The Lord School Faction War (9)

"Whew."

With a heavy sigh, Professor Muniher set down his pen and walked toward the window to air out the room. Only after seeing the pitch-black night outside did he realize how long he had been gripping that pen. Hours had slipped away entirely unnoticed.

Night already? There was simply too much work to do—enough that dawn had blurred into dusk without him ever realizing the dark had fallen.

"Still, I did manage to find it..."

Professor Muniher murmured softly, his gaze lingering upon a student's profile dossier.

The divine oracles had foretold the Great Subjugation of Scheat and the truth of the Devourers long before they came to pass. And then, yet another oracle had descended, simmering away at Muniher's patience like water boiling down in a pot.

"By all rights, this should bring me peace of mind, yet a lingering unease remains."

Senia herself and the Sirens had already admitted the truth: that she had hailed from another world, and that the forbidden summoning of a Calyx had indeed taken place. One would think such an admission would bring the matter to a close, yet the entanglement of another oracle left a bitter taste of doubt in his mouth.

These were the verses bestowed upon mankind by the six stars of the Big Dipper, the sacred emblems of the Artena Empire. With the exception of Mizar, whose vague phrasing made distinct classification difficult, every star had served as the divine origin for one of modern combat's designated tactical positions. But the final star... the remaining star was an entirely different story.

"Aren't you working far too late, dear?"

The timing was impeccable. It was Dahlia, his wife, stepping in to scold Muniher before he could grind away his health over mountains of paperwork.

"Ahem... Is that so?"

"The lights in this office haven't gone out on time once lately. The urgent fires have all been put out, so please, get some sleep."

"Dear me. It seems I've neglected you too much. Very well—shall we go to bed together tonight?"

"Goodness, what's gotten into you today? Talking like that out of nowhere."

"Haha. Surely a husband is allowed to hold his wife."

That troubling passage had gnawed at the back of his mind for days. But perhaps it was best to keep his conclusions simple for now.

Yes... Senia could very well be Alkaid. Dismissing the possibility entirely on a mere gut feeling would be too wild a leap in logic.

He had kept an eye on her ever since the second-year final evaluations, and during the Great Subjugation of Scheat, she had grasped the internal structure of the Devourers in a single glance. Furthermore, when taking into account her connection to the Sirens, one could certainly argue that she had altered the destiny of an entire race. As a Calyx, she had shielded the Sirens from ruin. She had helped avert a crisis that threatened to swallow the Grand Duchy whole beneath the Lemterte Plague, the Devourers, and Shanberesh.

It was entirely reasonable to view it that way. In that case, keeping a close watch over Senia—both as Alkaid and as a Calyx—would resolve the dilemma. That would be the end of it.

...Presumably.

"Is your class having the same trouble, Sunbae...?"

"Yeah. The kids simply don't care to listen. There was this one student who looked like he was paying attention, but when I walked over, he was fast asleep with his eyes open."

"What a mess. Now I see why everyone avoids Shirakh..."

"Adele, how is your class doing?"

"...Mine seems to be much the same."

The academy auditors assigned to Sirach Lord School for this Faction War could only let out helpless sighs as reality set in. The local students possessed zero desire to learn. Whenever the instructors tried to teach, they ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠were met with disinterested shrugs and glazed-over stares. As auditors tasked with tracking academic progress, assessing how much these students had improved was nearly impossible.

"Still, the class Aris is handling seems to at least pretend to study, ever since she laid down the law," one remarked.

"Actually, that's the biggest headache of all. Phew..."

"Huh? Why? If even one class is running properly, shouldn't that light a fire under the rest?" asked Michel, the auditor overseeing Aris's lecture, tilting her head in confusion.

"Because the one student in my class who was actually eager to learn dashed over to her room, saying he might as well hear what she has to say. Even at a glance, doesn't her lecture room have well over a dozen students?"

"Ah... Come to think of it, I noticed some unfamiliar faces who weren't on our attendance roster, and quite a few others who just showed up late after the second day..."

"They only swarmed over because of the name value—because an actual member of the Tembris Party is teaching them. That makes me even more worried. We were supposed to prepare for the first-week midterm evaluation through mock internal battles, but our side couldn't even organize one because nobody showed up..."

"Good grief, I had no idea that was happening while we were teaching together... So our class was the source of the problem..."

"Well, what can you do? If not for her, those kids wouldn't have bothered listening at all. Besides, someone of Lady Aris's caliber certainly commands that kind of draw."

