Chapter 108
Chapter 108
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>Translator: Lord First
>Chapter: 108
>Chapter Title: A Performance Review
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“Um.”
“Don’t you ‘um’ me…. Hold on. Essie. It’s not just me seeing that, right? You see it too? You all see it?”
“Yes….”
“Uh….”
“Yeah.”
Ivan surveyed the injured students, one by one, lost in thought.
*There’s no need to torture the students, so I should find a priest.*
*They’re hurt more seriously than I thought. Still, the injuries aren’t severe enough to leave lasting effects.* That was because, in this marvelous pre-modern fantasy world, priests could genuinely use healing magic.
Besides, iron is forged through hammering, and the ground hardens after the rain, so it was fine. (Of course, the same does not apply to people.)
The fact that every single one of them had acquired Nerve Acceleration made this training a remarkable success. In just six days, he had spurred the growth of cadets who hadn’t even had a feel for the skill.
If he refined this curriculum a little more and made it a regular program, the combat proficiency of the Counter-Intelligence Command would reach a level that most military organizations wouldn’t dare to approach.
“Mister. Is it for real?”
“Hm?”
“Really, truly. For real. Are you really, truly okay? Not hurt anywhere? You can even move your body…?”
“What do you mean?”
Were they experiencing hallucinations from the pain? Ivan raised his hand and gave a signal. An agent who had been ordained as a priest came running.
After some preliminary healing prayers, they would be moved to a nearby territory for final treatment at a cathedral. The injuries were such that they would fully recover within the vacation period.
Ivan had plenty of experience in this area. No special surgical knowledge was required. He had personally experienced most of it.
Generally, short of losing a limb entirely, Ivan was a man who had suffered every possible type of injury. He could assess the cadets’ conditions by the severity of their wounds alone.
The injuries weren't as severe as the pain would suggest. This was likely thanks to the cadets’ miraculous physical capabilities.
If anything, it was an incredible achievement. The ability to dip their toes into the realm of superhumans at the cost of lying in a clinic for a month or two was by no means a loss. (It was.)
“No, wait a minute! Wait!! Stop!”
“Hm.”
“Stop with the ‘hm’ too! Right now… right now… what… what did you do? Are you really in your right mind? You were just… watching us?”
“Ah, that’s not true.”
He had been consistently monitoring the situation on-site to assist with the training.
Therefore, it was a perfectly controlled, safe exercise. Or so he said.
His deadpan explanation was infuriating.
“Safe!! How can you say that?! Look, look at him. Oskar’s arms are both broken, and—and Elfihera was crying tears of blood!”
“Uncle, I was struck by lightning….”
“The injuries were within the expected range.”
“Aaargh—!! Since when! Why!!”
“From the beginning.”
At this point, Ivan felt the need to provide a comprehensive evaluation and feedback. It was a well-known fact that reviewing mistakes immediately after solving a problem was more effective for improving learning efficiency. A piece of advanced civilization bestowed upon this pre-modern world by the developed educational curriculum of the 21st century.
“When was the first moment you thought, ‘We are being attacked by demons’?”
“What…?”
“The gunshot. It was when an agent was shot and fell. I was watching as you all fell into a panic at that point and chose to flee.”
“Well, of course, when someone gets turned into a swiss cheese right in front of you and collapses… he’s…?”
At the end of Isabelle’s gaze, an agent was waving his hands with a moved expression.
He was the very agent who had screamed at them to run on the first day of the attack, spewing blood as he was shot.
*Hic,* Isabelle covered her face and let out a bizarre scream.
“Among the weapons of the orcs you encountered, were there any gunpowder weapons?”
“…?!”
“You should have noticed at that point. The orcs didn’t use guns, did they? The only ones in this forest who possessed and used firearms were the agents.”
“No, what does that even—?!”
Ivan cut himself off and waved his hand.
Soon, agents emerged from the forest in a flood. About fifty burly men appeared, forming a circle.
Each of them was beaming as they looked at the girls.
“What, what is this? What’s with this atmosphere?!!”
“But congratulations. You have all completed the course with excellent results, learned teamwork and survival skills, and mastered Nerve Acceleration. You’ve exceeded the mission objectives.”
Ivan was a man who believed in clear rewards and punishments. Naturally, all accomplishments must be followed by a reward.
At his gesture, simultaneously and with great solemnity.
Some even sniffled.
It couldn’t be helped. The Counter-Intelligence Command were the spiritual successors of the Annihilation Squad, so they were bound to be incredibly fond of the Hero’s Party.
-Clap.
-Clap. Clap. Clap.
-Clap. Clap, clap. Clap.
The agents began to applaud in a solemn atmosphere.
Isabelle heard something in her ear snap.
“*Gack*….”
She clutched the back of her neck and fainted.
***
-Tap, tap, tap.
A fountain pen with a gold nib tapped a rhythmic beat on the table. (One should not do this. Fountain pen nibs are extremely delicate.)
The ink held in the nib splattered onto the table. The spreading black stain seemed to perfectly express her mental state.
*How artistic.* Elizaveta gripped her teacup with a trembling hand.
*Clatter, clatter.* A loud noise echoed. Ah, she had unintentionally developed a tremor. Yes. Understandable.
In truth, tapping the table with the fountain pen hadn't been intentional either. Her hand had just been shaking. Trembling violently.
