the saying was a Japanese variation of an ancient Chinese proverb on medicinal cooking. “Well, first off, it’s actually pretty hard to definitively establish if something is ‘food’ or ‘medicine,’ okay? Take the meat you’re eating right now, for instance—are you sure it doesn’t have any beneficial properties? The salt I used to season it—can you confidently explain exactly how it’s being utilized by your bodies? If you can’t, then really, you shouldn’t be eating anything other than the field rations in your packs. But do you think you’re gonna deepen your bonds with nature that way? More importantly, do you really think that’s the lesson Godolphen is hoping you’ll learn from this?”

“What Master Godolphen is hoping we’ll learn from this...?” Vesta mumbled, more to himself than anyone.

I nodded. “I think the point of this whole thing is to test our adaptability in adverse situations, when we can’t rely on anyone but ourselves; situations like urgent monster subjugation missions, for example, or forays into enemy territory. At the same time, it’s designed to make us realize and reflect on our shortcomings during those situations. Do you remember what Godolphen said when he stopped by for breakfast at the dorm? During the war, when his unit was attacked and scattered, he survived on tree bark for a whole week while making his way back to safety. No matter what it took, he was determined to return alive to continue fulfilling his duties. That’s what I think he wants to see from us over the course of this camp—the same willpower and desire to live he relied on back then.” I shrugged. “Pisces asked me if I stole a magicar before, right? He was just joking, but to be honest, that kind of thinking is what we need right now. If I truly thought that was my only option to avoid failure then, yeah, I would have acquired a carriage or even a magicar by any means necessary, even theft—though obviously I’d prefer to pay. We probably would have gotten points deducted from our overall score if I had, but we would have succeeded.”

With a final shrug, I went back to stirring my ominously colored soup. The final decision was up to them. While I sincerely doubted it would happen, in the unlikely event my soup did lead to disqualification, I was confident in my ability to overturn the ruling with some sound logic and a little tenacity. However, my personal opinion on what constituted an acceptable risk was drastically different than theirs. I couldn’t care less about being dropped down to Class B or E, after all.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Leo frowning, his mouth opening and closing in a nearly mechanical rhythm. He obviously wanted to say something—probably something along the lines of, “I’ll take responsibility if needed, so let’s just eat”—but eventually, he seemed to decide against it. I’d assumed as much. In the end, this decision didn’t strictly have much to do with our course of action throughout the scenario, and therefore, it wasn’t up to him. It was something each person needed to determine for themselves. Even if this did end up being the reason for a (purely hypothetical and largely unrealistic) classwide demotion, there was no guarantee that Leo claiming he’d assumed responsibility for the decision would do anything to change the outcome.

In a surprising turn of events, it wasn’t Leo who spoke up first but Dan, who usually preferred to stick to the sidelines at times like this. “I’ll have some. Out here, one small mistake could turn into a potentially fatal situation, and I’d prefer to be at my full strength if it does. Compared to dying, failing a scenario or even getting dropped down a class doesn’t sound all that bad, you know? I’d be able to climb my way back up to Class A by the time we become third-years, anyway.”

“You’re right, Dan! Who cares if we fall down so long as we can get back up?” Al agreed. “I reckon I was still taking this whole thing too lightly... I’ll have some soup too, Allen!”

Spurred on by Dan and Al, the rest of my classmates began voicing their own expressions of interest in the soup. Vesta—above and beyond the most conservative member of our class—was the last to chime in. “Truthfully, I’d prefer to avoid either risk... Unlike you, Allen, I’m not thrilled by the idea of plunging blindly into dangerous territory wherever possible. But I can’t deny that a quicker recovery is probably the most rational decision we could make with the information available to us. Therefore, I’ll have some too. However...” He paused for a moment, staring intently at the bubbling soup. “I’ll wait for someone else to try it and see if there’s any adverse effects first.”

His final comment was met with a response of “Vesta, you sneaky little—” and various similar remarks.

Why are they all so rude about my cooking...?

I stubbornly refused to be the first to sample the soup after the latest display of ungraciousness, which led them to commence the angriest round of rock-paper-scissors I’d ever witnessed. To my great amusement, the ultimate loser was none other than Vesta. It was always the case with games such as these; the player who was most worried about the consequences of losing would inevitably be the one to lose.

◆◆◆

After we’d finished eating, we split into two groups—each taking a thirtyish minute nap while the other kept watch—before finally leaving the temporary campsite behind.

The soup, incidentally, had been a huge success. The recipe was actually one I’d learned from Reed, so there was never any possibility of it being anything other than delicious. Vesta’s utter despair after losing at rock-paper-scissors had just been so amusing, I’d decided to continue keeping that little tidbit to myself until after everyone had tried the soup first.

“You’ve got a real mean streak, you know? If you’d just told us it was one of Reed’s recipes from the start, everyone would have been lining up to grab a bowl instead of wasting all that time thinking up a way to avoid it...” Al sighed, flexing his arms experimentally. “Seriously though, I never thought a single bowl of soup could make me feel this good. Reed sure is a genius.”

Despite being a busy third-year, Reed was a constant source of advice and support for the younger residents of the standard dormitory, and the members of Class 1-A held him in particularly high regard (though not as much as I did). As much faith as Al had in Reed’s recipe, at the end of the day it wasn’t much more than a mishmash of whatever I’d been able to find, and hadn’t likely contributed to his renewed energy in any significant way. In reality, the newfound spring in his step probably had a lot more to do with the nap, but I decided not to mention that. After all, faith could be a powerful thing, even if it was the result of a misunderstanding. Al himself was proof of that, for he and Coco—my regular exploring buddies—had both managed a full thirty minutes of solid sleep thanks to their faith in the protective preeminence of my wind magic.

“Yansa trees are the secret to that soup—specifically, the leaves. You have to crush them to a pulp to get out as much of the nutrients in the veins as you can. Yansas grow all around the kingdom, right?” I asked. “And they have a really distinctive citrusy scent, so you can find them pretty easily if you just enhance your sense of smell with Strengthening Magic. The leaves help reduce the gamey smell of the meat, but more importantly, they also increase the effectiveness of any other ingredients you add in too. Obviously, a bowl of soup’s still not gonna be anywhere near as beneficial as a properly made potion or anything though.” Personally, I thought of the yansa leaves as something like this world’s version of the humble bay leaf.

My explanation earned me an assortment of suspicious looks from everyone (minus Al and Coco), which made sense. For my classmates—what with their silver spoons and secure futures—the idea of one of their peers willingly learning skills more appropriate for an army cook than a future bigwig was probably quite perplexing. Even if they’d more or less come to accept the concept of exploring as a hobby, from their point of view, it still made more sense to simply become a high-ranking explorer and hire porters and chefs to do the boring work for you. To do otherwise would be a waste of time, which was a precious enough resource already to nobles like them.

Well, it is kinda a waste of time even for me... But it’s a fun waste of time, and that’s all that matters.

“Next time, I’ll actually make my special ‘springtime of life’ recipe for you though,” I announced with a broad grin, only for everyone to desperately avoid my gaze.

The idle chatter continued as we made our way along the moonlit mountain trail. As the altitude increased, so did the aggressiveness of the monsters, quite a few of which were able to withstand the threat of my wind magic. While it certainly couldn’t have been described as a leisurely hike, we still managed to keep a decent pace throughout the night, finally pausing just a kilometer away from the “stronghold” a little before dawn. The main force took a quick break while Dan and I set off to investigate our final challenge.

Though Godolphen had presented it as a recently captured defensive stronghold, in reality, it was actually just a crumbling stone structure. It had probably been abandoned years before, if not centuries, and was arguably more of an ancient ruin than a mere derelict building. We were able to spot only two entrances, one each at the front and rear of the building.

“The scenario treated it as a recapture mission, so I’d say we should strike at dawn. If this was an actual military operation, we’d want to launch our assault as soon as possible, before the enemy spotted us and had the opportunity to prepare a counterattack,” Leo said, frowning. “Did you get an idea what might be inside?”

I shook my head. “None at all. There was an anti-Scouting device set up somewhere in the building. I’m assuming it’s a recent addition for the sake of the scenario, though.”

Leo nodded, and began rattling off orders without hesitation. “All right. Allen, you’ll be on lookout for enemy reinforcements, and provide assistance as needed. Stella, Parley, and I will enter from the front, and Dan, Reggie, Pisces, and Beld will cover the back. We’ll leave the relief supplies here for the time being, along with Char, Kate, Dolph, and Lala to guard them. Everyone else will encircle the stronghold as a line of defense—make sure you’re able to reach one another if the need arises. Feyreun will be in charge of the external forces. Any questions?”

Everyone shook their heads. We took our respective positions, and as dawn broke over the horizon, we launched our attack on the stronghold. Our so-called enemy turned out to be a family of meursaults (short, stout monsters with three eyes and dense fur) who’d made their nest inside, which the assault unit took down without breaking a sweat. With the stronghold safely recaptured, we quickly transported all eight hundred kilograms of relief supplies inside, thus finally completing our lengthy first scenario.

◆◆◆

Approximately five kilometers west of the “stronghold” recaptured by Class 1-A lay one of Yugria’s actual defensive strongholds, falling under the jurisdiction of the kingdom’s northwest command (which itself fell under the jurisdiction of the Fifth Legion of the Royal Order). One section of the small military outpost had been lent to the Royal Academy as one of several command centers the faculty used to monitor the ongoing camp.

“To think mere first-years would be able to complete that scenario of yours with a perfect score... No wonder they’ve acquired their reputation as the cream of the crop,” Viscount Saiphen Vanquish—younger brother to Godolphen von Vanquish—said, shaking his head in amazement. He’d loaned the Academy the use of his domain for their camp as well as providing various other assistance and resources as necessary, and thus was largely aware of the particulars of the scenarios the students would face. The Royal Academy, of course, compensated him for the use of his lands and also guaranteed him ownership of any materials collected from the monsters slain over the course of the week, so his assistance wasn’t merely out of the kindness of his heart.

“No... Their success cannot be explained away by such a simple platitude, Viscount. The scenario Class A just completed was identical to what we call the Dual Squad Forced Transport Mission—a military exercise the Sage here himself designed as a means of stomping the naivety out of our new Order recruits. In the Order, it’s assigned to two eight-person squads—so sixteen recruits in total—with the same eight-hundred-kilogram load. Even with twenty soldiers instead of sixteen, it’s still the same hellish forced march that has literal Royal Knights coughing up blood by the end of it. They might be in Class A, but they also had a good few bureaucrat course students making up their number. Completing a journey like that in just forty-four hours and twenty minutes should have been impossible. And despite still having four scenarios to go, they barely seem daunted... What in the world are you teaching them at the Academy, Sage?”

The speaker—Tim, the vice captain of the Fifth Legion of the Royal Order—had been dispatched both to provide support during the camp and to identify promising young talent for future recruitment. An expert scout and tracker, Tim had intently observed Class 1-A’s performance throughout the scenario with his own two eyes. Unbeknownst to the students, a knight of similar reconnoitering ability had been allocated to watch each class—along with their respective homeroom teachers—in an effort to ensure their safety while also maintaining the insecure atmosphere necessary for optimal development.

Godolphen chuckled delightedly. “They exceeded even my expectations. While I was rather confident in my understanding of their physical skills, I must admit the sheer harmony with which they cooperated took me by surprise. In truth, I was anticipating a good deal more strife within their unit, considering the pressure they were under... Well, not to worry. I look forward to seeing how long that solidarity lasts as exhaustion builds throughout the scenarios.” His unpleasant smile, when combined with the way he was stroking his long, white beard, made him look like some sort of clichéd evil sorcerer.

“I didn’t think much of this whole ‘living humbly’ notion when you explained it, Sage, but... I see now I clearly misunderstood the true motivation behind their choice to live in that Doghouse. Their combat skills are far from perfect, but their stamina is unbelievable, especially for kids their age. I’ve heard rumors about the ‘Hill Path Club’ you supervise, something about them supposedly running laps around the Academy before class each morning...?” Tim trailed off questioningly.

Godolphen beamed. “Precisely as you heard, Tim, their stamina is largely the hard-earned result of voluntary morning training. I’ve actually had to delay the curriculum of their regular physical lessons to account for their activities in the Hill Path Club. You should understand how magnificent a thing that is, Tim.” His eyes glinted. “Those exceptionally talented children are pushing themselves to the point of exhaustion each and every morning, and they’re doing it by choice. The training they do is as dull as it is draining, and the rewards are all but invisible—and yet, they persist. ‘Train not only your body and your technique, but most importantly, your spirit’—the precept that defines the Hill Path Club is easy to echo, certainly, but less so to realize. At my age I understand the true difficulty of that notion better than most, I’d wager. As with all of Soldo Vineforce’s ideals, it’s remarkably simple, and yet profoundly, unfathomably deep.”

Tim swallowed hard. “Soldo Vineforce’s method of ‘Combat Readiness’... I found it hard to believe a private tutor like him could actually exist. Seeing the results with my own eyes, though... I can’t help but be convinced.” He paused for a moment, frowning. “To be honest, I thought you’d intervene as soon as that vulpyne appeared, Sage, but you didn’t even twitch. I was beginning to panic, and about to rush in myself when Leo Seizinger took it down as though it was a mere runesheep. Despite his age, his stamina and combat capabilities already exceed the level we’d expect of a new Order recruit.”

Godolphen nodded. “Even for a tritail, that was quite the dangerous specimen. Mysterious and elusive beasts, vulpynes. If those children had escaped its notice here, there can be little doubt we would’ve heard word of casualties among the area’s explorers and townspeople in the weeks to come, along with a subjugation request addressed to your legion. Through their successful dispatch of the beast today, we’ve been lucky enough to avoid such tragedy... I imagine the children have a somewhat less favorable opinion of their encounter, of course.”

“Frankly, what surprised me most of all was that the Seizinger boy fit in so seamlessly with the class as a whole. When you have a single soldier with extraordinary talent like his, you generally see friction within the unit, and often the swift isolation of the ‘anomaly.’ Soldiers like him usually can’t relate to their less talented peers, and they lack the humility needed to even try.” Tim shook his head. “But after seeing the way he actively worked alongside his classmates and took their opinions seriously... Leo Seizinger’s clearly at home within Class A. What was even more impressive was how he managed to lead that pack of prodigies without ever losing his grip on the reins. He’s exceptional in every way.”

Godolphen let out another pleasant chuckle. “It seems there is a strange delight to be had from hearing one’s pupils receive such high praise... Perhaps this is what they refer to when they speak of the joys of being an educator? Naturally, every one of those children has their own kind of brilliance, which only makes polishing them all the more worthwhile.” He smiled. “Well, Tim? Other than Leo Seizinger, did those keen eyes of yours pick up any other gems?”

“Hmm...” Tim’s brow furrowed. “To be honest, if any one of your students applied for the Fifth Legion I’d accept them without a second thought. You’re asking me to pick gems out of a jewelry box here. I’ll certainly be keeping an eye on Dan, but if I had to say... I’m most eager to see what Beld makes of himself.”

Godolphen raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And why is that, precisely?”

“Well, the Royal Academy naturally attracts students with particularly strong personalities and senses of pride—conceit, even—as is to be expected. But from what I observed, it’s obvious Beld consistently prioritizes the unit’s needs and safety over his own. His straightforward and compassionate disposition was clear in even his most trivial interactions, but at the same time, there was no naivety or carelessness to him—though that’s not as much of a surprise with you as his teacher, Sage. His selflessness isn’t something that can be taught, however. It’s something the boy was born with. He’ll probably find himself shouldering more of a supporting role in the beginning, helping others while escaping notice himself. With his potential as a strategian though, Beld will definitely become an exceptional asset to the Order before long if he does choose to join. His potential as an individual warrior is almost just as promising. If he continues to focus on his development, it wouldn’t surprise me for him to leave quite the mark on Yugria’s history.”

Godolphen’s mood seemed to soar even higher. “Quite right, Tim! Nothing escapes those eyes of yours, as always.”

Saiphen—who’d remained silent throughout Tim’s analysis—finally spoke up again. “I’m curious... What was your opinion of Allen Rovene, Tim?”

Tim remained silent for a moment, before slowly shaking his head. “He... I can’t say, to be honest. Since the Sage said the boy would likely attempt to force his way directly through the mountains, I positioned units from the Trouverean army along the more plausible routes in order to get an understanding of his methods. After the report that he and the Achilles girl had left Impala, however, I didn’t receive a single spellbird—not from any of the units. Whether intentionally or not, he somehow avoided each and every one. And then he appeared along the main force’s route as though by magic...” Tim sighed. “Ever since they rejoined the main force, monster activity around our units has increased significantly. I assume the boy is utilizing Captain Dew’s Scouting Magic techniques, but I wasn’t able to confirm it for certain without risking detection. Even so, that doesn’t explain how he was able to reunite with the others so quickly. I have no idea how he tricked us... Though I daresay you might, Sage?”

Godolphen’s expression darkened in an instant. “I never imagined he’d think to pilfer Stella Achillies from the main force and aim for an early rendezvous, and yet, I found myself outwitted. The act itself was another example of their remarkably developed comradery, and a rather vexing one at that. Their success would have been impossible had Rovene not possessed a keen understanding of Stella’s knowledge and abilities and also the trust of his classmates. As Dew tells me, the boy is still fixated on the idea of mastering Scouting Magic—or ‘wind magic,’ as he calls it—with a passion which borders on the fanatical. The effective range of his Scouting already exceeds Dew’s, in fact. The Emissive Magic Club he founded at the Academy even boasts a dedicated group of Rovene’s disciples, all exclusively dedicated to the research and development of his so-called wind magic... Truthfully, I thought little of it at first, but I’ve come to reconsider my opinion of his endeavor,” Godolphen said, once again stroking his beard thoughtfully. “If Rovene’s theory is true, that wind magic is a skill anyone can acquire with enough effort—even if not quite to his level of mastery—then the kingdom intends to provide nigh unlimited support toward its development. Musica, the club’s adviser, is currently attempting to learn the ability herself while evaluating its true potential. Alas, the basic principles of wind magic seem to differ to those of Scouting Magic to some extent, which has hindered her progress thus far... You must keep this strictly confidential, of course.”

Both Tim and Saiphen were lost for words.

“Therefore, there was no ‘trick’ to the boy’s admittedly implausible progress, Tim; he is merely capable of using Scouting Magic in a way others cannot, nothing more. You read young Rosita’s report on the recent Briar Baronry Darkwolf Extermination Mission, did you not? I can’t imagine why you’re so surprised... He detected you and me both, you realize—in spite of the anti-Scouting devices we wore.”

Tim gaped. “But he’s just a twelve-year-old boy! How could he have possibly detected you, Sage? He didn’t show any indication he’d noticed our presence either...”

Godolphen sighed. “As his teacher, I’ve come to understand the boy’s nature to some degree, including his somewhat crooked personality. That’s how I can be sure he noticed us, Tim—because using his wind magic, Rovene deliberately drove every monster he encountered toward us. We became mere pawns in his game, thinning out the monsters on his behalf. To be so thoroughly outplayed by a mere child... I never would have thought it possible,” he finished, his tone carrying an edge of bitterness.

Tim swallowed hard. The man who stood before him had, until recently, been the vice commander of the Royal Order, a warrior who commanded respect and fear in equal parts. Now, however, that same man was virtually shaking in frustration at having been outwitted by a mere child. “Do you think he’s already realized what awaits them next, then?”

“I dare not hazard a guess at just what the boy has or hasn’t realized at this point, nor at what he might be planning. I think we should assume he’s predicted the upcoming scenarios to some extent, however, lest we find ourselves caught off guard once again...” Godolphen trailed off, scowling deeply. When he finally spoke again, the words came as a mutter. “The remaining scenarios need to be adjusted, or the students will learn nothing from their experience here.”

Saiphen’s expression stiffened in shock. The scores awarded to each class were calculated based on the overall time they’d taken to complete each scenario, as well as the quality of said completion and the respective difficulty of each. On one hand, if his brother now increased the difficulty of the remaining scenarios, Class A’s potential final score could also increase. On the other hand, however, so would the time needed to complete them—and the competition between the classes (with unrestricted access to the Vanquish holiday estate as a reward) was a time-based one. For his brother to increase the difficulty now wasn’t just unfair; it was underhanded. “Godolphen, you shouldn’t—”

“I know full well what I should and shouldn’t do, Saiphen. I’ll apologize to the children once this is all over, but I cannot and will not allow them to leave these mountains without acquiring the qualities they’ll one day need—without gaining the strength to continue on under any condition, and the willpower to cling to life until their dying breath. If I must welcome their hatred and scorn to do that, so be it. I’ll embrace it gladly if that is what it takes. I comforted too many of my comrades as they died in my arms, Saiphen, and I will do anything to ensure those children don’t share a similar fate.”

With that, Godolphen turned on his heel, and Saiphen watched him go. For once, his brother’s retreating figure didn’t invoke the image of the indomitable, awe-inspiring warrior of legend in the slightest, but merely that of an old teacher, terrified by the thought of losing his students.

Chapter Two: The Second and Third Scenarios

The Second Scenario

It was now 10 a.m. on the third day of the Academy’s camp—in other words, precisely forty-eight hours since we’d received our first scenario. We were taking it in turns to catch up on some much-needed sleep when Godolphen finally appeared with one of his familiar annoying chuckles.

“Well, it seems you youngsters have run yourselves quite ragged! Take care your exhaustion doesn’t lead to error. Now, on to the next scenario.”

Godolphen was clearly eager to throw us into danger once more, leaving me little choice but to interrupt him if I wanted any chance at alleviating my classmates’ fears—though from their point of view, it would undoubtedly seem like I was deliberately stirring up trouble. Godolphen definitely already knew about the soup, though, and while some of us (namely myself and Fey) couldn’t care less about breaking the rules, others, like the excessively rule-abiding Vesta, wouldn’t be able to perform at their best with a guilty conscience.

“Before that, can I ask something?” I interjected. “As I understand it, this camp’s been planned in a way that makes it necessary for us to procure our own food and supplies from the environment. Is there then any problem with us using ingredients with restorative properties that would ordinarily be forbidden by Academy rules?”

Godolphen smiled in a way that could only be described as insincere. “Oh, I must have forgotten to explain. My apologies. There is no problem at all, of course. I must admit, after already completing one scenario, I’m surprised you still felt the need to ask such a naive question. I expect you to use all the knowledge and skills at your disposal throughout the course of this camp. However, I’d ask you to keep in mind that these mountains also hide many toxic plants, and advise you to be prepared for the choices you’ll need to make should one of your classmates become poisoned.”

He’s not as smart as I thought he was if he thinks I’m gonna swallow that “whoops, I forgot” act of his...

Though I wasn’t impressed with his allegedly unintentional negligence, the sighs of relief coming from my more serious classmates were enough to make me hold my tongue. Godolphen’s insincere smirk didn’t fade as he proceeded to announce not just one, but two scenarios in one fell swoop.

“Now, let us not waste any more time. I shall explain your second and third scenarios now. Class A, second scenario. Within the next seventy-two hours, you are to repair this recaptured stronghold and reinforce its defenses where possible, in preparation for the enemy’s return. You will find the necessary material within the relief supplies you transported here. The leader for the second scenario shall be Allen Rovene.”

What the hell? What’s up with that half-assed excuse for a scenario? Reinforce its defenses where possible? That’s just a vague suggestion, not a measurable target... I could just throw together a single crappy fence and we’d still pass, right?

Of course, we’d probably be scored based on how much effort we decided to put in, but the scenario was way too forgiving—suspiciously so, in fact—which meant the key point wasn’t the level of reinforcement at all. It was the time frame.

Seventy-two hours... The enemy’s return. So we’ll face some kind of attack three days from now to put our “reinforcements” to the test—that’s what’s gonna determine our score, I think.

I was still trying to get my head around the second scenario when Godolphen jumped right into announcing the third. “Class A, third scenario. You’ve received reports noting an abnormally high population of darkpherrets in the vicinity of the Melmarshes, approximately sixty kilometers southeast of this stronghold. You are to utilize a two-team herding strategy, with one perimeter team driving the creatures into the marshes where the ambush team will exterminate them. Eliminate no less than twenty of the darkpherrets and return to this stronghold within the next thirty-six hours. Charme Harlonbay shall lead the third scenario.” He smiled. “The decision of how many bodies you wish to allocate to each respective scenario is in your capable hands. However, each leader must personally oversee their assigned scenario. That is all.”

This one’s just as confusing...

According to the Canardian Encyclopedia of Monsters, darkpherrets were incredibly cunning and wary foes at the best of times, but especially right before winter when they were at their most ravenous. An unusually high population of them now would definitely have significant impacts on the ecosystem. But if those abundant darkpherrets actually existed, would the locals really have sat around twiddling their thumbs until our little group of campers showed up with the monsters wreaking havoc all the while? The fact he’d specified the exact hunting method we needed to use also bothered me. An ambush took a lot more time to set up than simply waltzing in and attacking your prey directly. I glanced at Coco, but he shook his head, apparently just as baffled as I was.

I didn’t have to wait long for the mystery to be unraveled, however, with Char—the scenario’s appointed leader—providing the missing information. “The method Master Godolphen just described—it’s the same technique we use in the Harlonbay Domain. We’ve struggled with darkpherret infestations for centuries. They’re not very strong monsters, but they’re fast. They’re also excellent climbers, which makes hunting them in the forest almost impossible. But if you can scare them, they’ll try to escape through the water, and they’re a lot slower when they’re swimming. So you’ll have hunters waiting in the water beforehand, and after the herding team drives them into the trap, the darkpherrets are as good as dead. The problem is...” Char trailed off, grimacing. “We only ever hunt them in the summer. Since darkpherrets are so wary, the hunters can’t leave the water once they’ve hidden, or they’ll scare them away. Sometimes they’ll be submerged for half a day before the first kill. This time of year, the water will be too cold to last more than thirty minutes.” She frowned. “No, we might just manage to withstand it with Magic Guard, I suppose. If there really is an abnormally high population, we should be able to take down twenty of them before too long. But if not... Their territories can span two or three hundred kilometers wide. It could take a full day for the perimeter team to flush them out—and the ambush team will be enduring a waking nightmare the whole time.”

Char’s explanation rendered everyone silent—everyone except me, that was. “You crooked geezer!” I shouted (mostly involuntarily) after realizing the true difficulty of the third scenario.

Unfortunately, Godolphen didn’t rise to the bait, instead smiling at me bemusedly. “I can’t imagine what you mean,” he said with forced indifference, already turning to leave the ruins that made up our “defensive stronghold.” Seconds later, he was gone.

Stupid old bastard... You set this whole thing up to make sure I got left out again... Farewell, fulfilling youth. Farewell, onsen dreams.

I’d already noticed that the “relief supplies” had included hatchets, shovels, and hammers, along with an assortment of other carpentry tools, and had therefore anticipated the reinforcement of the stronghold playing a part in our remaining scenarios. Of course, construction work was a lot easier without hundreds of monsters around, which was why I’d directed them all toward Godolphen and the other seemingly talented tracker following us.

Unfortunately, it seemed my plan had now backfired. By culling the monsters, I’d probably decreased the difficulty of the second scenario too much for Godolphen to turn a blind eye. He couldn’t resurrect those monsters from the dead, but he could (and I suspected had) make the third scenario harder instead by increasing the number of darkpherrets we needed to kill or something. In fact, I was sure of it. There was no other explanation for the massive disparity between the two scenarios, and the way Godolphen had acted while announcing the scenarios—with his voice and expression both entirely devoid of emotion—only confirmed it.

Above all, there was the simple fact that if I hadn’t used Godolphen and the other random tracker to thin out the nearby monsters, the scenarios were simply incompatible. Completing both simultaneously would have been impossible. I couldn’t see how he might have predicted my precursory depopulation of the area, which meant he’d adjusted the scenarios on the fly. He couldn’t make the second scenario much harder, but he could easily tweak the third. The more people were assigned to the darkpherret scenario, the harder mine would get—thus rebalancing the difficulty to something much closer to Godolphen’s original intention.

After silently vowing to make the old fart regret his decision immensely, I turned to Char. “The second scenario doesn’t have any specific objectives, so our current priority should be tackling the third scenario with as many people as possible. However, depending on exactly what he’s got planned for us seventy-two hours from now, reinforcing the stronghold might also spell the difference between failure and success. I can’t do much alone, and it’s too risky for me to just wait around for you guys to come back either. There’s one person I desperately need with me if we want any chance at completing this.”

Everyone exchanged dumbfounded glances, all wondering who it was I’d singled out as so essential. For some reason Fey stepped forward, her excitement so unwarrantedly palpable that I almost expected her to start beating her chest in a primal display of victory. “I suppose I have no choice, really... Okay, I’ll do it. Still, I can’t believe you’re going to force a delicate maiden like me into such hard labor... You’ll have to give me a nice, long massage every night, of course.”

“Stop messing around, Fey. You and Leo are both obviously gonna be in the ambush team. Maintaining Magic Guard for that long requires either delicate magic manipulation like yours or a stupid amount of mana to spare, like our friend Leo there’s got,” I replied bluntly, earning me a show of (clearly fake) tears.

“So you want a delicate, gentle maiden like me to lie in a swamp for hours on end?! Well, I suppose I could be convinced... As long as you promise to warm me up when we get back. Well? What do you say, Allen?” she pressed, wiping away a nonexistent tear.

I’m the one who should be crying right now. And if you’re so upset about lying in a swamp, go take it out on Godolphen, not me!

“Stop complaining! You should be grateful!” I shouted, frustrated. “Sure, you’re gonna get wet and probably a little bit miserable, but splashing around in the mud with friends? That’s the definition of youth! I envy you, Fey... If I could swap places with you, I’d do it in a heartbeat!”

The teary-eyed ode to my beloved (albeit vague and somewhat romanticized) concept of youth was met with stiff and confused expressions at first, before giving way to bemused, slightly pitiful smiles. Al, for reasons I couldn’t understand, actually burst out laughing.

“Ha ha! Oh...” He grinned at me. “Guess it’s all a matter of perspective, hey? Classic Allen... Well, water’s kinda my thing, so I guess I’ll put my hand up for the ambush team too! Come on, guys! Let’s get this over and done with and come back to help!”

Yeah, yeah, you’re gonna have the time of your life! Stop rubbing it in, you jerk!

Leo sighed in what seemed to be exasperation. “Even if you were joining us, with your wind magic you’d obviously be assigned to the perimeter team, you realize? Not ‘splashing around in the mud’ with the ambush team.” He shook his head, smirking. “Well, who is this person you so desperately need on your team, then?”

The name I proceeded to reveal clearly caught everyone off guard to some extent, but they soon recovered. Al’s stupidly positive attitude was obviously contagious. After some quick preparations, the group set off, leaving me and my “team” behind. The sight of them walking side by side—so close to one another that it wouldn’t surprise me if they all linked arms and began to skip into the sunset—was the quintessential picture of youth.

I didn’t stop scowling until they were out of sight.

Reinforcing the Stronghold

“Well... I guess it’s probably about time we got started too.”

Sitting around sulking isn’t going to get us anywhere, after all...

By the time my classmates returned from their darkpherret subjugation mission, my much-anticipated school camp would already be halfway over. At this point, it would be better to focus on smashing out the last few scenarios before heading to the hot springs to try and at least salvage something from the entire ordeal. A quick ransack through the relief supplies rewarded me with a pencil and some paper, which I laid on top of the sunlit rubble I’d already picked out as a desk.

It was then that Vesta, the sole member of Class A who’d remained behind (per my nomination, of course) finally spoke up. “Why...why did you pick me, Allen? No offense, but it’s not as though we’re particularly close, and I obviously don’t have any experience with reinforcing a defensive stronghold either...”

He’s not wrong, I guess... But I mean, it’s not like any of the others would have prior experience with something like that either.

“Well, because I wanted you to be in charge of planning the reinforcements—that’s why I picked you,” I answered bluntly, to Vesta’s obvious confusion.

“That still doesn’t explain anything, though. I can understand it from an academic perspective, I suppose—my grades are second only to Leo, and since he’s essential to the third scenario, it would make sense to pick me. But defensive construction principles are a second-year subject, and only in the knight course. You do realize I’m in the bureaucrat course, Allen? I’ve read a few books on the topic out of curiosity, but that’s it.”

His argument—carefully laid out and highly reasonable, just like I’d expected—made me smile, as did him casually admitting to dabbling in second-year subjects outside of his actual course. Clearly, Vesta actually enjoyed studying—but that had nothing to do with the reason I’d chosen him.

“I didn’t pick you because of your grades, or your course, or because you read textbooks for fun. It’s got nothing to do with being friendly or anything either. The stuff you learn from reading a couple of books doesn’t help you out in the real world, not until you actually try that stuff for yourself with your own two hands. You’ve got to turn that knowledge into experience—that’s what the whole point of this camp is.” Vesta still looked confused—perhaps even more so than before—so I kept going. “Even if I could’ve chosen Leo, I still would have picked you, Vesta. It’s a simple choice, really. All I have to do is imagine myself on the offensive side and ask myself, ‘Who would I hate going up against the most?’ And that’s you by far, Vesta.”

Rather than confused, Vesta now looked genuinely surprised. “You’re messing with me, aren’t you? I don’t have your abnormally creative mind, and I can’t instantly analyze any situation and decide what risks to take like Dan either. Leo’s more capable than me in every regard. As much as it bothers me, that’s just who I am—I can’t throw myself out of my comfort zone like you all. And my combat abilities are clearly much worse compared to someone like Stella, for instance.”

“See? You clearly get it!” I said, wholeheartedly agreeing with Vesta’s somewhat harsh self-analysis. “But do you know when reinforcing a defensive stronghold actually requires ‘abnormal creativity,’ as you put it?”

Vesta fell silent, though I knew he’d figured it out.

“That’s right—the only time you need to rely on a few crazy ideas is when you’re losing. Taking risks is the same thing. In a battle, the only time you should be taking risks is when you’re caught between a rock and a hard place and have to choose which of the two will hurt less. And the stuff you said about Leo and Stella—sure, they’re both pretty capable, but individual strength isn’t much use in a scenario like this. If I asked Leo to handle the reinforcement plan, he’d base everything on his abilities. It’d just be a waste of paper... Well, I guess he’s started to figure that out a bit more recently with being the vice captain of the Hill Path Club, so he’d probably just delegate it to someone less stupidly powerful instead.” I shrugged. “There’s nothing wrong with having a comfort zone, Vesta. It’s certainly nothing to be ashamed of. Defensive strongholds, comfort zones—they’re basically the same thing, you know? We’ll prepare for any and all situations, and minimize risk as much as possible. Any enemy would struggle to conquer a stronghold built on the principles of a comfort zone. They won’t be able to attack us head-on, of course. No, they’ll waste a lot of time coming up with strategies to counter our defense, and reactive strategies like those are always going to be a big gamble,” I said with unjustified confidence for something that was essentially a subjective opinion.

Vesta took a deep breath. For some reason, he looked close to tears. “I thought... I thought you didn’t like me, Allen.”

“Why would you think that?”

“‘Why...?’ You’re the type of person who’d skip into a burning building to save someone else. I’m the type of person who tests a bridge three times for stability before I even consider crossing it. Can you really blame me for thinking we could ever see eye to eye?”

I laughed. “Guess your comments about my cooking weren’t the only rude thing about you, Vesta. Skipping into a burning building? Really? I never do anything like that... Well, almost never, anyway. If my safety was guaranteed and the people inside seemed interesting, I might skip a little. The rest of the time, though? There’s no skipping. I’ll still go in, but I’ll be running, and I won’t be happy about it.” I grinned. “Besides, I think surrounding yourself with different types of people makes life a whole lot more interesting. Funnily enough, I actually used to be a lot like you.”

“You were?” Vesta blinked. “That’s hard to believe...”

I chuckled. I had been almost exactly like Vesta, once upon a time—but not as “Allen.” “It’s true. I always chose the safest option, and never even considered taking risks. I spent every day studying, but I didn’t do it because I enjoyed it like you, or because it was something I was interested in. Nah, it was only because it would help me find a decent job in the future—that’s what everyone told me anyway, and I never thought to question it. I was just a kid who studied like a machine. I had discipline and focus, but those were pretty much my only redeeming qualities.”

It took a few seconds for Vesta to reply. “You’re such a liar,” he said with a grin and proceeded to punch me on the shoulder.

After a few more friendly blows—and a fair deal of laughter—we finally got to work.

◆◆◆

Having successfully dumped the majority of the planning part of the scenario on Vesta, I went out, ostensibly to procure the essential food and supplies we’d need to survive an unexpected siege. It was around 3 p.m. by the time I returned to our supposed stronghold, by which point Vesta had finished the preliminary analysis we’d need to finalize our reinforcement strategy. The list he’d compiled was extensive, noting the likelihood of and potential countermeasures against all kinds of enemy attacks, both human and monster in origin. Extensive didn’t do it justice, actually. The risks he’d come up with didn’t stop at the obvious ones; no, they included every single thing that could possibly occur, even if the chance of said tragedy occurring was virtually zero. It took an impressive amount of negative thinking to be able to come up with a list like the one he handed me.

“I tried grouping the risks into similar categories and wrote them out as a ‘tree’ like you asked...” Vesta said, clearly unconfident.

Wielding my authority as leader to the fullest, I’d instructed Vesta in the basics of what I’d known as a fault tree analysis (or, more simply, an FTA) in my previous life before leaving him to it. Back then, it was more commonly used to identify the possible causes of a (ideally hypothetical) catastrophic system failure, like a nuclear meltdown or a rocket explosion, but it could be handily applied to most situations with a little tinkering. For instance, failing the scenario would equate to “system failure” in our case.

“Great stuff, Vesta. I didn’t really expect this much detail.”

Vesta sniffed, adjusting his glasses. “Well, it’s not entirely comprehensive, of course—I could use up all seventy-two hours of our preparation time and still not cover every risk—but you ordered me to write down as much as I could, so I did. I suppose the next step is to prioritize the risks and decide on a feasible strategy?”

“Pretty much. Let’s see... We’ll set aside any of the monster-based risks for now. Preparing to defend against human forces will cover a lot of the same stuff we’d need if our ‘enemy’ does turn out to be monsters anyway. More importantly, this is meant to be a border defense stronghold, right? We’re far more likely to encounter foreign invaders than a swarm of monsters. Once Coco and Stella get back, we’ll ask them if there’s any specific monsters we need to worry about, and come up with some specific countermeasures then if we need to.”

At this point, the average person would probably wonder why I hadn’t simply told Vesta to ignore monster-based risks from the start, but considering every risk was the key part of a fault tree analysis. Simply putting everything on paper usually revealed all sorts of dangers you’d never have noticed otherwise.

Vesta, to his credit, didn’t seem even remotely annoyed by my decision to ignore a large part of his work, which meant he’d almost certainly already realized the reason behind it. “Understood. So if we work under the assumption of human opponents, and take into account the time restrictions...” He grabbed a new sheet of paper and began sketching. “We’d probably be looking at something like this,” he said, passing me the rough blueprint.

It was a simple, yet effective design. We’d build three wooden palisades around the stronghold, leaving intentional thoroughfares through each on completely opposite sides—kind of like a maze—to limit the number of enemies at any given time, while also reducing the chances of them simply attempting to destroy the structures instead. We’d also dig ourselves an underground escape route in case of emergency, obviously, in addition to some watchtowers on top of the ruins. It was a decent strategy, all in all, and one we’d be able to accomplish once the others returned from their little bonding trip. But even for a comfort zone, there was such a thing as too comfortable.

I shook my head. “Nope. It’s way too boring.”

Vesta’s expression stiffened. “It doesn’t matter if it’s boring, as long as—”

“Really, Vesta?! Is that really how you feel?! We’ve got a score to settle here, you know! By dumping us here, that old geezer’s robbing us of one of youth’s most precious experiences! Don’t you wanna teach him a lesson?!”

“What? You’re the one who nominated me to stay here though... Besides, I’m not really—”

“Yeah, that’s right! When someone pisses you off this much, you gotta make ’em pay—even if they are your homeroom teacher! See, now that’s the reaction I expect from Vesta von Stocklode, Class 1-A’s very own Bulwark! I can’t believe you let yourself even consider this kind of half-assed plan... You came up with every possible risk under the sun, and this is the plan you decide on? What was the point in being so nitpicky then?! What, do you think you’re some fussy mother-in-law bullying her son’s wife or something?!” I shouted, dragging my fingertip along the nearby rubble as though I was inspecting a TV unit for dust in a clichéd soap opera.

“B-Bulwark? What are you talking about?! And I don’t know what else you expected—I already told you I barely know anything about defensive strategies! Plus, this building probably wasn’t anything even remotely resembling a stronghold even before it went to ruin, and this position is going to be hard enough to defend without risking it all on some insane idea! With the resources and time we have, that’s the best result we—”

I pounded my fist into the palm of my other hand. “Now I get it! Great idea, Vesta! You’re right. We don’t need to rely on only these ruins. They’ll make the perfect base for the watchtower of our fortress compound! If we build a few smaller ‘strongholds’ and make use of the terrain, we should be able to make this section of the border impassable! Godolphen won’t stand a chance!”

