The Victory Banquet (6)
How do people react when a girl adored by all—someone everyone yearns to approach—replaces her bright smile with a chilling scowl for the very first time?
They say the fury of a gentle soul is far more terrifying than the wrath of someone prone to anger.
And in moments like this, there is inevitably some tactless fool who grates on everyone's nerves.
"Lady Renias, it appears there has been a slight misunderstanding. Allow us to properly explain—"
"Are you not simply trying to invent an excuse on the spot to bar these students from entering, Sunbae-nim?"
"N-no, that's not it! The professors instructed us to... gasp!"
The third-year student clamped both hands over his mouth the instant the word slipped out. He realized mentioning the faculty was a lethal blunder, but the damage was already done.
"Aah... the professors did? And pray tell, which professor gave such an order?"
"W-well, you see! T—"
The comrade stepping forward to clean up the mess proved just as brainless.
"Professor Terrier is absent from today's banquet. Professor Tornian took a medical leave of absence. Unless... is there another professor at Lebrant Academy whose name begins with that syllable?"
Invoking the faculty had been their first mistake; letting even a single syllable reach Renias's ears was undeniable proof of their underhanded scheme and their greatest blunder yet.
As the guest of honor and someone intimately familiar with the academy's internal affairs, there was little she didn't know. The only thing she hadn't anticipated was that students she rarely crossed paths with were on the verge of storming the hall in protest.
And today, witnessing the grim reality of Lebrant Academy firsthand, Renias realized something dreadful was festering just beyond her sight.
"You said it earlier, did you not? That these students caused a disturbance, so you had to punish them according to protocol."
In an instant, Renias manifested six magic circles, primed and humming to unleash piercing beams of light.
"Then I intend to cause the exact same disturbance for the three of you. Why don't you try punishing me as well?"
Her words carried an unmistakable challenge: Go ahead. Treat me the way you treated them.
Grasping her unspoken threat, the three self-proclaimed guards were struck dumb. Meanwhile, the twenty or so students who had been kept waiting at the threshold wore vindicated, cathartic grins.
"What is the matter? Even if I am the guest of honor, if I break the rules, shouldn't protocol be followed?"
"Th-that is..."
"So this is how you've been treating the vanguards and support roles all along. Tormenting them from above. How utterly pathetic."
Her voice, usually so bright and cheery, sank with frosty indignation at the ugly reality of petty bullies picking on those they deemed weak.
Wilted by Renias's fierce, incandescent aura, the three students could only exchange panicked glances.
"Apologize properly before I tear this place apart. Every last one of you."
She truly was the crown jewel of Lebrant Academy.
An object of admiration so precious that everyone yearned to draw near and catch a glimpse of her. Neither student nor faculty member had ever dared utter a word of rebuke against Renias. Blessed with a tender heart loved by young and old alike, stunning beauty, and an unsullied, radiant smile, her very existence shone bright. And now, for the first time, all traces of amusement had vanished from her face... casting a stifling, heavy shadow over the corridor.
Confronted by her chilling gaze and furious at the foul reality lurking in the academy's underbelly, the three guards tucked their tails between their legs. One by one, they bowed low in apology and scurried away.
Once the third-years vanished, a brief silence settled over the hall. Then the silver-haired girl spun around and bowed deeply to the gathered crowd.
"I'm so sorry... for realizing it this late."
Why had not a single vanguard received an award? Why were their names never even called?
Renias had assumed there were strict evaluation criteria, or that the chosen representatives had earned their recognition through legitimate means. But she had never seen her frontline partner, Ronelion, receive a single commendation. Even during their operations alongside Lady Ophelia's expedition force, there hadn't been a single case of vanguard recognition. She should have questioned it much sooner.
Vanguard. A position designated for noble sacrifices, bearing the brunt of injuries and exhaustion. The very role that deserved the greatest respect, constantly shouldering immense risk so the rearguard could cast in safety.
Having finally uncovered the truth, she lowered her head in heartfelt apology. It was Renias's sincere solace offered to those who had suffered in silence.
Well, looks like things are handled over there.
Junon observed from the distance. The crisis appeared resolved, and the girl's genuine remorse had clearly reached them. With Renias at the helm, he didn't need to fret over the aftermath. He quietly turned on his heel and headed back toward the dormitories.
"...It's fine. It's not your fault, especially since you didn't know..."
"Yeah, as frustrated as we are, we can't blame an innocent underclassman."
"Um... if it wouldn't be an imposition, could you help us get inside the hall? We were hoping to seek advice from the seniors."
Unlike the vibrant festival echoing from within the banquet hall, the entrance had been shrouded in a chill. But with the academy's treasured idol apologizing from the bottom of her heart, the students' frost-bitten expressions scattered like dandelion seeds in the wind.
"I will escort you inside myself," Renias said firmly. "After all, who's to say the same thing won't happen again inside?"
The bitterness that once clouded the twenty students' faces melted away, and they were finally welcomed as legitimate guests and attendees.
