Chapter 24
Chapter 24
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 24
Chapter Title: Entrance Ceremony and Classes
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Clack clack clack!
"Everyone, form ranks!"
'Amazing! Truly amazing!'
A spectacular large-scale set unlike anything he'd ever seen, even in movies.
Bwoooong! Bwoooong!
The majestic horn blasts echoing from the castle walls vibrated through his soles, and the Imperial Royal Knights of the Bazran Empire clad in red cloaks, silver armor, helmets, and swords.
And atop the walls stood thousands of guardsmen holding banners, spears, and swords.
Nearly a thousand knight cadets dressed in their newly issued formal uniforms.
The entrance ceremony of his dreams was finally about to unfold.
'Why's Highness acting like that?'
Highness, who had been staying at a count's family residence in the capital.
She had changed.
Highness wore the black cloak symbolizing the Sky Knights, along with silver armor and a sword.
She was no longer the pure, delicate manga character he remembered from the past.
Silently gazing at the massive platform where hundreds of nobles were seated in the drill grounds, she stood motionless.
A sharp aura emanated from her like a finely honed blade.
'No way I could even approach her.'
An unfamiliar air wafted from Highness's icy demeanor.
'Everyone's on edge.'
The Imperial Knight Academy entrance ceremony attended by the Emperor himself.
With the young guardsmen on high alert, the trainees were at the peak of tension.
Everyone except one.
Him, the utterly carefree one.
'No way they're gonna do that, right?'
Even now, memories lingered of elementary school entrance ceremonies and countless assemblies on the playground.
He still couldn't understand why they had to endure the principal's textbook speeches every week.
Forcing kids under the blazing sun just to show off their knowledge or eloquence—none of those endless words ever sank in.
Daily roll call and end-of-day homeroom were more than enough.
But what could they possibly have so much to say?
Back in elementary school, he'd once thought:
There are three kinds of people in the world.
Men, women, and principals who bob up like corks in water with their endless sermons.
Brapara bam bababam~
Just as everyone formed ranks in the vast drill grounds, a fanfare suddenly blared from a hundred trumpets.
"His Imperial Majesty, Emperor of the Great Bazran Empire, arrives!"
Swish swish.
Evidently accustomed to such events, the upper section of the massive drill grounds featured seats for the Emperor and hundreds of nobles.
Through the platform doors emerged the Emperor, wearing a gem-encrusted crown and a golden cloak, slowly stepping onto the carpet.
'The Emperor!'
The Emperor's dignity silenced even the wind.
"Salute His Imperial Majesty!"
A shout infused with dense mana rang out.
Clang clang clang!
Swords were drawn in unison from every hand.
A mighty roar erupted toward the heavens.
"Chuuuung! Loyalty! Loyalty! Loyalty!"
'Whoa~!'
The splendid honor guards he'd occasionally seen on TV during foreign dignitaries' visits.
Compared to the scene before him, they were mere flecks of grime under a toenail.
Picture it: thousands of imposing guardsmen and soldiers surrounding a drill ground the size of Sangam World Cup Stadium, bellowing oaths of loyalty.
Even the gods in heaven would envy such a spectacle.
'So that's the Emperor's presence.'
The Bazran Emperor, not particularly tall.
Yet he overwhelmed thousands of nobles and knights single-handedly.
Like a silent lion facing a pack of hundreds of wolves, exuding effortless poise.
He lightly raised a hand in response to the knights' and soldiers' loyalty.
"Waaaaah! Long live His Imperial Majesty!"
"Long live the Bazran Empire!!"
The madness born of collective loyalty.
Though the Emperor uttered not a word, knights and soldiers screamed "long live" until their chests might burst.
'Fanatics, every one of them.'
Even elite Imperial Guardsmen and soldiers couldn't produce such cheers without genuine fervor.
The Bazran Emperor, Havitron, basked in their undivided loyalty.
A lean fifty-something man living a magnificent life.
He raised his hand again, silencing the fanatics' cheers.
"....."
In an instant, absolute silence enveloped the drill grounds.
"You, the points of honor, pride, and loyal shields of this empire, my knights...."
'He wields mana?'
Surprisingly, the Emperor's voice carried substantial mana.
