End-of-Term Evaluation (4)

The rock-climbing stage. The end-of-term evaluation. An examination whose marks would determine class placement for the upcoming semester.

Though hidden criteria were buried within it, in truth, even the professors' grading standards were murky at best.

Different students had different aims—some fought for higher class placement, others sought personal satisfaction, and a few, like me, simply wished to test their own limits.

Indeed, when all was said and done, it remained nothing more than an evaluation.

Yet why had she reacted so differently?

Why?

Ever since I had suggested we give up and walk away, Renias had lapsed into complete silence, throwing herself recklessly at the cliff face in an unstable scramble until she finally lost her footing and tumbled down.

When I asked why she was pushing herself so far, her voice trembled with a fierce, frantic desperation as she swore she would climb it no matter what.

And what had brought tears to her eyes, as if an entire tragedy had unfolded in that brief span of minutes?

I couldn't fathom it. For now, all I could do was watch her form from the side.

"Find your balance again! I told you not to slacken your core!"

"Ngh...!"

"Good. Now place your right foot first."

I didn't know why she was practically begging me to be harsh, snapping at me to drill her without mercy.

I didn't know why she had transformed so suddenly.

Nor did I know why she kept tears pooled in her eyes until the very end.

All I knew was that to keep a girl terrified of falling from high places from getting hurt, badgering her with relentless, uncompromising corrections was the best I could do.

Not a single student had abandoned the challenge in this first stage of rock climbing.

Yet there were still those lingering behind—two of them, a paired second-year boy and a first-year girl.

One was an elite student who had walked countless battlefields, the object of everyone's admiration; the other was the most ostracized, despised underachiever whom everyone sought to avoid.

Two students possessing utterly contrary grades and prowess had refused to dissolve their partnership, and at long last, they had nearly reached the summit of the cliff.

"Aaaagh...!! Haaah... hah..."

Though the wall was only eight meters high and far gentler than the natural terrain of Mount Utulum, it was still her very first time. To scale it entirely with her bare hands made the feat all the harder.

The girl, who had honed only magic her entire life, gained the invaluable experience of surmounting rugged terrain purely through physical endurance. Refusing to yield, she reached the top.

Moved by his partner's sheer determination, the boy had corrected, encouraged, and watched over her every movement right to the end.

And when it was over, both of them broke into a smile.

"Well done. You worked hard."

Her once-fair cheeks were smeared with splotches of dirt, and her lovely silver hair was a disheveled mess caked in dust.

Yet the dirt clinging to the hair tied to one side was precious to her, for she made no move to brush it away.

After all, that grime was proof that she had conquered the ascent with her own two hands.

"Here. Drink."

Having collected the two canteens provided for the second stage of the exam, the older student approached his exhausted junior, uncapped one, and pressed it into her hands.

Then, unscrewing his own, he lightly tapped his flask against the one she cradled in both hands.

"Huh? What's this?"

"A toast."

As the water washed down their throats in unison, it surely tasted sweeter than anything they had ever drunk before.

"Haha, a toast, is it?"

From a distance, Professor Jake watched the pair of Junon and Renias with a satisfied grin.

"Well, I can see why you'd be confused."

"That is precisely why we had no choice but to summon you, Professor."

"Good grief... It's all because Muniherr went spouting off like that. That's the reason, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir. Exactly. We're at ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a loss as to whether this qualifies..."

Even after consulting with the drill instructors, the proctor grading Junon and Renias was wrestling with how to assign marks.

The pair's actions had deviated so drastically from the norm, and it bordered on awarding points for a special criteria that Professor Muniherr had snorted at, claiming no such student could ever exist in this academy.

Perplexed as to how to grade their performance, the proctor had turned to Professor Jake.

"I'll vouch that I witnessed it myself, so check the box."

"...Are you certain, sir? Surely you wouldn't joke about something like this..."

"Renias has spent so much time on active battlefields that it was never recorded in her files. But she's the daughter of a friend of mine, so I know for a fact that she suffers from acrophobia. And that kid, Junon, just helped her overcome it. There's no mistaking it."

