Class
Class
Maybe it was because I'd drawn a lot of students' attention from the very start, but the registration for the Teacher's course had been fiercely competitive.
Considering that most common courses weren't popular because of their middling importance and weight, it was apparently quite an unusual thing, but since it was a story that had nothing to do with me, I just laughed my ass off listening to Sheryl grumble about how much trouble she'd gone through to sign up. Then I left the disgruntled Sheryl behind and walked around the academy with Laika, setting out to look for a part-time job I could do in parallel with my research under the Teacher.
Naturally, it wasn't about going outside the academy grounds. It was a process of looking into classes taught by professors who wanted to hire me on a short-term basis, like some sort of hourly instructor.
Just as the Teacher had said, there were quite a few academy professors who wanted my labor. From pure swordsmanship and combat technique courses that didn't use aura at all, to practical combat courses that aimed to lead combat advantageously not just through aura but in multiple ways. The subjects were so battle-happy I wondered if you could really call these classes taught to snot-nosed kids at an academy. After shopping around and thinking it over for a bit, I picked only the practical combat course and headed to that professor's office. Honestly, even if a lot of places were calling me, I didn't have many choices.
Pure swordsmanship? Sure, I had confidence, to be honest. Getting stabbed by that fellow Envelde had dented it a little once, but after hearing how long that man had lived by the sword, it felt closer to the natural outcome. So compared with academy students, I didn't think I'd fall short... but precisely because of that, there was no reason to spend those class hours working like some temp instructor.
There was nothing much for me to learn and nothing much for me to teach. The swordsmanship I'd learned was elf basic swordsmanship and the swordsmanship taught by the Ogatorf family. The former was the most basic of basics, and on top of that I'd arranged it to my own convenience, and the latter wasn't something I could carelessly teach anyone. So then what remained was just the slashing and thrusting drills I'd done as a kid...
"No way that gets results in just 1 or 2 years at the academy."
If you had the leisure to eat all day and do nothing but swing a sword, you think this'd be an academy? It'd be a swordsmanship school.
Even so, going into a combat course that applied aura and faking my Magic Power as aura would be a joke. If earning money were the only goal, what couldn't I do, but right now it wasn't money I was short on—it was training and learning to get stronger. So I had no intention of wasting precious time on such a class. The professors who got wind of my refusal put on some uncomfortable airs, but there was no particular reason to care. On the contrary, I'd freely admitted my own abilities were lacking and helped them not waste money, so I deserved thanks, but people don't know how to be grateful.
Naturally, as I eliminated them one by one like that, all that was left was one course that was essentially open-weight-class battle-junkie practical training, and so I'd arrived at that professor's office.
The course name alone was heavily macho. Practical Combat. Just two words.
"Well met. I am Grialle Rübis, professor of Practical Combat."
But the professor in charge of the course had an impression that was far from macho.
Unlike the burly, hairy-armed muscleman I'd pictured, I was greeted by a slender-looking elf man with fine auburn hair roughly tied back. I reflected on my own misguided prejudices and gave my greeting.
"I'm Eldmia Ega. Pleased to meet you, Professor Rübis."
"Mm, I've heard well of the reputation that's spread through the capital about you lately. Honestly, I did ask, but I thought you'd be more interested in the other professors' classes. Thank you for coming like this."
I didn't know why he'd thought that, but anyway, the course outline I heard from Professor Rübis, a man with the bizarre notion of trying to use me in his class while knowing my rumors, was remarkably simple.
"What I wish to ask of you is simple. No matter how excellent the students are, a fixed mindset isn't something easily cast off. You just need to wake them up through sparring under the name of a special lesson for a while."
I deeply appreciated that the conversation wasn't pointlessly complicated or dragged out, but the problem was that it was extremely direct and overly simple. On the contrary, I was the one taken aback and, after briefly pretending to think it over, had to ask carefully.
"If you'll excuse the impertinence, but it doesn't really seem like you'd particularly need me, so could I ask why you want to push the class forward by hiring me?"
"It's simple. Because it's necessary. They can accept losing to an elf who's lived two hundred years as a matter of course, but losing one-sidedly to someone their own age is different. For learners, the desire to improve is an important driving force."
Did living two hundred years create an elf with such a peculiar way of speaking like this? He kept the courtesy of serving tea to a guest directly, but his words and actions were stiff, and yet despite that he lacked formality. A truly rare person to see. Professor Rübis, who enjoyed a sip of tea in a posture without the slightest disorder, paused briefly before continuing his words.