"Know that upon your steadfast shoulders rests this empire, the Imperial House, my own peace, and the well-being of all our subjects."
His words brimmed with sincere intent.
Either a natural orator or one of history's great sovereigns.
"I too once stood in this drill ground with you, broiling under the fierce sun. When sweat poured like rain, soaking body, clothes, and soul alike, I never once doubted that my efforts would form the cornerstone upholding the empire, the vital force shaping its future."
His slow, solemn words.
Flames sparked in every eye.
An imperial address none would ever forget.
Even the detached onlooker felt his chest tighten; the others were beside themselves.
'There's a kid too?'
The Imperial family seated behind the Emperor.
Razsion sat with gravity rivaling the Emperor's.
Beside the child, two Empresses.
'Where's Aijis?'
By reports, the Emperor had two sons and two daughters.
Crown Prince Polt Biran and First Princess Eremia from one Empress, Razsion and Aijis from the other.
Yet behind the Emperor sat only the child and a provocatively beautiful woman.
"Strive diligently. The empire's future is now yours. My knights!"
Clang!
With those words, the Emperor drew his ceremonial sword.
'Not just a showboat emperor.'
He could feel it.
The raw sincerity etched on the Emperor's face.
"Here in the past, I swore! For the honor of knighthood, for the empire's peace, I would never compromise with injustice, fighting solely for the justice bestowed by the gods!"
Language of such force, it could belong to a knight rather than an emperor.
Knights and trainees gripping weapons flushed with trembling excitement.
"My knights~! Today too, I swear! Until my dying breath, I shall live without shame before this sword, which is my heart!! Knights! Open your hearts and shout! The gods of heaven descend upon this place! Oh! My knights, true as my blood! For your glorious future, I beseech the divine: like this red blood, may your sun-like hearts remain eternal!"
'Gasp!'
The Emperor immersed himself dramatically, like a theater actor.
He raised his sword and slashed his own palm.
Blood flowed red.
'Crazy!'
The emperors he knew oozed grease, struck poses, gorged themselves—blessed characters living cushy lives.
That image shattered completely.
"For unwavering loyalty!"
And that wasn't all.
Knights and trainees followed suit, drawing swords and slashing their own palms in mimicry of the Emperor's exemplary(?) self-harm.
'Arrrgh! What kind of lunatic bullshit is this!'
Why did he suddenly miss those sermonizing principals now?
Most knights bled from their palms.
He alone couldn't hold out.
'Ugh!'
Knights might be mad with fervor, but how could any sane person slice their palm with a blade?
Drip drip.
But collective madness made it possible.
The sharp bite of steel on flesh.
Then flowing red blood.
'Ah....'
For every drop of blood shed, tears of blood welled in his heart.
'Gah! That's!'
Amid his inward screams, gazing skyward, dark specks pierced the gloomy winter clouds.
'Black Wyverns!'
Incredibly, dozens of wyverns led by Black Wyverns swarmed toward the drill grounds from the sky.
"Black Wyvern!"
"Sky Knights!"
He wasn't alone.
All enraptured in madness forgot their pain, staring heavenward in ecstasy.
'Cool!'
Nothing like the dozen wyverns he'd seen at Shadour Baekjang Castle—this was a grand spectacle.
Dozens of Black Wyverns formed a triangular vanguard, followed by nearly a hundred wyverns flapping massive wings.
Flash!
As if blessed by the gods, rainbow sunlight poured through the clouds.
'Moved!'
Gigantic wyverns spanning 15 meters per wingtip.
They blanketed the sky.
"Waaaaaaaah!!"
"Long live the Bazran Empire!"
"Long live His Imperial Majesty!"
Cheers and shouts of "long live" exploded.
It felt like a full music video.
Director: Bazran Emperor.
Stars: Emperor, Sky Knights, Knight Academy trainees.
Supporting: Guardsmen, soldiers, assorted nobles.
Title: "Sky Knights' Beautiful Flight Over a Sea of Blood and Field of Flowers."
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'All first-years take common classes, huh.'
Sky Knight trainees—be they knights, mages, or spiritists—underwent unified training for the first year.
Elites who led charges or devised strategies in battle.
They needed knowledge of magic, spirits, and knightly combat alike.
