Adaptation (2)
The teacup-smashing fiasco had blown over without much fuss. I hoped Lord would catch on, but it seemed like it would take time. Afterward, we headed out for a meal. Lord himself claimed he wasn't confident in cooking. He could do it, sure, but it was strictly for filling the belly and nothing more. Living as a wild man had made it that way.
Crunch— Munch— Crunch—
"Eat slower. No one's gonna steal it from you."
How could I? Everything was so damn good. I let Lord's words go in one ear and out the other as I focused on devouring my food. We were at one of the academy's cafeterias, settling in for a meal. Technically, it was school food, but it was delicious—better than expected—and best of all, it was a buffet. I could eat my fill without restraint.
"...Who's that guy? Eating like he hasn't seen food in days."
"Shh. Quiet. The president's right there."
"Why's the president hanging with him? Wasn't the top admit with him earlier?"
Whispers reached my ears as I sat at the table, piling food onto my plate. The combo of the academy president and a stranger like me was bound to draw eyes—utterly bizarre. I ignored it all, hands moving nonstop. My stomach was already growling from the fierce battle with Porori. I used knife and fork sparingly, mostly as skewers, grabbing most things by hand. No surprise the stares weren't friendly. Lord just chuckled and watched.
"...Not a shred of dignity. Even barbarians don't eat like that."
"He's not a barbarian, he's a wild man. Heard he came from Chaos Forest."
"He'll be best buds with that new barbarian enrollee. Heh."
I could brush off the insults about my gluttony. But why drag in the barbarian who'd been minding his own business? Folks here had character in spades—impressive in all the wrong ways.
'He'll get punched later.'
Crunch! Snap!
I chewed bones to bits while scanning the cafeteria. Even on a weekend lunch hour, it was packed. I searched for tanned skin close to bronze. It'd stand out, so I figured it'd be easy.
'Not here.'
A shame—he was a big deal in the story. We'd cross paths soon enough. For now, priority one: stuff my face. I tuned out the gossip, hands flying.
"Pardon the interruption."
"Hm?"
As I shoveled food in, someone approached. Mouth full, I checked him out. Handsome guy, blond hair, blue eyes—a perfect match. Classic noble.
I stared hard at his annoyingly pretty face until it clicked.
'Elvin, right?'
That punchable mug jogged my memory. Last name escaped me, but Elvin stuck. Noble through and through, embodying the highs and lows of aristocracy. Proud, high self-esteem tipping into arrogance. He looked down on commoner players, but after a few beatdowns, he'd reform into a solid ally. Until then? Total pain.
"Who might you be?"
"Elvin Martis Jerka of the Knight Department, new enrollee this term."
"Ah. From the Jerka count family of the Matra Empire? I've heard of you."
"Nothing compared to the illustrious Sword Saint. That said..."
Elvin buttered up Lord, then shifted his gaze to me. I met it with a mouthful of food. His brow twitched instantly—not friendly. He schooled his expression and asked Lord.
"Who is this man? A disciple of yours, perhaps...?"
"Not quite. Would you believe he survived Chaos Forest?"
"So the rumors were true. But why are you the one with him?"
"No one else to look after him but me. So, what's your point?"
Lord cut to the chase, tired of beating around the bush. Elvin glanced around cautiously. I chomped my stuffed cheekful of meat, sensing the tension, and looked up. The whole cafeteria was staring or sneaking peeks now. All eyes on us.
Elvin finally spoke.
"If I may be so bold—this wild... no, this man's enrolling too? Mid-term admission's allowed if qualifications are met."
"He's got the skills, but lacks elsewhere. Can't speak or read."
"......"
Elvin's face was priceless—lost for words. The academy president's charge: a mute illiterate wild man. Hard to swallow. Still, relief washed over him at the no-enrollment hint.
"Communication's possible to a degree, so we're considering it."
"......Enrolling someone like this would tarnish the academy's prestige. We've already got a barbarian."
His face hardened at "considering." Dead set against my admission. Fine by me—I'd follow the story regardless.
"Tarnish the prestige...? Do you know why United Academy was founded?"
"I do, but barbarians—the Tatar tribe—just formed a nation recently. Before that, they raided neighbors constantly. Could sow conflict."
"I thought admitting them resolved that. What was that earlier? Him becoming best friends with the barbarian? Who's stirring conflict here?"
Lord had overheard too. A Sword Saint wouldn't miss it. Elvin flinched at the pointed jab. He'd said it or agreed, clearly.
Tatar reputation sucked, sure. Recent nation-builders, prior raiders. Bronze-skinned Vikings, basically. A future branch point, major episode. That's why I'd scanned for him.
"......I'll apologize for that. But this man's worse. He knows nothing of civilization. It'll sully the academy's honor."
"Admission's my call. If you're that unhappy, a duel with Sivar might settle it."
"Sivar?"
Why drag me in? I blinked wide-eyed. Elvin eyed me, face full of doubt and suspicion. Lord speared a chunk of sliced steak with his fork.
"Academy proves worth by strength. Status irrelevant if skilled enough. Right?"