Vesta—who by this point had turned worryingly pale—didn’t agree. “What the hell are you thinking, Allen?! Also, why do you seem to believe we’re going to be fighting Master Godolphen?! And how in the world are you planning to build a large-scale mountain fortress in seventy-two hours?!”

“Huh? We don’t have to finish building it, obviously. Godolphen said we had seventy-two hours to repair and reinforce the stronghold where possible, in preparation for the enemy’s return—it’s pretty vague, you have to admit. But if we’re talking reinforcements, aren’t we better off reinforcing our defenses at the border itself, rather than hanging around these old ruins? Godolphen’s gonna be thrilled. It’s pretty obvious how the rest of the camp’s gonna go at this point. We’ll be given the fourth scenario as soon as the third one’s over, and the fifth scenario’s gonna be a defensive battle against these mysterious ‘enemy forces’ he keeps going on about. If we let ourselves fall into the trap of taking his stupid scenarios at face value, we’ll be walking right into a losing battle. No more arguing! My decision is final!”

And thus, our course of action was set. It did take a few minutes before Vesta recovered, most of which he spent reenacting one of those manga panels where you see the character’s soul escaping from their mouth—well, that’s how it looked to me, anyway.

◆◆◆

Over the course of the afternoon, I gave Vesta a rundown of the area—based on the observations I’d made under the pretense of gathering supplies earlier. By the time the last traces of sunlight had faded away, we’d pretty much finalized our plan, leaving us free to move on to slightly more interesting topics. From my exploring work with Al and Coco, I’d come to appreciate the unique pleasure of idle chatter with friends beside a campfire.

“So you’re saying you don’t have anything against the Dialemacks?” Vesta asked suspiciously.

The Stocklodes—Vesta’s family—weren’t regular nobles, but belonged to a subset of the aristocracy known as the gentry. Unlike barons or viscounts, who received their titles directly from the royal family, the rank of “gentry” was given to those who’d sworn allegiance to one of said regular noble families—though the privilege to do so was only granted to dukes, marquesses, and counts. There was no limit to the number of gentry titles a noble family could bestow, but given that the title did come with considerable financial obligations, there weren’t a huge number of gentried families throughout Yugria. In terms of social standing, a gentryman ranked lower than a baron, the lowest rank of the standard nobility. However, if one was to compare the actual influence a backwater, bankrupt baron had with that of a gentryman whose family had loyally served a marquess for generation after generation... Well, it went without saying who had more sway in Yugrian society.

The Stocklodes were a gentried family under the Dialemacks, thus explaining Vesta’s interest in my possible dislike of the marquesal family. “Anything against them? I don’t have any opinion on them at all. I completely forgot the whole thing even happened...”

“The whole thing,” as I’d put it, referred to the incident when Rudio von Dialemack—a rather unpleasant second-year student—had attempted to join the Hill Path Club. Well, he’d attempted to take over the club, to put things more accurately. I’d found his demands and threats entirely ridiculous and thus had completely ignored him, something he clearly hadn’t been particularly pleased about. As it turned out, he’d apparently been misusing his influence to mess with club applications behind the scenes, which explained why there’d been minimal second-year or Dialemack Region applicants until well after I’d “passed” Godolphen’s challenge. Fey had tried to encourage me to “knock Rudio down a few pegs, or let me do it for you,” whereas Jewel had suggested we “crush him like a bug, perhaps?” but I’d firmly put a stop to their uncomfortably enthusiastic bloodlust. At the time I was still smack-dab in the middle of Godolphen’s challenge, and the number of club members was already getting out of hand, so to be honest I was feeling pretty thankful toward good old Rude.

Vesta laughed. “All those times he stood around watching us practice, I thought you were just ignoring him... You didn’t even remember who he was? He’s furious with you, Allen.”

I smiled awkwardly. “Come to think of it—you’re not in trouble or anything? You’ve been in the club right from the start...” It seemed strange that Vesta would be able to defy Rude’s wishes, given that—as the “von” in his name implied—the second-year student was the official head of the family Vesta’s was sworn to serve.

“Not at all. My orders from Rudio’s father, Marquess Romario Dialemack, were to focus on building relationships with other powerful families as my highest priority. Think about it from your family’s point of view, Allen, if you were in my position. Do you think your father would pass up the opportunity to gain favor with not only the Dragoons, but also the Seizingers and the Reverences, by allowing you to leave the club? Plus, if I was the only member of Class 1-A who wasn’t in the Hill Path Club, it would be a social death sentence.”

“Huh. But Rude’s the current head of the Dialemack family, isn’t he? Are you allowed to listen to what the marquess tells you to do if the guy with the ‘von’ is saying the complete opposite?” I asked out of curiosity, receiving a dumbfounded stare in return.

“I’ll never understand you, Allen... Sometimes it seems like you’re completely ignorant when it comes to things everyone else would consider common knowledge,” he said, shaking his head. “The ‘von’ marks Rudio as the future marquess. His succession is basically guaranteed, unless something goes horribly wrong. But when someone our age is granted their family’s ‘von’ it’s almost always just a strategic decision—a way for them to seem more influential in a school like the Royal Academy, for example. In reality, Marquess Dialemack still holds all the power. It’s pretty much the same for Fey and the others. When it comes to politics, there’s a big difference between being a candidate for the future head of a family and being the head of a family, even if only in name. Of course, bequeathing the ‘von’ to someone our age isn’t risk free. There’s countless examples of it going poorly in the past. In a school like ours, though, the additional influence it brings is nearly always worth the risk—and when your child gets into the Royal Academy, their future inheritance is pretty much set in stone anyway, so it makes perfect sense to set them up for success.”

I guess that makes sense...

It was all new information to me, but my family was about as far removed from politics and power struggles as nobles could be, and I had absolutely no interest in throwing my hat into the ring for my father’s title. I’d simply never needed to learn about any of this inheritance stuff—though that meant I’d overlooked some “common knowledge,” as Vesta had put it.

“Still, that kinda sucks for you, doesn’t it? Sure, you’re just following the current boss’s orders, but you’re doing it right under your future boss’s nose. Rude’s probably not too pleased about that, I’d bet.”

Vesta let out a hollow laugh. “It’s not that bad, honestly... Rudio already hates me anyway,” he revealed, before launching into an explanatory (and entirely unsolicited) monologue.

◆◆◆

The Stocklodes were not just a gentried family sworn to the Dialemacks; they were also a branch family of the very same. Branch families, like the term implied, were distantly related to a major family, usually started by a sibling who failed to inherit the title.

In reality, being both gentried and branched meant that the Stocklodes were virtually no more important or influential than a run-of-the-mill commoner family. However, Vesta’s father took great pride in his distant descent from the marquesal Dialemacks, and refused to settle within “low society.” Instead of taking up what he considered to be a commoner job, his father had opened a charity school within one of the local churches, educating and caring for local impoverished children prior to them entering preparatory school.

Naturally, running such a school took a significant financial toll—far greater than the Stocklodes could actually afford—and Vesta’s childhood had therefore been spent in poverty like those of the children his father taught. He’d had one thing in abundance, though: books. Vesta’s father had scraped together the money to provide Vesta with as many books as possible. “Reading was my only joy,” Vesta had said, smiling sadly.

The turning point came shortly after Vesta entered preparatory school. In an experience similar to that of the many illegitimate children of nobles who (after quickly being legitimized) went on to attend the Royal Academy, Vesta’s outstanding grades and decent magical aptitude soon came to the attention of Marquess Dialemack, and discussions for Vesta’s adoption began. The marquess intended to pit Vesta against his biological son, Rudio, to encourage both to push themselves to further greatness while also handily acquiring himself a spare successor just in case.

Like all prominent noble families, however, there were those who vehemently opposed the idea of anyone other than a true Dialemack inheriting the title, and after a number of lengthy arguments, Vesta was instead taken in as a ward. Even though Vesta wasn’t currently a threat to Rudio’s succession, there was still every chance that could one day change—say, if Vesta married into the family instead, or the marquess pushed for adoption once again. Vesta was still in a perfect position to steal Rudio’s future out from under him if he so desired, which explained why Rudio detested the very sight of the younger boy.

With all of this still going on behind the scenes, I’d been keeping busy too—fistfighting my way to victory in Godolphen’s stupid challenge, joining the Royal Order with the king’s approval, apprenticing myself to Captain Dew Orwell, and so on—and had thereby made matters worse, according to Vesta. The Hill Path Club became the talk of the capital. The second-year students got over their fear of Rudio and started joining in droves, leaving only those students unlucky enough to hail from the Dialemack Region on Rudio’s side. Rudio had even formed his own club (clearly a complete rip-off of my own), but soon after the defection of the second-years, the marquess had ordered the club’s disbandment, and most of the members had made their way over to the Hill Path Club instead. Many saw Rudio’s attempt to compete with the Hill Path Club as a political struggle against me (albeit not one I’d been aware of), and his complete and utter defeat had lost him the confidence of a fair number of his supporters—something I (as the founder of the club) and Vesta (as one of the club’s original members) were supposedly responsible for. At this point, we’d apparently incurred so much of his hatred that “killing us, resurrecting us, and repeating the process three times” (a direct quote, according to Vesta) wouldn’t be enough to appease Rudio’s rage.

“But truthfully, I want to become a scholar and push the boundaries of knowledge as we know it. I’m not fit to be a marquess, and I’ve got no desire to be one anyway. I kept trying to tell Rudio that for years, but he never believed me... Now he won’t even speak to me,” Vesta said downheartedly, thus concluding his monologue.

Finally...

To be honest, I couldn’t really care less about most of what Vesta had revealed. I wasn’t interested in political struggles or inheritance disputes, and I didn’t plan for that to change. The only part of the whole thing that had caught my attention was the fact that Vesta apparently loved studying enough to want to become a scholar.

Chucking another branch on the fire, I offered Vesta some perfunctory words of encouragement as though his current ordeal had absolutely nothing to do with me. “Sounds pretty rough, man... Well, whatever will be, will be!”

Vesta slumped. “Please, Allen, I’m begging you... Fey and Jewel told me, you know? They said you basically told them to let Rudio dig his own grave, even though you could have shut him down right there and then... You didn’t just want to defeat him, did you? You wanted to destroy him. Even Fey and Jewel have started saying you’re being a bit too cruel.” He sighed wearily. “I know Rudio’s entirely to blame, but please, just put an end to it. People have started saying Marquess Dialemack should make me his successor instead because of all of this! It’s getting out of control, Allen!” he pleaded, almost desperate enough to make me feel sorry for him. Almost.

I laughed. “Destroy him? I forgot he existed until you reminded me—how could I have been trying to destroy him? It’s all a big coincidence, Vesta. Also, seriously—is everyone at the Academy dealing with all of this political crap as well as their schoolwork? At least being a total bumpkin means I don’t have to get involved with any of it... It all sounds pretty annoying.”

Our precious school years are too fleeting already! As if I’d waste them doing things like forging friendships exclusively for my family’s benefit...

Vesta sighed again. “You know what’s scary, Allen? You sound so convincing, I almost believe you... But your actions tell a different story. Take Fey and Jewel, for instance. Everyone was waiting to see if the two of them could repair the antagonistic relationship between the Dragoons and the Reverences during their time at the Academy. Before the exams, Fey and Jewel actually seemed to get on quite well, but when you’ve got two prodigies with their fiery temperaments... Well, it was hard to say how things would end, but I don’t think anyone expected them to become best friends in a few short weeks, or that you’d be the glue that held them together. Thanks to you, the marquesses started speaking again, and only half a year later, the two regions held a joint gathering. You clearly knew how significant that was. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have gone to all the trouble of showing your face there, would you? And then you’ve got Leo. The Seizingers value their neutrality above all, and yet allowed Leo to attend a private barbecue held by the Rovenes—a mere viscount family—alongside Feyreun von Dragoon and Jewelry Reverence. And the rumors say Leo’s been trying to convince his family to allow him to pursue a relationship with the Rovenes ever since.” He shook his head. “The power balance of Yugrian society is being reshaped at your hand, and you’re trying to tell me you’re ‘not involved with any of it’? Who’d believe that?”

Leo, you bastard... Is that why you proposed to my sister?! Pretty dirty move for someone who likes to act like they’re the patron saint of fairness and neutrality... Whatever. I’m sick of talking about all this power balance crap. Seriously, who cares? It’s gonna go the same way it always does: Stupid gossip starts flying around, everyone blames me for something I didn’t do, and I just have to wait until they get bored of it.

Speaking of gossip... I’d just had a great idea.

I shrugged. “Well, it’s the truth, whether you believe it or not—but that doesn’t change the fact that I’ve obviously made things more difficult for you. I’m not gonna apologize for something I didn’t do, but how about this: I share some top secret information with you—something not even Fey, Jewel, or Leo know—and we call it even?”

The “top secret information” in question concerned my mother’s birth family. For some reason, everyone seemed unusually interested in the topic. I’d been asked about her many times, but I hadn’t known whether or not I was allowed to reveal the truth, so I’d managed to avoid giving a straightforward answer thus far. However, when I’d written to her recently to pass on the message Captain Randy von Dosuperior (aka her brother) had left with me and apologized for revealing that she was still alive, she’d replied.

Please, tell Randy I’ll visit him next time I’m in the capital. There’s no need to apologize; I always knew the truth would come out one day. Now that my brother knows, there’s little point in attempting to hide it anymore.

I’d already passed that message along to Captain Randy, which meant there was every chance all of Runerelia would start learning the truth before long. Basically, my “top secret information” was no longer “top secret” in the slightest—but Vesta didn’t have to know that.

“Top secret information?” Vesta looked at me suspiciously. “That doesn’t sound like something you’d suggest... You never care about things like this.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. You’re gonna be shocked when you hear it, I promise. But...” I grinned. “There’s just one little thing I want to ask you in return. It’s nothing to worry about, though.”

Mwa ha ha... This is going perfectly. He’s not gonna turn his nose up at such tempting bait, and once I’ve got him on the hook, I’ll make stubborn ole Vesta spill the beans.

I chuckled under my breath, thrilled with the sheer genius of my plan. Unfortunately, the stubborn yet sharp-eyed Vesta noticed my (unintentionally external) impression of an evil villain right away, and firmly shook his head. “I’m good, thanks... Whenever you smile like that, it always means trouble’s about to follow.”

I wasn’t going to let him escape that easily, though. He didn’t need to agree. He just needed to listen.

“So get this, right? My mother, Cecilia—turns out, she’s actually the younger sister of Randy, the captain of the Royal Guard. And besides me, you’re now the only student in the whole Academy who knows that, Vesta,” I said magnanimously, as though I’d just done him a massive favor.

Vesta, to my surprise, didn’t seem shocked—in fact, his expression was entirely devoid of emotion as he adjusted his glasses before replying. “So, just to confirm... Allen, your mother is the biological sister of Captain Randy von Dosuperior of the Yugrian Imperial Guard, and therefore herself a Dosuperior by blood... Is that correct?”

“Well, yeah... I thought you’d be more surprised, to be honest. Everywhere I go, random people are always asking about my mother for some reason, so I kinda thought you’d be curious too...”

“Surprised...?” Vesta mumbled—before suddenly snapping the branch he’d been fiddling with clean in two and hurling it into the fire. “Of course I’m surprised, you idiot! Do you even understand what the hell you’re saying?! Come on! Clearly having the Dragoons, the Reverences, and the Seizingers in your camp wasn’t enough, because now you’re telling me the Dosuperiors are Team Allen too?! Forget reshaping the power balance—you’re tearing it to pieces! The king’s gonna think you’re planning to overthrow him, you freakin’ nitwit! Oh, and lucky me, being the only one who knows—not! What are you trying to do by burdening me with your stupid secrets?! This is exactly why I said I DIDN’T WANT TO HEAR IT!”

Hands outstretched as though to calm a wild animal, I attempted to pacify him. “Don’t worry about it! I’m not trying to build a camp or anything. Besides, His Majesty and I have already smoothed things over, so it’s nowhere near as dangerous as you seem to think it’s gonna be.”

“YOU ALREADY MET WITH THE KING?! Stop talking, Allen! I’m begging you!” He shouted while bowing repeatedly (and beautifully; I could tell he’d been practicing recently). “I already told you that I want to become a scholar and push the boundaries of knowledge, not be pushed around by them! Why’d you tell me?! What’s your freakin’ plan here, huh?! And what the hell did you wanna ask me in return anyway?! I can tell you right now, nothing I can tell you is gonna hold a candle to that! You hear me?! Nothing!” He breathed heavily, glaring at me through teary eyes.

“C’mon, Vesta. Sit down,” I said, forcing him back down onto our log beside the campfire. He seemed to be waiting, but I said nothing—not immediately, anyway. We stared at the crackling flames in silence for a good thirty seconds, until I decided the atmosphere was just right. “Vesta... Have you got a girl you like?” The flames flickered slightly in the breeze as I asked, and the snaps and pops of the burning wood provided the perfect soundtrack to set the mood.

Flawless...

I’d finally broached my most anticipated youthful gossip topic, but to my surprise, Vesta didn’t react with the awkward embarrassment I’d expected. If anything, he seemed downright unbothered. “What? Well, yeah, I guess so? My fiancée, Canon Cainridge, from Class 1-D... She’s the second daughter of Count Cainridge, also from the Dialemack Region.”

“Canon Cainridge? Wait, isn’t she in the Hill Path Club—the cute, kind-looking girl? She’s your fiancée?”

“Yeah, that’s her. I know it’s a bit of an odd match—you know, in terms of social status—but her family was happy to agree to the engagement after I got into Class A.” He smiled. “She could have broken off the engagement at any time during the whole mess with Rudio and the club, but she stayed by my side through it all... She’s far too good for me, to be honest.” He frowned, shaking his head. “What did you want to ask me, though?”

I paused for a moment before finally replying, “What pet names do you use for each other?”

“I’m Ves, and she’s Nonnie. Now cut the crap and ask whatever it is you wanted to know!”

I slowly stood up and selected a suitably large piece of firewood from the pile nearby before proceeding to launch it into the fire (which Vesta just so happened to be sitting beside) with all my might. “DIE, YOU PIECE OF—”

The Third Scenario

After finalizing the division of personnel between the two scenarios (which didn’t take long, for obvious reasons), the eighteen members of the third scenario team departed the ruins. Walking in groups of twos and threes, they exchanged idle chatter for a while until Fey’s sudden explosion of laughter gave them all pause.

“I still can’t believe it, honestly...” she said, wiping a tear from her eye. “One person he desperately needs to stay behind with him, and it turns out to be Vesta? I do wonder what’s going on in that brain of Allen’s sometimes...”

Jewel giggled. “I have to agree, his name really was the last I expected to hear... Poor Vesta, he looked so nervous when we left. I suppose Allen’s finally decided to offer the Dialemacks an opportunity to make amends.”

“I don’t know...” said Al dubiously. “I don’t think Allen really cares about stuff like that. You heard how passionate he was about beating the other classes—maybe he just actually thinks Vesta’s the secret to success in the second scenario?”

Fey laughed again. “Well, you’re probably right, Al—it’s hard to imagine Allen caring about noble politics. Still, the idea of those two spending so much time together is making me rather uneasy. Who knows? By the time we get back there, the future of Yugria might have changed in ways we could never have predicted...” She grinned widely, the lone spot of cheer among seventeen identical frowns.

Allen and Vesta didn’t seem to be on particularly bad terms, as far as any of them knew, but there was nothing about their interactions that suggested friendship either. Plus, reinforcing a defensive stronghold was a task that ostensibly required the use of hammers and one’s muscles, neither of which Vesta seemed capable of wielding with any notable proficiency. And yet, Allen had picked Vesta and sent the rest of Class A on their merry way without so much as a second thought. After Fey’s comment, the remaining members of the group now found themselves plagued with a vague sense of foreboding similar to that which might sweep through an audience upon realizing two feuding actors have been forced to share a stage.

“Let’s get this over and done with and get back as soon as we can. I’m worried about Vesta.”

“Yeah...”

After a few of the others voiced similar agreement, all eyes turned to Char, the designated leader of the third scenario. “Well, in terms of personnel distribution, we obviously have no excuse for failure here. The Melmarshes look something like this, as far as I remember,” she said, trailing her finger along the rough sketch she’d drawn as they walked. “They’re not too wide, overall—a full circuit around them wouldn’t be more than two kilometers. While the ambush team is getting into position, the perimeter team should probably wait here, and here, and...here, I think.” According to her sketch, the Melmarshes seemed to comprise a handful of smaller marshes of various shapes and sizes, with the points she’d identified being stretches of land wide enough to semiefficiently traverse.

“Hmm...” Leo frowned. “Char, we didn’t go anywhere near the Melmarshes during the first scenario. How do you know the terrain so well?”

Char smiled wryly in response. “It was a stroke of luck, really. When we took that short break at the seventh waymark, it had a really good view of the landscape down below, and the Melmarshes were right in the center. Seeing the marshes reminded me of hunting darkpherrets back home, so it just kinda stuck in my memory.” She shrugged. “But really, I’m nowhere near as amazing as Coco. Everywhere we go, he’s memorizing the entire landscape as we walk. He’s probably got a map of this whole domain in his head by now. I try to do the same, but he’s still far better at it than me... Right, Coco?” she said, holding out the paper and pencil.

Coco sighed, shaking his head slightly as he took both from her hands. “Once you get the hang of it, you’ll be better than me in no time.” Within minutes, he’d fleshed out the rough sketch, detailing the hills, basins, and other landmarks of the surrounding terrain.

“Since Master Godolphen’s making us use a two-team herding strategy, like I said, our best bet is for the perimeter team to divide into three groups, and drive the darkpherrets toward the ambush point while taking advantage of the terrain.” Char traced her fingers along the newly added hills, as though testing out prospective routes in her mind. “One group drives them through here, and the other two should probably aim to go through here and here... I think,” she said, not sounding particularly confident in her proposed plan.

Coco frowned down at the map, rubbing his chin worriedly. “We’re going to struggle with the number, though. Twenty darkpherrets...” He sighed. “They’re not a pack monster by nature. They’ll each have their own territory, and will have made countless hiding spots within—hollow trees, exposed roots, that kind of thing. Finding them in the first place isn’t going to be easy. Plus, the timing’s all wrong. It’s a little past ten in the morning now, and it’ll take us about six hours to get to the Melmarshes from here. Basically, it’ll already be getting dark by the time we arrive. Spotting them in the daytime is hard enough, but it’s a lot more difficult at night. Actually, it’s almost impossible. We could wait until morning, but when you factor in the hunting time and the return trip, we definitely wouldn’t be getting back to Allen and Vesta with much time to spare. We might not even complete the scenario at all.”

Hearing Coco’s explanation, the others finally began to understand the true difficulty of the scenario they’d been set. “Master Godolphen really likes to push us, doesn’t he? Not that I really expected otherwise...” Kate said. “The one advantage we’ve got is having this many people to tackle it. Allen must have realized we’d struggle—that’s why he only asked for one person to stay with him. But still... Isn’t there anything else we can use to our advantage?”

Coco shook his head slowly. “Right now, the only thing I can think of is limiting the ambush team to one or two people at most, to give the perimeter team a better chance of finding the darkpherrets in the first place... But I’d imagine Char could tell us just how risky that would be. Char, do you have any suggestions?” he asked, staring at her intently.

Char—whose face was now a vibrant shade of red, for some reason—pointedly looked away, nervously tapping her index fingers together.

Fey snorted. “Now’s not the time to get embarrassed just because Coco’s making eyes at you, Char. If you’ve got an idea, spit it out!”

After a few false starts, Char was finally able to stammer out a reply. “Well... Actually, my family has something like, um, a secret technique... We call it simian screaming. You guys know about the holy ashmonkeys, right? And how most monsters can’t stand the sound of their cry? Simian screaming kinda mimics it. Back home, we use it to provoke the darkpherrets and draw them out of hiding, so even though we’ll be hunting at night, I think we should be fine...”

“Wow, I’ve never heard of a technique like that,” Al said, flashing her one of his usual carefree grins. “Well, what does it sound like?”

Char shook her head furiously. “N-N-Not here! I ca-ca-can’t use it here! It puts a lot of strain on the vocal cords, so we need to save it for when we actually need it! And more importantly, simian screaming provokes a lot of other species of monsters too, which is why I didn’t mention it earlier. If I do use it, it’s going to make things a lot more dangerous for everyone...”

Al shrugged. “I’m sure we can handle— Ow!” he exclaimed, rubbing his side where Fey had just elbowed him.

“We can’t ever be entirely sure, Al—especially not when it comes to a poorly disguised military exercise like this,” Fey said, unusually calm. “It’s up to the leader to consider both the risks and the rewards, and decide on our course of action. Our job is to trust in that decision, and carry it out to the best of our ability. Isn’t that right, Char? People who’ll one day be responsible for the lives of others—people like you and me... We can’t run away from the decisions we have to make, can we?” Fey’s voice was still calm, but her gaze—piercing and dangerous—was anything but.

Char flinched, unable to tear her own eyes away from Fey’s rigid stare. She was timid and anxious by nature, but she’d also deliberately wielded that nature like a shield, using it to evade the responsibilities she’d been nominated to assume. Fey had seen right through her, however, and clearly had no intention of letting her get away with it any longer. Char scanned the faces of her classmates nervously. Everyone’s eyes were fixed firmly on her and her alone, brimming with an unwavering confidence Char had never felt.

“Holy...” Coco muttered, breaking the tense silence. He frowned, his gaze drifting toward the ground as though lost in thought. “Ashmonkeys... Screaming?” Suddenly, he lifted his head once more. “That’s amazing! Are there really ashmonkeys in the Harlonbay Domain?! How long has your family used that technique for?! What does the screaming sound like?!” Coco—now so close to Char that she could feel his breath—asked excitedly, grabbing her hand. Naturally, Char froze, her face even redder than before.

Jewel, unwilling to risk Char’s potential combustion, interjected at that point. “The only remaining ashmonkeys are those raised in protected forests in the Sterite Theocracy, Coco. As wild monsters, they’re considered to be extinct. If there were ashmonkeys roaming around the Harlonbay Domain, don’t you think we would have heard about it? Every hunter in Yugria would have converged on the area.” She smiled bemusedly. “And Coco... If you don’t let go of Char’s hand soon, we actually will run out of time.”

Coco, seemingly only now realizing that he had, in fact, been holding Char’s hand, let go as though he’d been zapped by lightning.

Jewel smirked. “Now, to return to the matter at hand—what’s your decision, Char? Will we rely on this technique of yours while accepting the risks it carries, or proceed with the initial plan and risk running out of time? Either way, you need to choose, or we may as well turn back now.”

Char glanced at Coco nervously. To her surprise, his gaze—which for the past six months had always been directed anywhere but at Char herself—was now fixed firmly on her, making her heart skip a beat. Unable to look away, she instead closed her eyes tightly—and then, shaking her head, slowly opened them once more. “I just didn’t want you to see me using it, Coco...” She sighed. “Stella? When I scream, it’ll aggravate most of the monsters in the area. If we’re unlucky, it could even cause a stampede. As far as you know, are there likely to be any monsters in the area we won’t be able to handle by ourselves if that does happen?”

Stella cocked her head. “Sixty kilometers southeast of here, was it? Hmm... There’s nothing coming to mind. Nothing I’ve heard of, at least. I can’t make any guarantees though, given that we did end up bumping into a vulpyne during the first scenario.”

Char nodded. “Thank you. Okay, I’ve made up my mind. We’ll have three perimeter teams, with Coco, Stella, and Dan as the leaders. Splitting up will make it more dangerous, but I...” She smiled. “I know I can trust in how strong you all are.”

It wasn’t until after she’d assigned the rest of the group to either the ambush team or one of the three perimeter teams that everyone realized something: Char hadn’t mentioned her own name at all.

“What about you, Char?” Al asked curiously.

“I’ll work alone,” she answered, seemingly unworried, “and try to cover as much ground as possible. That will give us the best chance at completing this scenario.”

Moving through the marshland at night was dangerous enough. To do it alone was to flirt with death. But after seeing the sheer confidence in Char’s eyes, her classmates simply nodded.

◆◆◆

The shrill scream pierced the night and echoed off the distant mountains, causing every monster and animal within earshot to scatter like bees from a fallen nest. It wasn’t a sound one would expect a monster described as “holy” to produce (though in reality, the moniker was one the Sterite Theocracy had given the near-extinct ashmonkeys to make them seem more important, rather than signifying any particular divinity). When Char screamed, it evoked a painful, almost visceral reaction in her classmates, as though the sheer sound was penetrating their skin and reverberating around their very organs.

“Incredible... She’s infused her mana into her voice. I feel like I’m listening to one of the beasts of legend.” Coco murmured, wide eyes fixed on Char’s distant figure where she’d scaled one of the trees. She was barely recognizable as her usual, gentle self, with aggressive, bloodshot eyes and her face screwed up in something akin to rage. It was almost as though she’d been possessed.

“We don’t have the time to stand around being impressed, Coco. Keep looking for darkpherrets,” Kate urged, her tone somewhat desperate; she could understand why Char had been reluctant to demonstrate her technique in front of the boy she liked, whether he found it “incredible” or not.

“Ah, right... Oh, there! Pisces, on your left! Don’t let it get away!”

“I see it!”

Careful not to lose sight of it, the four members of Coco’s team moved to encircle their prey.

“When threatened, darkpherrets usually try to escape by climbing a tree, but not this one... Maybe it’s because Char’s up there? She’s unbelievably intimidating...”

“Coco, focus! Sophie, cover Pisces! We’ve got a Darley buffalo heading right at us from his side!”

“Leave it to me!” Sophie cried. She darted between the near-hysterical buffalo and Pisces and swung her glaive, cleanly severing the horn that doubled as its mana core.

All through the night, the perimeter teams hunted without pause, steadily driving their prey toward the trap that awaited deep within the Melmarshes.

Vesta’s Plan

As soon as the sun rose the following day, Vesta and I set off to complete a far more detailed survey of the surrounding landscape.

We’d taken turns keeping watch through the night, which let me catch up on some much-needed sleep. Vesta, on the other hand, hadn’t slept at all. On the plus side, his all-nighter had given him plenty of time to think (which was probably a good thing, since he claimed his head felt like it would explode the second he stopped thinking), and when I woke up a little before dawn feeling nicely refreshed, he’d wearily presented me with the incredibly elaborate “basic” plan for our stronghold.

Even to a novice like me, Vesta’s design was clearly a work of art. He’d accounted for—and incorporated countermeasures against—every possible risk in the most masterful way, exceeding even my wildest expectations. He hadn’t just scribbled barricades everywhere and deemed it good enough, of course. The key areas would be heavily fortified, while certain “unguarded” paths would serve as perfect hunting grounds for our unsuspecting prey.

All in all, it was a beautiful plan. Unfortunately, with the materials and labor we had available, it was also one that would take several years (at minimum) to see to completion. He’d designed the full fortress compound just as I’d asked—including all of the standard buildings, fortifications, and strategic shortcuts one would expect to see—but that was really just to help me visualize the bigger picture. We obviously weren’t going to be constructing any multistory stone keeps over the next few days, after all. No, we’d prioritize the fortifications, which (if everything went to plan) was all we’d need to teach our teacher the error of his ways.

Thus, having given Vesta’s basic plan my stamp of approval, we set out to conduct a much more thorough investigation of the surrounding terrain, giving him a chance to see the landscape for himself and adjust his design as necessary while we waited for our classmates’ return. While Godolphen wasn’t anywhere in the vicinity—off snooping on the third scenario instead, I assumed—I could sense the other tracker nearby. He wouldn’t have much to report back on, however, as Vesta and I were putting on a decent show of gathering materials while secretly making our observations. The tracker would hopefully assume we’d already given up on the idea of building any significant fortifications on account of our minimal man power.

“Is this really necessary, Allen?” Vesta finally asked, frowning deeply. In reality, he hadn’t actually wanted to inspect the landscape for himself. Citing our lack of time, he’d instead wanted to start the actual construction part of the scenario as soon as possible.

I nodded firmly. “Failing to prepare is preparing to fail, Vesta. You can’t build a house without first laying a solid foundation, right? There’s no point getting flustered and building something shoddy with just the two of us—it would be a complete waste of time. But if we get this part right, everything else will fall into place. Trust me.”

Vesta blinked. “Failing to prepare is preparing to fail, huh...?” He smiled faintly. “I like that.”

◆◆◆

Our classmates returned by around 6 p.m. that evening, four hours before their scenario’s deadline. Godolphen wasn’t with them, which I assumed meant there was some kind of temporary facility nearby where he’d gone instead.

The geezer probably needed a nap or something...

“Welcome back, everyone! You made good time, hey?” I said, grinning.

“Well, that’s only because you let me take nearly everyone with me, Allen...” Char replied awkwardly. “I hope we didn’t make things here too hard for you.”

“No, it’s because you were so incredible, Char,” Pisces interjected, frowning. “I don’t think Master Godolphen expected you’d be able to scream like that when he came up with this scenario.”

Char immediately turned bright red, eliciting a few chuckles from my other classmates.

Er... What’s this about her screaming? I feel like I’m missing out on an inside joke or something here...

“I didn’t expect it either! I mean, Char usually barely says a word in class, but it turns out she’s got a good set of lungs on her! Screaming all night like that... I still can’t believe how effective it was. I’m definitely gonna go to the next festival in your domain, Char. Even knowing where the screaming’s coming from, I reckon I’ll still freak myself out thinking a holy beast is about to appear!” Al added, grinning.

Al, you unspecific bastard... It’s like you’re rubbing it in on purpose...

“What’s the situation here, Allen? It doesn’t look like you’ve made any changes since we left, apart from stockpiling some food and materials... And where’s Vesta?” Leo asked, regarding me (or perhaps the violently green soup I was currently stirring) with clear suspicion.

“Oh, Vesta got really tired after dinner, so he’s sleeping like death inside,” I replied, jerking my chin toward the ruins. “But don’t worry, there’s plenty left for you all too! Who’s hungry— Hey, don’t look at me like that! Vesta hasn’t slept since you guys left yesterday, all right?! He’s worked himself to the bone coming up with the plans for our stronghold! And Reed gave this recipe of mine five stars, I’ll have you know!”

Reed’s (alleged) praise of my soup was enough to convince everyone to grab a bowl, with the general verdict being something along the lines of “not inedible, but tastes more like medicine than food,” which wasn’t too surprising; I hadn’t brought any seasoning except for salt, and since the main ingredients were herbs with stamina- and mana-recovering properties, it was basically medicine.

“I’m still surprised, though... To be honest, I didn’t think you’d put so much thought into planning. A few minutes maybe, but definitely not half the allotted time. I didn’t realize there could be so much to consider when the stronghold is this small,” Leo muttered, frowning, and a few of the others nodded in agreement.

I sniffed indignantly. “You didn’t realize? That’s because an amateur like you doesn’t know anything compared to Vesta von Stocklode, the Bulwark of the Royal Academy! You’ll all be speechless once you take a look at the plans he’s come up with,” I said, unfurling the masterpiece for all to see. As I’d predicted, every last one of them was rendered speechless.

◆◆◆

“Oh, everyone’s back. Sorry, I just needed a nap...” Vesta said, stifling a yawn as he came outside.

“Good morning, Vesta,” Fey replied, grinning. “I must say, I really misjudged you. When we left you here with Allen, I didn’t think we’d be coming back to discover you’d spent nearly half the scenario time just drawing up a plan, especially not one as outrageous as this... How many soldiers do you think we’ll be going up against, Bulwark? With a plan like this, I’m assuming at least ten thousand?”

After flashing me a resentful glare, Vesta sighed. “This is just the ideal plan—essentially, it’s the design I think would give Yugria the best chance at victory against an invasion coming from the direction of Mount Rodria. Obviously, we’re not going to be able to construct an entire mountain fortress”—he paused, glaring at me again—“in such a short time. However, we also won’t need to. Allen thinks our final scenario will be a defensive battle, and I agree. If we can, we need to figure out what the specifics of that battle will be, and prioritize the aspects of the plan which will benefit us most,” Vesta explained, before going on to describe the various aspects of his design in more detail.

“Hmm... What if the enemy comes from here instead, though?” Coco asked, pointing, and thereby setting off a series of similar questions from my clever classmates. Vesta answered each and every one with ease.

“Well, it looks good to me,” Dan said eventually, putting down his bowl. “Honestly, if we were actually building your fortress for real, I don’t think they’d be able to take us down even if there were fiftythousand of them.” He grinned at Vesta. “I definitely wouldn’t want to be on their side.”

With their appetites and curiosity now fully sated, the third scenario team headed inside for a well-deserved nap while Vesta and I kept watch.

◆◆◆

“I can’t believe it... Even after you increased the difficulty, they completed the third scenario with four hours to spare... It’s simply preposterous,” Saiphen murmured, shaking his head in astonishment. He had good reason to do so. After Allen had used Godolphen and Tim to thin out the nearby monsters (thereby drastically reducing the difficulty of the second scenario), his brother had responded by escalating the challenge posed by the third scenario instead.

That escalation had come in the form of two main changes. The first had been to increase the number of darkpherrets the students were required to exterminate from fifteen to twenty, which in itself should have been enough to make the third scenario a race against time. The more significant change, however, had been swapping the designated leader of the second scenario from Dan to Allen, forcing the latter to stay at the ruins. The third scenario had been designed under the assumption that Allen—with his abnormal skill in Scouting Magic—would be among the participants. By removing him from the lineup, the difficulty of the third scenario had soared to the point where completing it had seemed utterly unachievable.

“Hmph. After we experienced how the boy’s wind magic could be used for flushing out monsters, I had no choice but to alter the conditions. It would have been mere child’s play otherwise,” Godolphen said, scowling. “I had heard rumors of the Harlonbay’s technique, of course. I simply did not expect it to be so effective.”

As a rule of thumb, the scenarios students tackled during the Royal Academy’s annual camping trips weren’t designed with the idea of being able to achieve a “perfect score.” Rather than matching their level, every scenario was deliberately designed to push them past their limits, thereby allowing the teachers to see how well their students adapted when pressure mounted. When said students then completed said scenarios with ease and time to spare, it understandably left said teacher—in this case, Godolphen—in a rather awkward position.

“I’ve met a few warriors who claimed they could imitate the cry of one beast or another before, Sage. I won’t deny that their screams were tremendous, but I can’t say they were particularly effective—especially when compared to Allen Rovene’s wind magic,” said Tim, clearly dubious.

“I daresay they were just that, Tim—imitations,” Godolphen replied, stroking his beard. “Simian screaming is no imitation, however. Unlike those warriors, Charme Harlonbay did not simply rely on a dash of Strengthening Magic to reinforce her vocal cords. No, her cry was akin to that of a true beast of legend, one which stirs instinctive dread within all who hear it.” He paused. “Indeed, there was a hint of something else in her cry... I speak, of course, of the Dragon’s Roar. It is not a technique one can learn through mere instruction, as I’m sure you both know. Even among the Harlonbays few have ever mastered it.”

“The Dragon’s Roar...?” Saiphen and Tim repeated in stunned unison before falling silent. They knew of it, of course. The Dragon’s Roar—or as it was more commonly known, the Promised Death—was said to invoke enduring despair in those unlucky enough to hear it. Such power did not belong in the hands of a child.

“But we have other matters to focus on for now,” Godolphen said. “How goes Allen Rovene’s progress with the second scenario? I can’t imagine they were able to do much with just the two of them, of course?”

Tim grimaced. “Well... You’re correct, Sage. To be honest, they haven’t done much at all. They’ve spent most of their time so far talking. They’ve gathered a lot of food, and some vines, probably for rope. They seem to be preparing for a siege, but I’ve not seen them actually reinforce anything as of yet.”

Godolphen raised an eyebrow. “Oh? I must say, I didn’t expect Rovene to take things quite so casually... Was there nothing else that caught your attention?”

Tim’s brow furrowed as he tried to recall anything of note. “Nothing in particular, really. There was one incident during the first night—the boys built a small fire, and spent several hours talking beside it before getting into quite a violent argument, at which point Allen stomped off to bed.” He shrugged. “I assume it was merely a disagreement about their approach to the scenario.”

Godolphen let out an amused chuckle. “It’s hard to imagine either of the pair getting so worked up over such matters... Such is the nature of youth, I suppose. A little quarreling is a good thing. Such incidents will teach them how to debate with both passion and respect, and allow them to overcome the far more formidable decisions I fear they’ll come to face in the near future. These scenarios are the perfect opportunity for them to learn how to maintain interpersonal relationships under such stressful conditions.”