'Even aerial combat follows the same pattern?'
Valuable info gleaned from newcomers.
In the skies too, Sky Knights from the knight division led, supported by mages and spiritists.
"Pleased to meet you. I am Viscount Behin, a 6th Circle mage from the Imperial Magic Tower, in charge of your magic instruction starting today."
A gaunt, diminutive mage in his early fifties.
From the lectern at the center of the tiered, amphitheater-style classroom—like European university lectures he'd seen on TV—he began with a curt remark.
"What do you think magic is?"
Viscount Behin asked the students.
"I know many knights harbor resentment toward mages. Cowards who lob spells from safe rears while you bleed upfront, they say."
A smile played on Viscount Behin's lips as he spoke.
"Since it's the first day, I'll let you experience what magic truly is firsthand."
'Scaring us already?'
The scheming middle-aged mage clearly plotted something sinister.
"Feel it. The true power of magic...."
No sooner said than he raised a slender mana staff the thickness of a child's arm.
"Curse Paralyze!"
Flash!
'Alley-oop!'
Viscount Behin unleashed Curse Paralyze, a 6th Circle spell.
Intense blue mana erupted, freezing everyone in the classroom like statues.
Curse Paralyze paralyzed its targets.
Unprepared students turned to stone.
'St-strong!'
His first encounter with 6th Circle magic.
Even the fifty-odd mana-sensitive students couldn't move, ensnared like flies in webs.
Impressive even against the defenseless; he'd never expected this.
'But... arrogant.'
The air's mana stiffened rigidly.
Not targeting individuals—he manipulated ambient mana.
Whiiiir.
His separated mana pools reacted to the sudden assault.
'I can break it.'
He knew.
He could clash head-on with this arrogant 6th Circle mage's spell using his own power.
"Cancel!"
"Huuuuh!"
"Gasp gasp!"
"Ugh...."
Whether to assert dominance or warn knights dismissive of mages, Viscount Behin had shown off 6th Circle prowess.
As he nullified the spell, gasping students broke free from the crushing pressure, gulping air.
"How's that? The subtle flavor of magic?"
'You're loving this, huh? Would you like it?'
"Have you ever considered such spells might target your lives? In war, they could fly at you randomly, without reason or condition—could you survive?"
Shadows darkened the knights' faces as the magic lifted.
"That's why you must learn! Even if you can't cast them, understanding each spell's traits could save you—or your soldiers'—lives!"
'Thorough educator.'
Not rote theory, but immersive fieldwork.
Those scorched by magic's taste would surely stay sharp in future lessons.
'Teaching properly.'
"Class dismissed for today. Remember, magic is no trivial study. Approach my lessons with that in mind."
'Whoa! Pretty cool.'
Unlike his initial sharp image, Viscount Behin knew flair.
He'd love to consult him someday on 6th Circle insights.
"Whew!"
"Cold-blooded mage Viscount Behin—rumors were true."
"Heard some seniors dropped out after his class?"
"Tortures you with spells all lesson... worrying times ahead."
As Viscount Behin left, students huddled, fretting his ruthlessness.
"Brother, that guy's scary."
'Highness, what are you really?'
Highness, who had stood sword-like during suppression training.
Now back to flower-loving girl, beaming innocently.
"No way he'd kill us."
"Still...."
Highness wilted under Viscount Behin's warning.
Her wide eyes brimmed with worry, stirring his protective instincts.
"What're you doing? Next class."
"Brother, who's this...?"
Rusel appeared; Highness inquired.
"First time meeting? Introduce yourselves. Spiritist Rusel, roommate and friend. And this lovely lady is...."
"I am Highness de Petlin."
Before he could finish, Highness bowed gracefully.
She must hear "prim and proper" everywhere.
"P-Petlin? P-perhaps... House Petlin?"
"Yes. Highness, the only daughter of Count Petlin."
"Gasp!"
Rusel's face paled mid-sentence.
'What's with that face? Like a constipated mutt.'
"K-Kayer, you go slow. I'll head first."
"Hey! Together!"
Rusel fled in terror, like spotting a cemetery ghost.
"Seems urgent."
Highness, accustomed, showed no displeasure.
Even if the academy transcended status for equal treatment among trainees, rudeness to a count's lady was unacceptable.