With Renias escorting them as a humble classmate and peer, no one inside the banquet dared object.
Or rather, it was more accurate to say that no one could pick a fight or find fault. Not even the students bloated with petty superiority, nor the scheming professors orchestrating factional divides behind the scenes.
Seeing the academy's darling openly display her anger and issue stern warnings left many thoroughly rattled, while others finally noticed the lower-class students entering and raised puzzled brows.
Thus, on the day an innocent girl ignorant of the dark underbelly woke up to the truth, the tragedy the regressor had feared never came to pass.
Bwooo—
A massive vessel sailed into the peninsula harbor at the easternmost edge of Mirpark's southeastern district.
"Haah... To think I've become a professor. What an absurd turn of events."
Standing on the deck, a man sighed. Decorated by the Artena Imperial Court, he was the genius who had upended the continent fifteen years prior by inventing the Talbrut Ark, spending subsequent years absorbed in groundbreaking research. Yet recently, following an imperial decree from the Emperor himself, he had been forced to abandon his beloved studies and journey toward the southern continent—all to assume the post of a mere professor.
It had been years since the empire dispatched an imperial figure of his stature rather than standard supplies or personnel, especially after the principality had been formally recognized as an independent state.
"Then again, to think the Grand Duke would file an emergency request..."
Due to the dire situation unfolding in the principality, the Grand Duke of Ardelion had pleaded with the empire, personally calling upon Munieher, the Emperor's trusted chancellor.
As the ship docked, Lady Ophelia stepped forward in person to receive the distinguished guest from the empire.
"I offer my deepest apologies for summoning you under such unfortunate circumstances, Duke Zelbarten."
"Think nothing of it, Lady Ophelia. More importantly, allow me to ask once more: are you truly certain of this course?"
Though they maintained polite formalities, Professor Munieher asked again about the Grand Duke's rather drastic decision, having read the harrowing account of the principality's internal corruption in the letters.
Ophelia nodded, conveying the Grand Duke's unwavering resolve.
"I shall brief you on the rest inside the carriage. Let us depart, Duke Zelbarten."
The imperial guest grinned, eager to dispel the gloom lingering over Ophelia.
"That does not sound like my name, my lady."
"...Pardon? What do you mean...?"
"Since I have arrived as an educator, please address me as Professor Munieher. Wouldn't that be more fitting?"
Starting the conversation with such sly playfulness bore an uncanny resemblance to Goden. Was it a matter of like master, like disciple? Even if it was merely light banter, Ophelia's burdened heart eased considerably.
"Understood, Professor Munieher. In return, you must treat me not as a grand duke's daughter, but as an ordinary student."
"Haha. You got me there. Very well, Student Ophelia."
The foremost magic researcher and supreme strategist of the Artena Empire had officially arrived in Lebrant.
Squeak!
Missed again.
"Haah..."
Wielding a weapon was far harder than he had anticipated.
Junon intended to devote whatever time remained before the end-of-term evaluations entirely to physical conditioning and weapons training. Next year, he might not have the luxury of time to train like this. Leaving the events of the victory banquet in Renias's hands had felt far too passive. To think actively, assess threats, and take preemptive action, he had to unearth whatever latent strength he could muster.
That was why he decided to pick up at least one weapon before the year ended, but...
"Argh, seriously!"
Squeak! Squeak-squeak!
"...You're not mocking me, are you?"
Squeak-squeak! Squeak!
Squeak! Squeak!
It felt as though the beast were openly ridiculing him for being dead slow, which rubbed him entirely the wrong way. Watching it insolently tap his waist before darting away made his blood boil.
"Aaaargh! Dammit!"
The rodent was an illusion conjured by a magiteck device—a Kud Rat, a rodent-type demonic beast roughly the size of four palms put together. Once an illusion suffered a fatal strike, it reverted into raw mana particles.
In short, he was engaged in mock combat training.
This 'simulated combat' allowed students to face demonic beasts in a controlled environment. As an essential bridge between theory and actual warfare, it was mandatory training for all students without exception.
If growth was the goal, there was no reason to shy away from it. Besides, hadn't he been conditioning his body over the past few days? He figured it was worth testing his limits.
Yet seeing this pathetic outcome was undeniably frustrating.
Squeak-squeak!! Squeak!!
"Haah..."
To cool his frayed temper, he deactivated the device and brought the simulation to a halt.
If he used his unique magic to cut off their movement paths, disposing of them would be child's play.
"But then the whole exercise becomes pointless..."
He constantly had to remind himself why he chose physical conditioning over relying on unique magic. What good was relying on a magic he might lose in the future? Even if it proved agonizing right now, building up his physical prowess and mastering at least one weapon seemed far more dependable.
Unfortunately, the measurement readouts did not paint a rosy picture for his prospects with weaponry.
When he had watched Senia and Goden cleave through demonic beasts with ease in the past, he had wondered if he could do the same.
How grievously mistaken he was.
"How can there not be a single weapon suited to me?!"