Seeing Godolphen’s clear delight upon learning that his students were bickering, Tim let out an amused chuckle of his own. “It’s only natural for tempers to flare in circumstances like this. If anything, Allen probably picked Vesta hoping that their lack of a relationship would prevent things getting too heated. Obviously, it didn’t go as he’d hoped.” He smiled wryly. “They seemed to be on better terms this morning, though Vesta did look incredibly exhausted.”

Godolphen smiled. “Things are beginning to look more promising now. Allocating almost all of their classmates to the third scenario was the correct choice, of course, but without adequate reinforcements, they’ll soon find themselves under an unimaginable deal of pressure... Will those children withstand it, or will they crack? It will be most enjoyable to see it all play out, don’t you think?”

Tim and Saiphen didn’t respond, merely shaking their heads in identical exasperation. The man who stood before them now was Godolphen the Indomitable. He was a figure of legend in Yugria, having held nearly every important position in the kingdom at one point or another. He was also a formidable warrior, feared by not only other nations but even by his own allies. And, right now, he was positively beaming at the idea of thoroughly thrashing a bunch of barely pubescent children. Tim and Saiphen both knew that smile too well. It was a warning, and before the week finished, those children would learn exactly what it foretold. But there was also something different in the old man’s expression—a subtle softness in his eyes, one they’d never seen during Godolphen’s time in the Order.

One day, they’ll thank him for this... For everything, Tim and Saiphen both thought—for at that moment, never in their wildest dreams could either have imagined the shocking outcome of Allen’s first Royal Academy camping trip.

Chapter Three: The Fourth Scenario and the Intruders

The Fourth Scenario

“Good evening, children. I shall now explain the next scenario.”

It had just reached 10 p.m. when Godolphen finally appeared to deliver the next challenge. While he’d presented the camp as a sort of race—with better lodgings and earlier access to the hot springs as the prize—it seemed like the “race” aspect would only really apply to the fifth and final scenario.

Because it’s kinda hard for us to get a head start when you refuse to pop up until the deadline’s passed anyway...

I wasn’t sure if the camp was designed that way—where finishing one scenario early merely gave you more time to recover before the next—or if Godolphen had simply decided to delay his arrival in retaliation to us smashing through his challenges with ease. Given his personality, I assumed it was probably the latter.

“Class A, fourth scenario. You have received word that five foreign spies, having previously infiltrated Yugria, are now attempting to flee the kingdom via the Mount Rodria border with classified documents in hand. You have thirty-six hours to apprehend the five spies. Kate Sancalpar shall lead the scenario. You may assign your classmates to either the second or the fourth scenario as you see fit. That is all.”

Though I knew it was probably pointless, I had to make sure. “And let me guess—each leader still has to personally oversee their assigned scenario?”

Godolphen shook his head. “Alas, at some point I am required to assess your cooperative capabilities, Rovene, lest I risk them becoming your downfall when it matters most. Therefore, I will now remove any restrictions as to scenario assignments, and leave it in your more than capable hands.” With that, he turned and left, promptly vanishing in much the same way as last time.

“Did you guys hear that?! My luck’s finally changing! I’m freeeeee!”

Finally, a chance to enjoy this slice of youth with my friends!

However, Kate didn’t share my joy. “I don’t know how you did it, Allen...” she said, sighing. “There’s three routes leading to the Cucola City Federation via the Mount Rodria border. I imagine Master Godolphen thought we’d struggle to decide which of those routes to prioritize, and how many people to allocate to each of the two scenarios... We wouldn’t even have time to discuss it, really. We’d just have to spread our forces thin and hope for the best. But with this plan,” she paused, unfurling the largest of Vesta’s sketches out in front of her, “we get to kill two spellbirds with one stone, because for some reason, you decided to build the majority of our fortifications along the border rather than around these ruins. We’ll divide into three teams, led by myself, Leo, and Vesta, and get to work constructing those fortifications while also capturing the spies as they come along.” She grabbed another piece of paper, and less than a minute later, she’d finished dividing us up into the three teams. There was just one problem.

There was, in fact, a fourth route over Mount Rodria. The seldom-used, perilous path wouldn’t have been traversable by any sizable force, which is why Vesta hadn’t deemed it necessary for us to build any barricades along it. However, a much smaller force—say, five or so foreign spies—would likely manage to cross it just fine.

That wasn’t the problem, though. The problem was that my name was missing from the paper entirely.

A cold bead of sweat ran down my forehead, and when I looked around, I realized that no one would meet my gaze. “Kate... This is a joke, right? If I end up on another damn solo mission, I’m really gonna go off the rails. C’mon, guys! I’m all rested up and ready to go! Take me with you!”

Now my classmates were looking at me, but their expressions weren’t particularly encouraging.

“Yes, I thought things didn’t quite add up,” Kate said coldly, sending a shiver down my spine. “I couldn’t think of any plausible reason as to why you hadn’t at least started construction, but there wasn’t one, was there? You already figured out exactly what Master Godolphen was planning, so you made Vesta handle the design while you just sat around waiting for us—oh, and getting your rest, of course.” She glared at me. “Well, thanks to Vesta, we’ll be able to complete the fourth scenario while also giving ourselves a decent chance at success in the final one, and all without your help, Allen. Put all that energy of yours to good use on your solo mission, okay? And be careful—it might be a little dangerous out there on your own.”

Seriously?!

I immediately protested. “Wait, wait! I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have bragged about taking all those naps, okay?! But I didn’t ‘figure out’ anything! I didn’t know what the fourth scenario would be, or that I’d be allowed to join in—I’m not a freaking oracle, you know?!”

Kate turned to Vesta, ignoring me entirely. “So why did you come up with this plan while Allen was, as he’s just admitted, ‘taking all those naps’? Let me guess—this wasn’t the original plan, was it? I assume the first one was a little more realistic?”

Vesta adjusted his glasses. “Of course it was. But Allen said—what was it again? Right, he said it was ‘way too boring’ and used his authority as leader to force me to change it.”

Kate nodded, clapping her hands. “Right, let’s get moving! The sooner we apprehend those spies, the better. It’ll look suspicious if we leave this base exposed, so let’s quickly construct some barricades here and be off. I’ll need one person from each team to keep an eye on their assigned route while the rest of us start gathering logs,” she said, to the ready assent of the rest of my classmates.

“Just wait a minute, okay?! Let’s all have a nice cup of tea and talk this over! You’re playing right into the geezer’s hands here, you know?! That stupid line about assessing my cooperative capabilities or whatever was just to throw you off the scent! You’re falling right into his trap!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Allen. Master Godolphen hasn’t seen Vesta’s plan, so how could he know that we’d need you to work alone? He’s not an oracle, you know?” Kate said dryly before following the others from the ruins.

Hang on a damn minute! I’m the one who’s not—

A Boy Derailed

I, Allen Rovene, was about to go off the rails.

I’d been looking forward to this camping trip more than anyone else. I would have enjoyed it more than anyone else. Yet, in an unfortunate turn of events, I now found myself all alone in the middle of the night, staring up at a sheer cliff face. The cliff—because I refused to make a molehill out of it by calling it a mountainside—was several hundred meters high and featured a single, zigzagging path which couldn’t have been more than thirty centimeters at its widest. Provided you were willing to cling to the rocky cliff face the whole time, it was definitely possible to climb up the path, even if you weren’t a skilled mountain climber.

On the other hand, the path was also the only way to traverse the cliff face, thanks to the horizontal overhangs jutting out at irregular intervals. The path would take you around or over them, but a direct vertical ascent would be impossible without a whole bunch of equipment. Even a climber as skilled as Dan wouldn’t stand a chance. Equipment or not, you’d still be exposed throughout the entire length of the climb, and a single well-aimed arrow or spell would send you plummeting to a certain death. The same went for being spotted by a bird-type monster or just a clumsy misstep.

Basically, no spy in their right mind would even consider choosing this route when there were other options available—which, in other words, meant I’d been sent out here all alone to wait for an enemy who definitely wouldn’t appear. My proficiency with Scouting Magic meant I could cover a wide area alone, but it sure as hell didn’t mean I was happy to. I couldn’t detect anyone nearby either—not Godolphen or the other tracker, who I assumed belonged to the Order.

Sure, I might be a provisional Order member myself, and sure, maybe Dew’s sent me on a bunch of solo missions before, but right now I’m just a student, you bastards! You should at least pretend to feel some responsibility for my welfare!

Of course, the fact that I had been left out here on my lonesome also implied there was no need to watch me, which further proved my suspicions: The spies wouldn’t come this way. One of my classmates would eventually come to fetch me once all the spies were apprehended, but with this being another of the geezer’s scenarios, I was pretty sure I’d be waiting a while.

This camp’s gonna be over before I even get a chance to enjoy it... This is all his fault.

Rather than admit my predicament was at least partly my own fault, I simply directed all of my rage toward Godolphen—and by this point, I had plenty of it. Turning my back on the cliff face, I started heading back toward the cover of the forest. I was tossing up the idea of foraging ingredients for another soup (I’d brought a few small pots along, just in case I wanted to kill some time). Winter came earlier this high in the mountains, which meant there wasn’t much vegetation nearby. Luckily, I had plenty of time to kill.

And if the spies did appear (and subsequently escape) while I was otherwise occupied... Well, I couldn’t care less. In the end, the scenarios were just that—scenarios. This was just a training exercise. I’d never been worried about getting a good score. From the get-go, I’d only wanted two things: to enjoy the trip with my classmates and to soak in the hot springs to my heart’s content (though I’d also added a third thing—getting revenge on Godolphen—to my list of desires soon thereafter). But once again, I’d been cast aside. If the spies did escape via my route, it would probably cause a lot of trouble for my classmates...but that wasn’t my problem.

Because as of this moment, Allen Rovene is officially off the rails.

◆◆◆

“It’s about time... Let’s tighten the noose. Leo, send the signal,” Coco whispered. Leo immediately cast three small fireballs directly overhead.

They’d made use of both the natural terrain and some well-disguised barricades—mostly boulders and logs—to block off any escape paths along their assigned route, funneling the spy straight toward the dead end where the others lay in wait.

Just seconds after Leo’s signal, the “spy” (who, unlike a legitimate spy, was wearing a cloth bib with the number “3” on it) raised his hands in surrender.

◆◆◆

“Those reports we got about some kind of large-scale military operation along the Darley border... It’s just a bunch of kids,” the man said with a sneer, surveying the valley. With their mottled green outfits, he and his two comrades were barely discernible from the foliage that surrounded them.

“Still, they’re pretty good for a bunch of kids—especially that one with the shield,” one of the others replied.

Far below them, in a narrow but deep valley that split the landscape in two, around twenty kids were fighting their way through a swarm of formidable undead-type monsters. Particularly noteworthy among them was a girl bearing a large shield that made her already diminutive build look even smaller. In spite of the shield’s size, she wielded it masterfully, calmly repelling any attacks from the rear until one of the other kids could finish the monsters off. One glance was all it took to understand that what she had wasn’t just power, but skill.

The third man frowned. “They must be from that famous Academy... The land around here belongs to Godolphen the Indomitable, and he’s just taken a position there, right? He must be letting them use it for their training.”

“Royal Academy students, huh... So basically, we’re looking at Yugria’s future leaders right now. This might be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, you know?”

“What do you think, Zetz? At the end of the day, we’re still just scouts. We’ve got nothing on those kids. If things go badly, we’ve got no chance of fighting our way out of it—and we can’t let ourselves be captured now.”

Zetz—the leader of the trio—remained silent at first, instead listening carefully to the distant echoes that would have been inaudible to most. A few minutes passed before he replied. “They’re first-years, from Class D. Doing training like this at their age... It’s impressive, I’ll admit.” He frowned. “All the Academy’s first-years are here, which means Leo Seizinger and that other boy must be nearby too. It’s hard to pass up a chance like this... We can’t risk it, though. They wouldn’t leave all these noble kids unsupervised, so there’s probably knights—maybe even Order knights—keeping an eye on them just in case. We need to keep moving. We won’t be safe until we’ve crossed the border.”

“They’re only first-years?! And in Class D?! Little freaks... Where do we go from here then?”

“It’s too dangerous to turn back now, but we can’t risk crossing paths with them either...” Zetz frowned. “We’ll have to go west, over Mount Rodria. That’s probably the safest option. We’ll take the old Demon’s Path—no one’s used that route for years,” he said, and his two companions nodded.

◆◆◆

“Kate Sancalpar’s team has just caught the fourth spy... It doesn’t make any sense, Sage. They must have acquired the scenario details in advance,” a visibly shocked Tim declared.

Godolphen shook his head. “The scenarios were classified as clearance level 4, Tim—barely below that of Yugria’s most critical secrets. Surely you understand why? The scenarios are designed to test the specific skill sets of each student. The children’s capabilities, their growth, and our evaluations thereof must remain hidden, lest we find ourselves at a disadvantage in the battles which unfortunately may come. It would have been impossible for any student—no matter how skilled they might be—to acquire those details by any means. Furthermore, no student of mine would be so foolish, considering the punishment that would befall them were they caught. I cannot imagine that any of the concerned faculty would be so careless as to have let the information slip either.”

“Be that as it may, Sage, it’s still implausible,” Tim replied. “They began to move just minutes after you announced the scenario, without any significant discussion or planning. They sent advance scouts directly toward the three predetermined routes, and when the others followed, each group immediately began building similar fortifications to corner the spies as needed. There were some differences in construction and placement, but not enough for this to be merely a case of ‘great minds thinking alike,’ Sage... It must have been preplanned,” Tim argued.

Godolphen’s expression darkened. “And what of Rovene? You mentioned he seemed to be lazing about while I was observing the third scenario team, but has he made any progress toward reinforcing the stronghold now?”

“When I last saw him, he was trudging toward the old Demon’s Path. I assume he’s been tasked with blocking it off as an escape route—a reasonable decision by the Sancalpar girl, considering his abilities. As for the stronghold... They constructed a log fence around the ruins before they left, but that was the only evidence of any reinforcement I saw. They don’t seem particularly concerned about the second scenario at all, in truth.”

“Hmph. Those children aren’t foolishly optimistic enough to mistake the second scenario as some kind of optional bonus challenge, which can only mean one of two things. Either they’re struggling in a way we didn’t predict...” Godolphen trailed off, his mouth twisting into an unpleasant smirk. “Or they’ve got something up their sleeves, and we’re the ones about to find ourselves struggling beyond our wildest predictions... I wonder which it will be?”

There was something in the Sage’s eyes that made Tim feel as though he was once again on the battlefield, watching the fearless warrior prepare for the battle ahead. A chill ran down his spine.

◆◆◆

Twenty-four hours had passed since the beginning of the fourth scenario, which also meant we were now four and a half days into my highly anticipated yet very disappointing school camp. After killing a fair bit of time wandering around and foraging, I’d returned to my post near the cliff with a plan to cook up a soup (for me) and a nasty surprise (for Godolphen). One way or another, I was determined to get my revenge.

The concoction was something Reed had taught me, intended for use against monsters. Using it on humans was actually against Yugrian law, but personally, I thought turning what should have been a fun school camp into a literal military exercise was clearly a far worse crime. Besides, the dosage wouldn’t be lethal or anything, and I was pretty sure Godolphen wouldn’t think it was a particularly underhanded move either. Of course, there was a good chance that the other teachers wouldn’t feel the same. If anything, they’d probably start going on about disqualification or expulsion or whatever.

I didn’t care, though. I’d gone off the rails.

Hee hee hee... Mwa ha ha ha ha!

Drunk on the thrill that apparently came with one’s rapid descent into evil, I was actually having quite a good time preparing the ominously colored concoction. Right until three of Godolphen’s stupid “spies” showed up nearby, that was.

Seriously? I was pretty sure they wouldn’t be using this route in the first place, but three out of the five of them? There’s no way. The geezer’s going senile if he thinks anyone’s gonna believe this was the plan all along. This scenario is rigged!

Thanks to the wonders of Scouting Magic, I could easily hear their conversation.

“Huh? Why is that kid all alone out here? And also, why the hell is he sitting around cooking?”

“Well, judging by his uniform, he’s another one of those Academy kids...”

“He’s in the way. We can get onto the Demon’s Path from here without being seen, but if he looks up at any point, we’re done for. The brat’s got a shortbow too.”

Er... Did Godolphen forget to tell them about my Scouting Magic? They may as well be talking right in front of me... Idiots. Well, they’re clearly gonna try to “cross the border” here, aren’t they?

“He looks so lonely, though... I almost feel like crying just looking at him. Maybe he’s just lost?”

What’s his freakin’ problem?! Did Godolphen specifically tell them to rub salt in my wounds or something?! Stupid jerks...

I could easily strike first, but if I couldn’t take them all down in one go, it would be difficult to round the others up after they fled. I was alone out here, after all. The smarter option was to continue presenting myself as an easy target to lure them in and then beat them to a pulp. For the time being, I continued tending to the bubbling concoction while keeping one ear on their recklessly loud conversation.

“What’s the plan, Zetz?”

Zetz—who I assumed was the ringleader of their little theater troupe—took a moment to reply. “It’s late. He probably won’t move until morning...” He sighed. “These mountains are a lot busier than we accounted for. We’ve escaped notice so far, but if we hang around for much longer we’re gonna get caught... It’s a little cruel, but the kid’s gotta go. The monsters around here are always hungry at this time of year. They’ll take care of the evidence for us before the sun comes up.”

Apparently Godolphen had told them about me, because “Zetz” (obviously a fake name) had remembered to lower his voice while laying out the narrative of our upcoming encounter. Oh, so now he’s trying to play his part properly...

He slowly raised his shortbow, aiming an arrow right at me. The other two spies spread out slightly, before—much to my surprise—Zetz suddenly let the arrow fly. Though dumbfounded, I still managed to roll out of the way just in time to avoid being skewered. I hadn’t expected him to actually take the shot, much less when it was aimed directly at my vital organs.

What was he planning to do if I hadn’t dodged?!

“Damn it! Quick, get him!”

Seeing that I’d avoided the arrow, the three spies moved to a more direct approach. They lunged out from the cover of the trees with identically nondescript daggers in hand, all held in an uncommon reverse grip.

Huh. Guess they all trained under the same instructor or something? They don’t seem particularly strong, but their coordination’s pretty impressive...

More impressive, though, was their acting. It was hard to believe they weren’t actually trying to kill me. Godolphen probably told them not to hold back, but just to be sure...

“Excuse me, but, um... You guys are just assistants, right?”

“Assistants?! You don’t know who you’re messing with, brat!”

Wait, they’re not part of the scenario?! What kind of terrible coincidence is this?! Guess it explains why it feels like they’re actually trying to kill me, though... Well, they’re clearly up to no good, which means as a member of the Royal Order it’s my duty to apprehend them!

Seizing the opportunity presented by their confused rage, I nocked and loosed three arrows in quick succession, each dipped in the sedative I’d concocted. All three struck true, piercing them each in the leg, and the spies promptly crumpled to the ground.

“Sorry about that—I just don’t have any rope on me, unfortunately. It’ll wear off eventually though, so you’ll just have to be patient, okay?” I said, approaching the trio to inspect my work. Two of the three spies had been rendered completely immobile, though the third—Zetz—was still twitching as he glared at me.

“Right, the geezer will probably have a pretty high tolerance too... I’ll need to make it a bit stronger.” I gave the sedative another stir and adjusted the pot, moving it slightly farther away from the flames. I then picked up the other pot—something I’d prepared earlier—and returned to the trio, snatching up a suitable stick along the way. “Looks like I’m all out of healing salves, but luckily for you, I’ve got a freshly brewed batch of sleeping medicine! You won’t feel a thing once this kicks in, okay?” I said reassuringly. Using the stick, I transferred a few drops of the rather potent medicine into their open mouths, then stepped back to observe. Seconds later, they were fast asleep.

“Hmm...” That’s promising.

◆◆◆

Darkness turned to dawn, and by around 6 a.m. the Darleys were bathed in the gentle glow of the morning sun.

“We just had a messenger from Vesta’s group—they’ve caught the fifth spy. He was hiding in the caves overnight, and they couldn’t locate him until he tried to escape just before dawn...” Kate said, sighing. “Ideally, I wanted to have this finished by last night, but luck just wasn’t on our side. They’re on their way back now.”

Leo nodded. “Well, it did give us ample time to get things underway on our end at least. If anything, the delay was probably for the best.”

Kate smiled. “True—we wouldn’t have had any excuse to leave this stronghold after capturing the last target, would we? Master Godolphen would have found it suspicious if we weren’t using the remaining time to strengthen our fortifications here.”

They didn’t have to wait very long for Vesta’s team to appear with the spy (as indicated by the number “5” on his bib) in tow. Vesta entered the ruins alone, leaving his classmates and their captive outside the log fence. “Master Godolphen’s waiting outside,” he explained, before returning to join his team. Kate and Leo—and their respective teams—quickly followed, emerging to see their teacher in what seemed to be an extremely good mood.

“Well done, well done! I was watching you all quite closely throughout, and once again I was astonished by your most excellent teamwork. Indeed, you have surprised me time and time again in recent days. I must admit, I never imagined you’d be able to conquer my scenarios so easily. Now, there is someone I would like to introduce you to... Ah, but it seems a few of your classmates are yet to return?”

“Oh, Fey and Jewel went to retrieve Allen a little while ago, Master Godolphen. We had to send him to keep an eye on the old mountain path, just in case— Speaking of which, here they come now... What in the world are they dragging behind them?”

◆◆◆

“Who do we have here, then?” Godolphen asked, suspicious.

I shrugged. “No idea, really—just some random thugs who tried to kill me for no reason. I thought I should probably apprehend them, because it seemed like they were trying to flee over the border. I told you guys solo missions were dangerous, didn’t I?! Hopefully next time you’ll remember that loneliness can be fatal!” I proceed to recount the events of my solo mission in slightly more detail, though I omitted any parts relating to my new array of pharmaceuticals.

Godolphen frowned. “This rather unique attire is the same as that worn by military scouts from the Cucola City Federation’s forces... Hmph. Our nations have long held a mutually beneficial relationship, without any hint of hostility... But perhaps that relationship has changed, unbeknownst to me?” He paused, staring at the three men as though waiting for confirmation or correction. After a few seconds passed without either, Godolphen let out an ominous chuckle. “Oh? Very few have ever ignored Godolphen von Vanquish...” There was violence in his eyes now. “And even fewer have lived to regret it!”

Godolphen’s intimidating aura would have normally elicited at least a few screams by this point, but to the geezer’s obvious surprise, the spies remained silent. My classmates (who by this point were somewhat accustomed to Godolphen’s temper tantrums) were similarly unruffled.

Being the only one who knew the truth (well, the only one who also wasn’t currently paralyzed), it unfortunately fell to me to step in before things got out of hand. “Unbelievably, all three of them somehow ended up getting stung by some kind of insect during the fight, which is why they can’t move at the moment. Honestly, I would have preferred if they hadn’t—at least then I would have had someone to talk to while sitting all alone out there...” I sighed. “I’ll go grab an antidote.” The first antidote I’d administered—quickly whipped up with the ingredients I’d had on hand—hadn’t done anything to counteract the effects of the sedative, which had apparently been stronger than I’d initially thought.

“Er... Aren’t scouts meant to be a little more observant?” someone muttered dubiously as I vanished into the ruins.

◆◆◆

In the time it took for me to return with the antidote, Godolphen had somehow managed to arrange for knights from the Trouverean private army (who apparently maintained a garrison nearby) to come and collect the spies. The Trouverean knights arrived a surprisingly short time later and quickly departed with their new captives, clearly eager to find out exactly who they were and why they’d been wandering around Yugria in the first place.

“Well, let us not delay any further. Your fifth and final scenario still awaits, of course... But first, I’d like to introduce you to Tim Buchan, an associate of mine from the Royal Order who has graciously been assisting me over these last few days.”

My classmates began to whisper. I hadn’t really bothered to learn the names of anyone outside of the Third Legion, but Tim—the vice captain of the Fifth Legion, according to their whispered conversations—was clearly quite well-known. He stepped forward to greet us with a friendly smile.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all. As the Sage said, I’m Tim, from the Fifth Legion of the Royal Order. I’ve been able to observe some of your activities here, and I can tell you I’ve been very impressed by what I’ve seen. I urge you all to keep pushing forward, and don’t let yourselves become complacent. I’m hoping to observe the fifth scenario too, so I’ll be looking forward to seeing you all in action a little more.”

He’d tried to make it seem as though he’d only caught a glimpse here and there, but I could immediately tell that Tim was the one who’d been following us alongside Godolphen right from the start.

I was right about him being a talented tracker—I just didn’t expect him to also be a vice captain... I mean it just doesn’t make sense, letting someone as important as him skip around the mountains for a whole damn week. Did the Fifth Legion run out of actual work to do or something? Seriously...

Godolphen cleared his throat. “Tim here is in charge of recruitment for the Fifth Legion, and as you might imagine, he also has some measure of sway when it comes to Order recruitment in general. For those among you who intend to join the Order, this is an excellent opportunity to demonstrate your prowess.”

Oh, that explains it. He’s a scout and a talent scout.

I had no interest in “demonstrating my prowess,” but Godolphen’s comment had clearly lit a fire under some of my classmates, particularly Stella. A potential position within the local Fifth Legion was probably right up her alley.

“Now, it is high time for me to explain the particulars of the final scenario,” Godolphen continued. “After recapturing and reinforcing this stronghold, you are now tasked with defending it from enemy forces. Reports indicate that these forces are already nearby and will likely converge on you at approximately 10 a.m. this morning, though their numbers remain unknown. Their assault will continue for twenty-four hours. If the stronghold falls into enemy hands you must strive to recapture it once again, though this will be reflected in your score. Additionally, should the stronghold fall three or more times, you will be required to complete an additional twelve hours of supplementary training following the fifth scenario—though sadly, that would prevent you from enjoying the hot springs alongside the other class groups,” he said, his smile not reflecting his alleged “sadness” one bit. “The leader for the fifth scenario shall be Fe—”

“Just a moment, Master Godolphen,” I interrupted. “I’ve got a request concerning the enemy forces.”

Godolphen raised his eyebrows. “Oh? Rovene, I acknowledge that your unexpected encounter might have slightly delayed your return to the stronghold, but you had plenty of time to complete your reinforcements prior. I will not reduce their number to account for it. War demands we adapt to the unexpected.”

I sighed dramatically, shaking my head. “What are you going on about? I didn’t say anything about reducing their number. I’m guessing you’ve borrowed three companies from the Trouverean army to play the part of our opponents, right? So that’s what, four hundred soldiers at most? What I’m saying, Godolphen...” I paused, smirking. “Is that you won’t stand a chance.”

I could see my classmates shift slightly as they pointedly looked away. Godolphen remained silent, which told me my guess had been spot-on.

Generally speaking, the official and private armies of Yugria followed the same structural system. A company typically totaled around 128 soldiers in four squadrons, though the exact number often varied given the volatile nature of the work. Honestly, it hadn’t been hard to more or less figure out what his plan was for the enemy forces. After all, we were meant to be defending a military stronghold. His scenarios had been realistic so far, which meant it was very unlikely that said enemy forces would now turn out to be Godolphen the Indomitable himself. Even if we managed to take him down, the experience wouldn’t teach us anything worthwhile. Besides, he could attack us anytime he wanted back at the Academy; there was no reason to do it all the way out here.

I’d been anticipating that we’d eventually face a proper military battle ever since he’d announced the second scenario. Given that our assigned “stronghold” had all the defensive capacity of a pile of rubble, the largest force we’d have any hope of holding our own (and therefore it) against was probably a company. Obviously there was no reason for our opponents to pull an all-nighter just because we were, so I assumed he’d commandeered a reasonable number of companies (say, three) to take turns attacking us. They’d be able to rest and regroup, and we’d have our work cut out for us. If, by some miracle, we managed to hold our own until the battle was nearly won, Godolphen would definitely send all three companies in for a final showdown. I could already picture the stupid smirk he’d wear as he gave the order.

That was all assuming we defended this stronghold, of course.

Eventually, Godolphen chuckled. “I see. Your mettle is commendable, Rovene. Tell me then—how large a force do you believe you can withstand?”

He just doesn’t get it... I shook my head again, smiling patronizingly. “Are you still half asleep, Godolphen? I’m not asking for you to pad your numbers a little. I’m telling you to gather every last soldier you can muster and attack with everything you’ve got, right from the start! Otherwise, we’re gonna crush your forces before that old brain of yours has even realized what’s happening,” I sneered, with my latest dose of provocation leading several of my classmates (all of whom were still refusing to look my way) to cover their faces with their hands.

Tim shot me a patient, slightly bemused smile, like a parent would use when placating a sulking child. “You don’t know what you’re asking for, Allen. You kids probably don’t know this, but the northwest command has dispatched an entire division to the Vanquish Domain for the length of your school camp, just in case anything goes wrong. There’s three battalions within an hour’s journey from here, so about fifteen hundred soldiers. Not many of them are as talented as you bunch, but if we’re also counting the porters, the messengers, and all the other support units, you’re looking at a force about a hundred times larger than your own. There’s strength in numbers, kids. You might be skilled, but you can’t overcome a difference like that with skill alone—especially not when you’ve only done a few perfunctory reinforcements.”

It’s going in one ear and out the other...

I cleared my throat. “Vesta, give them the rough sketch.”

For a moment, Vesta simply stared at me blankly. I stared right back, unwavering. Once he realized I wasn’t going to change my mind, he handed over the basic layout of our mountain fortress with a deep sigh. As Godolphen and Tim unfurled the plan, they both froze, their expressions turning blanker than Vesta’s had a moment earlier.

“What you’ve got right there is the mountain fortress designed for us by Vesta von Stocklode, the beloved Bulwark of Class A. Obviously, that’s just the basic plan, not the full version.” I smirked. “Now, I’m gonna say it one last time... Give us all you’ve got!”

I was expecting Godolphen to be at least a little cross by this point, if not outright fuming. However, instead of anger, my goading was met with gleeful laughter and a broad smile. “Oh, how marvelous! Don’t you agree, Tim? I assumed the rather haphazard placement of the fortifications they built during the previous scenario was merely on account of the stress impairing their judgment... Those fortifications were never intended to hinder the spies from escaping, but to hinder us from advancing. We’ve been well and truly hoodwinked, Tim. Send a spellbird. Muster every last troop in the nearby vicinity.”

“Sage, you can’t be serious! Surely you know that quadrupling the size of the enemy forces won’t make the scenario four times harder! We’re looking at an eight- to tenfold jump in difficulty!” Tim spluttered in response. “What about the rest of you kids?! Surely you’re not okay with this?! If you keep letting Allen do whatever he likes, you’re the ones who will suffer for it! Aren’t you already at your limits?!” he asked, clearly expecting them to protest.

My classmates looked at each other and grinned.

“It’s fine by me,” Fey replied with a giggle. “It’s always more fun if we just let Allen have his way, you know?”

Jewel let out a dainty laugh of her own. “I agree. I’d never allow myself to stand in the way of one of Allen’s bold ideas.”

“I’m here to challenge myself. The increased difficulty isn’t a problem—if anything, I welcome it.” Leo smirked.

“Yeah, bring it on!”

“Personally, I’m curious to see how Vesta’s plan holds up in practice.”

“Besides, even if we tried to disagree, Allen would just use some weirdly persuasive argument about the definition of youth or something to bully us into it anyway.”

“That’s for sure.”

Vesta was the last to respond, and the only dissenter. “Wait... A hundred-to-one disadvantage?! Allen, let’s think this over again, okay? What about the hot springs?! Wouldn’t it be better to finish this as quickly as possible?!”

I’d already noticed that Vesta hadn’t been anywhere near as excited as the others; I just hadn’t expected it to be because he was worrying about whether I’d have enough time to scratch my onsen itch. Classic Vesta.

I shrugged. “Well, that’s the plan, obviously. All we have to do is wipe out the enemy, and then it’s off to the hot springs for us. You get to ‘teach the old geezer a lesson’ just like you wanted, and I get to soak away my worries in the hot springs! It’s perfect!” I said, making sure to sneer at Godolphen while I summarized Vesta’s innermost thoughts, since my classmate didn’t seem capable of doing it himself.

Vesta seemed to appreciate my initiative, judging by the way he was now staring at me with wide, teary eyes. “Allen, you...”

I decided to wrap things up quickly for his sake, before he could get too emotional. “Well, that’s our request. We’re not afraid of a challenge, Godolphen. No one’s gonna enjoy this camping trip more than Class A!”

“You want to teach me a lesson, Vesta...?” Godolphen replied, his tone icy. “It seems you’ve all gotten a little too big for your boots... Very well. I will accept your request. The leader for the fifth scenario shall be...” He paused for a moment, glaring at Vesta pointedly. “Hmph. It shall be Vesta von Stocklode. The scenario will now commence at noon, to allow us time to assemble the necessary forces. And finally, children, a word of warning—you will come to regret this.”

With that, Godolphen turned and stomped away, his face contorted with rage. Tim, standing beside him, was the only one who saw that rage then soften, the Sage’s grimace quickly giving way to an ecstatic grin.

Chapter Four: The Final Scenario

Vesta’s Mountain Fortress

Yugrian Army, Northwest Command Border Defense Outpost...

In the largest room within a small outpost roughly five kilometers to the west of the ruins, a war council was underway, with the grim expressions of those gathered making it seem as though war had actually broken out within Yugria’s borders.

“By all rights, he should be at his limit by this point, physically and mentally... He should have been begging you for leniency, not demanding you make things even harder! I understand why they’re calling him a living anomaly now... And the rest of them all supported his ridiculous proposition too! There’s a fine line between being foolhardy and merely being foolish,” Tim muttered, shaking his head. The veteran scout had seen a lot of strange and unbelievable things in his time, but none had been more incomprehensible than what he’d witnessed earlier that morning.

Godolphen chuckled. “Such recklessness is the very definition of youth, Tim. Caution comes with age, as does forgetfulness. But time is of the essence!” he exclaimed, turning to address the room at large. “As you may now realize, the reason I’ve decided to increase the number of enemy forces for Class A’s final scenario is because they—and more specifically, Allen Rovene himself—have requested so. The boy seems to believe that three Trouverean companies will not pose much of a threat... There is no need for restraint. Am I understood?”

A middle-aged knight—who, prior to the war council, had been slated to lead the overall attack—glowered at this. “Won’t... Won’t pose much of a threat?! That shameless little pervert is too arrogant for his own good! I’ll kill him myself, do you hear me?! There won’t be enough of him left to bury by the time I’m done with him!” A vein throbbed in his forehead. The man served as a battalion commander within Marquess Trouvere’s private army, and coincidentally, was also related to one of the Class A students. His name was Maxim Achilles. Following Godolphen’s command to strengthen their forces, he was now joined by two other battle-hardened battalion commanders, both of whom were frowning alongside Godolphen and Tim as they examined Vesta’s sketch.

“As you can see, in addition to the ruins here, they appear to have established three more strongholds, thereby forming an overall diamond shape... What do you make of it, Tim?”

“It’s incredible, Sage. From a tactical perspective, each stronghold is close enough to the others to provide assistance if required, but not close enough to invite a simultaneous attack... If we capture only a single stronghold, they could retake it with ease if we’re not careful. By doing so, they’ve also made it necessary for us to divide our forces. We can’t simply move from one stronghold to the next as a single unit, only for them to recapture each stronghold from behind. We’d be chasing each other around in circles.” Tim sighed, shaking his head. “Unlike the ruins, the other strongholds haven’t been established in open areas. They’ve picked spots where they can utilize the natural terrain to their advantage, making it easier for them to defend and a whole lot harder for us to attack. Take this stronghold, for instance,” he said, jabbing at the paper. “If actual invaders came through here, they’d have to take every stronghold first, or they’d end up stuck in the Melmarshes fighting a battle on both sides. I struggle to think of a single way this design could be improved. Honestly, I still can’t quite believe it... You gave them seventy-two hours to reinforce a single stronghold, and they went and designed an entire fortress compound instead! That Vesta kid is a lot bolder than he looks. Actually, all of them have been keeping me on my toes ever since they got here. You must be very proud of your students, Sage.”

Godolphen smiled warmly. “Alas, I can claim very little credit for it. They teach themselves far more than I teach them... I daresay I was far more surprised than you to discover Vesta von Stocklode’s talent for tactical design.” He paused for a moment. “Allen Rovene... I cannot help but recall what Satwa once said about the boy—that his greatest strength is his ability to see and acknowledge the beauty in others, and to encourage them to nurture it in doing so.” He paused for another moment, eyes glazed over as though lost in thought, before addressing the three battalion commanders. “Now then, how would you suggest we approach our young foes?”

The leftmost commander—a red-haired woman named Elan—raised her hand. “Realistically, we could easily overwhelm them with a simultaneous assault on all four strongholds. We’d be dividing our forces, but we’d still outnumber them a hundred-to-one. However...” She frowned. “It feels like a trap, and regardless, there’s no need to rush. I suggest we adhere to standard mountain warfare tactics and begin our assault at the highest stronghold, which in this case would be the ruins. It’s the only one of their strongholds with any structural stability, and there’s ample space for us to leave a detachment to defend it afterward. Once we take the ruins, they’ll be left with only hastily built structures to defend—and from our new base in the ruins, we’ll be able to reach all of them with ease.”

Godolphen narrowed his eyes and slowly nodded. “Yes, that does seem to be the safest option. Of course, being able to reach the other strongholds with ease will mean that they can reach us just as easily should we find ourselves on the defensive side... But with such disparity in numbers, I think we can overlook that risk. If they do choose to attack us, though foolish such a choice would be, it would merely make our task all the more simple.”

“Let me lead the charge! I’m gonna teach that brat a lesson he’ll never forget!” Maxim growled, punctuating his demand by pounding the scabbard of his longsword against the stone floor.

“Very well, Maxim,” Godolphen replied, regarding the man with a steely gaze. “But Stella is among our opponents. Keep in mind I won’t tolerate any leniency on your part, even if she is your niece.”

“Leniency? I’ve been training her in combat since she could walk! I’ve never gone easy on her, not once! I sure as hell ain’t gonna start now!”

At this point, the third commander—a man with grayish-blue hair named Jipro—chimed in. “Honestly, the only kind of counterattack I could see them even attempting would be something like a raid on our supply lines. Obviously, we’re not going to be transporting many supplies, but our messengers will be using those routes too. Being Academy students, I hope they have more sense than to bother with such unimaginative subterfuge, but I’ll have two of my companies stationed along the routes just to be cautious. It’s a little excessive considering our opponent is just twenty kids, even if they are the strongest kids in the kingdom...” He shrugged. “But we’ve got the forces to spare, and they wouldn’t dare attack one of our messengers when there’s a whole company nearby.”

Though he hid it well, on the inside Jipro was seething, as were the other commanders. For years they’d honed their craft on the field of battle, only to find themselves on the brink of being tactically outmaneuvered by a bunch of inexperienced twelve-year-olds. Strategic intelligence wasn’t the only thing they’d needed to become the commanders they were today, though. They’d also needed composure and discretion, and the wisdom to not let arrogance cloud their thinking.

Tim surveyed the three commanders, with their rigid postures reflecting a determination just as unyielding, and found himself convinced: The final scenario was now well and truly beyond Class 1-A’s ability to overcome.

◆◆◆

“Well, thanks to that solo mission you sent me on, I’ve still got some loose ends to tie up. I’ll be back soon. Vesta, you’re fine to handle things here, right?”

Without waiting for his answer, I turned to leave only to find my escape blocked by Fey.

“Hold on, Allen,” she said, flashing me one of her familiar dangerous grins. “Why did you make Master Godolphen increase the number of enemy forces? You had that evil look on your face again, so you were obviously planning something...”

Evil look? I did not! Rude...

Unfortunately, the wry smiles of my classmates seemed to imply they agreed with Fey.

“What a terrible thing to say. I didn’t have any kind of ‘evil look,’ and I’d appreciate it if you stopped making baseless accusations,” I replied, glaring at Fey. “Like I said to Godolphen, three companies wouldn’t stand a chance against us. So when the geezer realized that, what do you think he’d do? He’d just send extra forces in anyway, without even a scrap of hesitation. Hell, he’d already planned for it—that’s why the scenario came with that little ‘numbers remaining unknown’ stipulation in the first place.”

These guys are smart enough to figure the rest out on their own.

Leo proved me right soon enough. “By convincing him to add more forces, you also got him to reveal that the total number of forces he could call on was three battalions... As the defenders, that’s the most critical information we could hope for. We can prepare for their assault properly now. Plus, now there’s no risk of us being caught off guard by a surprise addition to their troops.”

With his hands folded behind his head, Dan looked altogether relaxed as he nodded in agreement. “Also, most of our traps are only gonna work once, so now we’ll be able to get the most use out of them. We lure them all out at the start, and wipe them out in one go before they even realize what’s happening... No wonder you had that evil look on your face, Allen—your methods are pretty damn vicious.”

I did not have an evil look on my face! But he’s right about the rest.

“You seem to get it now, so I’m off. I’ll be back in about three hours. Take care of the place for me, Vesta!”