By his common sense, at least.
"Brother, let's go."
"Huh? Y-yeah."
Highness, enigmatic from first sight.
To him, a gentle poetess loving verse and flowers—yet "Petlin" sent everyone into fits.
'Maybe... ruthless usurer?'
'Fast, fast, rush and money'—legal bloodsuckers preying on the poor.
Highness aside, her unknown father fueled suspicions.
No, it fit.
The marquis and vassals' aghast terror at the exam hall.
Usury explained it.
'As long as you don't borrow, no discrimination! Rotten snobs.'
Petlin usurers or not—what did it matter?
Such a cute, adorable girl.
"Meeting Brother makes Highness happy."
Twin pigtails framing a CD-sized face, flawless transparent brown eyes.
'I'll protect you!'
"Then Brother's lucky to have met Highness too."
He silently vowed.
Failing to shield such fragility made him less than a man—mere eunuch twig.
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"From today, I am Viscount Atuan, your swordsmanship instructor."
'Whoa! He's huge!'
Unlike mage instructor Viscount Behin, Viscount Atuan boasted a 2-meter frame.
Clean-shaven, but pores like black holes covered half his face.
The massive bastard sword at his waist screamed power-focused knight.
"No long talk. Swordplay speaks for itself. You've all mastered family styles to enter the Imperial Knight Academy. We'll hone skills through rigorous practice."
'Practice here too?'
He grasped why Bazran dominated the continent.
Knight exams open to all but slaves based on ability.
Nobles and knight families trained from youth outclassed them, sure—but talent emerged anywhere.
The empire's system elevated commoners to elites seamlessly.
Highly commendable.
"Practice wooden swords over there—grab your own! Designate an opponent! That's your foe today! Just like your seniors!"
'Brutal!'
Knights aside, mages and spiritists too—yet Atuan demanded sword fights.
"But mages vs. mages, spiritists vs. spiritists, knights vs. knights only!"
Some brains after all—late clarification from Atuan.
"Instructor, even if opponent's a woman?"
Someone asked.
"From the moment swords are drawn, all are foes. Spare a woman, and I'll give you special training!"
Clean, decisive personality.
Textbook single-cell specimen.
Simple, brutish, crazy, extreme.
Viscount Atuan embodied it.
'But what's with those guys?'
A clique of a dozen since entrance ceremony.
They fawned over a decent-looking blue-haired one.
'Huh? Talking about me?'
Black-cloaked Sky Knight trainees.
Alfonso, inseparable pest, among them—whispering to blue-hair, pointing at him.
"I challenge the lady to a duel."
Amid scowling at them came the challenge.
"M-me?"
Highness, deer-like innocent, voice quavering.
"Didn't the instructor say? No mercy for women."
'You a man? Sigh.'
Knew Highness wielded a sword—Alfonso's crew.
'You're caught.'
Cowardly lads scheming something.
"Kayer, was it?"
As the coward challenged Highness, a burly man approached.
Zap.
'This guy's...'
Strongest-looking in the pack.
'Calculated.'
Challenged Highness brutishly just for associating with him, now targeting him.
"Think a commoner fits at the academy? Heh."
Silence met with sneer.
Similar height, angular face radiated chill.
"So?"
The provocateur.
He smirked, responding obliquely.
"As rumored, arrogant. Heh. Today I'll etch nobility into you."
'Bring it. You're done today.'
Father's words at elementary enrollment:
Male world is harsh jungle.
Each grade start, smash challengers till noses bleed.
He followed: elementary 6 years, middle 3—fresh term bullies tasted his fists.
"I accept the duel."
While handling the punk, Highness bowed acceptance.
'Hold on a bit.'
A real man challenges a fragile girl?
"Any last words?"
"Last words? Puhaha! Not arrogant—insane. Daring utter 'last words' to me, lord of immortal knight House Termon...."
Zap.
Eyes like a lynx glared.
'Sigh, even priests on standby.'
Entrance: trainees blood-swore with Emperor.
Post-ceremony potions healed wounds clean.
Two clerics waited during class too.
Imperial top-tier education.
'This one's perfect.'
He stepped, gripped a unique long sword wooden blade.
Wooden yet hefty like real steel.
