Raw Extremes (2)
Forced drowning, water torture, bomb vest, explosive finale leading to self-resurrection and unintended nudity. Nudity aside—since it was accidental—these events still happened. Would you believe all this came from a single person?
Just the bomb vest alone screams "psycho." But Sivar used every means at his disposal because he had no right to attack. It proved he wasn't stupid by any means. The problem? His methods were downright vicious.
With no attack rights, he resorted to every trick in the book—most of them shocking enough to make your jaw drop.
"How the hell did he even come up with those? And it's Sivar of all people—not some other student. Makes it even more baffling."
"Right? There's that saying humans are innately evil. Maybe that's it?"
"The theory of innate depravity? I'm starting to buy into it a bit myself."
Sivar was a wild man. A wild man who'd spent his life just surviving in the forest, only entering civilization about two months ago. No one could believe he'd "learned" those tactics in such a short time. He'd been staying with Lord Sherman the whole while, after all. The logical conclusion: he'd come up with them himself.
But the real question was whether this should even be treated as a problem.
"If he'd had attack rights from the start, none of this would've happened. And it's debatable if there was any malice in his actions."
"Malice... He might've just prioritized efficiency. Something worth considering."
"I don't see any malice. He probably just thought, 'This'll work best.'"
The professors who'd observed Sivar closely figured he had some sense of morals and ethics, but it was pretty thin. He'd used every dirty trick to survive in the wild, hunting all sorts of animals along the way. For someone from that environment to have such low violent tendencies was impressive in itself. Some argued he'd be more brutal than even the "barbarian" Kara.
"Speaking of, wasn't it Professor Delphoi who restricted his attack rights?"
"Yeah. He's hated Sivar from the get-go."
"Bring that guy in first."
Delphoi was the prime suspect. Unlike the others, he'd opposed Sivar vehemently.
Originally, they'd planned to give Sivar attack rights for fairness. Being too strong wasn't an issue—you evaluate strength accordingly. If others climbed the survival rankings by avoiding him? That'd just boost his score higher. As the ancients said, true victory lies in winning without fighting. The exam's ultimate goal was to reap rewards while dodging needless battles.
"...And thanks to that, we're all writing apology letters. You'll need a few extra sheets, Professor Delphoi."
"......"
"Fairness and equity went out the window the moment you stripped Sivar of his attack rights. Anything to say for yourself?"
They'd summoned the root of all evil—Delphoi—and started grilling him. For a guy leisurely researching in his lab, it went from confusing to absurd. But even that absurdity soon turned to irritation.
"Hold on. I made the suggestion, sure—but you all accepted it. Why am I the only one getting heat?"
Delphoi had a point. He'd only proposed it; the others had approved. Some had even agreed his reasoning made sense. He had grounds to feel hard done by.
"True. But that doesn't absolve you of responsibility. Even we dissenters have to write letters."
"That's..."
"More importantly, what did you say, Professor Delphoi? That Sivar needed to restrain his violence to enter civilization?"
Delphoi had argued Sivar was more violent than Kara, so they had to force restraint—like muzzling a large dog, treating him more beast than man. Marlboro and others had voiced opposition, but majority vote carried it. (Note: the yes votes came from professors not directly teaching Sivar's class, judging by rumors and wearing colored glasses, aligning with Delphoi.)
"Look at the results now. 'Restrain violence'? What a joke. When other students are throwing around worse, forcing it only on Sivar is absurd."
"It's traumatizing the kids, even. That water torture victim might need counseling—or a hospital."
"And it's ridiculous we let someone else dictate what we should've decided."
As Sara put it coldly, it was the supervising professors' call. But Delphoi had politicked his way into overriding it. The academy was a cutthroat place; even professors jockeyed for position as national reps. No politics? Unthinkable. Delphoi had slyly exploited that for overreach.
"Hah, but I told you! That wild man assaulted me without provocation. I was just greeting him warmly, and he snapped my wrist."
Sensing the mood souring, Delphoi jumped in, dredging up the time he'd groped Luna and gotten wrecked by Sivar. Sneakily, he omitted anything unflattering to himself.