“Three hours?! You haven’t slept since the start of the fourth scenario, right? Don’t you need to rest?!”

I laughed. “Well, while I was up there all alone, I had plenty of time to come up with a little surprise for the geezer... I guess you could call it a secret plan?” I shrugged, grinning. “Anyway, I’ll have plenty of time to sleep later, so don’t worry about me. I’ll explain the rest when I get back... Heh heh... Mwa ha ha ha ha!”

I was still cackling as I left, treating my classmates to a small taste of the true villainy I’d cultivated over the course of my solo mission—to their evident dismay.

◆◆◆

“They’re coming! Looks like they’ve decided to send all three battalions to take the northern stronghold first. What do you reckon, Vesta? Should we put up a little bit of a fight?” Al asked, his voice unusually shrill. Even with his chronically carefree attitude, he couldn’t help but feel a little nervous.

Vesta immediately shook his head. “There’s no point wasting any energy here, especially when it won’t benefit us in the slightest. We’ll evacuate as planned.”

“Got it. Well, I guess we’re off to the eastern stronghold, you guys!” Al replied.

“And my team will head west,” Kate added, nodding. “Vesta, good luck with the southern stronghold. Let’s show them what we’re made of.”

And with that, Class A divided into three groups—led by Al, Kate, and Vesta—and went their separate ways.

◆◆◆

“Tch. Fled with your tails between your legs, eh? All bark and no bite... Lose your nerve after seeing what three battalions actually looks like, did ya?!” Maxim grumbled, disappointed, much to Elan’s amusement.

“Come now, Maxim. The kids at the Royal Academy aren’t stupid enough to choose to fight us here—where we can use the space to our advantage—while they’ve still got other options. Even an idiot would choose to try their luck with more mountainous terrain.”

Godolphen laughed. “Indeed. They’ve deliberately given up this stronghold in favor of the other three, though I imagine they felt as though they had little choice in the matter.”

“They were running around the mountains all day yesterday. Realistically, there’s not many traps they could have built in such a short time with their minimal supplies, but there’s still some risk... What do you think, Sage?”

Godolphen stroked his beard, humming thoughtfully. “Alas, we have little hope of sniffing out their traps—or lack thereof—with the battle already upon us. We’ll send one company to attack each of the remaining strongholds simultaneously, and we’ll soon learn which of the three is their true base of operations. There is little use in attempting to maneuver the full force through this terrain, so the other troops will remain here. Now then...” He smirked. “It’s time these students of mine received a much-needed lesson in humility. Prepare to march!”

“Yes, sir!”

◆◆◆

The western stronghold, occupied by Kate and her team, was situated atop one of the many ridges extending along the heavily forested landscape. This particular ridge began in the south, becoming narrower and narrower until only two or three people could walk abreast before merging with a higher plateau of the mountain and giving way to a fan-shaped forest. The stronghold itself had been constructed at the narrowest part of the ridgetop, just a stone’s throw away from the edge of the forest. There were only two ways that a sizable force could reach the stronghold. The first was by marching through the forest after capturing the northern stronghold.

The other was to hike along the ridge from the south, which would instead require them to first capture the southern stronghold. Technically, it could also be accessed from the east or the west, if their enemy was willing to scramble up the sheer incline and leave themselves entirely exposed to the defenders. The sheer slopes were also the perfect canvas for all manner of traps, meaning that an approach from either side could lead to significant casualties. All in all, it was a highly defensive position for a stronghold—just as Vesta had calculated, of course.

The western stronghold was currently under attack by a company of Trouverean forces led by Maxim Achilles himself. Stella, Sophie, and Pisces confronted the attack head-on, standing their ground in the narrow space between the edge of the forest and the western stronghold. If they fell, the stronghold would follow within minutes.

Thirty minutes had now passed since the assault had commenced, and Sophie and Pisces—both of whom were beginning to show signs of fatigue—were relieved to see Kate and Parley emerge from the stronghold.

“Sophie, Pisces, you can rotate out! Keep an eye on the eastern and western approaches and catch your breath. We’ll handle things out here for a bit. Stella, are you okay to keep going?”

“I could do this all day!”

And thus, the battle—which Maxim had been beginning to think was all but won—began anew.

◆◆◆

“Do you see that?! She’s been holding the line for over an hour now! She’s a natural! Magnificent! That’s my niece for you! And she’s a stunner too! Don’t you dare even think about falling for her!”

Maxim’s adjutant smiled awkwardly. “She’s definitely living up to her reputation as the most promising warrior in Achilles history, Battalion Commander. Her skills rival those of a full-grown adult, and her stamina seems to have no limit... We might be on opposite sides at the moment, but I’m eager for the day when I get to fight alongside her instead.”

“You’re damn right! And don’t forget that she’s gonna grow into a real beauty by then! You can’t see it very well from all the way back here, but she’s a stunner!” Maxim, ever the doting uncle, was about to launch into another of his famously long-winded boasting sessions when the reinforcements he’d requested arrived from the northern stronghold.

“Battalion Commander! Reserve company reporting for duty, as requested!”

Forced to battle in disadvantageous conditions against skilled opponents, the vanguard company led by Maxim Achilles had already diminished to nearly half of its original strength. The troops hadn’t actually died, of course. Any soldiers who were disarmed, knocked unconscious, or found a blade held against their neck (or any other vital part of the body) were treated as having been “killed in action.” As casualties, they were no longer able to participate in the battle. They were, however, allowed to retreat to a preestablished waiting area, and nearly half of Maxim’s original company was already on their way there.

“Well met, Commandant. How goes the fighting at the other strongholds?”

The commandant grimaced. “It’s much the same as here, unfortunately... They’ve made good use of the terrain to restrict our movements, forcing us into head-on combat a few at a time.”

Maxim’s shoulders drooped. Their overwhelming advantage in numbers meant nothing if they couldn’t use it. One by one they’d continue to fall, and eventually, they’d lose. “Any orders from the Sage?”

“Yes, sir. He said to be wary of flank attacks, and gave you leave to revise the battle plan as you see fit.”

Maxim snorted. Their enemy was only twenty strong; they didn’t have the troops to spare for a flank attack. He still didn’t know how many of those troops were stationed within the western stronghold, but assuming Class A had divided themselves into three approximately even groups, there couldn’t be more than six or seven of them in total. He’d already seen five of them with his own eyes. Besides, even if they’d assigned half of their troops to this stronghold, a flank attack would never succeed. While the Trouvereans’s access to the stronghold was restricted on account of the narrow ridgeline, the forest, where they waited, was spacious enough for two companies (well, one and a half at this point) to move around freely. A flank attack would be suicide.

We’re wasting our time here, Maxim decided, and immediately began to issue orders. “Swap positions! I’ll deal with Stella. Massie, Romeo—you handle the other two! Trayde, you take command back here. If we fall, don’t give them any time to recover—just keep pushing and pushing until they’ve got nowhere left to run! Once this stronghold has fallen, march south!”

Of course, Maxim hadn’t wanted to fight his beloved niece, but there could be no allowance for personal feelings now. If they managed to break through and marched southward, joining the forces already there, the southern stronghold would be caught in a pincer movement. It would be nearly impossible for Class A to turn the tides at that point. Maxim just needed to conquer the western stronghold first.

After sending the newly arrived company to join the other troops in the forest, Maxim stomped back to the front line, longsword in hand. “Stella Achilles!” he roared. “I, Maxim Achilles, will be your opponent! Come face the Trouverean Tiger for yourself! Let us fight fairly—”

He swung his sword up as he spoke, positioning himself for the fight to come. As he did, however, a tremendous rumble sounded from the northern mountainside and drowned out the rest of his words. There were few sounds more ominous than that of hundreds of boulders tumbling down a rocky decline. He’d barely twisted around before the rumbling itself was drowned out by a terrifying, almost primal cry that echoed through the mountains. As the animalistic cry faded away, it was replaced with another rumble. It wasn’t the same sound of falling rocks, but of trembling earth—

“S-S-STAMPEDE!” someone shouted from the forest, soon joined by cries of terror.

Amid all the chaos, however, the last sound Maxim heard was barely a whisper, cutting through the clamor like a knife. “Oh, Uncle...? You’re facing the wrong way, you know?”

◆◆◆

The eastern stronghold sat along a winding mountain trail. On one side of the trail, a cliff rose straight up, preventing any further passage east; on the other, the land fell sharply into a wide, deep valley, harboring a turbulent river at its base. While the river wasn’t entirely impassable, marching through the rushing water at this time of year would inevitably lead to a significant loss of stamina and mana. More problematic, though, was the large waterfall just slightly downstream. No, if the attackers wanted to march south, they’d have to take the mountain trail—which meant first taking the eastern stronghold.

The commandant in charge of the assault—one of Elan’s subordinates—scoffed. “This is getting boring... We need to change things up a bit. Any ideas?”

His adjutant merely shrugged.

Unlike the western stronghold, there was no forest here for their troops to spread out. Instead, the company formed something of a queue along the winding trail. The three students defending the stronghold—Beld, Elena, and Maggie—were far more skilled than the Trouverean forces, but naturally, they seemed to be growing tired as the battle wore on.

The commandant frowned. He knew they could simply keep going as they were now, using brute force to slowly chip away at the defenders’s stamina. However, they were meant to be playing the role of foreign invaders. From that perspective, this battle was just the beginning. No invading army would willingly sacrifice so many of their forces so early on in their campaign, not when any other strategy could suffice.

More than the strategy specifically, it was the ominous air of the entire engagement that weighed on the commandant’s mind. Despite the disadvantageous terrain, his forces were slowly but surely moving closer to victory, and that worried him. Their opponents—the brilliant students of Class 1-A at the Royal Academy—surely understood the position they were in. They had to know they were fighting a losing battle. So why hadn’t they changed strategies yet? Why would they willingly continue to fight, knowing that each minute brought them closer to defeat? It didn’t make any sense.

Perhaps they simply weren’t prepared to fight so many attackers...? No, that’s not what’s going on here. It’s as though... As though we’re being invited to attack. As though they’re welcoming it...

It was at that moment that Elan arrived from the northern stronghold, bringing with her a company of reinforcements. “It’s the same everywhere,” she said flatly. “All the strongholds. They’re using the terrain to limit our movements, and they’re doing so successfully.”

“It’s making things difficult,” the commandant replied. “It would be one thing if there were more of them... If we needed to defeat an actual force, rather than a handful of kids, then it would be more worthwhile to consider other tactics. I could send archers and mages to force their way through the blocked-off animal trails or along the river, and we could surround them that way... But there’s no point sacrificing any men just to capture an empty, half-built stronghold, especially when we’ll still have those three to deal with.” He shook his head. “The stronghold itself might be little more than a pile of wood, but with a position like this, a pile of wood is all they need. It’s an incredibly defensible position.”

It wasn’t just the animal trails that had been blocked off either. Every possible escape route—except for those Vesta deemed necessary—had been sealed by some means or another, usually involving boulders or magically triggered landslides.

Elan let out a strained laugh. “This is the first time that the enemy being too few has been the problem... The Sage has given us leave to act as we must. We can continue this slow but steady assault, or attempt another strategy. What do you think?”

The commandant barely had time to ponder his answer before the report came in: Three more enemies had just appeared at the far end of the trail.

“A pincer movement? What are they thinking? They’ve put themselves right between us and the northern stronghold... If more reinforcements were coming, they’d be dead in seconds,” the commandant muttered, utterly baffled by the development.

Elan, on the other hand, merely looked thoughtful for a moment before suddenly raising her voice. “They’re planning an ambush! Watch the cliffs, and shields up!”

It was too late. They didn’t have time to react before the first barrage came. Even if they had, though, it wouldn’t have helped them, because the attack didn’t come from the cliffs. Instead, pebbles and shards of ice pelted upward from the valley below, sending Elan and the rest of the soldiers into a state of panic. Elan, at least, quickly regained her composure and began issuing orders.

“From the valley...?! Ha! They’ve positioned their valuable mages in the most unfavorable position they could come up with! If you’ve got a path nearby, descend to the river! We’ll have them trapped like rats in a bag! Those two mages will be dead before they can cast another spell.”

The soldiers responded immediately, scrambling down the valley slope toward the riverbed. It was only a few seconds later that the first blast came.

“Argh!”

“Don’t touch the pebbles! They’re exploding for some reason!”

In reality, the pebbles were actually Earthbombs, a particularly volatile magical technique that only Dolph could wield, reliant upon a hydrovolcanic reaction. Though these particular Earthbombs were far from lethal, the unfamiliar, terrifying sound instantly sent both companies into complete disarray. With the soldiers queued up along the mountain trail, Dolph didn’t struggle to find targets for each missile he sent flying out of the valley. Al’s own contributions only added to the chaos, because as well as shards of ice, he was also lobbing very similar (albeit ordinary) pebbles at the Trouvereans to confuse them.

“Oy, stop pushing! You’re gonna make me step on it!”

“Calm yourselves! Just descend to the halfway point, and spread out! Don’t cluster!” Elan cried in a desperate attempt to regroup, but her voice could barely be heard over the explosions. Taking advantage of the chaos, Beld, Elena, and Maggie, along with Fey, Coco, and Reggie—who’d circled around to attack from the rear—simultaneously flooded themselves with Strengthening Magic and began to push.

“Argh! They’re closing in!”

“Push back, push back!”

“It’s no good! We’re losing ground!”

“No! We’ve gotta spread out, before one of those pebbles takes us all out in one go!”

Unfortunately, regrouping was already impossible. As both the front and the rear of the column began losing ground, the soldiers in the middle turned to the valley, pushing one another out of the way in their desperation to be first.

“Don’t push! Some of the ground is frozen— I said don’t push! If you slip, you’ll end up in the river!”

Unfortunately, the warnings of those who’d descended first were quickly drowned out by the screams.

◆◆◆

Elan and Maxim had both fallen in battle. Almost four companies worth of soldiers—an entire battalion—had been wiped out too, and those who survived had fled in disarray.

The northern stronghold, appropriated by Godolphen and his forces, fell silent upon receiving the report.

Having been “killed in action,” the fallen battalion commanders and soldiers couldn’t be questioned until the scenario was won. Therefore, Godolphen and his strategists only had the broken accounts of those who’d fled to rely on as they attempted to piece together the situation.

First was the battle at the western stronghold. Under Kate Sancalpar’s command, the defenders had assembled a large unit of monsters in the forest, presumably with the assistance of Allen Rovene’s wind magic. As soon as the second company had joined the first in the forest, they’d unleashed them upon the attackers. A stampede—directed by Charme Harlonbay and Larla von Liencoul—had ensued, trapping the companies on all sides. In the chaos, Battalion Commander Maxim Achilles had been quickly struck down by Stella Achilles. The attackers had been forced to prioritize the monsters, but as the monster’s numbers had dwindled, so had their own. No Trouverean soldiers had fallen to a monster, however; instead, whenever they began to gain the upper hand against their new foes, Class A would “kill” just enough of them to push them back to the brink of collapse. By the time the monsters were all but wiped out, both companies had fallen too, save for a handful of deserters.

Then there was the eastern stronghold, defended by a team led by Aldor Engravier. From what they could piece together, the massacre there had been even worse. The companies had been caught in a pincer maneuver, with their only retreat—a steep scramble to the river below—immediately cut off by a further flank attack. A barrage of exploding pebbles had sent them toppling down anyway, with any attempts to regain their footing hindered by the large sheets of ice, likely courtesy of Aldor Engravier.

Despite their attempts to stop, a human avalanche had ensued, sending the two companies to a watery grave. Battalion Commander Elan had quickly surrendered in the hope of avoiding actual injury while thanking her lucky stars that it had only been a mock battle. In a real war, the waterlogged soldiers would have been effortlessly dispatched by a few well-placed archers or mages. Only a few Trouvereans had managed to escape the onslaught.

“How...? In no time at all, they made two perfect traps... How?” Tim murmured, aghast. No one replied. In fact, no one spoke at all for nearly a full minute, until Godolphen finally broke the silence.

“How frightening... Even knowing better, I find myself struggling to believe this is their first defensive battle. They’ve done their research. They studied the terrain, the monsters inhabiting it, everything, and turned it all to their advantage. When you told me Rovene had spent the length of the third scenario gathering materials, I considered it an unusually wasteful use of his time... Alas, he was merely pretending, Tim. In reality, he was surveying the environment, dissecting it into tools to be used as required—and, given how successfully they’ve used it, I can only regard it as time well spent. We both know full well how difficult warfare in terrain like this can be.” Godolphen sighed. “I thought I understood my students much better... They’ve exceeded my expectations by far. Their preparations were meticulous—obsessive, some might say. Combat readiness, indeed... Once again, I find myself caught off guard by the masterful training of Soldo Vineforce,” he finished, stroking his beard thoughtfully.

It was then that Jipro, the third battalion commander, returned from the southern stronghold, having led a second company of reinforcements to assist in the battle there. “I apologize, Sage... The first company had already been annihilated by the time we arrived. While it pained me to allow the enemy a reprieve, I could see that a similar fate awaited us if we continued in their place. We withdrew without engaging, and await your orders.”

Though everyone clearly felt the same reluctant acceptance upon hearing the report, Tim still pressed him to elaborate.

“The only path to the stronghold was guarded by Leo Seizinger...” Jipro replied, frowning. “He took out the entire company by himself, one after another. At first, he was supported with buffing spells from Jewelry Reverence, but she’d already retreated inside the stronghold per Vesta von Stocklode’s orders by the time we arrived, according to the witnesses. Even after defeating over a hundred men by himself, Seizinger doesn’t appear to be tired at all. Seeing that, I deemed further battle futile, and gave the order to retreat.”

Tim rubbed his temples. “Buffing spells...? Fighting under the effects of a buff is no easy thing. Obviously, it means you need a lot less mana to achieve the same result, but it also means you lose all awareness for how much mana you’re actually using, making it a hell of a lot easier to run out... It’s not something that can be mastered overnight, especially since there’s only a few mages who can cast buffing spells in the first place. How long have you had Jewelry and Leo practicing together, Sage?”

Godolphen shook his head. “I haven’t, Tim. I’ve heard that Jewelry could cast such spells, but I’ve never seen her do so myself. They must have taken it upon themselves to practice—I imagine it forms part of their training in the Emissive Magic Club.”

Tim frowned. “First there was Allen Rovene’s wind magic, and now this... Why in the world does that club of theirs have such a terrible reputation, Sage? You could easily dispel the rumors about it if you wanted to, unless...” He narrowed his eyes. “Unless you’re behind the rumors yourself? It’s not hard to think of a few reasons why you’d prefer to keep the true potential of that club and its members hidden.”

Godolphen shook his head again. “I had no part to play in any of those rumors. When I offhandedly mentioned them to the boy, he merely shrugged them off, saying that the masses would tire of the gossip before long... He’s an odd one, Rovene. Most children his age think of little else but how the world sees them, but he shows no interest in the games of society. If anything, he seems to purposefully distance himself from them.”

Tim was certain of it now. Class 1-A’s abnormal, unfathomable willpower was the result of Allen Rovene’s strange influence. They’re not just aiming to complete Godolphen’s challenge—they intend to surpass it... By how much, though?

A flustered messenger burst into the room, interrupting any further musing. “Urgent report for the Sage! An envoy just arrived on behalf of Vesta von Stocklode with a message for you!”

All eyes were now on Godolphen. “Speak.”

The messenger wiped away a few beads of sweat. “Yes, Sage... The message was, ‘We’ve taken 120 of your soldiers prisoner. If you desire their safe return, withdraw your forces and depart Yugria within the hour. If you do not, I cannot guarantee their safety.’ That was it, Sage...”

◆◆◆

Silence fell over the stronghold again, eventually broken by Tim. “They’ve taken prisoners...? I assumed all the missing soldiers were just killed in action...” He sighed heavily. “What will you do, Sage? According to Yugrian regulations, we should always prioritize the safe return of our citizens rather than continuing battle...”

Godolphen glared at him. “Perhaps I need to beat some tenacity into you, Tim. Our Yugrian military regulations mean nothing at this moment. Those captured were soldiers, not civilians, and more importantly, we are not Yugrians. We are invaders. Furthermore, a retreat here does not mean that the war would end. Those soldiers, if released, would simply return in the future to slaughter hundreds of innocent civilians. I do not believe for a second that our surrender would lead to their safety. Even leaving them alive is a foolish choice on the students’ part.”

Tim grimaced. Never in a thousand years had he anticipated his observation of the Royal Academy’s camp would lead to him receiving a public dressing-down from Sage Godolphen himself. “Why do you think they are keeping them alive, then?”

Godolphen narrowed his eyes. “Can’t you hear the commotion outside? Their envoy shouted that little message for me in front of everyone, I’d wager. If I now issue the order to retreat, they will all know what I am sacrificing in doing so. Our morale will shatter, and the war—if it did actually exist—would be lost. I’ve been challenged for all to hear: ‘Come take back your soldiers, or die trying.’ And they’ve left me with little choice in the matter.”

Tim felt dizzy. Even the most brutally realistic military exercises he’d participated in with the Order hadn’t gone this far. Fighting over prisoners of war... It felt taboo, in a way. It felt wrong. It felt like...

Like actual war...

Tim was still struggling to make sense of his thoughts when the elderly man in front of him threw another wrench into the mix. “I shall go,” Godolphen declared. “Jipro, assemble a company. We’ll rise to their challenge, and take back our soldiers from their clutches.”

“Sage, you... Don’t you think that’s going a bit too far?” Tim said, flustered. “Prodigies or not, they’re just children. They don’t stand a chance against you. It’ll make the exercise—no, the scenario—completely unbalanced. Surely you can see that, Sage.”

“I can, Tim. Age has yet to rob me of my intelligence, thankfully,” Godolphen replied fiercely. “From this point onward, regardless of how many times they lose control of their strongholds, there will be no supplementary training. Of course, the additional difficulty posed by my participation will also be reflected in their final score. Considering the results they’ve achieved so far, I imagine they’ll receive the highest score in the Academy’s history, though I imagine my fellow faculty won’t be pleased to learn of it. However...” Godolphen’s voice trembled just slightly. “As their teacher, it is my solemn duty to push them to their limits—to draw out every last shred of their potential. In war, we must adapt to the unexpected or die trying, Tim... A lesson known all too well by the likes of you and I, and soon enough, by those youngsters too. I’m leaving you in charge here.”

“What?!” Tim spluttered. “I’m here to observe, Sage! Not participate! Don’t you think—”

Another of Godolphen’s steely glares stopped Tim mid-protest. “We still have no idea as to the whereabouts of Allen Rovene and Daniel Sardos. This little challenge is not their final stand, Tim. Of that, I am certain. That being the case, it would be a foolish mistake on my part to not utilize you, given your capabilities. Your concerns regarding fairness or whatever such nonsense you were attempting to spout are unwarranted. They’ve undoubtedly already factored your participation into their calculations. We fell into Allen Rovene’s trap the moment I agreed to his proposal,” he said firmly, storming from the room without giving Tim a chance to respond.

His trap?!

Clearly, Allen Rovene must have had a reason for requesting that Godolphen muster every last soldier he could to fight against them. Tim still couldn’t begin to guess at what that reason could have been, however.

Despite his ever-growing confusion, Tim—a remarkably capable strategist in his own right—began issuing orders to the remaining commandants.

Leo versus Godolphen

The southern stronghold...

Godolphen appeared calm as he stepped forward from the company to address Leo. “You know why I’m here, young Seizinger. If you do not wish to die, you will release the prisoners at once.”

Leo’s reply was just as calm. “Of course. We’ll release them... As soon as you abandon this invasion and retreat, that is.”

Godolphen’s eyebrows flew upward. “Oh? Bold words from a mere hatchling... Surely you don’t think you’re capable of defeating me, Leo?”

Leo flashed one of his usual fearless smirks. “Well, I wouldn’t pick a fight with you if I didn’t think I had at least some chance of winning, would I? Godolphen von Vanquish, the Indomitable Sage... Give me your best shot. I won’t be holding back today.”

“Today, you say? Why, it almost sounds as though you have been holding back until now... I imagine Jewelry Reverence’s magic has played some part in your newfound determination?”

Leo shrugged. “Buff spells are useful when you need to conserve your mana, but to be honest, I’m still a long way from being accustomed to them yet. Right now, I’m a lot more powerful without any buffs.” He smiled. “Of course, I don’t usually intend to hold back either, but swordsmanship and magic are taught separately back at the Academy, after all. Here, though... Here, I can finally use them together!” As he finished speaking, Leo swung his double-edged longsword down and smirked as bright red flames erupted along the length of it. Gasps could be heard from among the company.

“What in the world...?” Godolphen muttered unconsciously.

“This? Oh, it’s a spellsword technique—well, according to Allen, anyway. He wouldn’t shut up about learning to use my magic to augment my weapons. Apparently it’s ‘just common sense’ from his point of view. Honestly, I thought it wouldn’t amount to more than a waste of mana, but...” Leo trailed off, readying himself for combat.

Incidentally, Allen’s desire for Leo to learn the so-called spellsword technique was chiefly because the former thought it would look awesome. Actually, it was entirely because he thought it would look awesome.

Godolphen chuckled. “I see... So you’ve already honed your magical manipulation to such an extent that you can treat the blade—mithril, I assume?—as an extension of your own body... I can only imagine how much blood and sweat went into the endeavor. Unfortunately, however, your flashy little party trick—” Godolphen’s robe fluttered as he moved with unnatural speed for a man of his venerable appearance, withdrawing a concealed blade from within his staff, “—won’t work on me!” Godolphen, glaring, settled into a combat-ready position of his own, sword in one hand and staff in the other—and then he moved, striking the ground below with the butt of his staff.

The earth below Leo’s feet surged up like a wave, and he leaped backward, barely dodging the attack. That was only the start, however. Stepping forward, Godolphen repeated the attack a second time, and a third, and a fourth, closing the distance between them with each and every attempt.

“How do you intend to defeat me by retreating, Seizinger?!” Godolphen mocked.

Leo jumped backward once again, this time adopting a thrusting stance in midair. As soon as he hit the ground again, he lunged forward with his blade, despite the ten-meter distance between the pair. It soon made sense why he’d bothered with such an ineffective attack, because the flames along his sword extended as he did so, shooting toward Godolphen with the same speed and power as any of Leo’s usual sword strokes and striking the older man squarely in the chest.

“Guh!”

Having never dueled a spellsword before—considering none existed—it wasn’t surprising that Godolphen hadn’t been able to dodge the attack. He hadn’t expected it in the slightest. Even the most skilled mages needed time to prepare their spells. They needed to gather the mana within their bodies, convert it into an element with which they had affinity, release it outward, and control its trajectory and form. For a talented mage, doing so might only take seconds—but those seconds could be all your opponent needed to evade the spell. But the “spell” component of Leo’s “spellsword” technique had already been cast and therefore hadn’t required any time to prepare.

This advantage, however, was also its weakness. Keeping the spell activated indefinitely would consume an extraordinary amount of mana. Only someone with Leo’s immense magical aptitude could hone the technique to a level usable in actual combat. An ordinary mage would drain their reserves within seconds of casting the spell, making it impossible to even practice the technique, much less master it.

Leo swung his sword again, bringing it down in a swift downward strike that Godolphen only just managed to avoid by throwing himself to the side. He rolled across the dirt before leaping to his feet once more, just in time to see the horizontal wave of flames sweeping toward him. There was no dodging this attack. Doing so would have been impossible. Normally, the longer a blade was, the heavier it got, making it slower and harder to control. However, the addition of a ten-meter flame blade to Leo’s spellsword did nothing to increase its weight. There was no way to dodge such a swing. Of course, the flames lacked the sharpness of a blade, and with his Magic Guard activated, there was no risk that the blow would be fatal to Godolphen.

That didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt, though.

Godolphen hissed as the flames washed over him, crossing his arms over his head to avoid the worst of the scorching heat. He pressed on, step after step, but every time he drew closer, Leo slipped away, restoring the gap between them as fast as Godolphen could reduce it. The distinctive smell of something burning wafted over to the nervously watching company.

Godolphen feigned yet another step, then suddenly leaped backward, moving out of the range of Leo’s attacks in an instant. Leo rushed toward him, but Godolphen had already taken advantage of the split-second opening he’d gained to send a towering wall of dirt hurtling toward Leo. By the time the boy had circumnavigated the unexpected earthworks, Godolphen had vanished.

“‘Common sense,’ indeed,” Godolphen grumbled, pinching his nose in a futile attempt to block out the stench of his favorite robe smoldering.

Magic knights like Godolphen—rare as they were—fought with a mixture of physical and magical attacks. However, the two methods remained fundamentally separate, meaning that a magic knight would swap from one to the other throughout combat, interweaving them into a deadly and nigh undefeatable combination. But Leo’s spellsword technique was a true combination of the two methods. His sword was his magic, and his magic was his sword. Unlike a magic knight, a spellsword—which Leo seemed to be well on the way to becoming—could hone either discipline to strengthen the whole technique.

It was illogical. Irrational. No sensible person would even dream up the concept of such a technique, let alone put it into practice. The unavoidable demand on one’s mana would be enough to scare most people off the thought, and the grueling effort required to get such a technique to activate—let alone to sustain it—would frighten some sense into the rest. Mana was one’s most precious resource. Even those without an elemental affinity used Strengthening Magic on a daily basis, enhancing their physical abilities in combat, work, or even just when walking from one place to the next. Managing one’s mana reserves was regarded as just as important as managing sleep or nutrition—more important, in fact. It was, as one might say, just common sense.

Not to Allen, however. The boy’s version of “common sense” seemed to defy all accepted reason, as though it had come from another world entirely—

“Even a man can slay a giant, with the right weapon.”

That’s what Allen had said to Leo all those months ago. Everyone needed a trick up their sleeve, something to pull out as a last resort when faced with a seemingly insurmountable obstacle. When the moment came, you played your trump card and gave it everything you had. At the time, Leo hadn’t thought much of the saying, nor the whole “spellsword” idea in general. But by that point, he understood that Allen’s stubborn insistence always had a purpose, and whenever his classmate clung to one of his whims, the results, though outrageous, were always invaluable.

In reality, when Allen had approached him, he’d only been able to describe the image he had in mind for a “spellsword,” rather than possessing any actual suggestions of how such a technique would work or the benefits and detriments of using it. Naturally, Leo hadn’t immediately jumped at such a vague opportunity, but Allen could be oddly convincing at times. When Leo had questioned the need for Allen’s proposed technique, his classmate had replied, “Well, because it’s awesome.”

“If I could use Emissive Magic, I’d be practicing all day long to become a spellsword! Who cares if it’ll be efficient or not? Where’s your sense of adventure, Leo? Sure, it’ll be a little difficult to master, but I wanna see you swinging around a flaming sword! You’ve got plenty of mana to spare anyway, right? Come on, Leo! Pull yourself together and give it a go! I mean, even a man can slay a giant, with the right weapon!”

And Leo—who, despite his young age, already lived in constant pursuit of continuous self-improvement—had giants to slay. Through trial and error, the pair had turned the vague concept into an actual possibility. It wasn’t until the first flickers of flame had begun to lap along the edges of Leo’s sword that Allen had finally realized, Oh. This might have been a mistake...

“Very impressive, Seizinger. I must take back my earlier assessment of it being a mere party trick,” Godolphen said, emerging from behind a rocky outcrop. He knew even Leo, with his abnormal reserves of mana, couldn’t activate such a draining technique more than once or twice. If this was a real battle with lives on the line, he’d simply force Leo to activate his flames again before retreating, and repeat the process until the boy’s mana ran out. Leo’s only chance to defeat him had been during their initial skirmish; now, Godolphen’s victory was all but decided. Even if the boy was to cast off all restraint and truly face him with every last reserve of his power, there were simply some opponents he lacked the strength to defeat—some obstacles he lacked the skill to overcome. Such challenges were still necessary, lest the boy stagnate instead of striving to achieve his full potential. That was Godolphen’s perspective on the matter, and was why he now chose to face Leo head-on, rather than continue their little game of cat and mouse.

He carefully slid his sword back inside his staff and gripped the latter firmly. “Let us end this, Leo.”

The boy grinned. “As you wish, Sage.” Crimson flames erupted along his sword once again.

Godolphen whirled his staff around before driving the tip—and the fist-sized magic stone embedded atop it—against the ground. The dirt below them began to shift. Four solid walls surged up around Leo and hurtled toward him, encasing him in an earthy prison within seconds.

“AAAAAARGH!” Leo’s shout was only muffled for a moment as he swung his sword, carving a charred opening through the dirt before slamming his shoulder into it and toppling through. He charged at Godolphen. Only five meters separated the two as Leo raised his sword again. The flame blade was shorter now as Leo’s mana dwindled, barely long enough to cover the distance between them. Godolphen sidestepped the diagonal swing by a hair’s breadth and drove his staff into the ground once more just as Leo repeated the same stroke in reverse. The flames, shorter still, clung only to the blade itself now, causing the mithril to glow with a near-blinding brilliance. Suddenly, Leo’s sword—which was on a direct trajectory to decapitating his elderly teacher—flew upward. Rather, Leo himself flew upward as a result of Godolphen’s most recent spell, with the well-placed mound of dirt underneath his right foot throwing him off-balance. The sharp blade sang as it whipped over Godolphen’s head.

Desperate, Leo let his weapon go, instead swinging his left leg around in a vicious kick which was immediately blocked by Godolphen’s staff. Leo—now completely off-balance—crashed to the ground. Godolphen drew his sword once again and pressed it against the boy’s neck. “You’ve fallen in battle, Leo Seizinger.”

Leo sighed. “Yeah... You win, Sage.”

◆◆◆

“I was sure their forces would have been concentrated at the southern stronghold, but it was deserted apart from the prisoners. The students probably fled as soon as you defeated Leo Seizinger. The prisoners were largely unharmed. Some had been wounded in battle, but they reported that Jewelry Reverence treated any serious injuries,” Jipro explained. He and his company had stormed the southern stronghold following Godolphen’s battle with Leo.

Godolphen nodded. “It’s safe to assume they’ve abandoned this stronghold, which means they’ve likely moved east, where they can avoid a flank attack most easily. For caution’s sake, send one squadron to each of the eastern and western strongholds to see what they can discover, and send a messenger to the northern stronghold to inform them of the situation. While we wait, assess the prisoners, and reorganize our forces here into some more suitable units. We shall need to leave one or two squadrons here to occupy this stronghold when we move again.”

“Yes, Sage.”

However, when the squadrons returned, the reports they bore defied Godolphen’s expectations entirely.

“Both strongholds have been deserted?! Those children have nowhere left to shelter... Jipro! Are our forces ready?”

Jipro grimaced. “Well... It’s unbelievable, Sage. Somehow, they’ve made sure there wasn’t a single squadron leader or commandant among the prisoners, which is making things extremely difficult. The prisoners all say they seemed to be picked at random, but clearly, the kids had a way of making sure they only took regular soldiers hostage.”

“They planned this well. They’ve outmaneuvered me every step of the way...” Godolphen froze. “Including by luring me out of the northern stronghold. Another trap, no doubt. I must return at once!”

His urgent flight was immediately delayed by several unexpected arrivals, however. The first was a lone soldier from among the two companies Jipro had deployed to patrol the supply lines/messenger routes before the battle had commenced. The second was the messenger Godolphen had previously sent north.

“Urgent report, Battalion Commander! Commandant Gale’s company has been annihilated by a surprise attack! We got ambushed by about ten enemy soldiers out of nowhere... I was the only one to escape. From what I could make out, it seems like Sari’s company was wiped out too. I left signals to let any other survivors know to head to the southern stronghold, but I don’t have much hope...”

“What?!” Godolphen shouted, his voice rising several octaves. “What is Tim doing up there?! Why didn’t he send reinforcements?!” He spun around to face the messenger who’d just returned from the northern stronghold, glowering at him almost accusingly.

The ashen-faced messenger’s voice trembled. “Ur-Urgent re-report... Vice Captain Tim was killed in battle. The northern headquarters has fallen, along with the battalion that was stationed there, all...all at the hand of Allen Rovene!”

“WHAT IN THE—”

◆◆◆

An hour or so earlier...

While Godolphen and Leo were (assumedly) locked in their life-or-death struggle, I stood, alone, atop the watchtower of the northern stronghold.

“Ha ha ha... MWA HA HA HA HA!”

Crap, I think I’m overdoing it a little again...

Allen’s Secret Plan

Earlier that day...

After shepherding every monster in the vicinity into the forest toward the western stronghold, I returned to the ruins with about an hour to spare before the fifth scenario would commence.

“So, what’s this ‘secret plan’ of yours then, Allen?” Vesta asked.

I proceeded to explain everything to my eagerly (or perhaps nervously) awaiting classmates—how I’d decided to respond to their cold abandonment of me by going off the rails, how I’d subsequently abandoned my post to kill time by foraging, and finally, about the monster-strength sedatives and sleeping medicine I’d whipped up.

“I see... Hmm. This is interesting. I don’t think Master Godolphen would have expected you to abandon your post at all, given the risk, which means he won’t have predicted you making those medicines either...” Vesta replied thoughtfully. “But volume-wise, you couldn’t have produced all that much in such a short amount of time, right? Do you really think you’ll be able to make a difference with a few sleeping potions?”

Honestly, I wasn’t really thinking about any of that. I was just trying to kill time... Oh well. No point explaining that now.

“It all depends on how we use them. The key target is Godolphen, of course. Oh, and Tim too,” I replied, only for my classmates to frown in unison.

“So you think the two of them will be participating in the battle, then? Not just giving orders?”

I shrugged. “Well, I did warn them that they’d have to come at us with everything they had, right from the start... I don’t think they’ll join in straightaway, though. They’ll test the waters a bit, and wait to see whether or not we’re holding our own. If we’re on the verge of losing right from the get-go, there’d be no reason for them to join in, you know? Especially Tim, because he’s only meant to be here as an observer. But when things start looking dire—and they will—the geezer will come face us himself, and he’ll definitely drag Tim into it too. That’s exactly what we want. Remember, we’re aiming for a crushing victory here, which means defeating every last one of their forces...not that I really care about our score or anything though.”

Leo nodded. “I understand your thinking, and I don’t disagree with the idea itself. But how are you actually planning to take them down? Tim and Master Godolphen aren’t ordinary soldiers, and they’re both incredibly talented mages in their own right, which means they’ll have a pretty high resistance to poison—which is basically what you’re trying to give them.”

In this world, one’s mana core—the organ that produced and stored mana, as the name suggested—also played an important role in processing any foreign matter one consumed, such as alcohol or poison. If you were a powerful mage (or a heavy drinker) you’d naturally have a higher resistance to poisons or drugs.

If we could lure Godolphen out of the northern stronghold, I’d have a decent shot of taking Tim out with my chemical warfare. That was the key to victory, especially given the layout of Vesta’s (awesome) fortress compound. Once Tim was dealt with, the odds would be heavily in our favor. It would leave Godolphen alone to attempt to break through our defenses, rather than having to face a pincer attack from the pair of them.

The odds of my plan succeeding dropped drastically if I had to face the two of them together though, which was why we had to lure the geezer away first. I had no trouble admitting that Godolphen was a formidable foe. His situational awareness, breadth of knowledge, and swift decision-making—in other words, his overall adaptability—made him an absolute pain in the ass to deal with. If we couldn’t first shuffle the old man along, my surprise attack would almost definitely end in failure.

Heh heh heh... We’ll send Godolphen off on a wild-goose chase while we deal with all his friends, and then he’ll get to experience what true loneliness feels like...

Incidentally, the prisoner-taking aspect of the plan wasn’t one of my own suggestions. It was one of the cards Vesta had already planned to play depending on how the battle unfolded. Knowing Godolphen, it was pretty safe to assume he’d take it upon himself to rescue the prisoners.

Once my explanation was over, Vesta immediately began adjusting our battle strategy to account for my secret plan. Originally, his plan had been to abandon the southern stronghold and head north as a group the moment Godolphen appeared to rescue the prisoners. Leo then demanded to be allowed to face Godolphen himself, so we adjusted the plan to accommodate his death wish too, factoring in his likely demise (and the time we’d gain from it) in a way that benefited us.

“I need to hide inside the range of the anti-Scouting device here. Obviously, hiding behind a rock or something is just too dangerous, so I’ll build myself a little underground lair instead. I’m thinking we dig out a nice hole right about here and get Dolph to reinforce the dirt magically—just to avoid any unexpected cave-ins—and I’ll lie low until Godolphen’s gone. Like Leo said, the pair of them probably have a pretty high tolerance, so it’s too risky to put my plan into action if they’re both around. If Tim went down first, Godolphen would still have plenty of time to escape, and vice versa.”

