Chapter 3
Chapter 3
The grip holding the sword received a shock unlike anything I had ever felt before.
In an instant, it felt as if the skin of my palm had been scraped away.
A stinging pain.
And recoil.
The burden pressing against my arm vanished in a moment, and the strength that remained shot forward with inertia.
Did I suddenly awaken and knock away Dietrich’s sword?
What if I lost control of my strength and even counterattacked him?
For a moment such foolish thoughts flashed through my head, but I quickly realized my place.
Clang!
Only then did the dull sound of metal breaking reach my ears.
The sword glowing blue with Dietrich’s mana had finally snapped the sword I was holding in half.
The moment the blade broke in two, countless thoughts brushed past my mind.
He’s going this far?
What the hell did I do to this bastard?
This sword was expensive, what am I supposed to do now?
No, more importantly than any of that…
“Hey, why the hell is this bastard still swinging his sword…!”
Why isn’t he stopping?
Did you really become my mortal enemy or something?
Do you want to see someone die that badly?
“Hey! You damn…!”
Crunch!
“Ah?”
I saw my life flash before my eyes.
No, that crazy bastard suddenly started releasing streams of sword energy and tried to kill me outright.
That lunatic murderer.
“…?”
Come to think of it, where is this?
I was definitely watching Dietrich’s sword come toward me, but now I was lying down staring at the ceiling.
Did I just get hit like that?
A ceiling unfamiliar to me but familiar to the other students of the Cradle.
A hospital room.
Since the Cradle was originally closer to a military facility, rather than just having an infirmary, it had an entire medical ward built.
Well, considering how people fight here like their lives depend on it every day, I suppose it would be strange if there wasn’t one.
“Ugh…”
Now that I noticed it, a burning pain spread through my chest.
That crazy bastard Dietrich!
He actually cut into my flesh!
What the hell did I ever do to deserve this?!
“Ghk!”
…Still, in a way, it was fortunate.
It seemed I had fainted instantly without even having the chance to feel pain when the blade struck.
Wow. Talk about lucky.
“Oh my, the student’s awake?”
“Yes, sir. I’ve regained consciousness.”
“Then could you move off the bed?”
“Pardon?”
I said I regained consciousness, not that I was fully healed.
“Sir, I think I was cut by a sword. My chest still feels like it’s burning.”
“You were cut, yes. Of course it hurts. But do you see that over there?”
The doctor, whose complexion looked oddly pale, pointed to a spot where several students were standing since there were no empty beds.
“Ha! That bastard was strong…”
“Ah, I lost by just a hair. If I’d pushed in a bit more, I would’ve won.”
“Your head would’ve fallen off.”
“You think he’d really kill someone?”
One student with a massive wound on his neck.
Another with a huge wound across his chest.
Even with emergency bandages wrapped around them, dark red blood was seeping through. Even at a glance, they were clearly serious injuries.
I lowered my gaze to the place where I had been injured and squeezed my eyes shut.
White bandages were wrapped around it.
Wow, the treatment is perfect. As expected from the doctor who resolved twenty-two terrorist incidents in a single year. Truly something else.
“…No, sir. I’m not faking it.”
I mean, compared to them it might look that way, but my injury isn’t exactly light either.
“I know. They’re the weird ones. But you can move, right? Then get up so we can lay down the more urgent cases. Don’t take it too personally.”
“Yes…”
Ugh, these slaughter tank bastards.
It’s just an exam, so why are they fighting like their lives depend on it?
Shouldn’t these guys be getting counseling before education?
“The world has gone mad.”
“Indeed. But when I see someone who hasn’t gone mad like this, it feels rather strange. Perhaps it isn’t only the world that’s gone mad.”
A single line filled with the doctor’s weary regret. Come to think of it, this person probably went through more hell than the protagonist.
“Even at the start of last year’s semester, the atmosphere wasn’t like this…”
Even considering they were freshmen, there had been many greenhouse flowers who would faint at the mere sight of blood.
What a shame.
“Take this. This is painkiller, and this is ointment. I’ll give you bandages too, so change them regularly. You know how, right?”
“How would I know that?”
“All the other kids do. They wrapped their own bandages.”
“…”
“If you don’t know, ask a friend. Actually, you’re a noble, so just have a servant do it. I’m busy, so get going.”
I couldn’t bring myself to say I had no friends.
If I said that much, I felt like I’d become too miserable.
Come to think of it, wouldn’t it be polite to ask whether I even had a servant first…
“Sigh.”
Whatever.
The doctor working in the hell of the mortal world didn’t need any more trouble.
So I kept my mouth shut and was half pushed out of the infirmary.
“Did the exam go well? Oracle.”
I ran into the grim reaper waiting for me.
No, looking closely, it was Robelia.
I should apologize to the grim reaper.
Judging by the atmosphere, it seemed she had been waiting for me to come out.
“I’m not an oracle.”
“I know. I just said it for fun.”
“…”
This whole misunderstanding trope. How am I supposed to fix it?
It’s such a pain.
And if I leave this pain unattended, I’ll end up physically dead too.
“If you’re asking about the exam, I failed miserably.”
“I hope we end up in the same class.”
“I said I failed.”
“What does that matter? I said I hope we end up in the same class.”
“…Pardon?”
She isn’t saying she’ll use her power to force me into Class S, right?
Normally I’d brush something like that off, but since the one saying it is the imperial princess, it sends chills down my spine.
“It was a joke. I threw it out because I wanted to see your reaction, and it was quite satisfying.”
“…”
“That was merely my wish. I have a separate matter to discuss.”
“A separate matter? I don’t believe I have anything to discuss with Your Highness…”
“The chairman has summoned you.”