"My class is three times a week. I teach each grade only up to the 3rd year. Because of the nature of the subject, a single class period lasts two hours, which is a bit longer than other classes. I'm not specifically telling you to fill the entire time. If the students hold out, you fill it; if they can't, it ends early. If you accept, I'll split the salary I receive according to the number of class days and pay it as compensation."
I liked that he brought up pay on his own first, and I liked that the pay was extraordinary. In this world where you had to spend absurd amounts of money just to acquire knowledge and receive an education, the salary received by those who taught people was extremely lucrative.
"Very generous of you. You haven't agreed to take a smaller salary or anything like that, have you?"
It was a half-serious question, though I threw it out half-jokingly. Despite having a face that didn't seem like it would smile, Professor Rübis showed a relaxed grin as he answered.
"I don't play such pranks. I'm receiving an amount befitting a Royal Academy professor, so don't worry."
At the same time, I checked the contract he held out and, after seeing the contents and the amount, I signed without hesitation.
"I'm fine with it, but you don't need to confirm my skills?"
I'd assumed there'd be some kind of test, a bout or whatever, but it was so simple I asked. Professor Rübis, his face devoid of laughter again, asked back as if he was the one who found it puzzling.
"The one who beat the Empire's Hero... do I really need to?"
Huh. I don't know if that bastard Siegfried had built his own reputation even while pulling that bullshit, or if it was thanks to the reputation carved out by previous Heroes. Well, it was a good thing for me since it was convenient.
"The 2nd-year class I have today hasn't started yet, so what will you do? Shall we start from today?"
He could've demanded I start right away since I'd signed the contract and I'd have nothing to say, but Professor Rübis's proposal came out quite gentlemanly. I nodded. As luck would have it, it was Sheryl's grade, so there was no particular reason to refuse either. I wanted to see how much she'd grown through this chance, and I was also curious how much the difference would be compared to the Imperial Academy.
"There's about twenty-odd minutes left until class, but it'd be best to see the training grounds first. Unlike the Empire, which possesses a training ground made by the Phantom Duke, our facilities are ordinary, so getting a look beforehand would be better."
"It was an incredible facility. I just assumed the Empire's mages had superior illusion magic skills, but was it made by someone called the Phantom Duke?"
"You could say he made it almost entirely on his own. The illusion magic that existed there before was excellent as well... but after he touched it, there was no choice but to use the word shabby in comparison."
Just how vast was the gap in skill for an elf who'd lived two hundred years to sing praises like this? Still, it was a relief that not just anyone could use illusion magic of that level. I'd worried it might be trickier than most attack magic, but that eased my concerns.
As I followed Professor Rübis without much thought, mid-walk he gestured toward Laika with his chin and threw out a sudden question.
"More than that, something I've been curious about since earlier—are you deliberately keeping that Demon Sword with you in the form of a dog?"
"...How did you know?"
A few days ago might have been one thing, but now Laika was nothing more than an ordinary Welsh Corgi from head to tail. Even the fur, which had initially had a silver tint, had become completely ordinary by now. Just what had he noticed? Professor Rübis slowly stroked his chin at my question and answered while looking at Laika.
"I wasn't sure whether I could really feel it because it's so unfamiliar, but the unique foreignness characteristic of a Demon Sword remains. Though it's to the point where, regardless of how long you've left it like that, soon you won't be able to feel anything at all."
"Foreignness?"
"Mm... this is tricky to explain in words. I'd appreciate it if you just understood it as my senses being sharp. Anyway, I was tremendously curious about it personally. You surely must have known it would completely lose its function as a Demon Sword, so could you tell me why you made that choice?"
I couldn't get the faintest read on what this person intended with the question by looking at his face, so I gave up trying to grasp his motives and just answered.
"I felt sorry for it. Toying with a soul—isn't that what demons do?"
Still, he's an elf, so he won't spout something like 'What a waste,' I'd thought as I said my answer. Professor Rübis, hearing it, showed a smile that didn't suit his rigid face and nodded.
"The dog met a good owner."
And then, his face again expressionless and nonchalant, he began walking ahead once more. I didn't know his intentions, but seeing that the term he used to call Laika had changed from 'Demon Sword' to 'dog,' he apparently held no ill will.
But that wasn't the end of the questions. Not having seen a person who'd taken the same kind of action I had in his entire life, he began persistently asking what kind of state Laika was currently in, and in the end I had to suffer through his barrage of questions until we arrived at the training grounds.