Attracted solely by the glorious reputation of the Tembris Party, students had deserted their assigned rooms, throwing the carefully balanced student-to-instructor ratios into utter disarray. The dispatched Levrant students quickly lost their motivation to teach. And what of the auditors? Not only was collecting feedback on student progress a nightmare, but compiling formal evaluation reports proved just as maddening.

Six days had already drifted past since their arrival, leading into the seventh.

Just that morning, the auditors had received an official missive: assemble all Faction War participants in Algenib Province for the first-week midterm evaluation. Yet this sudden notice only amplified their mounting dread. Far from grasping complex tactics or grand strategy, many students hadn't even sat through basic lectures. Whether they could even take the field without embarrassing themselves remained an open question.

"For now, let us at least make sure they understand the rules of the midterm evaluation. We have no choice."

"Right..."

The gathered auditors nodded one by one and dispersed to their respective posts. Adele, too, hurried her steps to inform Junon of the official examination regulations.

"Oh, you've improved quite a lot by now, Lana."

"There you go again with your smooth talk! It still shatters to pieces just the same, so what's the difference?! Look at Ethan over there, he's half dead on his feet!"

"Not at all. Didn't I tell you? Even if a magic circle shatters, it resists being broken when its core is dense and heavy. Yours and Ethan's circles have grown noticeably tough, so I have to strike them much harder on purpose."

"It still ends up broken anyway! We can't feel the difference at all, you know?!"

As always, Junon looked as relaxed as ever, Ethan was slumping over from mana exhaustion, and Lana was grumbling incessantly through the brutal drills while still obediently following every command. In this deserted training ground that no one else bothered to touch, the three of them had become a permanent fixture.

"Oh, it's the auditor unnie! Unnie!! Come over here and dock some points from this teacher!"

"Hey... what kind of nonsense are you spouting now?"

"Well, it's true! Every single day, all he does is smash our magic circles—"

Clap!

To cut through the raucous chatter, Adele clapped her hands together to draw their eyes.

All three turned toward her with puzzled expressions, wondering what had prompted the sudden burst of formality.

"Let's quiet down and listen. It sounds important," Junon said, quickly settling the noisy mood. It was the ideal opening for an announcement.

"Today at two in the afternoon, you will be taking the first-week midterm evaluation at Algenib Lord School."

"Whaaaat?!"

Over the next ten minutes, Adele carefully outlined the structure of the upcoming evaluation. Even at a casual glance, the terms were remarkably stringent.

'All ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠students from Levrant, with the sole exception of the Lord School participants and the evaluation committee, are strictly barred from entering the venue.'

This meant that any guidance would have to rely purely on verbal debriefs after the fact. Unless the students explained their matches in meticulous detail, their instructors wouldn't be able to provide any meaningful feedback. This was almost certainly a rule drafted by Professor Muniher—a deliberate safeguard to prevent instructors from scouting opponents and tailoring bespoke counter-strategies for the second week.

Because of that, there was only one piece of advice Junon could offer the pair.

"Give it your best shot. And even if you lose, don't hang your heads."

"Yes, Teacher!"

Everyone present knew how abruptly this trial had landed on their doorsteps. Given Professor Muniher's notorious standards, anxiety was only natural. Yet there was no need to surrender to that fear. Whether their training had been fruitful or futile would be answered not merely by the final score, but by the trials they weathered along the way.

Amidst the throng of students passing through the arena gates, Lana and Ethan stepped forward into the grand stadium, their expressions taut with nervous dread.

"Welcome, participants of the Faction War."

A collective gulp rippled through the crowd.

From atop the raised dais, a middle-aged gentleman projected his voice across the arena. Every eye snapped toward him in an instant. He was far too famous—it would have been harder to find a single soul who didn't recognize his face.

"I am Muniher, Professor of Levrant Academy and organizer of this Faction War."

Muniher Zelbarten Emerald. The legendary scholar and strategist had personally arrived on the scene to oversee this clash of factions.

Lana's heart was pounding violently against her ribs. Even though she hadn't moved a muscle, her hands and feet trembled, a faint vibration buzzing beneath her skin like a persistent chill. She had never known terror quite like this.

"Teacher told you not to tense up so much, Lana."

"Y-Yeah... Right. Of course..."

Ethan offered a few reassuring words from beside her, but what good was reassurance right now? This was the pivotal moment of her entire life!

"Next! Students assigned to Group C-5, you have one minute to prepare before proceeding to the third arena!"

"Dammit, why does your turn have to come up so fast?"

"W-What do I do...?"

The first stage of the midterm evaluation consisted of round-robin individual duels. Before they knew it, the Group C-5 matches were underway. Lana was slotted into Group C-6—her turn was literally right around the corner.