“But you still haven’t explained how you’re going to get him to ingest it, Allen,” Coco countered. “You’re a great archer, but there’s no way you’ll be able to catch a scout like Tim off guard, which means...you’ll be using wind magic to do it? But you’ve used dramant mushrooms and capineweed in the sleeping potion, right? The medicinal properties of those only work if they’re ingested. If you can’t inject him with it or force him to drink it, the only way it would have any effect is if you vaporized it somehow. You can’t just leave a bottle open in the room or something. The ingredients in your sedative are the same. Unless you can heat them up first, it’s pointless—and you surely can’t be thinking of starting a fire in your ‘underground lair.’ It’ll need air holes, and the smell and the smoke will give you away immediately.”

Great questions, Coco. You’re always on the ball.

“You’re not wrong. In fact, I spent most of yesterday thinking about how I was going to get them to ingest it. In the end, the only method I could come up with was exactly what you said—using wind magic to get them to breathe it in without realizing it. Obviously, I also got stumped by the same roadblock about how I was gonna heat it up first. I discovered a solution, though. All I needed to do was slightly adapt a certain spell I’ve been working on lately.”

Honestly, it wasn’t a discovery at all—just something I suddenly remembered. The memory wasn’t one from this lifetime, however.

I gave my classmates a rundown of the method, as well as a summary of my experiments on Zetz and his friends (and subsequently on a variety of monsters, after the spies had stopped responding). I chose to take their expressions—which, despite their refined upbringings, seemed to say something along the lines of, Are you freaking kidding me?—as reactions of amazement rather than horror.

◆◆◆

“We’ve taken 120 of your soldiers prisoner. If you desire their safe return, withdraw your forces and depart Yugria within the hour! If you do not, we cannot guarantee their safety!”

Parley, our designated envoy, had just arrived at the northern stronghold, with his message (or more specifically, the loud voice it was shouted in) serving as both a perfect alarm clock and as a signal. I’d barely finished rubbing the sleep from my eyes by the time Godolphen marched out with a company in tow. By now, Leo would be the only one remaining at the southern stronghold, with the others on their way to regroup with Dan and attack our enemy at their weakest points. Dispatching Dan to track their movements had been something of a gamble, but among us, he was the one most likely to evade capture—and of breaking free if things went poorly. It was a shame to lose his combat skills during the initial stronghold defense stage, but intel was a crucial part of warfare. Dan had incredibly sharp eyesight and could traverse the mountainous terrain with ease, and most importantly, his recent participation in the Emissive Magic Club meant he could use wind-based Scouting Magic to some extent.

He could also make decisions on the fly, and could piece together a clear picture from only the vaguest of clues. When Vesta had declared what Dan’s mission would be, I’d been just as surprised as the others at first. However, after he’d explained his reasoning, it didn’t take an analytical mind like his or Dan’s to realize how indispensable such a role would be.

Well, guess it’s about time for me to start fulfilling my role too...

I began by chipping away at the dirt around the ventilation hole Dolph had left for me, before grabbing a vial from the pouch at my waist and carefully pushing it through, setting it gently on the ground overhead. Zetz and the other spies had been carrying some healing elixirs with them, and after using the elixirs to treat their leg wounds, I’d availed myself of the empty vials.

I’d figured out the perfect way to get our enemies (namely Tim) to ingest my concoctions. I could use wind magic to diffuse the vaporized compounds, but the problem was how to vaporize them in the first place. Obviously, building a fire was out of the question for various reasons. Instead, I’d landed upon the idea of creating a vacuum—a technique I’d already been dabbling in, given its potential to be used to cast awesomely deadly spells like Wind Cutter (which I was sadly yet to perfect). I couldn’t really remember what had specifically sparked the thought, but at some point during my experiments, I’d randomly remembered hearing that water had a lower boiling point—around ninety degrees Celcius—at the summit of Mount Fuji. (I also remembered something about how if you then used that boiling water to make instant ramen, the noodles would have a different texture, but that wasn’t as important.)

Basically, the higher the altitude, the lower the atmospheric pressure dropped, which in turn caused the boiling point to drop. Liquids would boil more easily in conditions with lower atmospheric pressure—conditions resembling a vacuum, in other words. It was the reason water boiled pretty much instantly in outer space, despite the temperature being several dozen degrees below freezing. It was also part of the reason it was nearly impossible for astronauts to survive even a tiny tear in their spacesuits, because their blood would boil and vaporize within seconds.

Unfortunately, I’d yet to master the vacuum-powered wind blade so commonly seen in light novels (aka Wind Cutter) but I was able to create a decently high-quality vacuum anywhere I wanted. I shifted my balance until my hand was hovering over the vial I’d placed on the outside of my lair. Through my many experiments the previous day, I knew exactly how powerful the vacuum needed to be to achieve vaporization. To my great pleasure, I’d also learned that vaporizing the compounds made them significantly more effective. I’d been able to send a monster into early hibernation with just a drop of the sleeping medicine, whereas I would have needed a lot more if I’d coated an arrowtip with it, or poured it into its mouth directly. I assumed that inhaling it meant it got absorbed into the bloodstream more quickly. The reduced quantity did shorten the overall duration of the effect, but that wasn’t much of an issue, considering that—if all went according to plan—my unsuspecting victims would also be paralyzed within minutes of falling asleep.

I activated my vacuum and slowly began to send the vaporized sleeping potion through the ruins using wind magic. Technically, the vapor actually turned back into liquid as soon as it was outside the range of my handheld (well, hand-cast) vacuum, but with its chemical bonds broken, it remained as a perfectly transportable mist.

An ominous haze began to fill the northern stronghold.

◆◆◆

Tim sighed wearily. Lately, he had begun to feel the weight of his years more keenly than ever. He’d never admit it to Godolphen, of course—not when the older man was still running around like a spring chicken after nearly a full week in the mountains—but for Tim, the work had taken a considerable toll. The children and their seemingly unlimited energy were a source of both wonder and envy to the man.

I’ve got to pull myself together... Tim thought, slapping his cheeks to keep himself awake. It didn’t work. Maybe just for a few seconds...

Tim’s eyes slowly drifted shut.

◆◆◆

“You’re dead, Tim,” I whispered, pressing my dagger against his neck.

Tim’s eyes snapped open as he yelped in surprise. In an instant, he’d grabbed my wrist and twisted hard, disarming me.

“Ow! You’re meant to be dead, you know?!” I hissed.

Tim, quickly realizing what had happened, let go of my wrist. “Sorry! It was just a reflex... I must’ve fallen asleep,” he muttered, his shoulders drooping. “You kids must be a hell of a lot more exhausted than me, and yet, here I am napping while you give it your all...”

He looked so upset that it wouldn’t have surprised me if he started drafting his resignation letter on the spot, so I reassured him a little. “You ingested a sleeping potion via wind magic, actually. It’s a new method I came up with, so I don’t think you would have been able to avoid it. So don’t be too hard on yourself, okay? I’d explain it in a little more detail, but...” I paused, quickly sliding out of view of the entryway.

“Vice Captain Tim? I thought I heard something... Is everything all right in there?” The two soldiers had barely stepped inside the dilapidated room before crumpling to the ground on account of the sedative I’d wafted their way.

I stepped out of cover with my bow drawn, pointing it at each of them in turn. “You’re both dead too.” Their eyes widened in shock—as did Tim’s—each of them equally clueless as to what had just happened.

“Sorry, Allen—I’ve made things harder for you now,” Tim mumbled. “My shouting drew their attention when I was already ‘dead,’ and those two were in charge of our forces here. Their subordinates are sure to come looking for them before long, asking for orders.”

Well, that’s made things annoying.

The original plan had been to take down Tim and retreat to my lair until my classmates arrived, at which point we’d launch our assault on the stronghold. When the soldiers flocked to Tim for orders only to find him dead, they’d be thrown into utter chaos. That had been the plan, anyway—luck just hadn’t been on my side. Once the forces here realized their three main leaders were missing, they’d immediately be on high alert, thus ruining any chance we had to catch them off guard. The northern stronghold didn’t have much going for it in terms of structural stability, but it did have space, and a lot of it. If we had to face a well-organized and hypervigilant army here, we’d die within minutes.

“What’s done is done,” I replied with a shrug. “I was careless too, but oh well. I didn’t really want to do this, but I guess I’ve got no other choice. It’s time for my backup plan...”

I hadn’t wanted to rely on my backup plan for two reasons. The first was because, if it didn’t work, I’d end up ‘killing’ myself in the process. The second was simply because of the sheer horror it would inflict if it did work. It wasn’t a particularly complicated plan, really: All I needed to do was use Hurricane—a level-3 wind magic spell—to instantly scatter the vaporized compounds throughout the ruins. If I could annihilate their forces in one go, I’d win. However, if the compounds or my mana ran out, I’d lose. I couldn’t circulate my mana the same way I usually did either, with me as part of the loop, because I’d just end up drugging myself. It wasn’t like I could simply stop breathing, after all. Instead, I had to circulate it like a hurricane with me at the (relatively safe) center, which took a lot more mana. Creating the vacuum would also drain my mana by a significant amount. Ultimately, I would have a few minutes at most.

It was now or never.

Steeling myself, I climbed to the top of our hastily constructed watchtower, took a deep breath, and shouted at the top of my lungs. “Tim Buchan is dead! Surrender at once, or meet the same fate!”

It was a little dramatic, but hopefully by revealing my presence I’d lure as many of them in as possible. The smaller my target was, the more effective the diffusion would be. Besides, it wasn’t like I’d be able to stay hidden for long regardless.

“What?!”

“We’re under attack!”

“Surround him! Don’t let him get away!”

“The Sage will be back soon! He’ll deal with him!”

“Look out for flank attacks!”

“We should pull down the watchtower!”

“No! Where are the mages?! We’ll wear him down from a distance!”

It might have been an accident, but it’s starting to feel like taking out all three commanders first was definitely the way to go...

Each of the randomly shouted orders was reasonable enough, but overall, their forces were in complete and utter disarray. Taking advantage of the chaos, I unstoppered two more vials and created a vacuum before instantly sending the resulting vapor—a mix of both sedatives and sleeping medicine—far away from myself. I imagined that a diagram of the method would look something like a donut with me standing in the hole at the center, with the donut, of course, being made of a dangerous cocktail of chemicals instead of delicious dough.

I groaned involuntarily at the brutal drain on my mana, which was a sensation I hadn’t felt in a long time. Unfortunately, a minute or so after I’d started casting, there were still a lot of soldiers who looked far too lively for my liking. My attempt at chemical warfare wasn’t effective enough, and my mana was nearly gone. I only had one trick left up my sleeve—well, more specifically, in the pouch at my waist: the ultraconcentrated, anti-Godolphen special edition of the sedative.

There’s no way I can use that on these guys, though... Right?

“What the hell is this wind?!”

“Shit! He’s using it to spread poison or something!”

“Don’t worry, it’s not dangerous! Just Strengthen your mana cores, and it stops being effective!”

“He’s starting to slow down! Get him!”

Wait, wait, wait! You seriously don’t want me to use this vial, you know?! I mean, it’s got a bright red lid for a reason! It just screams “danger!” Last night, it knocked a massive monster out in a heartbeat!

“Go! Go! Go!”

Stop! Stop! Stop! Crap! I don’t know what to do!

Fear won, and with a pop, I opened the last vial.

◆◆◆

“Ha ha ha... MWA HA HA HA HA!”

Crap, I think I’m overdoing it a little again...

My ultraconcentrated, anti-Godolphen special edition sedative had been effective, to say the least. It only took about half the vial to render the enemy forces completely silent and rigidly paralyzed. I looked at the hellscape before me blankly for just a moment—and then, with my head tipped back and my right hand on my forehead, I began to laugh. I was still cackling when my classmates arrived, all of them with horrified expressions.

“You just had to go all out, didn’t you...?” Dan called up to me, sounding utterly dumbfounded. “This wasn’t the plan, Allen! And what’s with the laugh, anyway?! You’ve been doing it all morning!”

“It’s my impression of an unfortunate man who’s been used and abused before being tossed aside like a worn-out rag, and as a result, joins the dark side, even if it means becoming a demon himself!” I yelled back. “And I didn’t have much choice about the plan... There were a few unexpected difficulties. How’d you go with their supplies? I’m guessing they were hidden pretty far away, just like we assumed... Sorry, but do you mind administering the antidotes to all of these guys for me? Otherwise we’re not gonna be able to send them on their way to the waiting area,” I said, promptly lying down on my back in another impression; this time, it was of an old man entering a food coma after an all-you-can-eat buffet.

“You seriously still believe in demons...?” Dan sighed. “Fine, we’ll get started—but why are you lying down?”

“My mana’s nearly gone. Standing is too hard.”

“So much for a dramatic finish...”

◆◆◆

While my classmates were still making their rounds with the antidotes, Tim approached me. “You’re incredible, Allen. The rumors don’t even begin to describe you. You wiped out hundreds of soldiers all by yourself, and you barely had to lift a finger. You might as well have sprayed gas into an airtight room. I’d love to know how you did it, but I suspect this ability of yours will receive a level 4 security classification before the day is out... I’ll hold off on asking for now.”

Sorry for committing chemical warfare...

After clapping me on the shoulder a few times, Tim—his expression still grim—began to issue orders. “We’ve been annihilated. Withdraw! We’re running out of antidotes, so channel all your mana to your cores and try to recover as much as you can on your own! Those who can move, start making your way to the casualty zone immediately!”

As he’d said, we’d encountered another unexpected problem. We’d started with the most seriously paralyzed soldiers, using a mixture of antidotes and healing magic (luckily, there’d been a few medical mages among the fallen) to get them on their feet again. But there were simply too many of them. Those killed in action were meant to retreat to the casualty zone, which was apparently situated at the real border defense outpost about five kilometers to the west. However, the monster-infested mountains were dangerous enough for normal soldiers, let alone ones who were still partially paralyzed—thus Tim’s current consternation.

“Jewel, can’t you cast a zone healing spell or something? You know, fix them all up in one go?”

Jewel looked taken aback for a moment but then began to laugh. “I was only recently given permission to read the diaries that were left behind by my ancestor Saint Sally. In them, it described a spell sometimes known as a miracle from the heavens—a spell personally developed by Sally. By using it, she could heal hundreds of people at once, but... Allen, however do you know of it, I wonder? I cannot cast it, just so you know. In fact, no one else has ever succeeded in casting it. I do hope to master it one day, but right now...”

Huh. I didn’t realize zone healing spells weren’t just standard practice... Actually, there’s a lot of things I don’t know about holy magic. Compared to the other kinds of Emissive Magic, everything about it seems different.

Of course, I couldn’t explain how I’d known about the concept of zone healing spells—not without explaining that area-of-effect spells were simply a common feature in the video games and light novels I’d been exposed to in my previous life as a Japanese person. I was pretty sure I’d read something about Saint Sally Reverence during my first few weeks in Runerelia, when I’d spent all my free time hunkered down in the Royal Library, but I couldn’t remember if there’d been any mention of miracles or heavens.

I shrugged. “I mean, it’s common knowledge, right? You’ll definitely be able to master it—actually, I reckon you could cast it right now. Why not give it a go?” I suggested. In truth, it was purely wishful thinking. Someone was gonna have to clean up the disastrous mess I’d made, and I was very much hoping it wouldn’t have to be me.

“What?” Jewel replied, shocked. “I wouldn’t stand a chance casting something like that on my best day! And you’re asking me to try it when I’m on the verge of exhaustion?”

I nodded firmly. “Yep. It’s because you’re on the verge of exhaustion—that’s why you’ll be able to do it. We can’t push our limits without first reaching them, right? I believe in you, Jewel.”

Mwa ha ha.

For reasons I couldn’t fathom, my classmates had a lot of faith in me. Way too much, to be honest. After a declaration like that, I knew Jewel would at least give it a go, wrongfully assuming there was something fueling my confidence in her. There’s no way I can do it—that intrusive thought always became a self-fulfilling prophecy. If even a flicker of doubt entered your mind, it would overwhelm you, even if you were technically capable of doing whatever it was you were trying to achieve. To conquer a challenge that seemed unconquerable, believing in yourself was the most important thing.

Or so some athlete had said in my previous life, anyway.

But there’s no harm in giving it a shot! She’ll probably fail, but they’ll just call me a liar again like they always do, and I’m used to that. No harm done! If anything, it’ll hopefully make their faith in me plummet to a less ridiculous level...

“To push my limits, I have to reach them first...” Jewel nodded. Grasping her beloved scepter like a lifeline, she closed her eyes and began murmuring under her breath, as though organizing her thoughts into words. Her eyes snapped open once more as she turned to me and smiled softly.

A chill ran down my spine. Jewel, with her sweet smile and her golden hair glowing in the moonlight, was a vision to behold—but instead of marveling at her beauty, I found myself possessed with abject trepidation. Something troublesome was about to happen.

“Actually, you’re right, let’s wait a few more years—”

I was too late to stop her. Jewel had already begun chanting in ancient Lavandulish, the words rolling off her tongue like a song, her voice high and sonorous enough to reach the heavens itself. A shower of golden light—the same color as Jewel’s glowing hair—spilled out of her scepter and rained down upon the prone soldiers. My classmates had fallen silent, several of them clasping their hands as though in prayer.

“The Saint...” one soldier murmured softly, his voice trembling.

◆◆◆

“Quiet down! We’re all supposed to be dead, remember?! Unless it’s urgent, I don’t want to hear another word out of you all until we get to the casualty zone! And you’re forbidden to speak about what happened here to anyone, got it?! That’s an order! It’ll all be classified before the day is out anyway, but guard your tongues, even just with the other companies! Good grief, it’s just one preposterous thing after another with these kids... I’m fed up with it!” Tim was still grumbling under his breath as he departed with the rest of the soldiers in tow.

After we’d watched them vanish into the forest, Jewel threw her arms around me where I lay on the ground, beaming. “I did it, Allen! I did it! And it’s all because of you! I thought my magic was the problem, but I was wrong! I finally understand what Sally meant when she wrote, ‘One cannot truly know how to heal without first knowing how to love.’ Thank you, Allen!”

I see... Actually, no. I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.

I tried to push Jewel away, but to no avail. I was still too weak.

“How interesting... I’ll be needing a little more explanation from you, Allen,” Fey said, grinning. She crouched so we were eye to eye, which only made her look even more like a predator than usual. “Our friend Jewel here—Jewelry Reverence—has just become the first person to perform a miracle from the heavens since Saint Sally herself. How did you know she could do it? Surely you understand what this means, hmm?”

Er... No. Not at all.

Unfortunately, the longer I stayed quiet, the sharper her glare grew. She clearly wasn’t about to let this go without an explanation—I just didn’t have one to give.

“It was just a shot in the dark, I guess? I just thought that with a little more confidence she might be able to do it, so I gave her a little push... She already had everything she needed to do it though, you know? I didn’t actually do anything... Hey, I’m telling the truth!”

What’s the point in being honest if you’re all just gonna look at me like that anyway?!

“Allen, how much do you know about the Lost Tools of the Dragoon family?” Fey said in a very random change of topic.

“Nothing at all. Never heard of them. Don’t want to either,” I replied flatly. Truthfully, I had heard a few rumors about the Three Lost Tools—powerful magical artifacts belonging to Fey’s family that had ceased to function over the centuries—but I had no intention of letting her pull me into whatever harebrained scheme she was about to propose.

I’m not a goddamned oracle, all right?! It was just a guess!

“Anyway, we’ve got actual things to worry about right now,” I said, forcibly changing the topic once more. “Leo would have bought us some time, but there’s no way he could’ve beaten Godolphen. The geezer’s gonna be back any minute, so we’ve gotta start moving before the geezer gets back.”

The enemy was down to less than two companies worth of soldiers, most of whom were scattered throughout the forest, without any orders or awareness of the current situation. Leo had probably fallen in battle, but we still had nineteen warriors ready to go. There was just one senior citizen standing between us and victory.

◆◆◆

I managed to recover a decent amount of mana by the time Godolphen came wandering into the northern stronghold. He hadn’t bothered to bring any of the remaining troops with him, but that wasn’t too much of a problem. It wouldn’t take too long to round the stragglers up after we finished dealing with the old man.

“Just the two of you?” he murmured, surprised. “I see... I wager the others are on their way to the southern stronghold at this very moment, then? If you’re here, I presume it means you deployed Daniel Sardos as your eyes and ears throughout this entire endeavor. A bold move, Rovene. With his combat skills, Daniel is an unusual choice for a scout, is he not?”

He wasn’t wrong. However, our entire plan had hinged on the teams working in perfect sync and the traps going off at the right moment. We had other fighters, but no one else could have carried out Dan’s role.

He was wrong about the southern stronghold, though.

I scoffed. “Dan was the obvious choice—Vesta could see that right away, at least. Don’t tell me you didn’t realize that until now?” I taunted, slowly reaching for the half-empty, red-lidded vial in my pocket. My fingers had barely grazed the glass before Godolphen replied.

“You’ve won, Rovene.”

Yeah, yeah, stop grumbling and come at me already— Wait, what?

The Final Stand

“You’ve won. Our forces are spent, and the moment we lost Tim Buccan in battle, we also lost any possibility of victory. I could still capture one of your strongholds with little difficulty, but you’d simply retake it the moment I left, and any men I left there to defend it would perish. Never have I encountered a fortress as complex as this. As a rule, the more spread out your enemies’s defenses are, the easier it is to find chinks in their armor... But this? This was a well-oiled machine. Brute force was the only option left to me, and this was the result: a crushing defeat.”

Hold your horses, old man!

“You can’t give up now! You’re meant to be Indomitable, remember?! Don’t let Vesta’s mother-in-law-level fastidiousness get you down! He accounted for every single possibility in his plan, so of course you’d be caught off guard. But you haven’t lost yet, Master! We still haven’t defeated you! If you can take all nineteen of us out first, you’ll win!”

In order to teach Godolphen his long-overdue lesson, I’d been napping—alone—in my underground lair for almost the entirety of the fifth scenario. Now I finally had a chance to work together with my classmates, and he wanted to throw in the towel? If things ended here, looking back on the memories of my first school camping trip would be basically the same as reflecting on a week in solitary confinement. I wasn’t going to let that happen.

How come I’m the only one who doesn’t get to try out the co-op mode?!

Godolphen’s eyes widened in surprise. “That was not the concept of this scenario, Rovene. We, the invaders, were to capture this stronghold—or more accurately, strongholds—as the first stage of our campaign into Yugria. The moment we lost the strength needed to conquer your fortress, we also lost the invasion.”

Nope, not a chance.

“Calm down, Master! Is it because you’re on the invading team?! Is that why you’ve got no motivation?! Put yourself in my shoes, Master Godolphen. Do you think you’d let the invaders give in so easily?! Oh, how about this?! We’ll swap sides! We’ll invade Yugria, and you get to defend it! You’ve been messing with the scenario conditions the whole time, so who cares?! Fifth scenario, part two: Reinforcements for both sides will arrive by the deadline of noon tomorrow. Whichever side is occupying the most strongholds at that point wins. Just think of all the civilians you’ve gotta protect—yeah, that’s got you all fired up, right?! Good! It’s settled!” I declared, trying everything I could think of to provoke his competitive side. It worked.

“What exactly do you stand to gain from this, Allen Rovene...?” he asked, his eyes narrowing. “Very well. I cannot ignore such an impassioned challenge. However, I will not amend my previous decision. You have already won, and overwhelmingly so. We can continue our little skirmish if you so wish, but it will not increase your score.”

Phew... That was close. Indomitable? Which part of this guy is meant to be indomitable? He was about to break like a twig in a light breeze.

I grinned. “Our score...? Who gives a crap about something like that? Score us however you like—I don’t care. I just want to run around and have fun with everyone right until the final whistle—and that includes you, Master!”

Godolphen blinked in shock—and then, he broke into a wholehearted, booming laugh. “Very well, Rovene! And you, Beld Univance. As your homeroom teacher, I will gladly test your abilities. Unfortunately, however—” in the blink of an eye, he drew his sword and flew toward us “—these ruins will be your final resting ground!”

Beld easily intercepted the attack.

After a few unexpected twists and turns, the plan was back on track—and I had the geezer right where I wanted him. As Beld leaped forward, I stepped back and uncapped the red-lidded vial in one smooth motion before wafting the contents directed toward the pair of them. I’d told Beld to hold his breath during their inevitable skirmish, but his role was still a dangerous one.

I had intended to stay behind to wait for Godolphen alone, but Beld had insisted on joining me as a bodyguard to ensure my continued survival. The others had agreed. No one had wanted to risk losing my Scouting abilities, given how beneficial they’d be during the upcoming fight.

Godolphen shifted his focus to Beld in an instant. With a masterful twirl of his wrist, he twisted his sword around Beld’s quarterstaff and sent it flying into a nearby wall. In the same fluid motion, he twirled his wrist again, aiming another strike directly at Beld’s exposed neck—but his movement lacked their usual sharpness. Beld lunged forward to avoid the blow, crashing into Godolphen. Our teacher staggered, but somehow, he managed to wriggle out of Beld’s attempted grapple and darted away.

Covering his mouth with the sleeve of his robe, Godolphen fixed me with a steely look. “I see... So that’s how you want to do this, then?” The next moment he was gone, sprinting out of the ruins and disappearing into the nearby forest before either of us could do anything to stop him.

“Dammit!” Seriously, how is someone his age that fast, mentally and physically? “Come on, Beld! He’s definitely already Strengthening his mana core to process the sedative—once he manages that, we’ll lose our biggest advantage! We can’t let him get away!”

Despite the heavy dose of sedative he’d just inhaled, however, the unreasonably speedy geezer had vanished beyond the range of my Scouting Magic in a flash. “Temper your Strengthening Magic, and it shall serve you in all endeavors.” It was one of Godolphen’s favorite sayings, and clearly, he’d put his money where his mouth was.

He’s gotta be heading south or east.

Beld and I set off in hot pursuit, but when we came to the crossroads, we still hadn’t found any indication as to which of the two directions he’d chosen. Thankfully, salvation appeared in the form of Dan.

“He’s gone east, Allen. All we’ve gotta do is drive him toward Al’s team.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” I replied, grinning.

We’d barely taken a few steps when the explosions started, shaking the ground beneath our feet even from a distance. As part of our preparations, the path to the eastern stronghold had been turned into a minefield courtesy of Dolph. We’d all memorized the position of each and every Earthbomb, but Godolphen would have no way of knowing where to step.

The blasts kept coming, to my dismay. I’d hoped the minefield would force Godolphen to stop or take a detour, but the stubborn old goat clearly had his mind set on plowing straight through. Given that we wanted to avoid turning our teacher into confetti, the Earthbombs weren’t particularly powerful, which Godolphen must have immediately realized. If we couldn’t bring him down before he cleared the minefield, we’d be in real trouble. There were too many places for him to hide around the eastern stronghold, and finding him again would be a real pain in the ass. Luckily, it seemed he’d hurt his leg or something, because his sprint was slowing into more of a jog as we spotted our prey.

From farther ahead, I heard Al cry out, “Now! Surround him! Bring him down!” Seconds later, a barrage of Ice Bullets began to rain down upon Godolphen, forcing him to alter his course. Unfortunately for him, his new trajectory took him directly into another patch of Earthbombs. Even more unfortunately for him, we’d switched up our planting strategy for this one—meaning there were more Earthbombs than actual earth under his feet.

After approximately the fifth blast, the ground gave way, sending him plummeting into the pitfall trap we’d also prepared. Annoyingly, he managed to save himself by driving his sword into the dirt wall. The bottom of the pitfall trap had been generously coated in a sticky fiber extracted from the local menospiders, and if he’d come in contact with it even slightly, our victory would have been decided.

“Don’t underestimate me, you brats!” Godolphen shouted, springing out of the pit with the help of a quick earth spell.

Up and down like a damn yo-yo... Did the sedative do anything?!

Dolph’s Earthbombs and Al’s Ice Bullets had given us just enough time though, and as Godolphen resurfaced, it was to find himself surrounded. Everyone charged. Sophie, who was the first to reach him, was the first to fall. Beld followed soon after, having pushed himself too hard at the ruins. Though their sacrifices were regrettable, they weren’t in vain; we managed to drive Godolphen into the river, forcing him toward the edge of the seventy-meter waterfall to his rear.

I drew my bow. “It’s over, Godolphen! Throw down your weapons and surrender!”

Godolphen flashed a fierce grin in response—and threw himself over the edge. Seconds later, I heard a faint splash.

You’re kidding me... Does he have a death wish or something?!

We peered over the edge nervously only to see Godolphen resurface slightly farther downstream, leap onto the bank, and sprint into the trees without so much as a backward glance.

He’s harder to kill than a freaking cockroach! Still, no snappy one-liners or even an irritating smirk... He’s taking this seriously now. Finally, things are getting interesting!

◆◆◆

Despite our best efforts—and Vesta’s brilliant planning—our forces continued to dwindle.

0400: Dolph and Fey - killed in action.

0730: Stella, Coco, and Char - killed in action.

1000: Kate and Lala - killed in action.

Our final stand came at around half past eleven. Jewel, Maggie, and Pisces quickly fell, but we managed to corner Godolphen at the end of a winding passage—just as time ran out.

Godolphen and I both immediately collapsed, spread-eagle.

“A draw?! Seriously?! Damn it! You’re too stubborn, you stupid old geezer!” I screamed in frustration. We’d technically “won” the scenario, but it wasn’t the crushing victory I’d been aiming for—not when the cockroach remained uncrushed.

Godolphen chuckled. “Well, it seems I’ve managed to hold on to at least some of my dignity in the end! All those wicked traps you set up, just to torment a man of my years... I’m utterly exhausted. Youth is a fickle foe, indeed!” Our usually reserved teacher began to laugh once more, sounding—despite his claims of decrepitude—every bit like a downright giddy child.

Failure

It was finally time for us to head toward the Vanquish family’s holiday estate on the banks of Lake Sitting for a well-deserved soak in the hot springs. Naturally, our journey wasn’t a particularly swift one. My feet felt like lead, and if their groans were anything to go by, my classmates were in just as much pain as I was. Incidentally, Leo—being the certified idiot that he was—had apparently asked Tim to give him some supplementary training after both had arrived at the casualty zone, so when we finally caught up with him a few kilometers from Lake Sitting, he was even more exhausted than the rest of us.

All that time to sit around, and he didn’t even think to use it for a nice bit of romantic gossip? What an idiot...

Finally, we arrived at Lake Sitting. It was a breathtaking sight to behold, with the lake’s crystalline surface perfectly mirroring the fiery shades of the surrounding fall leaves. Obviously, our class was the last to arrive.

“Well, if it isn’t Class A! What took you so long, huh?! Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but all the good rooms are already taken!” yelled Connie, a member of the Hill Path Club from Class B.

“The whole point of this camp was to challenge us to surpass our limits, you know? Don’t worry—I’ll tell you all about how we seized first place, and maybe you’ll learn something, hey?” added Rodrigo—a member of the Emissive Magic Club, also from Class B—with a friendly smirk.

Those Class B bastards are really rubbing it in...

“Oh, sure... You can tell us all about it later, okay? I just need to take a little nap first...” Al muttered in response, patting Rodrigo on the shoulder a few times before continuing to (slowly) make his way toward the grand estate. Understandably, the usually happy-go-lucky Al’s sudden change of character did lead to a few confused glances being exchanged between the gathered students. Al wasn’t the only one who seemed different than usual either; all of my classmates seemed like pale imitations of their regular, overwhelmingly intense selves.

Hushed whispers followed us as we shuffled inside the entrance hall in twos and threes, at which point a girl—a Class D student from the Reverence Region, if I remembered correctly—called out to Jewel.

“You must be exhausted, Lady Jewel... I never imagined Class A would be the last to arrive, but your first scenario was so difficult, so I expect the ensuing ones were just as challenging? I’m so glad to see you unharmed,” she gushed, clasping her hands together. “I know Master Godolphen said the last class to arrive would have to sleep on the floor here in the entrance hall, but please let me offer you my bed, Lady Jewel. Class D arrived second, so while our room isn’t too luxurious, I hope you’ll find it comfortable.”

Jewel smiled graciously but shook her head. “That room is the prize for your efforts, Noara, not mine. Take pride in your accomplishments, and enjoy your reward. So Class A is to sleep here, then? Perfect.” With that, Jewel collapsed to the floor, with the rest of my classmates—still in their tattered, dirty clothes—immediately following suit. The hushed whispers stopped instantly.

“What are you all doing?!” I exclaimed. “You can’t sleep yet—we need to hit the hot springs first! We’ve been wiping ourselves with dirty rags and bathing in freezing cold rivers for nearly a week, remember?! Wake up, Al! Push yourself! What’s Rodrigo gonna think when his club captain’s so quick to throw in the towel?! Come on, Dolph! What about you?! I know the Demon Co-Captain is still in there somewhere!”

Unfortunately, my classmates were too busy impersonating corpses to bother replying.

“You look just as exhausted as they do, Allie... How come you haven’t collapsed yet?” Tudeo asked bemusedly.

“Hey, Tuey. I guess I got a lot more sleep than the rest of these layabouts toward the end of our final scenario, thanks to Godolphen... By the way, have you tried out the hot springs yet?”

Tudeo shook his head. “Nah, I needed a nap first—but I was just about to go, actually.”

Hell yeah!

“Let’s go together! We’ll have a nice, long soak, then it’s time to swap romantic gossip! Do you have a special girl you like, Tuey? Wait, do you already have a girlfriend?!”

Tudeo turned bright red. “What?! Of course not! I’m too busy with the Magicar Club—I don’t have any time for stuff like that!” he spluttered, pointedly looking away.

Mwa ha ha... Perfect.

“Well, let’s hit the hot springs first, okay? We’ll have plenty of time to discuss your love life after! How does that sound, Tuey?” I asked, throwing my arm around his shoulder.

“I don’t have a love life, Allie! Sure, there’s a girl I’m kind of interested in, but I don’t like her or anything—”

◆◆◆

After enjoying the hot springs to my heart’s content—for the time being, at least—I barged my way into the large servant’s quarters currently occupied by the boys of Class E and treated them to an evening of unsolicited idle chatter. Once I’d gleefully coaxed a variety of romantic gossip out of everyone there, Tuey turned the tables on me by asking about my own love life. My (reluctantly recounted) tale of my bittersweet time with Rosita from the Sixth Legion was met with howls of laughter, much to my chagrin.

Oh well... Embarrassment is a key ingredient in the recipe for youth, I guess.

And thus, at long last, I got to enjoy a little taste of the fundamental adolescent experience I’d been desperately longing for.

◆◆◆

The next morning...

“Now, I know you’ve all been waiting for this... To begin, I will reveal your basic scores, which have been awarded according to order of arrival. Fifth place, Class A!” Mr. Rias, Class E’s homeroom teacher, said with a pleasant smile.

Allen was nowhere to be seen, having muttered something along the lines of not caring about their score in the slightest and slinking off for another dip in the hot springs. After further exhausting the already weary boys from Class E with forced romantic gossip, he’d set out on his quest to conquer all of the various hot springs on offer at the Vanquish estate. While the large, open-air bath on the rooftop—which offered panoramic views of Lake Sitting—seemed to be the favorite of most of the students, Allen had instead found the compact, semiexposed bath on the mountain-facing side of the estate (usually only used by the caretakers and other servants) to be more his cup of tea.

Unlike the larger baths, which needed additional water added to them to maintain a suitable volume, the smaller tub—barely large enough to fit three people—only needed to rely upon the natural hot spring itself, which meant the temperature left a much more satisfying sting in Allen’s opinion. While the other bathing areas were adorned with lavish furnishings and decorations, the only splash of color in the servant’s bath came from the fallen leaves, which carpeted the faded wooden floorboards and the mountainside beyond in hues of red, orange, and gold.

Given its rather simplistic nature, the other students weren’t even curious to take a peek at the servant’s bath—let alone use it—meaning it was quiet and private, just like Allen preferred. The water, which had a faintly amber tinge to it, would have been known as a peat spring back in Allen’s native Japan, with the hot spring originating in a stratum where peat (essentially, decaying plant matter) was abundant. The high mineral content of said water also made one’s skin feel slick and slippery—like that of an eel—from the moment they immersed themselves, and was said to have incredible moisturizing properties. As the servant’s bath was intended for employees rather than guests, it didn’t feature the gender-segregated barriers of the other baths; a simple “IN USE” sign was instead provided to be hung on the door when occupied.

But Allen’s hot springs adventure was not the topic on most student’s minds at that moment.

The results for the first criteria—order of arrival at the Vanquish estate—were as follows:

5th Place: Class A (50 points)

4th Place: Class E (100 points)

3rd Place: Class C (125 points)

2nd Place: Class D (150 points)

1st Place: Class B (200 points)

“Next, I will announce your overall scores, which have been calculated based on the difficulty of each scenario and the level of quality to which it was completed,” Rias continued, chewing his lip nervously between each sentence.

The overall scores were derived from three separate numbers. The basic score for each class was awarded according to their arrival order. This basic score (in Class A’s case, 50 points) was then multiplied by the overall difficulty level of their scenarios, before being adjusted to the percentage to which they’d been deemed to have completed those scenarios. The definition of “completion” varied based on the specific scenario, but could include whether it had been finished by the given deadline, whether enough targets were eliminated during an extermination mission, and so on. For example, if Class A had only captured four out of the five “spies” during their fourth scenario, their completion rate would have been eighty percent. The algorithm used by the Royal Academy ensured that attempting to prioritize speed—and therefore, arrival order—over the actual scenario adjectives would usually decrease a class’s overall score, rather than increase it.

“First, Class E. Difficulty level 10, completion rate 90 percent. With a 100 point basic score, your overall score is 900 points—which is usually the score we’d expect to see from Class C students, by the way. You should be proud of yourselves,” Rias said. Class E burst into cheers, and received a round of applause from the other students.

Class D was next. With a difficulty level of 12 and a completion rate of 60 percent, their overall score of 1,080 points was in line with those of Class B in recent years. Then came Class C, whose score of 1,400 (difficulty level 14, completion rate 80 percent) actually exceeded the average Class A score. Their unprecedentedly high results could be partially attributed to Godolphen, who’d designed the scenarios for that year’s camping curriculum. Attempting to account for the extraordinary physical skills of the current batch of first-year students (skills honed in their daily training in the Hill Path Club), he’d increased the difficulty level of each group’s respective scenarios to make them significantly higher than previous years.

He hadn’t increased them enough, however. The students had handled the challenges with relative ease, rewarding them with far greater scores than the classes that had come before them. Incidentally, it was around this time that the Hill Path Club started being referred to as “the secret compulsory subject at the Royal Academy,” permanently cementing its status as one of Yugria’s most prestigious organizations.

And then there was Class B: difficulty level 16, completion rate 85 percent, and a jaw-dropping overall score of 2,720 points.

“That’s the third highest score a first-year class has achieved in Academy history. Congratulations, Class B,” Rias said. For a split second, there was only silence—and then, the entrance hall erupted with a thunderous wave of clapping and cheers.

“Yes!”

“We did it!”

“You get it now?! This is what Class B is really made of!”

The Class B students hugged each other in joyous celebration. Their exhilaration was justified, and their score well-deserved; they’d pushed themselves to their limits just as much as any of the other classes, and their results proved it. With a basic score of 200 points—four times that of Class A—and an excellent completion rate of 85 percent, it was no wonder they currently thought a crushing victory was all but guaranteed.

Rias clapped his hands, and silence fell once more. His encouraging smile of just moments before was gone, with his expression now devoid of any emotion at all. “Now... Based on the scores announced so far, you’ve achieved the highest average score in history for a first-year cohort. You should all be truly proud of yourselves.”

Uneasy whispers could be heard from every corner of the hall.

“What does that mean? What, has Class A gone and dragged us down and cost us the top spot?” Connie muttered, loud enough for Rias to hear him.

Rias, of course, chose to ignore the comment, continuing in what seemed to be a deliberately neutral tone. “These are the overall scores for all classes, including Class A.” With that, he unfurled a large sheet of paper and pinned it to the wall behind him. Despite their confusion over why Rias hadn’t simply announced Class A’s scores as he’d done with the others, the students waited with bated breath as he pushed the last pin in and stepped aside.

Overall Scores

Class E

Arrival Order: 4th Place (100 points)

Difficulty Level 10, Completion Rate 90%

Overall Score: 900 Points

Class D

Arrival Order: 2nd Place (150 points)

Difficulty Level 12, Completion Rate 60%

Overall Score: 1,080 Points

Class C

Arrival Order: 3rd Place (125 points)

Difficulty Level 14, Completion Rate 80%

Overall Score: 1,400 Points

Class B

Arrival Order: 1st Place (200 points)

Difficulty Level 16, Completion Rate 85%

Overall Score: 2,720 Points

Class A

Arrival Order: 5th Place (50 points)

Difficulty Level 65, Completion Rate 140%

Overall Score: 4,550 Points*

No one spoke at first, but the collective, unspoken bewilderment felt almost deafening.

Connie glanced toward the huddled Class A students. To his surprise, they seemed entirely uninterested in the posted results. In fact, Jewel and Fey—apparently extremely eager to pay a visit to the hot springs—were currently pushing one another out of the way in their effort to be first out of the hall, fresh change of clothes already in hand.