“Why are you delivering the message yourself, Your Highness?”
“You didn’t seem to have anyone you could call a friend.”
“Ah.”
That’s the reason?
Perfectly understandable.
“I tried to ask one of your friends, but since no one stepped forward, I did it myself. You should be grateful. I saved you from having it publicly revealed that you have no friends.”
“…Thank you very much, Your Highness.”
I hate this.
So she gathered everyone and asked if anyone was close to me?
That’s a situation I really hate.
“But you’re not asking why you were summoned?”
“No. I have a rough guess.”
It’s probably because of the survival exam.
Honestly, even while doing it I wondered if it would be okay. Even I knew it was a risky stunt.
Still, I didn’t break any rules, so there shouldn’t be any serious issue.
At worst I’ll just get scolded.
“Then I’ll see you next time. Oracle.”
“Until next time… no.”
“My mistake. Until next time, Johan Damas.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
She keeps doing that.
At this point she’s doing it on purpose.
Next time I should just stop reacting.
Eventually, dragging my aching body, I managed to reach the chairman’s office.
Chairman Olga Hermode spoke with a gentle smile.
“Choose one. Class S or Class F.”
“…Pardon?”
It was a choice between two deaths.
“Hm… This isn’t something to say while keeping you standing. Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Or tea?”
“…I’ll have whatever you give me.”
“Then please have some cold water.”
The chairman gave me plain water with absolutely nothing in it.
Why keep living at that point!
…Of course there are plenty of reasons to keep living.
The problem is that the two choices the chairman offered me practically mean not living.
It’s basically telling me to die.
“Is there perhaps a middle option? Like A… or even E would be fine…”
“Do you truly not understand why I presented you with those two options?”
“I do not.”
Well, to be precise, I can guess the root cause.
First of all, it must be because of the survival exam.
I didn’t break any rules, but it wasn’t exactly something you could call right either.
A gray zone.
So I didn’t think the exam itself would be marked as a failure.
“Is this perhaps punishment for insolence?”
“I included Class S as an option. How could that be punishment?”
“Ah.”
Come to think of it, it wasn’t a confirmed Class F. It was choosing between F and S.
From my perspective it feels like punishment, but for others it would be a tremendous honor.
“To be honest, I had no idea how to evaluate this. Who would expect someone to pretend to be an examiner there? That’s not something a sane person would do.”
“….”
The tone makes it sound like it really is punishment.
At the very least, it’s clear the chairman doesn’t like me.
“After considering everything, we arrived at two conclusions. That is how we ended up with the extreme result of either Class S or Class F.”
“But if the survival exam wasn’t a failure, the worst I should get is E. My written exam was an A, so how…”
“Written exam A? Who said that? Student Johan. Your written exam score was C.”
“…My score wasn’t A?”
The moment my certainty collapsed.
What do you mean my written exam wasn’t an A? While everyone else was struggling with terrorist incidents, all I did was study.
“I understand your confusion. You solved it well. But the average score among the second-years was high overall. So your score landed exactly in the middle.”
These lunatics swing swords and spears every day, so when did they even study?
They spend more time fighting or lying down injured than studying.
How does that make sense?
“They probably had past exam records. I heard the Cradle was in chaos last year, so the professors likely had difficulty creating entirely new exam questions.”
“Past records…”
For someone like me who had no friends, it was an unattainable fantasy item.
You cowardly bastards. Study honestly and earn your grades!
“As for dueling, there’s no need to mention it. You were overwhelmingly last place. Among the second-years who fought lowerclassmen, you were the only one who lost.”
“…”
That result was only natural.
No matter how strong the fresh freshmen were, how could they handle slaughter tanks who had grown stronger through twenty-two major terrorist incidents in a single year?
I had already expected to receive the lowest possible score in the duel evaluation.
“In that state, if the survival exam score is calculated as the lowest except for survival points, you end up in Class F.”
“….”
“I’m glad you seem to understand.”
Olga Hermode nodded while looking at my face twisted like I had chewed on a bug.
The survival exam wasn’t the real issue.
It was the damned past exam records that ruined my written score.
Only now, facing this situation, did I realize their existence.
“But one could think of it this way. The survival exam is a comprehensive evaluation. It assesses not only personal combat ability but also judgment and tactics.”
“….”
“In that situation, how should we evaluate you, someone who disguised himself as an examiner? That’s the difficult part.”
Olga Hermode stirred her teacup with a teaspoon as she spoke.
Contrary to her strict appearance, she seemed to enjoy her tea with milk and honey added generously.
She stared absentmindedly at the thick, cloudy tea before the teaspoon pointed toward my glass of water.
“If we evaluate the fact that you incited all the second-year students, that’s an S. With that single tongue of yours, you could be considered responsible for eliminating one third of the second-years.”
“But that was the exam’s purpose anyway, wasn’t it?”
“However, you displayed faster judgment than anyone else, chose the optimal method, and achieved maximum results with minimal damage.”
“When you put it like that, it sounds like I did something incredible…”
“You did do something incredible. It means you were thinking above the heads of me and the other professors who designed the rules. If I evaluate that aspect, I believe it deserves the most outstanding score.”
“…It was coincidence.”
“But the result remains. That is why we decided to give you a choice. Student Johan. How would you like us to judge your actions?”
If I enter Class S, I will be enjoying fan meetings with assassins every moment.
If I enter Class F, I might get dragged into the coup the entire Class F will eventually attempt.
Class F will likely be expelled entirely as a harsh measure, but if a noble like me is mixed in, the story changes.
The commoners might just be expelled.
But I would be sent to the guillotine for rebellion against the system.
Both paths end in death.
In that case…
“I’ve decided.”