Chapter 65
Chapter 65
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: EP.18 – Man-Eater Ghost vs. Man-Eater Ghost? (2)
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'Ah, this is bad...'
Unexpectedly thrust onto the stage first on the final day of the semester evaluations, he trembled.
But the die had already been cast, and this was an irreversible trial.
'Let's do this. I can do it.'
Grinding his teeth as if hypnotizing himself, he stroked the two silver coins tucked in his pocket.
A gift of grace from someone he revered, now treated like talismans by him lately.
No. 11 Teddy Bear.
No, Barry Cox, a first-year in the Swordsmanship Department, shook off his fear with the presence of the silver coins and swung his spear.
Whoosh!
Puk!
"Hup!"
But it didn't faze the rock monster much, and Barry Cox hurriedly dodged.
He had already learned plenty from Vulcan how to deal with something bigger than himself.
Evasive maneuvers were key for hunting.
'I've taken down how many wild boars! I can do this!'
...Ah, thinking about it, not that many.
Most were group kills or taken by the instructor.
As Barry reflected that he shouldn't get too cocky,
Suddenly, the rock monster charged at him in irritation.
"Huuuup!!"
Barry Cox focused on the ' 경' in his legs and kicked off the ground.
Not to attack the foe, but solely to evade the monster's strike.
One might ask why dodge when he could attack,
Splat!!
"Kugh!?"
That's why he dodged.
The spot where the rock monster—no, rock troll—passed was utterly gouged.
The massive heft from its huge body, charging recklessly without care for its own breakage.
Had he tried to meet it head-on, he'd have been twisted jerky by now.
"Hoo..."
Yet Barry didn't despair.
In the past, his legs would've shaken so badly he couldn't even face it.
Not a real troll perhaps, but a rock troll was a monster no ordinary human could stand against.
But now?
'Still, I can dodge it. I can fight back!'
Wasn't he glad to be fighting?
So Barry wasn't disappointed. He assumed his stance, preparing to evade again.
...Though he didn't despair,
'...Trolls really are absurd monsters.'
Crunch, crunch!
It was inevitable to gape in astonishment at the regenerating beast.
The rock troll had smashed into the wall from its powerful charge, but its shattered body was gradually reforming.
True to its nature as an artificial monster made from troll blood, it had some regenerative power.
Dizzying.
'They made this for us to pass? Does the Academy have a conscience?!'
Barry was floored by the ridiculous test difficulty.
"Barry! Do your best!"
"Give it your all, your all!"
"Show some grit, Barry."
"Send that thing back to Vulcan."
"...Hey, just curse out your parents instead."
"Whoa, that's harsh."
The cheers from his 17 classmates midway through.
Still, classmates were classmates—they cheered amid the trash talk.
"Senior, hang in there!"
...And the goddess of victory symbolizing the Teddy Bears too.
'I'll win, no matter what—!'
To repay his classmates' cheers, Barry charged the rock troll again.
Bravely—!
-Watching Barry Cox's bravery, the three sincerely evaluated it.
"He's done."
"Lost."
"No way he wins that."
The Swordsmanship Department trio—now called that—watched Barry charge and predicted the outcome with certainty.
"S-Senior's going to lose?"
Levi Polt's question. Arno nodded as if it were obvious.
"If he'd waited for an opening and thrown a 'Spear Strike' at the right moment to go for the win, maybe. But fighting like that will just drain his stamina. Barry's not calm right now; he's emotional, so he can't move strategically. Shame he doesn't have better vision—could've put up a good fight."
The Teddy Bears' skill level couldn't beat a rock troll from the start.
Even with high-damage moves like Spear Strike, elemental disadvantage against superior regeneration.
They needed sustained damage, not one-shots.
With only burst techniques, defeat was inevitable for the Teddy Bears.
And sure enough.
Boom!
"Gaaack!?!?"
Barry unleashed a full-power Spear Strike, piercing the rock troll's shoulder, but it charged heedless of the damage.
He tried to swing his sword again, but his stamina was spent. The rock troll seized the chance.
Thud, slamming into Barry Cox.
It was over.
Everyone shook their heads with pale faces watching Barry.
An overwhelming defeat from start to finish.
Truly regrettable.
"Idiot should've swung his sword more instead of studying debate."
"His debate score's decent, so no expulsion though."
"Yeah, true."
His classmates gave blunt assessments of his loss, but they tasted bitterness too.
They knew his effort, and that they weren't much different—could lose the same way.
Worried already about such a pathetic defeat.
...But unlike their harsh judgments, the audience...
"Wow, how does he charge a monster like that?"
"Brave! True to the Swordsmanship Department. Knight aspirants."
"That guy's a commoner, right?"
"...A commoner hurt a rock troll? What? Is that troll defective...?"
Admiration.
Pure admiration.
A crushing loss to classmates, but to general spectators, he shone as the pinnacle of bravery.