“That’s... That’s not fair, Mr. Rias! A difficulty level of 65 is insane! Class A shouldn’t get an advantage just because they’ve got Allen and Leo! We never had a chance of beating them!”

Connie’s protest was entirely justified, and if he hadn’t raised the issue, one of the other students would have surely done so.

“It’s perfectly reasonable for you to feel that way, Connie, but let me explain,” Rias replied gently. “Originally, the difficulty of Class A’s scenarios was set at level 25. The other members of the faculty—myself included—implored Sage Godolphen to reduce it. We all thought it was far too high for a first-year class, and that they’d never manage to complete their assigned scenarios... We were wrong, however. Class A completed their first scenario as though it was mere child’s play, and gained almost nothing valuable from the experience. At that point, the Sage deemed it necessary to adjust the difficulty of their scenarios, thus resulting in the astounding level you see here. However...” Rias paused, fixing Connie with a steely gaze. “The Royal Academy camp is not some leisurely affair where we teachers hand out points like candy, young man. Their score is not the result of one or two particularly talented individuals, but proof of their excellence as a group. You all should understand that, having just overcome similar challenges of your own.”

Connie didn’t reply, and Rias then turned to address the remaining members of Class A. “Now, I’m sure some of you might disagree with your score—despite it being the highest in Academy history—but I’ll ask you to hold off on your complaints for the moment. As you might already be aware, the symbol next to your overall score indicates that our final decision is still pending.” He sighed. “To tell the truth, the other teachers and I were up all night discussing your score, but we couldn’t come to a consensus. However, we all agreed that the current score is too low. For the time being, we calculated your score based on the absolute minimum values of the respective criteria, pending careful analysis once we return to the Academy. Your true score will be much higher—of that, I am certain.”

There were no further words of protest from Class B, with their discontent giving way to disbelief upon hearing Rias’s explanation that Class A’s score—as astounding as it already was—was merely the minimum reflection of their efforts. An uncomfortable tension hung over the hall until finally, Alice Masculin, the unofficial “representative” of Class B, began to clap, muttering her congratulations through gritted teeth. Alice had pushed herself as much as anyone over the week, if not more; it hadn’t been easy to unite the strong-willed members of Class B under a common goal. Her efforts had been perhaps the most integral contribution to the exceptional score they’d received, and therefore, her frustration was only natural.

Alice’s acquiescent applause triggered a roaring ovation.

“Congratulations!”

“Seriously, how can I complain when your score’s that crazy? I don’t have a leg to stand on!”

“What the hell did you have to do in your scenarios to get a difficulty level like that?”

“Yeah, good on you for making it back alive!”

“That’s why you’re all in Class A, after all!”

Alice stared at the huddled Class A students, who still seemed almost indifferent despite the flood of praise being heaped upon them. Had things unfolded just a little differently, she would have been standing among their number. With her results in the mock exams, Alice’s place in Class A had been all but guaranteed. Allen Rovene had surprised everyone with his sudden appearance and his temporary (and then permanent) assignment to Class A, but Alice’s failure to secure her own place within that elite group had shocked them more.

If only I’d gotten just one more question right, she often thought. If only I’d scored just a little higher on the practical exam. If only Allen hadn’t materialized out of thin air like a phantom.

Of course, those “if onlys” meant nothing now. The Royal Academy’s entrance exams were long over, but Alice’s regrets had yet to fade. Perhaps they never would.

Fueled by the pain of what could have been, Alice had thrown herself into her studies each and every day. She’d tackled the scenarios with every last fiber of her being, and once again, she’d lost—yet strangely, she felt no regret this time. No hypotheticals dwelled in the darkest recesses of her mind. She’d given it her all. She was frustrated, yes, but that frustration would serve as further fuel on her journey of growth.

I have to keep improving.

And so, with unwavering conviction and burning determination in her heart, Alice clapped. For now, she’d be gracious in defeat—and one day, when she was standing among them, she’d be just as gracious in victory. Even as the applause began to die down, and the scene before her began to blur, Alice didn’t stop clapping until the very end.

Of course, if Alice was to rise into the glory of Class A, it would mean one among those twenty prodigies would need to fall. That was the rule—a rule as inflexible and unyielding as iron itself.

◆◆◆

Ultimately, it was decided that evaluating Class A’s accurate score was impossible.

Their tentative score, however, was as follows:

Class A

Arrival Order: 5th Place (50 points)

Difficulty Level 82, Completion Rate 160%

Overall Score: 6,560 Points

Their score—while unofficial—defied all common sense. Obviously, it was the highest score in Academy history by far.

However, the faculty’s deliberations didn’t end there. Some argued that only the official scenarios should be taken into account for the scoring. If Class A (or more specifically, Allen Rovene) had simply accepted Godolphen’s initial declaration of defeat, their group surely would have been the first to arrive at the Vanquish estate—and if they had, their score would have been something along the lines of:

Class A

Arrival Order: 1st Place (200 points)

Difficulty Level 70, Completion Rate 150%

Overall Score: 21,000 Points

Naturally, the idea of permitting such an astronomical score was preposterous, and the faculty unanimously concluded that evaluating Class A per the conventional scoring algorithm was not within the realm of possibility. In the first place, their previously dependable algorithm worked on the basis that a completion rate higher than one hundred percent was unobtainable, with a class’s ultimate score based on inevitable deductions from that perfect result. The fact that the Class A students had easily surpassed the maximum score the faculty had conceived for each respective scenario indicated a problem with the design of the scenarios themselves, thus rendering accurate evaluation unachievable.

Furthermore, while the incredibly astonished faculty members were able to evaluate Vesta’s fortress compound to some extent by referencing the detailed blueprints, they had no means of analyzing other elements in Class A’s success—such as Leo’s spellsword, Jewel’s zone healing spell, and the mysterious paralytic agent used by Allen Rovene—and therefore, no grounds on which to base any related scores. In any case, the immediate classification of said elements at clearance level 4 (equivalent to that of military secrets) prevented them from accessing any further details regardless.

“Our score...? Who gives a crap about something like that? Score us however you like—I don’t care.” Thus had spoken Allen Rovene. Amid overflowing confidence, there had also been a challenge within those words: “What, you think you can measure us with your yardstick? Go ahead and try.”

And try they did, only for their attempt to end in a result that would have put any educational institution—much less the Royal Academy—to shame: an unthinkable “Unable to Evaluate.” Thus, for the first time in history, the kingdom’s most prestigious school received a failing mark on the basis of educational competency, stamped and signed with the blood, sweat, and tears of the 1,127th Class 1-A.

Side Story: Class D, Third Scenario

“I will now explain the specifics of your third scenario, so listen up,” Ms. Maliksi—the homeroom teacher for Class 1-D—said in a slightly firm voice. “A report received from a scouting party on a routine patrol has identified a suspected enemy camp on the Loneboor Plains, about twenty kilometers northwest of your present location. As their forces vastly outnumber Yugria’s own, all units in the vicinity are to gather at a rendezvous point near the camp and prepare to launch a surprise attack on the enemy. To join them, you will need to make your way through the ancient battlefield known as the Valley of Singing Bones to reach the rendezvous point on the other side within the next seven and a half hours. The leader for this scenario will be Canon Cainridge. That is all.”

As soon as Ms. Maliksi had vanished from sight, the students of Class D broke off into groups of twos and threes and began discussing the scenario.

“Seven and a half hours... It’s a pretty tight deadline. I guess speed’s gonna have to be our priority.”

“Yeah, but it’ll depend on what kind of monsters are waiting for us up ahead. I mean, an ancient battlefield with a name like the Valley of Singing Bones? It’s pretty obvious that we’re gonna be meeting some powerful monsters of the undead variety...”

“Well, it’s not like we have any choice. Our route’s been determined for us already, so instead of wasting any more time standing around jabbering, let’s just get going.”

“Yeah, good call, Nack. Come on, we’ll take point—those monsters aren’t gonna know what’s hit them.”

“Hold on, you two!” cried Noara, stopping the two boys—who’d already started to walk off—in their tracks. “Canon’s the leader, remember?! You have to wait for her orders!”

The two boys turned around with obvious annoyance. Nack rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah...”

“It’s not like anyone here knows the area anyway,” the other boy, Bleu, said. “How is she gonna decide on a plan without actually seeing the damn place first?”

If things keep going like this, our class is done for, thought Canon. With the school camp now approaching the midway point, the fatigue was beginning to take a toll on not only their bodies, but their minds. Foreseeing the disaster that awaited them if she didn’t pull them back together, Canon quickly chose camaraderie over control. She crossed her arms and frowned, as though pondering over a deep and difficult thought. All eyes were on her as her classmates waited for the revelation that was sure to come.

They waited in vain.

“Hello?!” exclaimed one clearly irritated boy, waving a hand in front of her face.

Noara approached her friend with a worried expression. “Um... Canon?” she asked nervously, at which point Canon dropped the grimace in favor of a cheeky grin.

“Well, I thought maybe imitating Ves’s favorite brooding look would make me a little smarter, but nope—I still don’t get it at all.”

Nineteen heads drooped in almost tangible disappointment—yet, oddly enough, the overall mood seemed to brighten, and when her classmates began to reply, it was with bemused exasperation rather than actual annoyance.

“Seriously, leader? Pull yourself together...”

“We’re racing against time here, you know?”

“What do you mean, you don’t get it at all? What’s there to get?”

“Sorry, sorry!” Canon said, clasping her hands together apologetically. “But I meant what I said—the scenario just doesn’t make any sense to me. I mean, from the way Ms. Maliksi explained it, we’re only being tested on our ability to traverse the valley, right? But if that’s the case, then why bother with all the extra stuff about ‘our forces being outnumbered’ and ‘launching a surprise attack’ when it doesn’t make any difference to the scenario at all?”

Ah, thought her classmates.

“Well... What does it matter anyway? There’s no point thinking about anything besides the actual mission we’ve been given, and what we need to do to complete it.”

“Yeah, what he said. The longer we spend talking about random hypotheticals, the more time we waste, you know?”

Canon nodded, smiling. “Yeah, I think you’re right. Ves always tells me, ‘You’ve got to start thinking things through a bit more before you act, Nonnie.’ He’s always going on about how acting first and thinking later isn’t the best way to do things. So I tried copying him and thinking things through... But you know what? Thinking first really isn’t for me.” She grinned. “Let’s go check out this valley, hey? We can just make the rest up as we go!”

With that, Canon started walking, though she didn’t get far. In a sudden turn of events, she found herself being hurriedly dragged back to the center of the group. For when those in power started acting foolishly, those around them naturally began to think for themselves—a fact that history had proven time and time again. Some people, rare though they were, could grasp that truth instinctively and put it to use. Canon was one such person.

Her classmates—their minds now clearer and sharper than they’d been in days—began to analyze the given scenario.

“Okay, so it’s not this scenario itself that’s the problem—it’s whatever will be waiting for us on the other side of it. Basically, it’s gonna lead us straight into a complex military operation with multiple units working together, right?”

“Yeah, that would explain the precise seven-and-a-half-hour deadline, I guess. If we show up even a few minutes late and miss the start of the operation, we’ll have no idea what to do.”

“In that case, we should probably prioritize getting as many of us to the finish line as we can within the time limit, rather than arriving all together but slightly late.”

“I agree. At the end of the day, our orders were only to make it through the valley by the deadline. We’ll try to keep any fighting to a minimum, and just plow on through.”

They might have been in Class D, but that didn’t mean they weren’t intelligent—far from it, in fact, provided they kept their wits about them. With her somewhat involuntary playing of the fool, Canon had forced everyone else to think about things a little more carefully. After some more discussion, they decided to split the class into three squads. The first—a five-member vanguard squad mostly composed of bureaucrat course students with relatively poorer combat skills—would lead the charge for as long as they could hold out. Canon Cainridge (of the shieldmaster Cainridges, and the sole knight course student of the squad) would take command. The second squad was made up of the remaining knight course students of the class and would move into the front as soon as the vanguard squad reached its limit. The third and final squad was populated by the mage course students, who’d provide support from the rear via long-range spells.

With nine mage course students, Class D had the highest percentage of mages among the first-year classes. The way the entrance exams were structured meant Class D usually ended up with many mage course students each year, and in fact, this year’s Class D had fewer than usual.

“All right, off we go!” Canon cried, lifting her beloved greatshield—crafted from the shell of a giant sea turtle—high. It didn’t take long for them to reach the entrance to the deep valley. There was something sinister about it; rather than a natural formation, it somehow seemed more like some colossal beast had gouged it out of the land itself with one long, vicious claw. A thick, oppressive mist swirled around the group, clinging to their skin like a shroud.

“Mother, Ves... Lend me your strength,” Canon murmured under her breath so none of the others could hear. And then, driving her shield into the first pack of malodorous monsters that had just emerged from the dense mists, Class D charged forward into the Valley of Singing Bones.

◆◆◆

Their foes grew more and more formidable the farther they progressed into the valley. They were about halfway through, according to her rough estimates, when Canon halted her advance.

“The vanguard squad will fall back. Nack, it’s up to you from here!”

“Got it.”

“What, already? Come on, Canon! I thought the Cainridges were meant to be a little more impressive!” another boy called out teasingly.

Noara, who’d been part of the vanguard group alongside Canon, frowned. “Honestly! Why do boys have to be so juvenile?” she sighed. “What should we do, Canon? I can keep going for at least a little while longer, but...”

Canon shook her head. “Nack can lead the charge now. We’ll fall back to the very rear.”

“The very rear? Behind the mages?” Noara repeated, obviously confused.

“That’s right,” Canon replied, nodding firmly. “Sorry, Noara... But the monsters here are a lot tougher than I thought they’d be, and they’re not getting any weaker. If they attack us from the rear, we’re done for. We don’t have the time or the man power to deal with a pincer attack, and we can’t afford to move our strongest fighters away from the front line—but someone’s still got to protect the rear,” she said, her brow knitting as she glanced over her shoulder.

Noara looked at her friend—who was chewing her lip again, just like she always did when she was frustrated—and smiled wryly, shaking her head. “Good grief... Very well. We’ll likely need to rely on our mages during the next two scenarios, so it wouldn’t serve us very well to let them fall now.” She sighed again. “I suppose there’s no helping it. Nack and Bleu and those other imbeciles can have the spotlight, and we’ll simply do what we can backstage!”

◆◆◆

While the entirety of Class D did eventually make it through the Valley of Singing Bones, not all of them did so by the deadline. In fact, only the mages—along with Bleu and Nack from the second squad—made it to the rendezvous point in time. When Canon and the remaining students finally arrived, two hours late and covered in (thankfully minor) wounds, Bleu greeted them with one of his usual arrogant smirks. “Took you long enough! You’re lucky we cleared a path for you while you took the scenic route, you know?!”

“Why of course, Bleu. We’re so grateful...” Noara replied in a tone dripping with sarcasm before lowering her voice. “Silly boys! They have no idea how hard we work. Scenic route indeed... Vesta should count himself lucky you even deign to look at him!”

Canon laughed. “Ves might seem stubborn, but on the inside, he’s actually really kind. Sure, he’s a little too serious sometimes—and unbelievably anxious all of the time—so it hasn’t been easy, and it probably never will be. But he always puts me and my well-being first instead of prioritizing what’s best for him, so I can overlook a few flaws.” She paused for a moment, lost in thought. “And that’s why I’ll always be there to put him first... No matter what.”

Canon would never forget that day—the day Vesta had asked her to break off their engagement.

Noara sighed dramatically. “I suppose you should both count yourselves lucky, then... I’m somewhat jealous.”

Nack chose that moment to approach the pair. “I just wanted to, er... Well, it was only because of you guys protecting our backs that we were able to get the mages here in time. So... Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Noara replied offhandedly, though her scowl told a different story. Nack, unfazed, flashed them both a bright smile before returning to his friends.

“Ba-dum, ba-dum... And at that moment, Noara suddenly became aware of an unusual feeling in her chest, something she’d never felt before—”

“Oh, shut up,” Noara grumbled, elbowing her friend in the ribs.

Canon burst into laughter.

Side Story: The Eighth Bath

The Vanquish Domain—and in particular, the lands surrounding Lake Sitting—boasted some of the best natural hot springs in all of Yugria. The finest of these lay within the grounds of the Vanquish holiday estate. The estate had been purchased and remodeled by Godolphen von Vanquish himself, and was the sole luxury the usually frugal Sage allowed himself. With three stories (or four, if you included the generous basement), the main building alone featured nearly two thousand square meters of usable floor space. Godolphen’s earlier description of the place as “not particularly spacious” couldn’t have been further from the truth, and a passing traveler could have easily mistaken the so-called secondary estate as a castle.

In fact, it had once been the primary residence of a great noble who’d ruled over the nearby lands in antiquity, and had housed over a hundred people—most of them servants—in its prime. There was slightly less room to house quite the same number of people these days, however, after Godolphen (well known for being a hot springs enthusiast) had redesigned the place to allow for the bathing areas to be expanded and a number of saunas to be installed. Per the Sage’s wishes, the estate usually functioned as a sort of rehabilitation facility for wounded soldiers, offering them lodging and access to the springs at rates nominal enough that it was essentially a charity.

The estate boasted seven large bathing areas, ranging from vast tubs made of wood or stone to replicas of the simple cauldron-style baths used during military campaigns, and four roomy saunas of various temperatures. The most popular area among the students was the open-air bath on the estate’s rooftop, which looked out over Lake Sitting.

However, in addition to those seven luxurious baths, there was one more bathing area hidden within the Vanquish estate...

◆◆◆

“Still, to think he’d prefer a shabby servant’s bath like this... Allen’s tastes are as baffling as ever.”

“Indeed—but really, could we ever have expected anything to the contrary?”

An “IN USE” sign hung on a simple wooden door, in front of which Fey and Jewel were standing, bathing supplies in hand. The previous night, Allen had sampled every bath on offer at the estate, and earlier that morning, he’d boasted to Tudeo about the secret, unisex bath the caretaker had shown him. Some mild eavesdropping had revealed this secret bath was apparently the finest of them all, and was also where Allen planned to spend the morning. Standing before it now, though, the two girls hesitated, not quite able to bring themselves to take that final step.

“Perhaps you should return to the others, Jewel. We Dragoons are rather well known for our indecency, but the noble Reverence family has a far more virtuous reputation, no? If word got out about you bathing with a male classmate, it could lead to some rather unpleasant rumors...” Fey said in a clearly mocking tone.

Jewel didn’t reply but instead flipped the sign around to the other side, so that it now read “VACANT.” “Whatever do you mean, Fey? This will be merely an accident, of course—I simply didn’t realize anyone was in the bathing area already...” She smiled sweetly. “And on the contrary, I’d actually rather welcome a few unseemly rumors, since I have no intention of marrying into the Sterite clergy—despite what a certain archbishop might think. But what about you, Fey? Your voice is a little high-pitched... Are you perhaps nervous?”

Fey giggled. “Me, nervous? Come now, Jewel. Do you take me for the kind of girl who’d get nervous over something like this? Especially when it’s just an accident, like you said...”

The two girls shared another giggle before turning back toward the door. Both took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, and the faint tremors in their hands quickly stilled. Such resolve would be impossible for most girls their age, but Fey and Jewel were not most girls. Perhaps their determination came from their upbringing as the daughters of marquesal families, burdened with immense pressure since before they could even walk—or perhaps it was simply the determination of women whose hearts had already chosen their mark.

Fey flipped the sign again, and in they went, exchanging idle chatter as they shed their clothes without even a hint of hesitation. Now completely naked, Fey swept her hair behind her ears, slung a towel over her shoulder, and threw open the second door that led to the bathing area proper with a dramatic clatter.

“Huh? No one’s here...” Fey said, frowning.

Indeed, the bathing area was completely empty.

“How odd,” Jewel replied. “There was a robe in the changing area, though... Perhaps someone left it behind by mistake?”

Slight disappointment aside, it would be silly to leave without sampling the bath, so the two girls continued to make lighthearted conversation as they quickly lowered themselves into the amber-colored water. The servant’s bath was a partially open-air one, with a thatched roof but no walls apart from the one at the entry. The small wooden veranda which surrounded the small tub extended slightly farther out to the front, beyond which lay the untouched mountainside.

It was only a minute or two later when Fey noticed something unusual about that veranda, though—namely, that the section leading to the mountainside was slightly damp.

“Well, would you look at that? Someone’s been here recently,” she said, giggling excitedly. Water gushed out of the tub as she shot to her feet, draping the nearby towel over her shoulders once more. Though her lips had curved into a smile, her eyes had narrowed into those of a predator who’d just sensed the most delicious prey.

Jewel, dripping wet, slipped on a pair of the guest sandals conveniently placed at the edge of the veranda and strode onto the sloping mountainside. She’d only taken a few steps before she crouched down in a most unladylike manner, inspecting the ground like a forensic investigator at a murder scene.

“Footprints... They’re still fresh too,” she called out, flashing Fey an uncommonly dangerous smile of her own.

◆◆◆

Godolphen von Vanquish had spared no expense on his estate, outfitting it with anything and everything to turn it into the finest relaxation destination in all of Yugria. Despite the range of incredible facilities on offer, however, the quiet servant’s bath was the one he liked most of all. Unlike the other baths, all of which relied upon water piped in from the larger source spring nearby, the small tub drew water directly from a separate spring below. The slightly amber water still flowed powerfully even now, centuries after the original tub—now designated for servant use—had been installed. Though the temperature did fluctuate from time to time, it was generally quite high, just as Godolphen preferred. He also relished in the way the hue and feel of the water changed from day to day, almost as though it was alive.

After soaking in the water for a while, he’d climb about fifteen meters up the overgrown mountainside to a rugged, protruding boulder, where he’d sit cross-legged to meditate while he cooled down before heading back to the tub to start the whole process all over again. Repeating this cycle three times had, at some point, become a comforting routine for the Sage.

Though many still thought of Godolphen as suspiciously spry for a man of his years, in truth, a lifetime of relentless busyness and horrific experiences on the field of battle had taken a toll on both the Sage’s body and his mind—one that only the unique pleasure of a soak in the hot springs did anything to alleviate. Even this morning, after spending nearly a week running around the mountains and the entirety of the previous night deliberating scores with the other teachers, he’d first headed not to his room for a much-needed nap but to the servant’s bath. The silky water, hot yet gentle on the skin, soon began to ease the strain that clung to the old man’s body like a heavy cloak.

I still cannot quite believe it... Godolphen thought, splashing his face with the stimulatingly scalding water. Out of everything he felt about the events of the past week, the most prominent of all was still sheer astonishment, even now that he’d had some time to reflect. To think they’d exceed my expectations to this extent...

Truth be told, all of the scenarios he’d set for Class A this year had been beyond their capabilities, difficult enough that success wouldn’t be guaranteed even with luck on their side every step of the way. He’d wanted to see their ingenuity, of course, but what he’d wanted more was to give them the opportunity to fail and to learn from it. While things hadn’t worked out in quite the way he’d intended, Godolphen had no regrets about the initial (and arguably outrageous) difficulty of his challenges. His students might not have failed, but they’d still surpassed their limits to overcome one adversity over another. They hadn’t allowed themselves to settle for merely surpassing those limits either, but had pushed onward, again and again, setting and conquering new challenges when they’d found Godolphen’s initial ones lacking.

Godolphen’s head started to spin; he’d been sitting in the bath for longer than he’d realized. Standing up carefully, he walked across the veranda and onto the mountainside, his bare feet sinking into the loamy soil as he made the short trek up to his usual boulder. Moments later, he was sitting down once more, closing his eyes as he sunk into a meditative state.

Their incredible determination... He was the source of it. What a strange, mystifying boy... It’s as though he’s always running at full speed in the most irrational direction—and yet somehow, that sheer senselessness itself is what draws others to him. I can almost feel the future of Yugria changing forever with every step he takes...

A distant memory flashed across Godolphen’s mind, the smiling face of a long-departed friend—Bardi von Dosuperior, Allen’s grandfather. Though the two weren’t particularly alike, Bardi, too, had possessed an irresistible charisma and the strength to overcome adversities that would have driven most others to despair.

“If only you were here, Bardi... How would you choose to guide him, I wonder...?”

No one would describe Godolphen von Vanquish as an emotional man, but even his indomitable heart bore one or two wounds that had never quite healed. He sniffed as the vision of Bardi floated to the surface of his mind once more—but jolted as the faint peals of a young girl’s laughter yanked him back to reality. Another voice, as young and feminine as the first, joined it soon after. For some reason, it seemed to be coming from the direction of the servant’s bath.

What... What in the world? I was sure I flipped over the sign...

Before he could call out to warn them of his presence, he heard the door to the bathing area open with a clatter and reflexively threw himself off the boulder and out of sight.

Oh, why did I go and do that? Godolphen, you old fool! he thought, cursing himself. And those voices—they belong to Feyreun von Dragoon and Jewelry Reverence! Of all the students it could have been, it had to be two from my class... This isn’t good— No, I must remain calm. If I merely remain hidden here, I’ll escape their notice. Yes, I’ll remain hidden and keep my eyes closed until they leave, and all will be well—

“Well, would you look at that? Someone’s been here recently.”

Heavens above...

Godolphen shivered unconsciously as Feyreun spoke again, her previously lighthearted tone now dangerously low. The distinctive clunk of sandals on wood followed a few seconds later, sending another shudder down his spine. The Sage fell silent—more silent than he’d ever been, even during covert operations during the war. Not even a whisper of a breath escaped his trembling lips. And then, he prayed, pleading to somehow become one with the rugged rock he currently clung to like moss.

Unfortunately, his prayers fell on deaf ears.

“Footprints... They’re still fresh too.”

Oh, good grief! What wretched luck... If they see me like this, my reputation will be tarnished forevermore! How could I ever show my face before them again, let alone attempt to guide them?!

“Don’t worry, we’re not mad at you for trying to hide! Why don’t you come back and join us? I could give you a massage, if you’d like?”

“Of course, it might be a bit cramped with the three of us, but I’m sure we’ll make do...”

What nonsense! Is this what children are like these days?! What happened to good old-fashioned modesty?!

At that moment a strong gust of wind blew down the mountain, eliciting squeals from the two girls.

“Oh, what a perverted breeze!”

“It’s caressing me all over! Feeling quite bold today, huh?”

Nonsense! Utterly indecent nonsense! Perverted?! Caressing?! It’s a damned gust of wind, you wanton whippersnappers! Oh, blast it all! Now every time I sit here and feel the breeze, that poppycock will come to mind... I’ll never be able to meditate here again— No, there are more pressing matters to worry about right now! They’ll be here any moment! Oh, what should I do...?

Caught between a rock and a hard place, Godolphen did the only thing he could and activated his signature earth magic.

◆◆◆

“Found you, Allen! You— What in the world are you doing, Master Godolphen?”

Fey and Jewel rounded the boulder and immediately stopped short, eyes widening in synchronized shock as they took in the sight of their teacher, who—with the majority of his body encased within a mound of earth—currently resembled a severed head.

“Oh, hello children. I am merely becoming one with the earth, as is my habit...” he replied, his eyes distant and vacant as he stared at what seemed to be nothing at all.

Fey crouched down directly in front of her teacher like a high schooler in front of a convenience store, towel still draped over her shoulder as though it was nothing more than a mere accessory. “Fair enough. By the way, have you seen Allen recently?”

Godolphen’s eyes snapped shut. “Have you no shame, child?” His voice was unusually squeaky. Though every fiber of his being was screaming at him to run away, he couldn’t move without first dispelling his protective layer of dirt.

Fey giggled. “Come on, Master! Shame? I’ve got more important things to worry about right now, you know? I don’t have time to stand around blushing about a bit of skin, especially not when I’m standing in front of a man who’s been single for his entire life, if the rumors are true! From what I’ve heard, you’ve turned down honey traps sent by every foreign intelligence agency on the continent!”

“I agree with Fey,” Jewel added, making no attempt to hide her body as she tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Why, everyone knows that you haven’t been seen dallying with any women nor visiting the pleasure district since you returned from the war, Sage.” She smiled at him kindly. “Some say you took a vow of chastity to honor your fallen comrades...”

A flicker of bitterness crossed their teacher’s face for the briefest moment. The next, it was gone. “There’s a streaming spring about ten minutes further up the mountain. You’ll likely find Rovene there... He seemed quite delighted when I told him of its existence earlier this morning.”

Fey rose to her feet and peered up the slope. “Well, I feel like it would be a waste of time to get dressed when we’re only going to strip again—don’t you agree, Jewel?” she asked, smirking.

“Of course, Fey. Time is precious enough as it is... Allen will surely flee the second he realizes we’re closing in,” Jewel replied, slipping her feet out of the cumbersome sandals.

Fey nodded. “So, we use stealth until we enter his detection range, and then it’s full speed ahead. As long as we can secure his clothes, he’s ours. See you later, Master! Thanks for the intel!”

“Shall we call this the sixth scenario, perhaps?” Jewel giggled. “Yes, thank you—and sorry for the interruption. Please continue being at one with the earth!”

Without any hesitation (nor a scrap of clothing) between them, the two girls began ascending the slope, quickly dropping into low crawls as the incline grew steeper.

“Ah, to be young again...” Godolphen muttered wearily, averting his gaze from the harrowing sight of stark white buttocks.

◆◆◆

Three hours later...

Someone screamed, and Allen—who, for some reason, was currently shimmying up one of the estate’s gutter pipes while also attempting to hide his privates behind a ridiculously large fig leaf—nearly lost his grip. His eyes met those of the unsuspecting female student who’d just flung open the window. Unfortunately for Allen, that window just so happened to lead to one of the indoor bathing areas.

She screamed again.

“No, wait! Wait! This is just part of the sixth scenario—”

“Sixth scenario?! There’s no such thing!”

“You disgusting pervert!”

And thus Allen’s sixth scenario ended—with a zero percent completion rate, of course.

Side Story: The Royal Academy

Soon after everyone had returned from the school camping trip, an emergency faculty meeting was called by Michale Chatelaine, chairwoman of the Royal Academy’s board of directors. As the name Chatelaine suggested, Michale belonged to one of Yugria’s three ducal families. She also happened to be the aunt of Patrick Arthur Yugria, the reigning king.

It was tradition for a member of either the royal family or one of the ducal families to hold the position of chairperson at the Royal Academy. “This kingdom must always love its people above all else”—thus had spoken Arthur, the first king of Yugria. In accordance with that principle, he’d preached the importance of giving talented people—no matter their background—an opportunity to thrive and, by doing so, to benefit Yugria in return. The sheer fact that the Royal Academy had remained the prestigious institution it was today rather than becoming a playground for the nobility was largely due to the tireless efforts of the Yugria family to uphold Arthur’s principles. The chairperson was usually a direct member of the royal family, but when no suitable candidates were available, one would be selected from a ducal family instead. Predominantly, these ducal chairpeople came from the Chatelaine family, who boasted a proud history of excellence in both the literary and military arts.

The purpose of the emergency meeting was, of course, to determine what in the world they were going to do about Class 1-A’s score.

◆◆◆

“And so, having determined that any further attempts to recapture their strongholds would be futile, I offered my surrender. Any questions?” Godolphen asked, thus concluding his rather broad account of the events of the camp. Those gathered before him were already holding a more detailed report of the same events that was meticulously compiled by Tim, vice captain of the Fifth Legion of the Royal Order. A graduate of the Royal Academy himself, Tim was skilled in not only combat, but also in matters of a more administrative nature. Furthermore, being largely responsible for recruitment within the Fifth Legion, he was also renowned for his ability to give insightful (and impartial) evaluations of prospective recruits.

Besides Godolphen and Tim, also present at the meeting were the chairwoman, most members of the faculty, and a few other concerned parties, all of whom—after hearing Godolphen’s report—were impersonating a collection of particularly dumbfounded statues. All except one that was, who instead had a broad smile. Her name was Thora. She was a notable researcher in the field of monster-derived ingredients, and she also served as the matron of the standard dormitory (or the Doghouse, as it was colloquially known), where all of the Class 1-A students resided. Living in such close proximity to the students in question, she was quite familiar with their private lives, thus the reason for her participation in the meeting.

Within seconds, all eyes had turned to Thora, mostly because she’d just burst into a fit of unruly laughter.

“Ha ha! Hee hee hee... Oh, he got you good! Shouldn’t someone who was once vice commander of the Royal Order have a little more self-restraint, Goldie? But no, the kid provokes you into a fight, and not only do you give it to him, but then you go and lose spectacularly too!” Thora began laughing once more, clapping her hands in wild glee.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself, Madam Cendrillion...” Musica Yugria—assistant chairwoman, teacher at the Academy, and the appointed facilitator of the ongoing meeting—said, her expression complicated. She was genuinely pleased to hear that the students were growing, and rapidly at that. As a proud educator, though, she couldn’t quite stomach the fact that they’d grown far beyond her wildest expectations without her even realizing it, nor that she’d apparently had no part to play in their growth herself.

“Of course I am! I see how hard those kids push themselves every day, and I know better than anyone how strict they are on themselves. I love ’em like they’re my own, and any decent parent would be thrilled to see their kids performing so well.” She grinned. “I’ve taken a special liking to the Rovene kid though. He’s loved that run-down dorm of mine since the minute he stepped foot inside, and he’s never been afraid to show it.”

Tim nodded, smiling wryly. “I heard there were rumors of suspected misconduct when he first enrolled, but after seeing him in action, I can’t fathom why anyone suspected him in the first place. His discipline and his determination are incredible—scarily so, in fact.”

Thora cackled. “You’re damn right, Tim. People less perceptive than you took that determination to be simple stubbornness, but they were fools, the lot of ’em.” She paused for a moment, gazing up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “Once... Once, I came across him singing this song.”

She began to croon. It was a song no one present had heard before, with a slow, melancholic melody that seemed to reverberate inside their chests. The lyrics spoke of month after month spent reading, of pages illuminated by the light of fireflies and the moonlit glow of the snow beyond the window frame, until the final line, where the singer left through the cedar door and left their life and loved ones behind. It was certainly no lighthearted lullaby.

“I asked the boy where he’d learned such a song, and he said it was his own composition.” She smiled gently, a stark contrast to her usual wild grins. “Compared to circumstances like that—studying day in and day out with only the snow for light—I guess even the Doghouse would feel like paradise.”

Musica tilted her head, frowning in disbelief. “Allen Rovene was singing? I suppose it’s not uncommon for children from the high nobility to have musical inclinations, but I’m rather surprised to learn that he does... Those lyrics surprise me more, though. Even for a viscountal family from the countryside, I doubt they were so destitute as to not be able to afford at least a few candles, if not proper lighting.”

“I thought the same, Musica, so I asked the kid, and he told me he drew inspiration for the lyrics from that private tutor of his,” Thora replied.

Upon hearing this (which, in reality, was merely another of Allen’s spontaneous decisions to attribute random extracts from his previous life to Soldo), Godolphen’s shoulders began to shake. “Alas, it seems my tear glands have weakened with age,” he murmured, wiping his eyes. “I always wondered why someone of Soldo Vineforce’s apparent caliber never tried to make more of a name for himself in the world... I owe him an apology. Someone as blessed as I could never even begin to imagine the misfortunes he’s surely suffered, nor do I have any right to be criticizing the decisions of such a great man. Oh, if only he’d been born under a brighter star! If only our world was a fairer place...”

Tim grunted. “I dismissed the notion of a ‘simple life’ in the standard dorm as a mere idealistic fantasy on the boy’s part. I thought it was nothing more than the whim of a privileged child playing at being a commoner, I’ll admit. But now that I’ve seen their discipline and teamwork firsthand, I’d be a fool not to reconsider. Their shared determination is nothing short of extraordinary, and I can only conclude that it comes as a result of their communal lifestyle.” He paused, closing his eyes for a moment. “Physical strength is relatively easy to evaluate, but mental fortitude is another beast entirely. Determining to what extent it might have impacted their results would be all but impossible. However, if you ask me what sets Class 1-A apart from the rest most of all, I would say it’s that immeasurable willpower of theirs.”

A somber atmosphere had fallen over the room ever since Thora’s rendition of the song she’d heard Allen crooning on his way back from the dorm’s bathing area. Incidentally, the song—which was traditionally played over the loudspeakers when a public bathhouse was closing for the day back in his native Japan—had merely popped into Allen’s mind spontaneously, and he’d started singing without realizing Thora was nearby.

“All right, everyone. We need to focus. We’ll start by reexamining the first scenario...” In an attempt to get things back on track, Musica kept the discussion moving in a forcibly cheerful voice. No matter how hard the scoring would be, they still had to decide on a score; such was their responsibility as educators.

At Musica’s urging, they began the arduous task of determining Class 1-A’s official overall score, ultimately landing upon a shocking result of 5,250 points. Their basic score of 50 points had been multiplied by an unprecedented difficulty level of 70, before being further multiplied by an incomprehensible completion rate of 150 percent.

“I can’t believe it... The previous record of 4,320 points has been unbroken for over a century, and they’ve put it to shame while also arriving in last place...” Jeffery (Class 2-D’s homeroom teacher) muttered, shaking his head.

“Well, actually...” Godolphen interjected. “In truth, there is more to the fifth scenario than what you’ve read in the report. I’ve only spoken to the chairwoman of this so far, though I imagine you already have your suspicions, Tim... When I offered my surrender to Allen Rovene and Beld Univance at the northern stronghold, I found myself on the receiving end of a thorough scolding. The boy questioned my alleged ‘indomitability’ and criticized my discipline for good measure.”

Everyone stared at him blankly, completely unprepared for whatever it might be that the Sage was about to say. Tim’s report, while thorough, had made no mention of anything that had occurred after he’d fallen in battle. As soon as he’d “died,” he’d been forbidden to continue observing the scenario, given that his mere presence could potentially influence the student’s decisions and the eventual outcome.

“I... The timeline didn’t match up. I realized that much, at least,” Tim replied, his expression unreadable.

Godolphen nodded. “The events that occurred after the official conclusion of the fifth scenario were simply too exceptional. If I’d informed you of them from the start, it would have influenced your evaluations irrevocably. However, the chairwoman and I have discussed this most extensively and ultimately decided it is essential to share the concerned information with you all, though I do so reluctantly—I am quite a proud man, as you may know, and what you are about to hear does not reflect kindly on my capabilities. However, some temporary humiliation is necessary if we are to continue to protect the pride of this great Academy.”

All eyes turned to the chairwoman. “I have already consulted with His Majesty the King, and he left the matter to my discretion. Thus, as the Sage said, we deemed it necessary for you to learn what unfolded thereafter. However, I must also inform you that everything we discuss from this point onward is highly confidential. It has already been designated as clearance level 4, in fact. You are not to breathe a word of this to anyone, understood?” Michale asked, flashing one of her refined smiles. There was no sharpness in her expression or her tone, but a collective shiver ran down the spines of those gathered nonetheless.

Consulting the King over something as insignificant as a school camping trip... The mere thought was ridiculous.

“Sage, do you mean to say that you willingly agreed to extend their scenario?” Musica asked, dumbfounded. “Why in the world would you agree to such a thing when it would have an undeniable impact on their arrival order?”

“‘Score us however you like—I don’t care. I just want to run around and have fun with everyone right until the final whistle—and that includes you, Master!’” Godolphen replied in a nonchalant tone, much to Musica’s confusion. “That was what Allen Rovene said to me upon my attempted surrender. Thereafter, under the command of Vesta von Stocklode, they chased me up and down the Darleys until the very last second. There was no hesitation in their actions, Musica. Those children came at me with the intent to kill—the intent to truly put an end to Godolphen von Vanquish. Time was not on their side and thus their final stand ended in a draw, but truthfully... I was at my limit too. If they’d had only another hour to pursue me, I would have been defeated once more,” he finished, his eyes narrowing as he stroked his beard.

“I can’t...” Musica trailed off, shaking her head. “I know they have extraordinary potential—enough to shoulder the responsibility of leading this kingdom in the near future—and as the defending force, they obviously had the advantage of preparation, but even so... It’s simply impossible to imagine you being driven into a corner like that, Sage.” She shook her head again. “Fine. If Allen Rovene hadn’t made his ridiculous request, how would that have changed their arrival position?”

Godolphen inclined his head toward Musica. “We can never know for sure, but to the best of an old man’s estimations, I am all but certain they would have arrived before all of the other classes by quite a significant margin. Doing so, of course, would quadruple their basic score to 200 points. Therefore, we merely need to quadruple the score we’ve just decided upon, which gives us a hypothetical score of 21,000 points—if only they hadn’t wanted to ‘run around and have fun,’ as Rovene put it.”

The silence was deafening. The score was staggering, and the unspoken challenge in Allen Rovene’s words was even more so. He’d basically laughed at them—told them they weren’t even worthy to share the same playing field as the prodigious Class 1-A. The proud faculty members of the kingdom’s finest school understood that perfectly.