"We still have a moment. Trace this after me."

"A magic circle...? For what?"

"Just trace it. It's the one Teacher taught us."

Swallowing her panic, Lana traced the lines of the magic circle Ethan drew before her. Terrified though she was, the reminder that this technique came from Junon made her follow every ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠stroke without hesitation.

"Wait... this is the one Teacher..."

"Nobody else draws it like this, only Junon-ssaem. Remember how he drilled the order into our heads so we wouldn't forget?"

"...Of course I remember."

"Then that's all you need. Just keep this in your head."

Lana knew it all too well. Junon's sequence for constructing magic circles was completely backwards compared to the orthodox methods taught across the continent. Because he had insisted on drilling that unorthodox sequence into them, Lana had suffered through endless headaches trying to memorize it. Though Ethan often sounded caustic and dismissive, this was his own clumsy way of showing he cared.

"Thanks. That actually took the edge off a bit."

"Then go out there and win. We need to knock out at least one opponent if we want to face Teacher with our heads held high."

"Don't you worry! I'm going to win way more matches than you!"

"Big talk."

Before long, Group C-6 was called. Lana's moment had arrived.

Though her nerves had nearly paralyzed her minutes before, her mind was now cleared of everything save a single thought.

'It doesn't matter if you lose. Just remember what ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you learned. Understood?'

All she had to do was display what she had practiced. Though, of course, she had no intention of rolling over and losing.

Her assigned opponent took the stage across the dueling ring. The instant the chime sounded to signal the start of the bout, the other student immediately began sketching a magic circle in the air.

Just like Teacher said!

A quick probe to buy time, followed by the steady preparation of a heavier spell. Standard doctrine favored tossing out wind or lightning magic for harassment first, then finishing with an overwhelming strike. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of Lana's lips.

'Most people you face will deploy their spells the exact same way. That's why they'll be slow. Far slower than you.'

Orthodox mages left the inner skeletal frame—the Alpeid Line—unfilled until the very end out of apprehension and traditional habit. To any trained eye, that hollow pocket looked entirely vacant of mana.

'The moment you spot it, fire the fastest spell you have straight into that gap. That's our strategy.'

Fwump!

A fireball flared to life from Lana's palm, rocketing toward her opponent. Under ordinary circumstances, a duelist would aim for the caster's chest or limbs—yet Lana directed her magic toward an entirely different target.

Crack-crackle—!

"Wh-What?! Why is my circle—!"

There was no way it could activate. The volatile spell had slammed directly into the unprotected Alpeid Line! The delicate equilibrium collapsed under the sudden surge of foreign energy, shattering the spell circle instantly. As the runaway mana scattered in violent backlash, it triggered a complete temporary severance of the caster's internal flow: Mana Down.

It was a golden, unmissable opening.

Without even realizing why his spell had disintegrated, the opponent frantically tried to conjure another circle, only to suffer another failure. In that moment of utter confusion, a second fireball slammed squarely into his front.

"Gaaah!"

Thud.

"Group C-6 match! Competitor Two has been knocked out of bounds. The victory goes to Competitor One, Student Lana!"

"I... I won! I ACTUALLY WON!! AHAHAHA!"

Lana let out a triumphant shriek that echoed across the ring, throwing her hands into the air in pure ecstasy. It was her very first taste of victory—achieved by faithfully executing everything Junon had taught her. Had he been standing here, she knew he would have offered her that rare, quiet nod of approval.

"Group C-6... After drawing blanks all through Groups A and B, Sirach Lord School finally claims its first victory in Group C."

Overlooking the arena from the high observation deck, Professor Muniher noted down the result, his sharp eyes fixed intently on Lana.

"Ethan! Did you see that?! I won! Wasn't I amazing?! Totally amazing, right?!"

"Why are you shouting at me...? Yeah, fine. You did well, you did great. Happy now?"

"Why do you sound so halfhearted?! Give me a high five at least! Come on, Ethan! High five!"

"W-Wait! I'm trying to review my strategy here, stop bothering me—!"

Lana thrust her open palm out demanding celebration, while Ethan awkwardly batted his hands away in embarrassment.

Watching the pair from above, a knowing smirk crept across Professor Muniher's lips.

"Junon must have taught her that. Good grief... Who on earth instructs a student to barrage a magic circle instead of aiming for the caster's body?"

Such a bizarre, disruptive tactic could only have sprung from one particular mind.

"Eliminating the threat's weapons before they can even strike... Well, I suppose it's an idea that fits him to a tee. Truly worthy of praise."