It felt like squeezing into ill-fitting clothes; no weapon felt right in his hands. He had tested one-handed blades like daggers and shortswords, two-handed greatswords like the zweihander and great edge, and spears of every conceivable length, yet his body refused to adapt. In fact, looking at the proficiency numbers displayed by the training device, it practically screamed at him to drop them altogether.
He hadn't expected immediate mastery after a lifetime of doing nothing but blocking. Still, after gripping a weapon for hours, an amateur should at least grasp a clumsy stance! There should be some semblance of progress! Why couldn't he do it?
It wasn't a standard reserved for prodigies. Even ordinary students who completed the basic curriculum generally saw their proficiency jump to five percent right away. He had followed the exact same syllabus, invested far more hours, and tested himself repeatedly.
...And yet, regardless of the weapon, his score refused to budge past 0.1 percent.
Not even a whole integer, but a decimal point! At this rate, he heard professors would outright advise students to give up.
"Please... why is this the only one with this kind of number?"
Shield Types: 31.4%
Even ten percent was considered high enough for instructors to strongly recommend specialization, yet his exceeded thirty percent. It was an unmistakable decree: Just use a shield.
It had been the same during his comprehensive medical examination. Was his optimal position designated as vanguard not merely because of his mana flow, but because his body was inherently suited for shields?
His flesh and bone practically screamed for one.
The problem was, if he held nothing but a shield for the rest of his life, how was he supposed to kill those monsters? That was precisely why he wanted to learn a weapon in the first place...
"What a massive headache."
Scratching his head in sheer exasperation, he gazed at the magiteck simulation device and sank into thought.
"The Talbrut Ark..."
An artifact born from magiteck, where countless scholars and researchers labored, published treatises, and endured rigorous clinical trials before manufacturing. Such creations were called Objects.
Most Objects failed inspections or fell into obscurity as useless clutter, but the one before him was different.
The Talbrut Ark. Translated from the imperial tongue as the 'Hexahedron of Myriad Manifestations'—a small cube that fit snugly into the palm of a hand.
This compact cube was engraved with advanced illusion and phantasm magic, infused with detailed data on every demonic beast inhabiting the Kempf-Litton Continent.
Ever since the invention of the Talbrut Ark, simulated battles became reality, reducing battlefield casualties by ninety percent. Did anything more need to be said?
It was an epoch-making masterpiece, and its creator was hailed as the greatest inventor across the entire Kempf-Litton Continent.
"It must be about time for him to arrive."
Munieher Zelbarten Emerald.
A forty-four-year-old middle-aged scholar, confidant of the Artena Emperor, and the man who would tear out the rotting roots entrenched in the principality for all to see. That legendary inventor was none other than him.
To Junon, he was... perhaps best described as a peculiar yet exceptionally strict mentor.
—"Even if you cannot use magic, your limbs still move. Keep that in mind. Your mental fortitude is sounder than anyone else in this godforsaken place."
Unrivaled in the discipline of magiteck, he was also a scholar whose magic research rivaled the greatest minds of the era.
Why such an esteemed figure took notice of Junon and sought to nurture him remained a mystery.
Nor did Junon understand why, much like Professor Jake, Munieher had once chosen to entrust everything to him.
—"I leave it in your hands. I'm counting on you, Junon."
Those were the final words Munieher had left him while buying time in that hopeless abyss. And that memory was precisely why Junon's teeth dug bitterly into his lower lip.
"...Why did you have to delegate supreme command to me of all people back then, Professor Munieher?"
In the end, Junon had failed and died.
Pushing himself up from where he lay sprawled, he knelt before the cube, questioning the mentor's ironic decision.
He knew full well no answer would return, yet he could never make sense of it.
Why him?
Other members of the Tembris Party had remained behind with him, and there were Class A students boasting formidable skill and battle-tested experience. Why did it have to be him?
Cut off from the main force, waiting solely for reinforcements from the Artena Empire, why had the professor torn off the commander's insignia and pressed it into his hand?
Why had he singled Junon out, just as Professor Jake had?
Stripped of his power and barely capable of fulfilling the basic duties of a vanguard, there was pitifully little Junon could do.
Evidently, he hadn't been the only one who thought so; everyone present had fiercely opposed the decision. Some had even refused to follow Junon's orders, let alone bring him along to the very end.
Yet Professor Munieher had roared at them with his final breath:
That Junon was the only one who could keep them all alive. To trust him and follow his lead.
"Truly... why me?"
Even now, he could not fathom the choice made by the man revered as the empire's undisputed greatest chancellor and strategist.
"Haah... That's enough for today."
Noticing that lecture time was approaching, Junon headed straight for the shower.
And the moment the shower door clicked shut and the lock turned—
Beep.
Peak Compatibility Achieved!
Before sinking into past nostalgia, the boy had tested one final weapon, and its result window finally materialized.
Yet after lingering on display for a solitary minute, the result faded into nothingness long before the sound of running water ceased.