Professor Muniherr would surely grumble that this smacked of favoritism if he saw it, but Jake was already thoroughly convinced.

"Besides, there's no guarantee they won't lose points in the next stage, so just proceed. It's only the first phase—what are you fretting about?"

"Understood, sir. Then what should I record under the special remarks?"

Watching Renias basking in triumphant bliss over a sip of water, and Junon, who had guided her to conquer her terror, the proctor jotted down the note—filling out a field that not a single first- or second-year student across the entire academy had ever received points for, exactly as Professor Jake instructed.

The talent Junon had possessed in his past life—the talent of a commander. Once again, Professor Jake was the first to recognize it.

It was a gift perceptible only to the mentor who had observed Junon most closely, even when the boy was constantly stirring up trouble and stumbling into disaster. In this regard, the future remained unchanged.

Meanwhile, in the second stage of the evaluation, another pair was taking an entirely different approach.

"Um... Sunbae-nim... Are you sure this is the right way...?"

Distrust toward his partner.

"Who crosses a river like this...? It's freezing cold...!"

Defiance against what they had agreed upon.

"Can't we just turn back right now and let me freeze the water so we can cross? Who crosses a river in such an idiotic way?"

Beyond these complaints, there were surely many more, but his whining was ceaseless.

The partner listening to these grievances was an eighteen-year-old international student possessing a massive frame nearing two meters tall, his physique hardened and chiseled through relentless conditioning.

"A moment ago, you said you'd follow my lead, kid."

"If I had known your plan was this barbaric, I would've refused on the spot! And I did object, didn't I?! Is this how they teach you in Hardia?!"

"They don't even have anything this easy in Hardia. Stop making slick comparisons when you don't know what you're talking about."

To Goden, an exchange student from the Artena Empire, the second stage of the end-of-term evaluation was laughably simple.

Crossing this river was all there was to it, yet Goden had proposed a different method to his partner.

"Besides, do you honestly think that's all there is to this test? Why would simply casting a spell to saunter across be an evaluation?"

"It could be! The water is freezing, so that's all the more reason to use magic!"

"...Good grief, my head hurts."

Mount Utulum was indeed a high-altitude mountain, which meant that crossing a river in winter conditions was bone-chillingly cold.

While the first stage had been limited to scaling a rock face, the second stage was set under specific seasonal conditions.

Thus, while crossing a winter river was the ostensible objective of the second stage, Goden had deduced that there was an underlying intention behind the test.

"Going upstream is out because of the waterfall, and when we tried heading a bit further down, the proctors turned us back, saying that was outside the testing zone. What does that tell you? It means we're meant to cross the lower reaches of this river while placing certain restrictions on our power."

For that reason, the two of them had stripped off their upper garments and bound buoyant leaves together with rope to fashion a makeshift float.

Placing their dry shirts and pockets packed with essential gear atop the float to keep them from getting soaked, they had begun their crossing.

Yet the moment he felt the biting chill of the river, Goden's partner had begun trembling violently and spewing endless complaints.

The real problem, however, was that the boy was simply impossible to reason with.

"...Whether it's upstream or downstream, why can't we just cross using magic? It's so cold! Why do we have to soak ourselves to move? Same with earlier—what was the point of bothering with grappling hooks and ropes just to climb that cliff?"

"If you rely on magic for every little thing, what are you going to do when your mana runs dry?"

"When would that ever happen? Be realistic!"

Even after Goden let out a deep sigh and pushed back, the junior stubbornly dug in his heels, desperate to avoid the immediate discomfort of the exam.

Just what on earth is this academy...

What kind of education are they giving these kids?

If the boy had offered a reasonable argument, that would be one thing, but all Goden saw was an obsession with dodging hardship the moment things got tough.

This was his last attempt. If the kid refused to listen this time, Goden would have no choice but to part ways with him.

"What would you do if this were a battlefield?"

Stopping mid-river, Goden turned around fully, intent on giving some earnest counsel.

And the answer he received to what the boy would do on a battlefield was:

"I wouldn't be on a battlefield in the first place! How could a measly Class C student like me ever be deployed? You have to be Class B at the very least!"