“The kid just keeps on surprising me... If not for the gag order, that tale you just told would become one of Yugria’s most famous legends in a century or two. Still, for a handful of twelve-year-olds to give you such a run for your riels in open combat wouldn’t have been possible if they’d relied on only conventional means. I’m guessing he dosed you with that mysterious substance he used on Tim and the main force earlier, Sage, but it would have been hard to get you to ingest it on the open battlefield... Did you see him using any kind of magical tool?” asked Emmie. Like Thora, she was another researcher affiliated with the Royal Academy, and she also served as advisor to the Magical Craftsmanship Club.

Godolphen fished out the red-capped vial he’d confiscated from Allen and carefully placed it on the table. Emmie immediately began to inspect it from all angles, and finally, after slowly unscrewing the cap, declared that it was not a magical tool of any means. Thora reached for the vial and sniffed it curiously, then traced one fingertip along the rim of the vial and pressed it to her tongue.

“Well, well...” she said, with another of her villainous cackles. “It’s far more concentrated than I’m used to, but it’s a fairly standard monster sedative, made of ingredients commonly found in the Darleys around this time of year. He must have mixed it up on the spot.”

Godolphen nodded in agreement with Emmie’s and Thora’s assessments. “Indeed. Wind magic is the only explanation, as far as I can see. Having read Tim’s report, by now you should all be well aware of how formidable the boy’s particular brand of ‘magic’ is in regard to Scouting and monster control. This I knew. However, I never dreamed it could also be used for something like this...” Godolphen bristled. “He maneuvered that sedative directly into my lungs every time I encountered the brat. Time and time again I barely managed to escape, mostly crawling on my hands and knees. He must have been refining the technique for months. Rovene... I have no idea what his true goal is. The rest of the world—us included—mock his brilliance as mere skirt-flipping shenanigans, and yet he stands so tall when any lesser man would crumple. It’s almost as though he can see the future, and knows what rewards his conviction will bring. Where does such confidence come from, I wonder...”

The attendees—most of whom had barely uttered a word since the meeting began—fell silent once more. Even Musica, the meeting’s designated facilitator, was lost for words.

“Now then, Musica,” Godolphen continued. “What might you be able to tell us about Leo Seizinger’s so-called spellsword? I must confess, it seems strange you didn’t find it necessary to inform me of his endeavors before now.”

Musica grimaced. As Godolphen had said, she hadn’t even considered that what she’d thought of as boyish tomfoolery on Allen and Leo’s part would ever be important enough to report to the Sage. “I... I was aware that Leo had begun attempting to combine magic with swordplay at Allen’s encouragement... However, it seemed Allen’s excitement was largely based on the idea that a flaming sword would look ‘awesome’ or so he told me. I didn’t think it would have any practical use, but I assumed the attempt would still help Leo further refine his elemental conversion, so I didn’t bother putting a stop to it...”

Godolphen shook his head slowly as though reprimanding a child, and proceeded to explain the particulars of his encounter with the spellsword-wielding Leo to all present. “It was dangerous—immeasurably so,” he concluded. “Even with my rather excellent defensive skills, one slight error in judgment and I would have been seriously injured. Musica, you are to prohibit student-on-student spellsword training during club activities unless absolutely necessary—and even then, have him use a regular iron sword, so we can at least minimize his mana output. Monitor his progress closely, and above all else, ensure no harm comes to him or any of the other students. I will reach out to the Seizinger family myself to inform them of this. Understood?”

The severity of Godolphen’s warning, once again, left those gathered speechless.

“There’s more,” he continued, rendering them even more speechless, if such a thing was even possible. “It would appear that Jewelry Reverence has succeeded in casting a simultaneous, multiple target healing spell, identical to that once used by Saint Sally. Tim, if you would?”

The attendees listened to Tim’s report. Unsurprisingly, it left them speechless.

◆◆◆

Several hours later, they finally agreed upon a way to incorporate Allen’s “bonus round” into the official scoring, ultimately coming up with an overall score of 6,560 points. They felt no accomplishment for their efforts in managing to do so, however, for they all keenly understood what the score truly was: meaningless. The previous record—one set by the fabled cohort of students that had included Salaman Swordfiend, Fire Lord Festie, and Saint Sally Reverence, among other figures of legend—had stood firm for 120 years and, until now, had been thought to be unbreakable. Class 1-A had broken it with ease, however, with a score that felt entirely hollow to those who’d determined it.

That meeting marked the first time that the Royal Academy’s esteemed faculty felt a sense of impending danger—that if they remained complacent, resting on their laurels, they’d quickly be left behind by the times.

Michale smiled gently upon seeing their somewhat fearful expressions. “Don’t fret too much, everyone. There are simply some things that cannot be measured via conventional means. Officially, we will record a score of 6,560 points for Class 1-A, but in my official report to His Majesty the King, I will note that we were unable to evaluate their score successfully, and take full personal responsibility for our failure to do so. Any objections?”

None were forthcoming, so Michale continued. “From all the reports that have crossed my desk concerning Allen Rovene, it appears he has a particular fondness for the words common sense. Wind magic, spellswords, and even that so-called zone healing spell he encouraged the Reverence girl to cast... All were just ‘common sense,’ or so he’d have us believe. Ha! No, I believe the boy is trying to send us a message. He’s telling us that what we consider to be common sense is outdated. Obviously, he’s already redefining what those words mean per his own opinions—we can either learn from him, or lag behind. That’s merely my own interpretation, of course.”

With that, Michale stood up and turned to the window, pulling the curtain aside and flinging it open. The sky above was dotted with wispy clouds, and the crisp wind carried the promise of imminent winter. She turned to face them once more, looking at each of them in turn—and then spoke. “The Royal Academy has no need for teachers willing to sit idle while their students make a fool of them. Our pride as educators...we will reclaim it.”

Her declaration set a bright flame burning in every heart in the room, and seeing their expressions—now fervent, rather than fearful—Michale smiled again.

Yes, that’s it... That’s what makes you Royal Academy teachers.

Side Story: Training Camp

In the western expanse of Yugria lay a range of rugged peaks known as the Euhrad Mountains. While the range as a whole was on the smaller side compared to some of Yugria’s others, it also included Mount Euhrad itself, the kingdom’s second-tallest mountain and home to many exceptionally dangerous monsters. Even excluding the towering Mount Euhrad as an outlier, however, the rest of the range’s peaks—generally around three thousand to five thousand meters tall—were all notable for featuring some of the heaviest snowfall in not only Yugria, but across the entire continent of Rondene.

The week following their unprecedented triumph at the Royal Academy’s fall school camp—an excursion more accurately described as a hellish military exercise—the members of Class 1-A arrived at Mount Porinth, one of the smaller mountains in the Euhrad range, for a (slightly premature) winter training camp. The instigator of said training camp, of course, was none other than Allen Rovene, reincarnated former bookworm and the protagonist of this very tale, and his postcamp depression was the catalyst.

◆◆◆

I sighed gloomily. “I was really looking forward to the camping trip too... It was over way too quickly...”

I was slumped over my desk, watching through the window as the clouds drifted by and being generally morose, when Al—resident blue-haired ice mage of Class 1-A—approached.

“What’s wrong, Allen? It’s weird to hear you sounding so depressed. I guess even you would feel exhausted after a camp like that, huh... Still, it was a really fulfilling experience!” he said with an irritatingly satisfied grin.

I immediately objected. “Fulfilling?! It was the complete opposite! Unlike you guys, I spent basically the entire week alone because of our stupid geezer of a teacher and his dumb schemes! Do you know how much I was looking forward to enjoying one of youth’s most precious experiences?! Nah, it missed the mark entirely! I was robbed! Robbed, I tell you”

Upon hearing this, Kate (our class’s answer to the stereotypical student council president character) sighed pointedly. “Honestly, Allen... Everything you did out there, and you’re still not satisfied? When I woke up the morning after we got back, I was so sore that I couldn’t move a single muscle from the neck down! It felt like my body wasn’t even my own... It was awful,” she said with a shudder. Her comment received a unanimous round of, Yeah, me too’s and I barely managed to get up’s, among other uninspiring agreements. Much to my annoyance, this was immediately followed by shared laughter at their disgusting display of cohesion—cohesion I had been cruelly excluded from.

Damn it... It’s like they’re still getting friendlier by the day! This is all Godolphen’s fault, the bastard...

“That’s not the point, Kate! All I wanted was a chance to spend time with my friends, to run around in the fields by day and gossip about our crushes by night... A school camp’s meant to be a place to make lifelong memories!” I protested, teary-eyed, to which Kate responded with a grimace.

“Come on, Allen. It’s not something to cry about, especially when you clearly did enjoy the camp more than anyone else...” She sighed. “Besides, if you want to spend time running around with your friends, how about actually doing your job as coach of the Hill Path Club for once? Everyone’s been begging me to get you to give them some proper advice, since you’ve been too busy to do so recently.”

“You’re not listening to me, Kate! This is different! A school camp is a unique experience—” Just then, a flash of inspiration hit me. “That’s it! You’re a genius, Kate! Let’s hold a club training camp!”

The Hill Path Club I’d founded—of which I was also the (ostensible) coach—was modeled on the school sports clubs of my native Japan. Our purpose was a relatively simple one, focused on improving fundamental stamina and magical manipulation through daily practice. Incidentally, everyone in Class 1-A was a founding member, and Kate was also the head manager; primarily, her role involved recording the progress of the respective club members and developing training schedules and nutritional plans.

My classmates exchanged identically reluctant glances. Having only just returned from the camping trip—the main (aka the most exhausting) event on the second semester’s calendar—they didn’t seem very eager about the idea of another camp.

Come on, how can the words “training camp” not get your engines going?! A training camp’s the epitome of youth!

Stella—my pink-haired, slightly thuggish classmate, and the captain of said Hill Path Club—was the first to reply. “Well, I guess a training camp’s not a bad idea, really... I mean, we basically just run around in circles every day, so it does get a little boring. It’ll be a little difficult, but if we start planning right now we should be able to get something organized before winter break—”

I shook my head, cutting her off before she could finish what I considered to be an unacceptable suggestion. “Winter break? Are you still asleep, Stella? Is that why you’re talking nonsense? No, we’ll leave after classes end tomorrow, and hold it over the weekend. It’s settled. And as for our destination... Well, for a winter club training camp, it’s gotta be in the snow, right? We can reach the Euhrad Mountains in the Endymion Region on an overnight train, if I remember correctly. I wouldn’t wanna go there in the middle of winter, but right now the snow conditions should be perfect!” I declared, unilaterally deciding on our plans based on whatever first came to mind.

“You want us to leave tomorrow?!” Kate spluttered, her face decidedly ashen. “Calm down for a minute, Allen! I’ll admit we’ve been taking it a little easy during practice this past week, and I can understand why you might think we’ve lost the ‘Combat Readiness’ you’ve worked so hard to instill in us. We’ve let you down, and I’m sorry for that. But sending us all into the freezing mountains with basically no planning at all is way too dangerous! Besides, do you even know just how many students you’re talking about—”

She continued on in this way for a while, desperately listing all of the flaws with my (admittedly perfunctory) plan, while the rest of my classmates watched on with icy stares. Clearly, I’d need to reassure them of the true brilliance of my idea.

“You guys spend too much time listening to that stupid old geezer, I swear... This isn’t another of his supplementary classes—it’s a fun-filled club activity! Besides, we’re not gonna be in any danger. It might be called a training camp, but all we do in the Hill Path Club is run, remember? We don’t actually need to do any extra training to get us over the final hurdle or anything like that. Nah, it’s just gonna be a bonding experience! Hanging out on the slopes, having snowball fights, sleeping in a nice warm log cabin—it’ll be perfect!” I paused for a moment to let this sink in. “You’re probably right about the number of participants though—it’ll be hard to find a log cabin big enough to fit everyone in the club. Let’s limit it to first-year students for the inaugural camp, and we’ll make it voluntary participation too. If you don’t wanna come, there’s no need to force yourselves, okay? You do all look pretty tired...” I finished, my tone deliberately nonchalant.

Of course, Leo (son of a duke, top student in our year, and alleged once-in-a-century prodigy) took this as a challenge. “And pass up an opportunity like this? Never. In fact, I was just thinking about doing some extra training. I’ll follow you, Allen—to the bitter end,” he replied stubbornly, glowering at me with his stupidly handsome face and firmly set jaw.

Why’s he making it sound like we’re marching into battle? For someone who’s meant to be a genius, he can be a real idiot sometimes... Was he even listening to me at all?!

“Count me in too! It sounds pretty exciting!” Al added, his eyes burning with far too much fiery passion for someone who was supposed to be an ice mage.

“Yeah, bring it on!”

“We’ll show you, Allen! Let’s all make it back in one piece!”

One by one, my other classmates confirmed their own participation with cringeworthy sincerity.

I said it was meant to be fun...

“I will of course be joining you too, Allen. Will there be anything we’ll require? House Reverence will be more than happy to provide any necessary supplies or equipment,” Jewel said with a kind smile.

“Come on, guys... You’re taking this too seriously! Loosen up a bit, will you?” I said, demonstrating for them by rolling my shoulders in the universal sign of, Just relax. Unfortunately I received only dubious stares in return, and rather than relaxing, they actually seemed more tense, so I gave up and moved the conversation forward.

“You’ll all only need to bring enough clothes for the weekend, and we can pick up some food nearby when we get there. Oh, and there’s one more thing that’s mandatory—coach’s orders.” I purposefully said this last bit as though I’d suddenly remembered something important and was rewarded with audible gulps of tense anticipation. “You all need to bring snacks—three riels worth at most. Got it?”

In reality, the only reason for this snack-based requirement (and subsequent limitation) was that it had been a hallmark of school field trips and club outings back in Japan, to the point where most people assumed “Students are forbidden to bring more than three hundred yen worth of snacks” was an official rule set by the Ministry of Education. One riel was equivalent to about one dollar, so when converted to yen it was probably just over the three hundred yen limit, but it was close enough. The key point was that the budget needed to be a little tight. Working within that limitation, we’d prepare our favorite snacks, show them off to one another, and negotiate trades while huddled in front of a roaring fire in a (hopefully adequate) imitation of the quintessential adolescent experience I’d longed to have in my previous life.

“That’s just like you, Allen... Those emergency rations could mean the difference between life and death out there in the snow, and you’re setting the budget at a measly three riels? I guess most of your ‘fun’ ideas do have a tinge of ‘fatality’ to them too, so really, I don’t know what else I expected...” Fey drawled, grinning at me in the dangerously feline way I’d unfortunately become familiar with.

“Th-Three riels?! We need some more information here, Allen! Is that the market value, or are we allowed to bring more if we buy things on sale?!”

“What about snacks sourced from our own domains, like the dried fruits my family’s business produces?!”

My classmates, sharp as they were, immediately grasped the basic idea and began hounding me with further questions. Smirking at the touch of desperation in their widened eyes, I kindly answered their many queries.

◆◆◆

The village of Parthen, Mount Porinth, the Euhrad Mountains...

After classes had ended for the day, we’d boarded an overnight train from Runerelia, arriving at our penultimate destination of Parthen early the next morning. From there, we made the short trek up to our lodgings, situated on a rather private ski slope just beyond the village. I was joined by every member of Class 1-A and a singular student from Class 1-B. Though there were other first-year students in the club, when I’d explained the gist of the training camp to them, they’d all apparently had “prior commitments” that they “couldn’t get out of.”

Finding a suitable place to stay had been surprisingly easy. Al (whose family hailed from the Endymion Region in which the Euhrad Mountains were located) had contacted Marquess Endymion himself, who’d reportedly been delighted to offer us the use of his private holiday cabin near Parthen. The alternative—renting a cabin within a commercial resort—would have meant keeping any youthful shenanigans to a minimum so as to not bother other holiday-goers, so we’d gratefully taken him up on his offer.

Incidentally, when I’d suggested we compare (and possibly exchange) some of our snacks during the train ride here, everyone had firmly replied with some variation of, “As if I’d waste such a precious resource this early in the battle!” and clutched their bags to their chests, glaring at me suspiciously.

Bunch of cheapskates...

“So...cold...”

“What part of this is meant to be fun again?! This is torture!”

“Slow down, Allen! We’re missing a bunch of people!”

Marquess Endymion’s cabin had come equipped with enough pairs of skis and related equipment for all twenty-one of us. However, despite the fact that I’d never stepped foot onto a ski slope in my previous life, one look at this world’s version of skis was enough to tell me that winter sport wasn’t much of a thing here. What this world referred to as “skis” were basically equivalent to snowshoes—used for traversing flat, snowy terrain rather than speeding down slopes—and their chunky, cumbersome design meant my dreams of soaring through the air after a perfect jump were immediately dashed. Obviously, there were no ski lifts either, which meant even if I did figure out a way to turn my high-speed dreams into a reality, I’d have a long uphill slog ahead of me afterward each time.

Regardless, I’d forced everyone into a pair of the clunky foot-bindings and led them outside for a bit of cross-country skiing through the snowy forest terrain. I started off by trying to cover as much ground as possible with as little effort (a habit from my usual club training), and before I knew it, I was completely engrossed. I started experimenting with different techniques, increasing and decreasing the amount of mana I used to Strengthen different muscles, and was soon zooming along the relatively level snow—until just now, when someone had called out to advise me of our apparently diminishing number. When I turned around, the neat single file formation we’d set off as was in utter disarray, with most of my fellow club members nowhere to be seen at all.

By the time Alice—the sole non-Class-A participant of the training camp—had finally caught up (and looking sorely frustrated as she did so) I’d decided that cross-country skiing wasn’t going to work out.

“All right, that’s enough warming up. Let’s move on to the main event!”

◆◆◆

“Are... Are you really going through with this, Allen? What’s even the point of it?”

Ignoring the question, I stood at the top of the course and closed my eyes, taking a deep breath.

After realizing I needed to show my classmates the true joy to be had in snow-based sliding, I’d dug a sled out of the storage shed beside the cabin, and (feeling somewhat childish) had dragged it over to a clear section of the slope. Unfortunately, the virgin snow was too soft, and the sled—which in reality was probably intended to be pulled by animals—barely moved at all. Unwilling to admit defeat, I’d then asked Al to use his ice magic to make something similar to a bobsled track, relying on my vague memories of watching the Olympics to instruct him in the course’s design. Of course, even with his relatively abundant mana, not even Al could simply transform such a vast amount of snow into ice, much less reshape it in the process. Instead, I got everyone else to mold the snow into huge mounds, leaving Al to finish things off by showering the mounds in water and ensuring they froze into the desired shape. In the end, we’d managed to make something pretty decent looking—if my memories hadn’t been fundamentally flawed from the beginning, that was. Obviously, sliding straight down wouldn’t have been much fun, so the course featured three prominent corners.

Looking at it now, though... Oh well. It’s pretty steep, but even if I do go flying off course, I should be fine thanks to Magic Guard.

I fastened the top button of my jacket (made from monster hide, with excellent water resistance and durability) and launched myself forward, my legs stretched out before me as though I was on a slide at the playground. The magically shaped ice was incredibly slippery, and I easily picked up speed—too easily.

Crap. This isn’t going to end well, is it...?

I tried to spread my arms out to increase resistance—to hopefully hinder my still increasing speed—but we’d made the course too narrow, and I could barely move them at all. Growing desperate, I spread my legs out too, so that I now resembled a high-speed starfish, but it was too late. The first corner was rapidly approaching.

Oh no...

I brought my legs together once more, and doing my best impression of a sea otter—flat on my back and hands clasped over my chest—I hit the first corner at what I was fairly sure was about sixty kilometers an hour. The lateral g-force hit me like a bullet train, sending me shooting up the higher walls we—okay, I—had hoped would prevent riders from going off course. Against all odds, I managed to shift my center of gravity just enough to keep me from flying out and made it past the corner. The danger wasn’t over yet, though. The second corner waiting just ahead was a hairpin turn—aka approximately 180 degrees—and I was still picking up speed. Sadly, I lost control around halfway through the second corner, catapulting me over five meters off course and bringing a premature end to my inaugural run.

“ALLEN!”

“Are you alive?!”

Concerned cries drifted down from the top of the course, and with a quick wave, I assured my classmates that I hadn’t died.

◆◆◆

“You did it! Fourteen and a half seconds, Allen! You finally broke into the quarter-minute rankings!” Al declared, brandishing the stopwatch he’d borrowed from Fey—Class 1-A’s very own magical craftswoman—for all to see and sparking off a round of cheering from the male population of the group.

“Hell yeah!”

“That was amazing, Allen!”

“All hail Allen Rovene, the king of sliding!”

“Boys... They’re impossible to understand,” Fey said with a sigh, eyeing said boys—who were currently preparing for the next time trial—bemusedly. “What could they possibly find enjoyable about such a thing?” Shaking her head, she took another sip of tea.

Even just attempting to conquer Allen’s slide took a great deal of courage; actually completing it also required delicate control over one’s magic and movements. Of course, Fey and the other girls had already completed a run of the course without going out of bounds and were now enjoying afternoon tea on the terrace in front of the cabin. Unlike their usual gatherings, however, they had no fancy cookies or cakes to accompany their tea, only the snacks they’d brought. Unfortunately, the range on offer consisted of salted caramels so briny they made one’s mouth pucker, high-calorie chocolate of which the only discernible flavor was “extremely sweet,” and other similarly disappointing tidbits.

“Honestly! I think I’ve lost years off my life just trying to keep up with Allen’s whims... I assumed he had his own reasons for being so set on us coming to the snow, but he’s just making it up as he goes along again!” agreed Kate, nibbling on a piece of chocolate with a grimace. She was exhausted—they all were. Sliding down the course was difficult enough, but the return journey wasn’t any easier. With no way to safely get their snowshoe-esque skis down to the bottom of the slope afterward, they’d had to forgo wearing them for the uphill treks, instead shuffling through the deep snow in their regular boots. This had unsurprisingly been an uphill battle in a quite literal sense of the word, and had left even the elite Academy students utterly drained.

“Well, I think I kinda get what he’s trying to do...” Stella mused. “The faster you’re moving, the harder it is to maintain precise mana control—we all know that. You can use Strengthening Magic to boost your speed, but your magical manipulation suffers in return. But with Allen’s slide, our bodies are basically moving on their own, right? I didn’t get it until I tried it for myself, but...” She shrugged. “It’s a way to let us experience the kind of magic people much more talented than us can use. He must have been planning it for a while—I mean, he knew exactly how he wanted it to look, you know? There’s no way it was just some random idea he came up with on the spot.” She folded her arms behind her head and rocked backward in her chair, the picture of confidence. “In other words, it might have seemed like a random whim, but in reality, everything’s been planned out for a long time—just like always.”

Upon hearing this, Alice—the sole Class 1-B member of the group—turned pale. “I didn’t...” She suddenly stood up, sending her chair skidding across the icy pavers. “I’m going to take another turn!” After downing her tea in one large gulp, she turned and ran toward the slope.

Jewel giggled daintily. “How in the world did he come up with such an outlandish idea this time, I wonder? Oh, Allen... I fear I’ll never understand him.”

They all turned to look at the slope once more, just in time to see Pisces arrive at the starting point.

“I’m not gonna lose to you, Allen! Behold—my secret weapon!” Pisces cried, waving a silver serving tray (assumedly pilfered from the cabin’s dining room) above his head.

Allen, who’d just completed the return trek himself, grinned. “Using tools to enhance your speed, huh? No wonder you’re doing so well in the Magicar Club... No, you can’t go down like that, Pisces. You’ve gotta go headfirst,” he said confidently. The suggestion was based on a vague recollection of Olympic skeleton racers from his previous life, though of course he didn’t explain that to Pisces.

“Are you serious, Allen?! No way!”

“Dead serious! Look, if you go down feet first, you’ll definitely fall off midway! Or something... Anyway, hurry up! Can’t you see the line behind us?”

Pisces groaned. “Is this what you meant about ‘the tortoise becoming the hare’ or something? Ugh... Okay, I’ll do it. Watch me, Allen! Here I go!” With that, he threw himself onto the tray and shot off down the course. As it turned out, the addition of a tray both increased one’s speed and reduced their resistance drastically, and Pisces went flying out of the course at the very first corner.

“Pisces!” Jewel was already reaching for her scepter when she saw Pisces emerge from a deep drift and clamber to his feet as though nothing had happened. He tilted his head toward the sky, and then—

“That... That was awesome!” he yelled.

The spectating boys burst into laughter.

“I want a go! Pisces, lend me the tray!”

“There’s gotta be more, right? I’ll go look!”

“What was all that crap about earlier? Tortoises don’t even have hair!”

Jewel sat back down, smiling wryly, and took another sip of tea.

Fey grinned. “Boys... They’re all idiots, aren’t they?”

The other girls nodded in unison.

Chapter Five: A Chance Encounter and the Marquesses’ Meeting

A Chance Encounter

“I’m sure you’ve got a lot going on right now, so thanks for taking the time to meet me. How’ve you been?”

When I arrived at the small café, Mimosa—Dan’s aunt and president of the Calmwinds shipbuilding company—was already waiting. As always, she looked every bit the capable, sophisticated businesswoman, with her style—vaguely reminiscent of the clothing (allegedly) worn on the Baerent Islands—reminding me of traditional Japanese attire.

“Long time no see, Mimosa. What do you need?” I replied, getting straight to the point, much to Mimosa’s obvious displeasure.

“You know, when you see a woman again after a long time apart, you shouldn’t skip right to the main act, okay? First, you need to order some tea, spend a little time catching up—that’s the gentlemanly way to do things.”

“Stop making it sound like we’re former lovers...” Sighing, I called over the waiter.

◆◆◆

Skipping right to the main act, Mimosa was apparently planning to open a new branch of Calmwinds in the capital and wanted me to introduce her to a backer of sorts.

Quite a while had passed since Dan and I had founded the Royal Academy’s Sailing Club, but we were still the only two members. I wasn’t particularly surprised by the club’s lack of popularity. In this day and age, with magically powered vessels becoming more and more prominent, sailing ships were widely considered to be outdated relics. That wasn’t the only reason, however.

When we’d formed the Sailing Club—with Dan as the captain, of course—he’d stepped down as vice captain of the Hill Path Club to focus on his new role. The Hill Path Club had then transitioned to a new management structure, with Stella as the captain and Leo as her second-in-command—which in reality was something I’d already been planning for a while. However, this structural change had been widely interpreted as Dan being ousted due to incompetence, and that being the case, people weren’t particularly keen to jump on board with his new club. The fact that Royal Academy students were generally rather busy was another factor; the naval docks at which our ship was moored were a fair trek from the school, and our fellow students weren’t eager to spend the time traveling there for practice.

However, the most significant reason for our minimal (aka nonexistent) enrollment numbers was simply that neither Dan nor I wanted to recruit any more members for the Sailing Club. With only one training ship available, adding more aspiring sailors would only serve to drastically cut into my own practice time, so I was selfishly throwing Dan to the metaphorical wolves, weaponizing his ever-worsening reputation as a sort of shield to deter new applicants.

That being said, I hadn’t prohibited him from denying the rumors or anything himself. Dan, for his part, didn’t want to start recruiting new members until he was satisfied that he could master our newly discovered sailing technique, which relied on a combination of wind magic and Bernoulli’s principle. According to him, it would be pointless to welcome new recruits without first making sure that I wasn’t the only person in all of Yugria who could sail our custom-made ship. His opinion was a fairly reasonable one. I wouldn’t want to be in a position where I felt like I was responsible for wasting months—if not years—of our fellow students’ time for nothing either.

Luckily, I wasn’t in that position. Being the captain, Dan was ultimately responsible for the development (or lack thereof) of our future club members, and so I’d left the ball in his court. When it came to things like this, I trusted his judgment completely. A few hopeful applicants had approached Dan over the course of the past few months, but he’d gently turned them down. Instead, he’d redirected all of them to the Emissive Magic Club to focus on learning wind magic instead first, given that knowing wind magic was essentially a prerequisite for sailing our ship. Unfortunately, the mere words “wind magic” acted as a kind of repellent, and ultimately, our Sailing Club’s membership still remained at just two. Of course, if those students had merely watched us at practice, it would have alleviated most of their fears. Nevertheless, a series of unsolicited events had resulted in our Sailing Club being given the seal of approval by King Patrick himself, the benefit of which was being given permission to train within the restricted section of the Great River Rune near the Royal Palace. Since access to the naval docks and the adjacent riverbanks was naturally closely controlled, it wasn’t really possible for curious students to take a peek at our club practice sessions.

Even with the reputation of both our club and its captain in tatters, we’d simply shrugged our shoulders and carried on enjoying our time on the open water—until now, that was. Such was the gist of what I’d just heard from Mimosa, anyway. It seemed that Dan’s father, Count Sardos, had started to meddle in the affairs of Calmwinds, our club’s sponsor.

When Dan and I had started the Sailing Club, the count was initially thrilled, per Mimosa’s explanation. But unlike the other clubs I’d been involved in the founding of, the Sailing Club’s reputation obviously hadn’t taken off. In fact, with almost zero members and no achievements to our name, it was fair to say that our reputation was actually plummeting. Even the Magicar Club, which I (ostensibly) hadn’t been involved in the founding of, had gradually gained a decent reputation under Tudeo’s leadership, and had seen a significant increase in membership around the time I’d officially joined.

Then there was the Hill Path Club. Godolphen had apparently publicly declared it to be the reason behind the unprecedented scores at this year’s Royal Academy school camp, and now everyone in Yugria was talking about it. As the Hill Path Club’s reputation had skyrocketed, so had Stella, the captain’s. It was only natural, really. She was ranked third in our year among the knight course students—a fact fairly impressive in its own right—and furthermore, had been selected as captain of the club over the prodigious Leo Seizinger himself.

Count Sardos was not amused. According to Dan, his father had stopped mentioning him entirely during social gatherings—a sharp contrast from the way he’d flaunted Dan’s name at every opportunity just a few months prior. No, the topic of Dan had become a sort of taboo. Count Sardos wasn’t immune to his son’s spiraling reputation either. Some of his peers awkwardly averted their eyes or steered clear of the crestfallen count, while the more self-important members of his social circle saw fit to offer condescending advice about keeping one’s progeny in line. Count Sardos had summoned Dan time and time again, demanding he resign from the Sailing Club (and the Emissive Magic Club) and beg his good friend Allen Rovene to allow him to return to the Hill Path Club as a vice captain, or commanding him to at least abandon the old-fashioned sailing ship in favor of a magically powered vessel. Knowing that revealing even a fraction of our new sailing ship’s true potential to his father would inevitably lead to exaggerated rumors, Dan had explained that our club activities were merely helping him develop the endurance and strength expected of a knight. For a time, Count Sardos had reluctantly accepted this explanation, growing more and more frustrated all the while—until he’d found out that Calmwinds (aka Dan’s aunt’s business, and one he’d forbidden Dan from having anything to do with) had supplied our sailing ship.

His rage had reportedly been terrifying to behold.

◆◆◆

Mimosa shrugged. “Well, you have been going up and down the Great River Rune with Calmwinds’s name and logo emblazoned on your sail for all to see—he was bound to find out sooner or later,” she said calmly. Apparently the count’s purported rage hadn’t rattled her in the slightest.

“Still, I’m guessing his meddling is making things pretty tough... I know you’ve gotta put your employees first, Mimosa. If it’s affecting your business, I won’t be upset if you decide to call off the sponsorship deal.”

Mimosa’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t underestimate me, Lenn. I signed up for this knowing this day would eventually come. Everyone at Calmwinds was aware of the risk too, and they were all dedicated to making sure your ridiculous idea succeeded—they still are. No one wanted to quit, but for the ones with families relying on them, I found them new jobs and ‘fired’ them until this whole thing blows over. Everyone left at Calmwinds... Well, they’re willing to risk everything they have.”

The faces of Katzo, Con, and the other tough but kind seafarers from Calmwinds flashed through my mind, and I couldn’t do anything but nod.

“I have a dream—a dream everyone at Calmwinds shares. I told you about it the first night we met, right? Well, if I want that dream to come true, I need the name Calmwinds to be known across the whole of Yugria—and an opportunity like this isn’t gonna come around again. I’m not the type to jump overboard when a big wave is coming, Lenn, not when our goal is just on the other side. I know you could probably replace us without breaking a sweat, but I’m not gonna be the one to back out of our deal. If you want us gone, you’ll have to be the one to say it.”

A dream, huh? Wait, I do remember her saying something about growing the company, making more money, building bigger ships, and sailing out to the open seas... Yeah, it was something along those lines, anyway.

The open seas were dangerous, swarming with mysterious and formidable monsters. However, those monsters—or more specifically, the valuable materials they could be made into—had lured many an ambitious seafarer toward the uncharted seas with a promise of either great riches or a watery grave.

I shrugged. “Well, it seems like your mind’s already made up, so I won’t bother trying to convince you otherwise. But there’s no point fighting back against the count unless you’re sure you’ll win—unless you’re sure you’ll make it over that big wave, as you put it. How do you know you’re not gonna sink, Mimosa?”

She snorted. “Well, because I trust my crewmates. I have faith in them, and in you and Dan, kiddo. If you want a less flowery answer though, it’s because we control all of the shipbuilding and maintenance docks in the entire Sardos County. We won’t go under overnight, no matter what he does to us—and he’s not stupid enough to try either. If Calmwinds goes down, there’d be no docks or ships for his imports and exports. Sure, he’ll keep trying to interfere with business until we either agree to his demands or sell Calmwinds to him, but we can hold our own until you and Dan have graduated, if not longer.” She smirked. “And while he’s trying to wear us down, we’ll be moving our base of operations to Runerelia and making Calmwinds one of the biggest companies in all of Yugria. By the time he’s ready to throw everything he has at us, we’ll be out of his reach. To be honest, I was starting to get bored out in that backwater town anyway—this couldn’t have happened at a better time,” she declared, eyes burning with a fiery confidence.

She’s actually planning to fight the count head-on... She’s even gutsier than I thought.

“And of course, Dan couldn’t be seen helping you, which is why you came to me?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

Mimosa nodded. “That’s right. Dan’s mother Vina—my sister—is currently living in the count’s household as one of his concubines. In other words, she’s basically a hostage. Dan’s told me that she’s not being treated very well by the count’s other wives, but she just laughs it off and keeps telling him to follow his heart. She even told him not to worry if she gets cast out onto the street because of it—it does sound like something Vina would say, to be honest.” Mimosa smiled. “Well, as much as I want to, even I’m not bold enough to pick a fight with the Sardoses directly. I just need to grow Calmwinds into a formidable foe, and beat him into submission on the battlefield of business. That’s where you come into it, Allen.”

So Vina’s got a pretty solid backbone too, hey? Well, she is related to Dan and Mimosa, after all—I guess it runs in the family.

I couldn’t help the wry grin that slipped out as I nodded. “You’ve helped us, so I’ll help you however I can. What do you actually want me to do, though?”

“Right now, we’re quietly preparing to open our new headquarters here in the capital. Everything’s going according to plan so far, but sooner or later, Count Sardos is going to find out, and he’ll put pressure onto every ally he’s got here in Runerelia and try to shut us down. Therefore, we’re gonna need a strong ally of our own. Luckily, I happen to know that the Mad Hound has a lot of influence in Runerelia’s underworld—I heard about how you single-handedly stormed the headquarters of those Lotz guys, or whatever their name was.” She grinned. “I’ll cut to the chase. Can you put me in touch with the Red Dragon Syndicate? I reckon I could probably arrange a meeting myself, but they’d turn me down the second they realized that supporting me would mean signing up for a fight with the nobility. If the Mad Hound were to introduce me, though... Well, I’d have a chance, at least.”

I frowned. “I didn’t storm anything—I was invited, so I just went to pay my respects. But anyway, are you sure you’ve got the right guys in mind? The Red Dragon Syndicate runs the eastern part of Runerelia, as far as I know. I’m pretty sure the Continent Corporation is the underworld group with all the shipbuilding companies under its protection, and they’re obviously based near the River Rune to the south.”

Mimosa looked surprised. “Huh? No, the Red Dragon Syndicate would be best... Does that mean the rumors about there being bad blood between the Red Dragon Syndicate and Mad Dog are true, though? To be honest, I still can’t believe you decided to start an explorer’s clan... From what I’ve heard, nearly every promising young explorer in Runerelia has joined Mad Dog, but I still didn’t think you had the strength to pick a fight with the Red Dragon Syndicate already! Besides, the rumors say you don’t actually seem to be involved in the running of the clan...”

What kind of embarrassing name is that...? I sighed. The unimaginatively named explorer’s clan had to be Benza’s doing. He’d probably dragged all of his idiot friends—other explorers I’d beaten up on one occasion or another—into it.

Red said the Lotz family would stay away from the southeastern branch, but if Benza’s running his own group now, does that mean something happened to Gold Rat...? Eh, oh well. I don’t care either way.

“Nope, I’m not involved with it—heck, I didn’t even know it existed until just now. I roped a passing chubby idiot into cleaning up my mess, so I’m guessing he’s behind it. It’s got nothing to do with me.”

Mimosa burst into laughter. “I’m pretty sure I heard something about that too, but still—you sure have a harsh way with words, Lenn.”

I was restraining myself, to be honest... Sure, maybe I shouldn’t have dumped everything onto Benza, but he’s definitely in the wrong here. I told him to follow his heart, not go and start a stupidly named gang.

“Everyone’s saying Mad Dog’s gonna rule Runerelia one of these days, but personally, I think they’ve still got a fair way to go. Of course, if you were in charge, I’d be happy for Calmwinds to become the first business under Mad Dog’s protection...” Mimosa trailed off, looking at me questioningly.

I waved her suggestion off with a tired sigh. “Unfortunately, I’ve got more important things to focus on right now. But the Red Dragon Syndicate, huh...?”

This wasn’t a battlefield for Lenn the explorer. It was too risky. If Runerelia’s underworld found out that Allen—Royal Academy student, member of the Sailing Club, and provisional member of the Royal Order—and Lenn were one and the same, the true masterminds pulling the Lotz family’s strings (likely a foreign power, in Dew’s opinion) would cut their losses and flee, and we’d probably never be able to sniff them out once more. The Lotz family seemed to have a particular interest in the Red Dragon Syndicate, and it was pretty safe to assume they’d be keeping watch.

Mimosa, clearly noticing my reluctance, pressed on. “I’ve been looking into this for months, but the Red Dragon Syndicate is the only group I’d feel right entrusting Calmwinds to... We don’t need business connections or opportunities right now. We just need a strong ally.”

Apparently, Mimosa thought quite highly of the Red Dragon Syndicate. She’d come all this way to meet with me, and she obviously had no intention of considering any other options—or rather, she’d already considered them, and had found them wanting. Clearly, she thought the protection of the Red Dragon Syndicate was going to be essential for Calmwinds’s survival—and if I wanted to achieve my sailing-related goals, it meant it was essential for me too.

“Okay, I’ll help you. I’ll go with you to meet the Red Dragon Syndicate. But...” I lowered my voice. “I won’t be going as Lenn the explorer, but as Allen Rovene, coach of the Royal Academy’s Sailing Club.”

Mimosa raised an eyebrow. “Allen? I don’t know any Allens. I only know Lenn, Mad Hound and up-and-coming explorer.”

I snorted. “Drop the act, Mimosa. You already know exactly who I am, right? You know I’m a friend of Dan’s from school, so it wouldn’t have been hard to figure out what my real name was.”

Mimosa glared at me. “You helped me when no one else would, Lenn. I’m not the kind of woman to go around prying into the secrets of someone I owe so much to.” She paused for a moment and shrugged. “But on the other hand, it’s impossible to walk down the streets in Runerelia these days without hearing the name Allen Rovene five or six times. Even without looking into it, I’d be pretty stupid not to connect the dots.”

◆◆◆

The Red Dragon Syndicate’s headquarters was located even farther east of Runerelia’s easternmost First Street on the outskirts of the capital, an area commonly known as the worker’s district. Far less affluent than the sections within the Nine Square, the worker’s district was also home to Apple House and many other co-ops, as well as more dangerous pockets known as the slums.

Several days had passed since the Syndicate had received a request from the president of a certain rural shipbuilding company, who was apparently seeking a backer in order to open a branch in the capital. This was by no means an infrequent occurrence, and the Red Dragon Syndicate followed a well-established process for such requests. First, a representative from the Syndicate’s top brass would meet with the petitioner in question to discuss the nature of their request. If the Red Dragon Syndicate saw merit in the proposal, the necessary support would be arranged, and the petitioner would then be taken to meet with Gin to exchange a formal greeting.

Incidentally, this made the Red Dragon Syndicate something of an outlier among Runerelia’s underworld organizations. The upper echelons of the Continent Corporation, the Dwyn family, or any of the other groups—including, of course, the Lotzes—would never deign to meet with a mere entrepreneur of such little importance. However, ever since Gin had taken leadership of the Red Dragon Syndicate, he’d insisted on looking each prospective affiliate in the eye and taking measure of them before allowing them to join, regardless of said affiliate’s wealth or reputation.