Charging a monster—like facing a giant with just a club. How could they not marvel at such ferocity?
Plus, for a惨 defeat, Barry's performance was solid.
Dodging the rock troll's matador charges, landing hits, even wounding it in a nail-biter (to laymen). They applauded his skill and passion lavishly.
Pendragon: Kingdom revering battle and bravery.
Not so stingy as to deny praise for his spirit.
"They value performance over results? Kingdom has weird customs."
"His late Majesty's culture. Warriors deserve honor for great fights."
"...Romantic guy."
Petals rained in the Colosseum amid applause. Levi Polt wondered,
"Um, no one's worried about senior?"
[......Ah.]
The sole sane girl pointed out the obvious—no one fretting Barry's life against the rock troll. Classmates finally rushed to check him.
...Futile camaraderie.
Thankfully, Barry Cox didn't die.
"Hurts like hell..."
"Quit whining."
"Limbs broken and that's whining?"
Not dead, but massive injuries confirmed.
Oddly, only pain—no major issues.
Concussion-worthy, but this Colosseum luckily had,
"Holy magic for the win, seriously."
"No deaths anyway."
Holy magic.
Miracles wielded solely by priests of the One God [Radiant Light].
This mystical power blanketed the entire Colosseum, ensuring no fatalities even from grave wounds.
Barry's injuries, occurring within its domain, would heal soon.
The ultimate safe battleground—no death, no lasting harm.
A miracle proclaiming the gods' existence.
Deeply impressed was a warrior of a mystic race.
"Kunta wants that holy magic thing! Our tribe'd have no injuries!"
The barbarian tribe, ever plagued by monster attacks, sparkled at the holy mystery.
Like a kid eyeing a coveted toy.
But Arno had to crush that pure hope.
"Not recommended."
"Why?"
"Useless against real monsters."
"...Huh?"
"Fine for controlled artificial ones like this, but wild beasts shred it. Safe here with real-time management, but otherwise..."
"Requires heaps of tribute too? Your tribe'd starve forever installing it?"
"......Kunta hates holy magic now."
Kunta deflated.
Thought he'd found a great solution—total bust.
In that sagging moment,
"Don't mope, look up. Our department's star prospect's about to swing properly."
"......Whoa!"
The barbarian perked up, eyes aglow, forgetting disappointment.
Holy magic disappointed, sure.
"-Roan Dimitri de Lionel. I swear to dragon, lion, and fairy for an honorable duel."
But this guy wouldn't disappoint.
Shing!
The young lion drew his sword.
An endless procession of carriages.
Not ordinary ones—luxurious vehicles jammed the road.
Vain nobles flaunting status, merchant guilds boasting wealth.
Even modest but marked by unignorable guild unions.
Wargames drew crowds to impress the princess before, but not frantic rabble like then.
Heavyweights had gathered.
Semester evaluations ended, cadets got a week off—so parents came personally for their kids.
Even stodgy high nobles or trade lords: parents are parents.
But their turnout wasn't pure parental love.
"Baron Jeremy! How long's it been!"
"Aisoll merchant head? Ho, your kid here too?"
"Haha, enrolled this year."
"Should've said earlier."
"Bother a busy lord with trivia?"
"You're the busy one."
"Perish the thought!"
"Hohoho!"
Pretext.
Perfect excuse for hard-to-meet or awkward VIPs to "coincidentally" convene—worth the trip to the Academy.
Thus, carriages piled at the main gate for interests and rivalries, crowds surging to the Colosseum capping evaluations.
Hiding schemes and motives.
And from one side, eyeing them,
"-Filthy pigs everywhere."
A contemptuous voice sneered.
Amid the throng.
A priest-robed man scowled deeply, unleashing unsparing disdain. Habitual frown etched deep wrinkles.
His scorn targeted the power brokers clustered, poised to erupt.
But,
"Then we're pigs too?"
"...Won't deny, but don't remind me."
"Heh, sorry, boss."
"You wastrel."
His comrade's retort calmed the man.
Right, time to endure...
He muttered lowly. His comrade grinned playfully,
"Boss needn't act; the doomed'll be slaughtered. Prep's solid."
"Certain?"
"Aura Users or elites moving? Nah. Today's list—no standouts."
"True."
"So we watch. Fun festival, eh? Haha!"
"Evaluations, not festival. Speak right—cadets stake lives earnestly."
"What weird talk."
He shrugged.
The man's words rang bizarre.
Especially since,
"The one planning to kill every earnest cadet."
No intent to spare anyone here—yet preaching like a saint. Ironic.
But the man stood proud.
"Kill? Don't say that."
Click.
"Glorious blessing, not death. What greater honor? They'll be satisfied."
Cross in hand, he quietly traced the holy sign.
"Enviable."
Truly envious of the lambs soon to be offerings.