Just as I thought.

His words weren't technically wrong. And yet, they were entirely wrong.

Was Lebrant Academy not the institution that would serve as the Ardelion Grand Duchy's greatest military asset in times of crisis?

It wouldn't be strange in the slightest if demonic beasts launched an invasion to overturn the Grand Duchy this very ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠second.

So this is the problem Ophelia and the Grand Duke of Ardelion spoke of.

Near the barrier of the Artena Empire, magical beasts constantly swarmed.

To hold them back, one could not let their guard down for a single breath; if even one breached the line, the defenseless would perish in an instant.

These students gave no thought to the fact that sentinels maintaining razor-sharp alertness at the absolute edge of their senses were guarding the frontiers.

They lacked even a speck of vigilance.

Far from grasping the intent of the examinations, they hadn't even undergone proper foundational training.

They were fools puffed up with groundless confidence that someone else would protect their lives from the rampant beasts.

This student before him was the very product created by the nobles and corrupt professors who had seized control of the academy.

Now I think I understand why the Grand Duchy is tottering on the brink.

Unless a change was sparked, everyone here would one day end up as fodder for the salivating beasts.

This kid had no desire to learn.

He wasn't someone willing to listen, and if he didn't understand the purpose of his education now, he would have to learn the hard way later.

Would he change once he took a sound thrashing from Professor Muniherr's exam? No, Goden couldn't even be sure of that.

"Damn it all. I should never have tagged along with you! I'm just going to act alone from now on. An exchange student from Hardia, my ass... You're no different from the rest of the meatheads in Lebrant's vanguard!"

That was his final tantrum. Goden let out a low, incredulous breath.

He decided to just watch what the kid would do.

The boy spun on his heel, climbed out of the water, and began using magic to freeze the moisture clinging to his trousers bit by bit, trying to peel off the stiff frost with his bare hands.

Goden immediately shouted at him.

"Hey! If you rip it off like that, you'll hurt yourself!"

Freezing the fabric to shed moisture was a sound idea, but doing it with bare hands was sheer folly.

"I'll handle it myself, so mind your own business!"

Moments later, the first-year boy gasped in pain. The sharp ice sliced into his flesh, and blood welled up.

Instantly, he erupted in hysterical fury.

"Goddammit...! I never should've followed that brute into the water...!"

Tsk, tsk. If he had at least stripped off the trousers, wrung out the water, frozen them, and then rolled them in sand to brush the ice away, he wouldn't have been injured.

The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠boy seemed completely ignorant of the fact that warm flesh meeting freezing ice could cause skin to tear. And even that wouldn't have happened if he hadn't jumped into the water unprepared...

He thinks magic is a miracle tool that can bend nature and physical laws however he pleases.

Furthermore, even though he could use magic, his applications were so crude they bordered on braindead.

No matter what magic one wielded, it did not defy fundamental worldly principles; the basics still had to be observed, yet these students lacked even foundational common ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sense.

And to watch him blame others for his own foolishness, whining about having entered the water in the first place, Goden could only sigh from the depths of his chest.

"I must have lost my mind, trusting a vanguard!"

With that, the purpose of deploying in two-man pairs was shattered. By taking the easy way out and leaning entirely on magic in such a simple trial, that student would likely drop at least two full classes.

Freezing the river's surface to construct an ice bridge, the boy marched across on his own.

"Tsk. Made it even colder for no reason."

It was because of the rigid sheet of ice spanning the water.

Still, it had to be destroyed. Goden had to consider the students coming behind them; there was no telling what hazards an unnatural ice structure might cause.

A faint, brilliant-white mana swirled around Goden's right hand before he cleanly shattered the ice bridge into harmless fragments.

"Refused to swallow his pride to the bitter end, didn't he?"

Could one truly accept that such people formed the academy's average—the students of Class C?

'I must have lost my mind, trusting a vanguard!'

Just as Ophelia had pointed out, the friction between combat positions was creating a total disaster.

These students would never change, and they would never prepare for reality—Goden was grimly certain of it.

Not unless a definitive example arose to prove just how wrong they were.

"Guess someone will have to set that example."