"......Yes. But basic common sense is minimum."
"We'll teach him. I said we're considering. Your opposition just makes me more stubborn. Sivar?"
I looked at Lord. His gray eyes gleamed with odd curiosity. No clue what he expected. I chewed, waiting.
"Duel... might not compute."
Lord glanced around, gripped fork and knife in each hand, pointed at me and Elvin alternately, then clashed them. Body language for sparring. I got it already.
"Clear?"
"Sivar."
"Got it. Where? Standard arena or special?"
"Standard arena."
With terms set, I swallowed and faced Elvin. He grimaced meeting my eyes. Obvious thoughts. Academy honor talk screamed misguided ideals. Whatever.
'Should be fine.'
It would. Lord as witness, and I wouldn't kill him. Unless he cursed me out—then payback. Gotta show I understood that.
"Sigh... President."
"Speak."
"If I win, bar his enrollment forever."
That desperate to block me? Prideful noble thing.
'Makes sense.'
Setting demanded massive ego; he'd guard it fiercely. Annoying regardless. Who was he to demand that? Maybe fame—Lord knew his house.
"And if Sivar wins, what then?"
"I'll apologize publicly, before everyone."
"Splendid."
Not a total lost cause. Just overgrown pride. First human fight, though—worried a bit. I'd scrapped with squirrels, but people? New.
'Newbie stats low anyway.'
Freshman noble: Soul World stats around 70-80 average. Normal, really. Protagonist starts lower. Elvin trained from youth, so higher estimate. Reality over game—technique trumped stats.
'What were mine again?'
I glanced up to check. Up from Porori brawl, stamina rose.
• Strength: 143
• Agility: 140
• Stamina: 148
• Mana: 145
• Luck: 102
• Faith: 0
Devilish 140s—only +1. Plenty still. Uncovering academy secrets would boost 'em. Or not.
'Won't lose.'
Food first.
'Why's it say Sivar?'
Ridiculous.
Around the same time, Luna returned to her dorm and flopped onto bed, staring at the ceiling. Normally she'd bathe, but today was too hectic—no energy left. Exhausted. Wanted to crash, but too much on her mind.
'Per the mural... the academy gets attacked by demons.'
She recalled the cave paintings where Sivar lived. Crude, but meanings clear. And impossible to ignore: United Academy demon raid.
Demons had been quiet lately. Nations too busy with power struggles.
'A real attack?'
Headache. If so, President Lord—Sword Saint, walking army—would handle it. But demons attacking anyway meant a setup. Whatever that was.
'...Doesn't add up. Why target the academy?'
Anyone else saying it'd sound insane. Academy's symbolism alone. But the painter? Likely Sivar. Why draw that? How'd he know?
'What's his deal?'
Chaos Forest survivor, insanely strong, semi-communicative wild man. Nothing added up. Amnesia didn't cut it. Sudden drop-in? Too absurd.
"Sigh."
Luna exhaled, sat up. Brain overload. Nothing till Sivar learned language. Focus on studies for now.
'Training it is.'
Ate with Ellie, so stomach half-empty. She rose to clear her head, grabbing her village sword. Weapons allowed on campus—crime meant brutal punishment.
'If demons attack, traces everywhere. Check spare time.'
Her innate ability might spot quick. Scout suspects.
Heading out, Luna made for the training grounds—one per dorm.
"Heard? Jerka young master's dueling some weirdo at the arena."
"Weirdo? Outsider?"
"Rumor says from Chaos Forest."
Overheard chatter too juicy to ignore. Luna turned. The girl speaking eyed her too. Purple hair, purple eyes—stunning, even to Luna, but sharp gaze screamed condescension.
'Who was she?'
Familiar face, no bond. Glimpsed at enrollment. Why approach boldly?
Luna blinked.
"Hello. You're the top admit, right?"
"......Yes."
Luna answered blankly. Flow felt off.
"Grace Aria del Berche of the Berche dukedom."
"Luna Estel."
Luna, rural commoner—names blurred. Dirty long noble name, she thought. Still, polite.
Grace had stared the whole time, appraising.
"Overheard? Jerka young master versus outsider."
Appraisal done, she smiled elegantly, arms crossed—bust emphasized.
'Ellie too—why's everyone stacked? Am I small?'
Luna glanced down, then back. Grace's smile oozed superiority despite the eyes.
Answer time. Luna fixed on her face.
"Caught that, yeah."
"Rumor you brought the outsider."
"......Ah."
Luna tilted head, then gasped. One outsider fit: the man on her mind. Flustered.
"Why's Sivar dueling...?"
"Sivar, huh. No idea. Wanna watch?"
Duh. Luna nodded, flustered. Recalled monkey-slaying Sivar—too fast to track.
"Jerka young master—what's his deal?"
"Elvin Martis Jerka. Pre-enrollment hotshot. Matra Empire's watching closely."
"I see."
No clue how strong, but nodded. Probably decent.
'What's going on?'
Like a kid by the water, Luna couldn't shake the unease.