"Hiyat!"
Tatatatata!
"Yap!"
Thwack thwack thwack!
Sky Knight trainees dueled, swords flying.
'Huh? They're dancing?'
Non-knights: mages, spiritists.
Neglecting physicality, they toyed childishly with heavy wood.
"Attack first. My sword leaves no openings."
Termon heir apparent.
Not just unlucky—arrogant too.
"You'll regret...."
He rattled his sword in warning.
"Regret? Puhaha! Topple me, and I'll call you brother from tomorrow."
'Becoming count heir brother?'
Foolish choice.
'Watch closely, you scum.'
Some watched him, clashing lightly in rigged play.
Pop!
He casually tossed his sword skyward.
"....."
Termon's son flashed startled eyes at the whistling wood.
"Tat!"
Short kiai.
Leapt, sword lightning toward his skull.
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Clang! Kaga gaga gang!
Wooden swords nigh steel-hard from knight trainees.
Blinding speed slashed air at the head.
"Wh-what!"
'
"Gah!"
Light sparring among non-enemies, Sky Knight knight trainees.
Sudden metallic clash halted swords unwittingly.
All groaned at the sight.
Black-haired trainee plummeting like sky thunder.
One trainee blocked overhead, gripping hilt and tip.
Such ferocious speed—retracting left no time; face blackened.
No—blood seeped between gripping hands.
"Gulp...."
Dry swallow somewhere.
First-day duel turned shocking assault.
Instructors ordered it, but most nobles linked by ties.
Couldn't push openly like that.
"Last!!"
Black-hair practicing overheads bellowed "last."
"Eaaaaa!"
Defender screamed.
Squeezed eyes shut, arms extended for final blow.
Thud!
"Arrrghhhhhhh!"
But no overhead—instead, black-hair kicked groin.
Amid earth-shaking scream, wicked grin.
"Ugh...."
Instantly etched in trainees' minds.
Never duel that black-haired devil.
Thud!
"Eaaaaa!"
Not over.
All turned at another scream filling the yard.
"Uhk!"
"Huhk!"
Yet another unstoppable wail.
"Get up! Knights never drop swords till death!"
Thwack thwack thwack.
One girl.
Black Sky Knight cloak, yet endlessly kind and pure-looking.
That girl mercilessly battered her male opponent with wild swings.
"B-berzerker! Lady of House Petlin!"
"Eek! That Highness from Petlin?"
"Berzerker House Petlin!" sparked mass horror.
Berzerker Petlin House.
Empire founding merit, legendary berzerkers' horrific tales endure.
Petlin blood: even a shovel turns them feral.
Gentle ladies transform to fearless warriors weapon-in-hand.
Petlin's dreadful house rule, whispered:
'Beat one till dead.'
Fifty years ago, skirmish with Raviter Empire.
Battle turning to defeat via bad strategy—Petlin predecessor arrived as relief.
Spotted enemy general rumored to have insulted him—charged wyvern madly.
Surrounded by dozens, berserk rush routed terrified foe.
Pursued across border; Bazran escaped annihilation barely.
Not just that—cross Petlin, no easy death; legendary stubbornness.
Bazran—no, continent folk—shook heads at Berzerker Petlin.
Yielded first move always.
Even to the Emperor.
"Next class too, you! No—every time I see you, we fight!"
Highness, pure Petlin blood.
Trainee marked by her.
Foamed at "Petlin," fainted.
Crack.
"Shit!"
Still fuming, Highness snapped rock-hard wooden sword with both hands.
"What're you looking at!"
To any eye contact, her big eyes radiated mismatched menace.
Empire's top Sky Knight trainees averted hastily.
Lest marked by Petlin's shit-dirtier madwoman.
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"Wh-what is that?"
Victory joy fleeting.
Vivid evidence left him dumbfounded.
'No! Nooo~!!'
He screamed inwardly madly.
How could eye-searingly cute, pixie-ish Highness exude gangster moll vibes from that flick?
Her huge, swim-worthy eyes oozed killer aura—"thug glare," mobsters' essential mastery.
Dream of happy little sister shattered.
At first glance, more single-cell than Instructor Atuan.
He looked skyward.
'God....'
Cursed the god testing him thus.