"You didn't touch his shoulder from behind or anything first, right?"
"N-No, nothing like that!"
Yeonhwa's question made Delphoi falter slightly. He'd tried it on Luna, not Sivar. The professors didn't detect lies, tilting their heads.
"Weird. From what I've seen, Sivar doesn't lash out with violence carelessly."
"He stays put unless it's self-defense. Causes accidents in afternoon training, sure, but he listens attentively in class."
Only positive takes on Sivar emerged. To them, he was the "well-behaved student." Sounds funny, but true. He never slacked in lectures, absorbing everything diligently. His afternoon antics aside, they couldn't help but favor him.
"Professor Delphoi?"
"Hm?"
"You're not conveniently leaving out your own mistakes, are you?"
Godin's question. He didn't buy Delphoi's story wholesale. When Sivar broke his wrist, Delphoi had badmouthed him openly. Someone like that "greeting warmly"? Godin wasn't sold.
"...What're you implying? That I started it?"
"Poor phrasing on my part. I mean, did you do something to provoke him?"
Delphoi flinched again at Godin's probe. Guilty as charged—but admitting it would hurt. He scowled, raising his voice.
"Never! Do I look like that kind of guy to you, Professor Godin?!"
"Really? That's odd."
"What's odd about it?"
Marlboro asked Godin. Something didn't add up.
"Remember the first time I put my hand on Sivar's shoulder?"
"Of course. You nearly got diced."
"Er... yeah. Anyway, after I took over as his advisor, Sivar waved and greeted me warmly. Despite what happened."
"Huh."
Intriguing. He'd have reason to hold a grudge, yet didn't. And Sivar's circle? All good-hearted folks. Even Kara was kinder than her rep suggested. He kept the right people close.
"Is it really that wild intuition of his?"
"Dunno about that far."
"Anyway, let's skip that and prep our apology letters. Wonder how the president'll take it."
"He'll probably laugh it off. Fits his personality."
Lord might. But Sivar's water torture and bomb vest? No mercy there.
With things winding down, Delphoi ground his teeth and turned away. Total humiliation.
'He broke my wrist first!'
Still burned. He'd just reached out in "friendship," and Sivar snapped it. Sure, sticky lust laced that "friendship," but Delphoi ignored it. Only Sivar's violence stuck.
"...I'll be going then."
"Sure. Oh, Professor Delphoi."
"What now?"
Godin called; Delphoi snapped without turning, voice icy. Sivar irked him, but Godin grated too. Never liked him.
"You know Grace, right? The Berche duke's daughter."
"......Yeah. Why her?"
"She wants to study under me after the exam. Mind filling me in on her later?"
"......"
No malice—just curiosity about a student. But to Delphoi? Utter humiliation. Godin's teaching trumped his. Pride shredded. Grace had been polite, but her haughty vibe screamed disdain.
'These bastards...!'
He ached to vent. Not now. He'd blow off steam soon, he vowed, swallowing rage.
"...She's a fine student. Might be too much for you to handle, Professor Godin."
"Is that so? Should be a good experience then."
Godin beamed innocently. His pure-hearted reply only pissed Delphoi off more.
Delphoi stormed out without another word. The others noted his clenched fists but said nothing. A big incident loomed—Delphoi-related, no doubt.
"Alright, time for our letters. Let's monitor the exam for now."
"Should we lift Sivar's attack restriction now?"
"That'd look spineless. Better to watch and..."
Sara trailed off, eyes on the exam screen. Her blue eyes trembled faintly—an anomaly for her stoic face. Others followed suit.
Onscreen: Sivar, changed clothes, back with his team. But his actions...
Sivar stuffing bombs into a bag—for hauling items, collectible in the exam, varying capacities by type.
Even Grace looked speechless, alongside the professors. Open the bag? Instant boom. Bomb vest level genius—or horror.
Where'd he learn this? Self-taught seemed too ingenious to believe.
Genius-level ideas kept spilling. Grace had given up responding. Professors stared blankly.
Marlboro sighed first.
"...Give him attack rights. This is an academy, not a terrorist training camp."
Strong hunch he'd be writing extra apology letters.