[The following training process was fully controlled by the reporter, and any injuries sustained during the situation were treated on-site before being transferred to a follow-up clinic.
Isabelle: Full-body contusions, two fractures, attached medical certificate recommending long-term rest due to nerve overload.
>Elfihera: Internal circuit damage due to accumulated mana fatigue, receipts for necessary restorative medicines attached as Reference 2.
>Oskar: Fractures in both upper arms, left foot fracture, sprain below the knee, at least 15 muscle ruptures, attached medical certificate recommending over a month of intensive treatment.
>Esidis: Exposure to a wide-range attack spell (estimated 6th-tier), at least 5 burns, muscle ruptures, moderate sprain of the left wrist ligament, attached medical certificate recommending over 5 weeks of intensive treatment due to nerve strain.
End of report.
Reporter: Ivan Petrovich Eremov.
>Reviewer: Dmitry Cherkatov.]
“…”
Elizaveta tried to swallow her tea with a trembling hand, spilling it on her front twice before giving up.
As always, Ivan’s report was astonishingly dry. So dry it felt like chewing on wood.
Unlike usual, she felt a craving for something sweet. Had Ivan known, he would have diagnosed it as a sugar deficiency in the brain.
Sadly, Krasilov boasted a consistently cold climate year-round, meaning it had to rely entirely on foreign imports for sugarcane. As a frugal monarch, Elizaveta once again resisted the temptation of sugar.
Instead, she gave in to a different temptation.
“How many have you counted?”
“One thousand five hundred and forty-three, Your Highness.”
“Maintain the position until two thousand.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Only then did she place the report on the table and lift her head.
In a corner of the spacious chancellor’s office, two men were doing push-ups while in a handstand.
Having been sternly ordered to use only their pure physical abilities without magic, Ivan and Dmitry had sweated so profusely that they were creating puddles on the floor.
“Enough. Enough. Enough!! Enough!!!”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Aaargh—!! Ahh… Aaaargh— Why! Why did you do it, why!”
Ivan, having swiftly regulated his somewhat ragged breathing, knelt on one knee in a perfect posture, awaiting her command.
He was the very model of a stoic, loyal subject. So stoic she wanted to chew him out. Instead, Elizaveta chewed on the end of her fountain pen with a trembling hand.
“Did I ask for too much? Is it my fault? No, it is my fault. Vanka, it is my great failing that I did not teach you manners and common sense. Indeed, having lived on the battlefield since childhood, your ignorance and rudeness cannot be your fault alone. It is my fault. I’m the one to blame!!”
Ivan quietly bowed his head, letting Elizaveta’s words wash over him.
Frankly, a lecture on common sense and etiquette wasn’t something the autocratic ruler of a pre-modern, pseudo-Russian empire should be giving.
Ivan was a four-year university student from the Republic of Korea, the Land of the Morning Calm, a nation of morality and etiquette that had blossomed under strict Confucian culture for over five hundred years. (He was even a living textbook of morality, boasting a top grade in the ethics portion of the social studies exam.)
However, Ivan was a rational person and did not bother to elaborate on things that were impossible to explain. He simply lowered his head in silence.
Watching him, Elizaveta clutched her chest.
“I… just… I ordered you to come to me and report on what you were thinking during the tournament when you decided to subjugate all the high nobles and reform the domestic powers without any consultation. Is that not so?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“But instead, you decided to act first and report later, taking the students… without the headmaster’s permission, dragging them off for a ‘special class,’ and making them train in the wilderness.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Don’t you ‘Yes, Your Highness’ me!!”
Elizaveta huffed and puffed before burying her face in her hands.
“Training… I understand the need for training… I get it. I understand.”
Elizaveta peeked at Ivan through her fingers. Seeing his stoic face, frustration and anger welled up, but then a pang of heartache followed.
*Yes, that man is still living on the battlefield.*
That must be why, in this peaceful era, he felt the need to drag students away for harsh survival training. Though his methods were excessively severe, his reasoning was, at least, understandable.
These were no ordinary students. They were the descendants of the Hero’s Party. This meant they were the most desirable targets for anyone seeking to sow chaos, be they demons, ambitious schemers, or treasonous nobles.
So this man had acted, in the end, to minimize the potential blowback on Krasilov.
He always had. He must have done it for the sake of this country.
That may be true.
But still.
“Aaargh—!!”
Elizaveta desperately wanted to deny the reality that she now had to send official letters to the dignitaries of various nations stating, ‘Your precious child has been broken, but fortunately, they are being treated without any lasting effects. Sadly, it will be difficult for them to return home this semester break.’ (Though it may be hard to believe, Krasilov never holds foreign dignitaries as hostages.)
She let out a choked sob, then managed to stammer out her words.
“Lady Isabelle had a message she insisted I deliver to you the moment she awoke.”
“I am listening, Your Highness.”
A lecture evaluation.
Ivan raised his head, pleased. He was quite confident. His educational course had been conducted with great care in an environment where all variables were controlled.
“She asked me to authorize her independent assassination attempt on you. I approved it.”
“…Yes, Your Highness.”
Ivan nodded with a blank expression, then grew somewhat sullen.
“You are now under house arrest…. No, just. Just….”
*An idiot.*
Elizaveta struggled to swallow the last word and waved her hand, dismissing the two fools. (Dmitry felt wronged.)
Thus passed the first week after the start of summer vacation.
EP15. The Academy Summer Break Event is Real Combat, as is Common Sense