After returning from recuperation in Ment, Gin had personally visited those who’d requested to join the Syndicate in his absence to formally extend his support, provided they met his standards. His closest advisers had tried to dissuade their leader from these personal visits, given that his very visit to Ment had been the result of an attempt on his life, the perpetrators of which were still at large. Naturally, Gin had refused, and subsequently this meant his advisers, bodyguards, and the other members of the Syndicate’s top brass were keeping an even closer eye than usual on any hopeful petitioners.

The mysterious attacks weren’t the only disturbance in Runerelia’s underworld either. The Lotz family, who held no regard for the established rules of the shadowier side of society, had picked a fight with an up-and-coming explorer known as the Mad Hound—a fight they’d lost spectacularly. They’d publicly admitted their defeat, and in a show of alleged humility, had declared they’d only negotiate with the Mad Hound henceforth, revoking all prior arrangements or understandings with any of the other underworld organizations. Despite his recent emergence onto the exploring scene, the Mad Hound had already gained a rather substantial reputation. Therefore, his apparent selection of the Lotz family as business partners had caused the credibility of the Red Dragon Syndicate—whose territory included the southeastern branch to which the Mad Hound belonged—to plummet. Very few people had sought out Gin’s support in recent months, with today’s petitioner, a woman named Mimosa, being a rare exception.

Shuri, one of the higher-ups in the Syndicate, met with the woman first. Her first impression of Mimosa was a positive one, and their brief discussion about the woman’s plans to strike it rich in Yugria’s economic center revealed a sharp mind and a keen respect for honor rare in someone of her relatively young age. However—

“Sorry, but who’s the kid in the mask? He looks far too young to be working as a bodyguard...” Shuri frowned. “Listen, kid. In situations like this, it’s considered good manners to look the other person in the eye when greeting them. You might think it’s old-fashioned or whatever, but we’re pretty stuck in our ways. Take the mask off, yeah?”

For some reason, Mimosa had come accompanied by a boy wearing a somewhat unnerving mask. It depicted a plump old man, his mouth open to suggest he’d been caught mid-laugh. The unnerving part was the painted eyes, wide open and fiercely intense, like those of a wicked merchant who’d just cast his business rival into the depths of hell.

The masked boy had yet to say a word. He seemed remarkably composed for someone so young but lacked the arrogant bearing one would expect when said composure stemmed from a noble upbringing. Shuri had no idea what to make of the masked figure, but never in her wildest imagination could she have predicted the introduction that was about to come out of his mouth.

“I apologize for the belated introduction. My name is Allen Rovene. Mimosa and Calmwinds have been generously sponsoring the extracurricular club I belong to at school. For the most part I’m merely here to support Mimosa, but there might also be some topics on which I can shed a little more light, so please don’t hesitate to ask. Thank you for having me.” He lowered his head.

Shuri and the other Syndicate members present were lost for words. The sheer thought of a Royal Academy student waltzing into a meeting with an underworld organization like the Syndicate was quite frankly ridiculous. To do so with no real attempt to hide their identity (apart from the weird mask) was only more absurd. And for said student to be the Allen Rovene? It was unthinkable. If the Mad Hound was the rising star of Runerelia’s underworld, then Allen Rovene was an absolute supernova among respectable Yugrian society.

Those who’d heard his introduction were reluctant to believe it, but at the same time, no one could think of a reason for the boy to lie. For instance, if the whole meeting was merely a farce and Mimosa’s companion was actually an assassin sent to kill Gin, why choose a boy? Furthermore, why make that boy assume the identity of one of the most famous youths in all of Runerelia? Doing so would—and indeed, had—only made the Red Dragon Syndicate representatives all the more wary. Personally, Shuri had ignored most of the rumors concerning Allen Rovene. The boy’s deeds, as astonishing as they apparently were, had been of no importance on her side of society. She did remember one small detail, however.

When Allen Rovene had suddenly appeared in the arena during the Nova Cup, he’d been wearing a mask.

“I’m willing to take off my mask, but for certain personal reasons, I’d prefer to do so in front of as few people as possible,” the self-proclaimed Allen Rovene continued. “I’m not carrying any weapons, but I’d be more than happy to submit to a search if it would alleviate your worries.” He stood up, holding his arms out to his sides.

Shuri remained silent. Unlike the temperamental and violent Mad Hound, it wasn’t too far-fetched to imagine a boy like Allen Rovene participating in dealings of a financial and political nature—just not when those dealings involved the underworld quite so directly. Per Gin’s policy, the Red Dragon Syndicate maintained a position of fairness and neutrality when it came to simple conflicts within noble society. That being said, the worlds of commerce and noble politics were intrinsically linked, and it was impossible to conduct business within Yugria without being involved in those power games to some degree. While the Red Dragon Syndicate didn’t openly participate, they did use their connections to smooth things over behind the scenes when any of their affiliates suffered as a result of aristocratic power struggles. But for Allen Rovene to openly associate himself with an underworld organization like theirs... Shuri couldn’t even begin to imagine what kind of “personal reasons” had led the boy to accompany Mimosa in seeking their protection, but she’d wager they weren’t of a lighthearted nature. She could have simply refused his request, or even turned Mimosa and the alleged Allen Rovene away then and there. It was often the safest choice to follow your instincts when they told you danger was at hand. On occasion, however, following them meant turning your back on the very information you’d need should said danger circle back—and it nearly always did.

This isn’t my call to make, thought Shuri, who keenly understood the safety such information could provide. It’s Gin’s.

◆◆◆

“Boss, they’re here,” the young man who’d introduced himself as Osa said, having opened the door in front of us just a crack.

“Bring ’em in, then,” came the answer from inside.

The syndicate’s headquarters, a single-story wooden building, had a somewhat Japanese feel to it. While brick and stone buildings were far more common in the capital, wood was still the material of choice in other areas of the kingdom where forests were more abundant. Wood in this world was seemingly much sturdier than it had been in my last (perhaps yet another side effect of the existence of magic) and offered decent defensive properties. It was also much cheaper than other materials, so it wasn’t too unusual to see wooden buildings in the poorer sections of Runerelia.

Osa had led us through a well-kept central courtyard on the way, which had only served to intensify the “Japanese” feel of the place. It was rather spacious for a mere courtyard. In fact, although it was only a single-story structure, the Syndicate’s headquarters was far from small, but actually sprawled across a sizable plot of land. I wondered if they took in and raised youths like Osa, similar to how Apple House also functioned as an orphanage.

When we’d first arrived, we’d been shown to a parlor where a chestnut-haired woman named Shuri had been waiting. Things had gone smoothly at first, with Mimosa answering Shuri’s many questions with confidence and ease. Shuri had then turned to me and asked me to remove my mask. In truth, I’d known that hiding one’s face was almost the height of rudeness when it came to something like this, so I hadn’t been surprised by the request. Still, seeing no harm in trying, I gave her my name as a show of good faith and asked whether she might allow me to remove it with as few witnesses as possible—and somehow, it had worked. Shuri had sat in silence for a good minute before leaving the room, and when she’d returned it was with positive news: the boss wanted to talk to us personally, and I could wait to remove my mask until then.

“I’d be delighted to. Thank you for your understanding,” I’d replied gratefully, at which point Shuri and Osa had led us through the sprawling grounds to a small garden—or more of a grove, really—at the building’s rear. Nestled within the dense canopy of trees was a small, solitary building. I felt another pang of nostalgia when I saw it. It reminded me of the centuries-old teahouses still dotted around Japan, relics from an earlier, simpler time (or so I assumed, given that I hadn’t been alive during the approximate Azuchi-Momoyama period to experience it for myself). Shuri entered first, followed by Osa, who held open the door and beckoned us inside. After letting Mimosa go in first, I stepped inside only to stop short the moment I crossed the threshold. A bead of cold sweat ran down my back.

There was a man waiting inside, with gray hair and eyes nearly the same shade—I’d met him before, during my trip to Ment. It was Gin, the man I’d shared a lighthearted conversation with in the bathhouse at the Fullmoon Inn. It wasn’t that I thought poorly of Gin or anything; I actually rather liked him, both in a general sense and as a fellow hot springs enthusiast. The problem was, it hadn’t been Allen who’d met him. It had been Lenn. Gin hadn’t reacted when I’d introduced myself at the time, but he’d left Runerelia months before my visit to Ment, so it wasn’t too surprising that he hadn’t heard of Lenn the explorer. There was no way he was unaware of Lenn’s existence now though, thanks to those Lotz family morons spreading rumors about Lenn and the Red Dragon Syndicate being “sworn enemies” or whatever.

“Allen? What’s wrong?” Mimosa asked suspiciously, looking back at me. Having little choice, I made my way inside with slow, reluctant steps, though my mind was racing as I desperately tried to figure out a way to extricate myself from the situation. Gin’s steely gray eyes narrowed as he peered at me, almost as though he could see right through my mask.

“Your eyes are as piercing as the rumors say, Gin Glaster. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I’m Mimosa Calm, and this is...” She trailed off, signaling to me to introduce myself.

Wait, wait! Just give me a minute here! I haven’t figured out a plan yet! It’s... It’s too late, isn’t it?

“I-I’m Allen... Allen Rovene,” I replied in an improvised, painfully high falsetto. Of course, I didn’t take my mask off during the introduction, rewarding me with reproachful stares from Shuri, Osa, and even Mimosa. Gin remained silent, and I held my breath, waiting for his (probably critical) response. To my surprise, he didn’t shout but instead snorted—and then he burst into laughter. He laughed for what felt like several minutes, shoulders shaking and face turning red.

Yeah, the cat’s definitely out of the bag, I thought, scratching my neck awkwardly. Shuri and Osa, who clearly had no idea what was going on, exchanged confused glances.

Eventually, Gin managed to control his laughter. Wiping away a tear, he smiled at Mimosa and me. “Welcome, Mimosa and...Allen, was it? I’m Gin, head of the Red Dragon Syndicate. Shuri tells me you’ve got some personal reasons for wearing the mask, right? Keep it on, then.”

“Boss, that’s too—” an appalled-looking Shuri objected, only for Gin to cut her off.

“It’s fine. I trust the kid. If anything happens, I’ll take full responsibility,” he said shortly, nodding in my direction with a stern expression. Seeing the resolve in those gray eyes, I nodded back—and took off my mask.

It wasn’t a decision I’d given much thought to or anything. Obviously, removing my mask here would increase the risk of society at large discovering “Allen” and “Lenn” were actually one and the same, but I could deal with that if necessary. There was just something about Gin that made me feel as though I needed to look him in the eye while speaking, and that doing so was far more important than protecting my identity.

Besides, he’s obviously figured it out already anyway...

◆◆◆

After removing my mask and formally introducing myself once again, Mimosa described the situation Calmwinds was currently in, with me chiming in as required. We explained about the Royal Academy’s Sailing Club and how Calmwinds was sponsoring it, and about how Dan’s father, Count Sardos, was actively trying to shut us down. There was no point trying to keep anything hidden, so we also explained the likelihood of the Syndicate attracting unwanted attention from other noble factions (potentially even Marquess Glaux) if they did agree to support us.

“Right. I understand the gist of things,” Gin said, nodding. He seemed entirely unfazed, but Shuri and Osa, who were standing behind him, were openly grimacing. Their reactions were hardly unexpected—most people would want to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the situation we’d described. Gin’s sharp-eyed stare stayed locked on me as he continued. “Before we go any further, let me make one thing clear. The Red Dragon Syndicate was founded out of a desire to protect the vulnerable, and we’ve upheld that fundamental principle ever since. We exist to shield Runerelia’s working class from becoming the victims of the political games of the nobility. If the businesses who’ve put their trust in us suffer as a result of ridiculous tariffs or trade restrictions, we’ll step in to protect them, but we won’t get involved in their power struggles ourselves. Do you understand?”

Mimosa and I nodded firmly.

“Boss, are you sure about this...? I thought you hated anything to do with that school...” Osa asked hesitantly, visibly bewildered. Clearly, he hadn’t expected Gin to agree to our request.

Gin smiled ruefully. “It’s not quite as simple as love or hate, Osa. People like us who live in the darkest recesses of society just don’t have any reason to get involved with those who stand at the apex of it. Just from listening to her, you can tell Mimosa here is clearly determined to carve out a place for herself in Runerelia. She didn’t try to hide any of the danger from us, even though she’s put herself at risk by sharing the information. She’s not trying to hide behind Calmwinds to trick us into fighting Count Sardos on her behalf. She only wants her company, her family, to prosper—that’s why she’s here. If the Red Dragon Syndicate turned her down because we were scared of a few nobles, we’d be betraying everything we stand for.”

Despite the nonchalance of his reply, I knew the decision couldn’t have been an easy one to make. Mimosa and I lowered our heads in gratitude, earning us a chuckle from Gin.

“To tell the truth, Osa was right—I’m not all that fond of that Academy of yours. I wouldn’t say I hate the place, though. I just couldn’t care less about it.” He smiled. “But if kids like you—kids with backbone and integrity, not just brains and brawn—are coming out of those gates now, I guess the times really are changing. I’m glad I got to meet you today, Allen.”

Shuri and Osa exchanged another bewildered glance, which again, wasn’t too surprising. They had no idea that this wasn’t actually the first time Gin and I had met, and were probably struggling to figure out what part of our brief exchange had given Gin such a positive impression of me.

“You truly live up to the rumors, Gin Glaster,” Mimosa said. “I made the right choice in coming to you. Honestly, I thought bringing Allen along might backfire on me, but I should’ve known you’d take one look at him and instantly realize things are changing here in Yugria. You are meant to be a good judge of character, after all.”

She flashed him a confident smirk, much to Shuri’s displeasure; the other woman was glaring daggers at her. Mimosa giggled. “Come, there’s no need for that. I meant no harm by it—unfortunately, I was born with this sharp tongue of mine, and I’ve never been able to dull it.” She smiled. “I’m just excited. There weren’t any men worth a damn back where I’m from, but it looks like they’re ripe for the picking here. The world truly is a big place,” she said, apparently by way of apology.

Shuri sighed and rubbed her temples as though she had a headache.

Gin chuckled. “You’ve got a good eye yourself, Mimosa. I can see why Allen has so much faith in you. We don’t tend to stick our noses into the day-to-day business of our affiliates, so from here on out, it all depends on whether you’re tough enough to survive the big city. I’m looking forward to seeing what you make of yourself,” he said, holding out his hand.

Mimosa shook it with a grin.

◆◆◆

After discussing a few of the finer details of the new arrangement, Mimosa and I were about to leave when Gin called out.

“Wait, there’s one more thing I wanted to ask you, Allen. You seem to know quite a bit about this side of town—have you heard anything about this group of kids calling themself Mad Dog? They’ve been causing a lot of trouble for us lately, and I’ve got no idea why.”

Never heard of them—or so I wanted to respond, but Gin’s gray eyes were piercing into me, and I somehow knew I wasn’t going to get away with the lie. They reminded me vividly of another pair of eyes I’d gazed into recently, though they’d been blue rather than gray, and had belonged to someone from a very different rung of society.

I sighed. “I can’t say I really know what their purpose is. I don’t know much about their leader, Piggy—I mean, Benza—either, but he’s not a bad sort, and he’s got guts. That’s my impression of him,” I said, before adding, “He’s probably the most uncivilized bastard you’ll ever meet, though,” for good measure.

Gin smiled. “I see... To be honest, I’ve been at a bit of a loss deciding how to deal with them. They’re nowhere near strong enough to be a threat to us, but if there was any chance they were in league with the Lotzes, it would be dangerous to keep letting them run wild... Thanks, Allen. You’ve given me something to think about.”

I nodded in response, and with that, Mimosa and I took our leave.

◆◆◆

Osa had just led Mimosa and Allen from the room.

“What were you thinking, Boss?” Shuri asked as soon as Osa had shut the door. “I know you, of all people, couldn’t have been trying to curry favor with Allen Rovene... If word gets out that you were personally asking around about Mad Dog, people will take it as the Red Dragon Syndicate acknowledging their strength. You’re the one who’s always going on about how those in positions of authority can never speak carelessly...” she trailed off, unable to keep the edge of quiet disapproval from her voice.

Gin smiled wryly. “You’re not wrong, Shuri—but I wouldn’t worry too much. The kid won’t speak a word of what we discussed here to anyone. Neither will Mimosa. They weren’t the unreliable sort. And you’re not planning to tell anyone about Allen’s visit either, are you? No, this will stay between us. As for Mad Dog... Well, I just wanted to see how the kid would respond.” He grinned in a way that was almost cheeky.

Shuri smiled despite herself. “I get wanting to test the boy’s judgment, but asking a Royal Academy student ‘What do you think of Mad Dog?’ isn’t really the way to go about it, you know? The kid doesn’t live in our world, Boss—and sure enough, he just came up with some random crap about their notorious troublemaker of a leader having a heart of gold or whatever. Doesn’t the fact that he couldn’t just admit he didn’t know only prove he’s still just a kid?”

Chuckling, Gin shook his head. “I wouldn’t expect you to trust him at his word, but Allen acknowledged that Benza kid’s potential. I’d say it’ll be worth our while to give him a shot. Do me a favor, and try looking at Mad Dog as a group of explorers with determination and resolve instead of a bunch of kids playing in an adult’s world. You never know—they could be just what we need at a time like this.”

Shuri looked appalled. “You’ve gotta be screwing with me, Boss... I know Allen Rovene’s meant to be a great judge of character or whatever, but he’s just a twelve-year-old kid! He might be able to pick out a few golden eggs back at that academy of his, but surely you’re not trusting his judgment when it comes to a gang of orphans from the slums? He doesn’t know anything about our world—” It was at that point she noticed the sharpness in Gin’s eyes and cut herself off mid-sentence. “I... Understood, Boss. But if you’re serious about this, I’m not gonna go easy on Mad Dog anymore. If you want me to whip them into shape, I’m doing it my way.”

Gin nodded, grinning. “I wouldn’t expect anything less, Shuri. Give ’em everything you’ve got.”

Shuri looked at Gin again, taking in his abnormally good mood, and realized he obviously knew something about Allen Rovene that she did not. It was almost as though her boss already held the famous boy in high regard, and today’s encounter had merely turned that regard into concrete respect. Of course, it was incredibly unlikely the two had ever crossed paths before, but given Gin’s connections across Runerelia, it wasn’t too far-fetched to assume he’d come across some information most people hadn’t.

What, though? She wanted to ask, but Shuri wasn’t foolish enough to press for answers, not when her boss had clearly made up his mind. As always, Gin would share any information necessary if, and only if, it was needed. If there was something he wasn’t telling her, it was something she was better off not knowing. Shuri had no doubts as to Gin’s trust in her, but sharing everything—even with his right-hand woman—wasn’t something a leader of his caliber would do. Those who needed to know something would learn it, but only when the time came—that was the best way to protect yourself and others on their side of society.

“The kid gave us a good lead, free of charge. We’d be doing ourselves a disservice not to take advantage of it,” Gin added, his gray eyes sparkling with unusual glee.

The Marquesses’ Meeting

A new year had begun in Yugria, and nobles across the kingdom began preparing for the winter social season, the start of which was marked by a certain event. Every year, Yugria’s nine marquesses would converge in Runerelia under one roof for what was, ostensibly, a simple breakfast gathering. After visiting the Royal Palace to extend their well-wishes to the royal family and the dukes, the marquesses would gather on the first weekend of the year for the aforementioned breakfast gathering, kicking off the whirlwind of tea parties, formal dinners, and other engagements that made up the social season. Although it was referred to as the winter season, in reality these social events would continue until (and through) the spring season, which coincided with the Royal Academy’s entrance examinations.

Despite its significance, the breakfast gathering was a brief event—approximately an hour long—and had no formal agenda. To an outsider, it would seem like the marquesses were merely mingling, exchanging light conversation and polite greetings.

They’d be wrong, of course. No self-respecting athlete would approach the first tournament of the year with anything less than absolute determination, and the marquesses were shrewd competitors.

Almost as though by prior arrangement, the marquesses arrived at the Runemarquise Hotel—the location of this year’s breakfast gathering—at a uniform five minutes prior to the scheduled start time of 7 a.m., impeccably clad in both their finest formal attire and an almost palpable sense of confidence. After being shown into the somewhat snug private dining room, they exchanged the usual polite greetings in sharp, crisp voices that belied their median age, and offered one another covertly crushing handshakes.

Then came the meal. Of course, none among their circle were ill-mannered enough to decline to eat on account of a lack of sleep (or an abundance of alcohol) the previous night, as one frequently saw at gatherings of the lesser nobility. The meal in itself was an indispensable part of the deceptively informal event, and the marquesses fulfilled their obligations with well-mannered gusto. The meal was something of a warm-up for the main event, and as with most professional sports, it would be considered the height of rudeness to skip one’s warm-up while your opponent gave it their all.

Once the last plates had been removed, the discussions began. As one would expect from a gathering of some of Yugria’s most important figures, the topics covered at these breakfasts were rather diverse. Normally, with many other important subjects to broach, talk of something as simple as their children’s educational success was, understandably, one of the rarer points of discussion.

Normally, that was.

◆◆◆

“I must say, I was most surprised to learn of Class 1-A’s unbelievable score during this year’s camping trip. To think they beat the score of the legendary cohort so overwhelmingly—and in their first year too! I can’t imagine how powerful they’ll be by the time they graduate... My forces were completely trounced, though it pains me to admit it. Given the state of the world at the moment, I have little choice but to go back to basics and whip the lot of them into shape before the people begin to fear for their safety! It’s vexing, utterly vexing.”

So said a strangely good-humored Marquess Trouvere, thus kicking off the discussion. The Vanquish Domain, which had played host to the most recent Royal Academy camping trip, lay within the Trouvere Region, and the marquess’s forces had played a large role in assisting with the scenarios. Despite some embarrassment over the performance of his forces, Marquess Trouvere had benefited greatly from the weeklong excursion. The Royal Academy had spared no expense when it came to funding the camp, and the food and various other supplies they’d purchased from across the region had greatly invigorated the local economy.

The region also retained full ownership of the monsters the students had hunted throughout the camp (which, for various reasons, numbered far more than usual this year) and had already sold the materials for a tidy sum. The Trouverean forces had collected and processed said materials, the profits from which had then been divided among the Vanquish Domain and the neighboring territories who’d also assisted in supporting the camp. When the nobles under his jurisdiction prospered, so did the marquess, of course. A little embarrassment was well worth the wealth he’d gained.

Obviously, it wasn’t particularly hard to see that the reason the Vanquish Domain had been chosen as the location for the most recent first-year camp was on account of Godolphen von Vanquish being the organizer. In Japan, such a thing would become the subject of criticism, with other concerned parties claiming “unfairness” and “a lack of equal opportunity.” In Yugria, however, such criticism would only reflect poorly on the speaker, who’d be denounced as something of a sore loser. A Royal Academy education—and the all but guaranteed future greatness that came with it—was possible for all, regardless of social standing. Godolphen had achieved that greatness, and therefore was well within his rights to select his own domain (which was also the most convenient option) to host as many educational programs as he liked. If any of the other marquesses took issue with that, they’d simply have to see to it that a representative from their own region achieved similar prominence.

His recent windfall wasn’t the only reason behind Marquess Trouvere’s excellent mood either. Four students belonging to the most recent Class A intake hailed from his region—the highest number in Trouverean history—and with the reputation of what would one day become known as “the Unicorn Generation” skyrocketing, his region was experiencing a comparable rise in renown. Furthermore, when those students graduated and undoubtedly took up prominent positions across the kingdom, the Trouvere Region would only continue to benefit. Unsurprisingly, having claim to a fifth of the future Unicorn Generation had put quite a pep in Marquess Trouvene’s step, especially since Stella Achilles was among that number. The students’ outstanding performances during the recent school camp had quickly been attributed to their participation in the Hill Path Club, and as the club’s captain, Stella Achilles was now the talk of the kingdom. Given everything, it was little wonder Marquess Trouvere couldn’t stop smiling.

Melia Dragoon snorted. “‘Utterly vexing’? What nonsense. Training or not, we’re talking about a battle where a vice captain of the Royal Order and even the old goat Godolphen himself ended up joining the fray and were still soundly beaten. Your forces didn’t lose because they were weak, Trouvere. They lost because their enemies—those students—were too strong. The scores reflect that, and the people understand that quite perfectly. I hope you’re not going on about such codswallop in public and stoking unnecessary fear among your subjects.”

Marquess Trouvere, still smiling, merely shrugged.

“I see your rather impressive age has yet to strip you of your faculties, Melia. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind deigning to use that sharp tongue of yours to share some more about what happened at the camp with the rest of us? I still can’t believe they placed a gag order on the details of a mere school excursion... I have no idea what could have happened out there to result in those scores, and the stress of wondering about it is driving me quite mad,” Marquess Vulcandor grumbled, shooting a glare at Marquess Trouvere.

The Vulcandor Region was the only one without any students in Class A that year. Even the Dosuperior Region, who were well known for their disdain toward the Yugrian education system (with children from the Dosuperior family itself being forbidden to even attempt the Royal Academy entrance exams), had a rare representative in Larla von Liencoul. This meant that the unfortunate Marquess Vulcandor was the only one among them with no inside sources, something which was clearly causing him great annoyance. His personal intelligence team had managed to uncover some rudimentary information, but the key intel—specifically concerning exactly what Leo and Allen had done during the final scenario—remained out of his reach.

Marquess Trouvere, for his part, was keeping the military personnel who’d been present on a very tight leash to prevent any leaks. Given the gag order, it was the responsible thing to do. It also conveniently allowed him to maintain his informational advantage. The other marquesses couldn’t help but suspect the predominant reason behind his unceasing smile was that he, as someone directly involved with the camp, had managed to gain a far greater understanding of what had occurred over the course of the week than anyone else present.

“Who are you calling old?! The nerve of you... You won’t hear a peep from me, Vulcandor. Those details have been designated clearance level 4, as you well know. If you’re that curious, you’ll simply have to see to it that one of your subjects gets promoted to Class A next year and have them ask around then, hmm?” Melia retorted with a wicked cackle, much to Vulcandor’s displeasure.

“You seem to be in an excellent mood, Melia. I understand, of course—I imagine I’d be just as pleased if a golden goose decided to land in my lap while I slept. I’m rather envious, I must admit,” interjected Marquess Dialemack. The implication of his comment was clear to all: “You didn’t even know Allen Rovene existed until last spring. Don’t get cocky just because you were lucky.”

Melia’s feline eyes narrowed as she smiled, reminding all those present of a predator on the hunt. “Well, if it isn’t Romario! I’m glad to see you looking better. When I last saw you in the fall, you were still as pale as a corpse—and just as lively as one too. Vesta, was it? The boy from one of your branch families? Fey was just as surprised as I’d wager you were. She thought he was a mere genius, but supposedly he went and turned into a formidable tactician overnight...” Melia smirked. “I’d say you’ve already found a golden goose of your own. What’s next for little Vesta, then? Have you already signed the adoption papers?”

Romario slowly shook his head. “I’m not sure what comes next, not yet. Truthfully, I was as surprised as you say. It’s like he changed into an entirely new person overnight after being singled out by Rovene... I don’t know how, but he saw something in Vesta I never caught so much as a glimpse of. The boy’s insight is extraordinary.”

Marquess Reverence, who was sitting nearby, shrugged. “Your hesitance is going to be the death of you one day, Romario. If I were in your shoes, the boy would’ve become Vesta Dialemack before he’d even made it back to Runerelia. Leave a spark unattended too long, and it’ll turn into an uncontrollable blaze... You need to be more careful.”

“Your concern is unnecessary,” Romario snapped back with an indignant sniff.

“His insight isn’t the only thing extraordinary about the boy, from what I’ve heard,” chimed in Marquess Endymion, the oldest among those present. “He himself is a force to be reckoned with. I heard all about the little disagreement your Rudio brat had with him about the Hill Path Club, Romario. He let your son make a proper fool of himself, then took him down with a single stroke. He also knew when to stop. He could have run Rudio out of the Academy, but he showed mercy. His sense of composure is unbelievable for a boy his age.” Marquess Endymion sighed wearily. “I’ve had my own run-in with the Rovene boy’s older sister, and came out of it in a much worse position than you. Despite that incident, the boy has seemingly become quite friendly with Viscount Engravier’s son from my region. He even made Aldor the captain of the Emissive Magic Club or whatever it’s called, which has been gaining quite a reputation of its own. Allen Rovene doesn’t rely on words or meaningless actions to demonstrate his stance—he does it through purposeful and undeniable support of those he favors. I’m quite fond of his methods, to be honest.”

He paused for a moment, shaking his head in a clear mixture of admiration and disbelief. Then, he glanced at Melia and smiled cheekily. “I heard Viscount Rovene stood in front of you and publicly declared that the boy would choose his own spouse?” He chuckled. “He must have quite the backbone to stand up to you, Melia. I’m impressed. It’s rare to find someone in his position who wouldn’t use his son as a bargaining tool to improve his own social standing... Quite a peculiar bunch, the Rovenes. Come to think of it, I heard your granddaughter is rather fond of the boy too, no?” He chuckled again, apparently oblivious to the sharp glares everyone else in the room was now directing toward him. The small dining room felt on the verge of a storm, tension buzzing like static before the first flash of lightning.

“I heard Rovene visited the Class E boys’ room on the last day of the camp,” Marquess Serenade—the youngest of the group—said hesitantly in an attempt to change the topic, “and spent hours questioning them on their romantic involvements. The rest of Class A supposedly collapsed minutes after they reached the estate—not surprising really, considering the score they’d achieved—but Rovene stated, ‘The camp isn’t over until I’m satisfied with your answers.’ Indeed, he didn’t leave the room until he’d asked each and every boy about their prospective partnerships. I can’t quite figure out what he stood to gain from such a thing, though... I imagine you’ve all heard the same from your own subjects, correct? What are your thoughts?” she finished, her tone delicate.

Marquess Serenade’s region was in the northern part of the kingdom, sharing a vast stretch of border with the Rosamour Empire. Though relations between the two nations were tense at the moment, her husband, who held a prominent position in the Fourth Legion, had been permitted to safeguard their lands in her absence so that the Marquess could travel to the capital. Despite the name, the social season was not merely a time for tea parties and gossip. It was an opportunity to share critical intelligence, make trade deals, and discuss other matters of domestic importance.

No one answered her question, however. No one could. Whatever Allen Rovene’s true intentions had been, he’d hidden them well. It almost seemed as though he had been merely a curious boy begging for titillating gossip at a sleepover with friends. But after pushing himself beyond his limits for a week straight, there must have been a reason he’d forced himself to stay awake to gather such information. But as to why, exactly... Not one among them had figured it out.

Of course, there was nothing to figure out, but they didn’t know that.

“Ah, yes... Vesta did mention that when he and Rovene spent a night talking by the fireside, Rovene did question him concerning his engagement. The Rovene boy has quite a mind for politics, it would seem. In exchange for his openness, Rovene shared some truly fascinating intelligence of his own exclusively with Vesta,” Romario Dialemack said, fixing his gaze firmly upon Marquess Dosuperior.

The intelligence he referred to, of course, concerned Allen’s mother, Cecilia, and her alleged Dosuperior origins. Naturally, Vesta would have preferred to keep Allen’s secret to himself (or even more preferably, to not have heard it in the first place) but given his position, such secrecy was sadly impossible. If Cecilia’s supposed family history came to light by other means and it became known that Vesta had held on to such crucial information, the punishment would be too great to bear. The breakfast gathering presented Marquess Dialemack with a perfect opportunity to test the legitimacy—and therefore, the value—of what was truly an unbelievable tale. If by some miracle the information did have value, so would Vesta, as the only person Allen had told.

However, Romario suspected there was a very good chance the tale was false. After all, the information Allen had demanded in return was merely the identity of Vesta’s betrothed. The boy’s engagement to Canon Cainridge was no great secret; in fact, it wasn’t a secret at all. Any student from the Dialemack Region could have told Rovene of Canon’s identity. Obviously, it wasn’t the sort of information one would demand in exchange for such a monumental secret.

Marquess Dialemack didn’t blink as he stared at Randy von Dosuperior, watching for the slightest twitch of his jaw or flicker in his eyes that would indicate he understood Romario’s meaning. Naturally, none among those present were so ignorant as to fail to notice Romario’s penetrating gaze, even if they didn’t understand the context behind it. The atmosphere in the room grew heavy.

Randy, who until that point had been observing the proceedings with a thin, almost emotionless smile, returned Romario’s gaze with a serious one of his own—and then, the corners of his mouth curved upward. “I must say, I was surprised to hear Allen regards Vesta highly enough to declare him... ‘The Bulwark of Class 1-A,’ was it? It’s been nearly twenty-two hundred years since this kingdom was founded, and we Dosuperiors have proudly held the title of Yugria’s Shield for all that time. He’s caught my interest. In fact, I’d quite like to have a nice long chat with the Stocklode boy.”

The other marquesses—including Romario himself—somehow managed to keep their expressions neutral upon hearing Randy’s answer, but on the inside, each and every one of them was utterly bewildered. Randy von Dosuperior, captain of the Royal Guard and current head of a family well-known for their distaste toward the Royal Academy, had referred to Allen Rovene as simply Allen, as though the two were old friends or at the very least acquaintances. No one could even begin to guess at how such a relationship would have started, but the sheer familiarity with which he’d spoken Allen’s name had sent them all reeling.

Randy’s undisguised interest in meeting Vesta had also forced all present to adjust their evaluations of the young Stocklode heir, much to Romario’s delight. Upon realizing that Randy’s answer had been possibly the most beneficial one he could have received, Marquess Dialemack’s inward shock turned to joy as he smiled politely. “I’ll see to it that a meeting is arranged,” he replied, fighting to suppress the urge to laugh. Romario’s gamble had been a dangerous one, but it would seem he’d hit the jackpot. Based on Randy’s reaction, the information Vesta had shared with him was, unbelievably, correct—and if that was the case, Allen Rovene’s self-reported meeting with the king was likely just as true. Romario now had some very valuable cards up his sleeve.

It was then that Marquess Glaux first spoke, recognizing the advantage of playing a card of his own—information which had taken him significant effort to acquire—lest Romario get too confident. “My sources discovered Allen Rovene has apparently met with His Majesty the King once—an unofficial audience, of course—to directly request His Majesty’s support for the Sailing Club he started with Count Sardos’s son Daniel. The Rovene boy and Daniel are close friends, you see. Indeed, Rovene even made the long journey to Sardos County during the summer break so the two could practice sailing together. Furthermore...” Marquess Glaux paused for a moment. “My sources believe you were also present at that meeting, Randy. Is it true? What in the world did Allen Rovene say, for His Majesty to give his approval to a club devoted to something as outdated as sailing?”

Silence fell over the room once more, but one could almost hear the cracks forming in the icy tension. The marquesses wore their smiles like painted masks, their expressions frozen and eerie. Out of all the incomprehensible things Allen Rovene had done, forming the Royal Academy’s Sailing Club was perhaps the most perplexing of all. No one could even begin to guess at the club’s true purpose, nor why Rovene and the Sardos boy saw fit to put so much effort into it. They all knew the club used the Royal Academy’s naval docks, but they’d assumed Godolphen or one of the other teachers had somehow obtained the necessary permission. But for the king himself to have approved such an absurd request... Frankly, it changed everything. Allen Rovene had to have some secret goal in mind—a goal the king had clearly seen merit in supporting.

In reality, of course, Allen had merely kept the king’s support a secret to avoid the annoying interrogations that would surely follow if others learned of his encounter with His Majesty.

Seemingly unruffled by the piercing stares directed his way, Randy eventually broke the silence with a sigh. “The audience you speak of was held in strict secrecy at the Royal Guard Garrison, but you’ve clearly heard enough already to make any continued attempts to hide it meaningless. The meeting itself was a lighthearted one. His Majesty the King saw Allen’s performance at the Nova Cup, and as we all know, the king has something of a fondness for meeting new and interesting people. After exchanging a few pleasantries, His Majesty offered Allen a reward for his efforts during the Cup. Allen requested permission for the Sailing Club to utilize the naval docks and the restricted section of the River Rune as his reward.”

Still utterly lost as to why Allen was so fixated on the idea of sailing in the first place, the other marquesses remained silent, eagerly—but not openly—hoping Randy would continue.

“Obviously, His Majesty had the same question I imagine you all do—why start a Sailing Club in this day and age? Allen’s answer was simple. ‘Because I want to, Your Majesty. It’s fun,’ he said. There wasn’t a hint of deception in those words, nor in the way he smiled. His Majesty was just as surprised as I was, if you can imagine it. He laughed quite openly about it afterward.”

Their collective masks slipped in unison. For a moment, the marquesses merely gaped at Randy—and then, they burst into laughter.

“Because it’s fun?! Ha! The nerve of him!”

“To speak so brazenly in front of His Majesty himself... I can see why my Jewel’s got her eye on him! Oh, dear me...”

“And the king was laughing too, you say? Ha ha ha!”

“I’m surprised you didn’t know of this, Glaux! Perhaps the Sardos boy isn’t as close to Allen Rovene as he’d have you believe?”

“Oh, don’t start causing trouble, Vulcandor. After all, the boy went to all the trouble of making the journey to Sardos County specifically to visit Daniel, no? They’re clearly very close friends, just as Glaux told us! Ha!”

Marquess Glaux nodded. “Indeed, indeed... He simply must have forgotten to mention it,” he replied, smiling awkwardly as he scratched his neck. Out of sight beneath the table, his other hand was clenched so tightly it had drawn blood.

◆◆◆

Disaster would visit the Glaux Region in the weeks that followed, throwing the entire kingdom into chaos. As a direct result of that catastrophe, a certain name would become etched into the world’s consciousness forevermore. It belonged to a boy who’d changed the course of maritime history and who would later become heralded as the God of the Sea. Yes, the world would soon learn that name...

Daniel Sardos.

Afterword

Hello again, and thank you for reading volume 5 of Pens Down, Swords Up. Thanks to the support of my readers and countless other people, this volume, which marks a turning point in Allen’s story, has safely made it to publication. First of all, I’d like to take this opportunity to thank Maro for their truly beautiful illustrations. When I first saw the cover for volume 5, I burst into uncontrollable laughter. I won’t bother trying to put the sheer brilliance of the cover image into words, because it’s impossible to do it justice. I simply couldn’t wait for you all to see it. You sometimes hear people saying, “This deserves to be framed!” in regards to these kinds of illustrations, but in this case, I literally went out, got it framed, and hung it on my wall (LOL). I’m actually looking at it as I write this afterword.

I originally wrote the school camp arc for online serialization in the winter of 2022. At the time, the physical publication of this series had just been decided but hadn’t yet been publicly announced. My time was divided between updating the online version on a regular basis and grappling with the unfamiliar process of getting a web novel ready for publication. Because the physical publication had been confirmed, I felt a keen sense of responsibility to ensure that Allen’s future adventures were ones my readers—both online and offline—would continue to truly enjoy reading. The school camp arc was the first challenge I tackled with that determination in mind.

The hardest part about working on both versions of Pens Down, Swords Up concurrently is remembering where I’m up to in the respective timelines. Other authors might not struggle with this as much, but as soon as I start writing, I lose myself in the flow of Allen’s world. It might be because of this flow state, or simply that I lack the ability to “switch gears,” so to speak, but either way it was incredibly difficult to swap between the two versions of Allen at first. I found it much harder—and far more mentally taxing—than swapping between reality and fantasy. I have no idea how authors who write multiple concurrent stories do it, and to be honest, I’m a little scared as to what the inside of their minds might look like.

As draining as the school camp arc was to write, I truly hope you enjoyed reading it. It was the first long arc I’ve written, and I remember the immense relief I felt upon finishing it like it was yesterday, along with a small sense of confidence that the story I’d imagined had survived the journey to the page. School camps (or forest schools, as they’re known in Japan), where class groups embark on mandatory, weeklong educational programs in the great outdoors, seem to be largely something of a Japanese phenomenon. Looking back on my own memories of those trips now, it’s not the beautiful scenery or the shrines we visited that I remember most vividly. Rather, it’s the trivial things: gazing out of the bus window while my classmates chattered excitedly around me, or how, after a long day of skiing, our plans to stay up late gossiping came to nothing as one by one my friends fell asleep the minute their heads hit their pillows. While, unlike Allen, I never insisted on adding more of those trivial moments to our schedule (lol) I do think that those moments, as inconsequential as they were, were precisely what made those youthful experiences so meaningful. I hope that the school camp arc might have helped you recall some nostalgic memories of your own, and for younger readers, I hope it encouraged you to enjoy this precious, irreplaceable time while it lasts.

With the lengthy school camp arc now at an end, the story is moving on to the next exciting stage. As hinted at the end of volume 5, the next arc will center around a certain incident currently unfolding in the Glaux Region, and Allen—along with some of his many increasingly well-known classmates—will face their toughest challenge yet. Please look forward to volume 6!

Mao Nishiura