The Term-End Evaluation (Part 8)
The end-of-term evaluation was structured into four distinct phases.
Compared to the first three stages, which had been simple and understated, the final test pitted the students against the brutal, unforgiving forces of nature itself.
"Is everyone all right?"
"Thanks to you, yes."
Even so, the examinees remaining on the testing grounds were not about to go down easily; each of them harbored their own desperate goals. Michelle and her partner, Erika, had joined forces to escape the mudslide, gathering around twenty panicked students in their wake.
Even if these were unfamiliar faces, Michelle could never stand by and watch as loose soil gave way, tossing students into the muck, sweeping them down mudslides, or dragging them into the swelling river. Her uniform was caked in grime, but she never hesitated when a life was on the line. That was simply the kind of person Michelle Granodia was.
Every single one of them belongs to Class D or Class E...
Their presence here was proof of their sheer desperation. More than anyone else, they refused to see the letters 'D' or 'E' stamped on their next class assignment sheet.
"I've managed to stabilize the injured," Erika said, wiping her brow. "Still, Michelle... I think you were right."
"...You think so?"
Given that everyone gathered here belonged to the bottom tiers, it was likely that most of the students from Classes C, B, and A had already cleared the four phases and exited the field. Having drafted a map with Erika earlier, Michelle knew full well how vast the grounds were. If the exam continued at this pace, any students left behind were almost certainly injured or trapped in isolation.
"The bleeding has stopped," Erika said gently to an injured boy. "However, that won't cure your anemia. You must get plenty of rest for the time being."
"Thank you... thank you so much."
Nasty, deep lacerations knit back together, leaving clean, unblemished skin in their place—all courtesy of Erika's divine magic.
I never imagined she'd be a healer.
Just as the dense mana circulating across the Kempf-Litton Continent had reshaped ecosystems, it had exerted a comparable influence on humanity. People learned to hone their inner mana and weave magic. Ever since, mankind had focused almost exclusively on conventional spellcraft, yet a rare few wielded a power that felt beyond peculiar—something sublime and sacred.
Those who transmuted mana into holy power to mend flesh and restore life.
Among the buffer archetype that anchored the midguard position, they wielded the rarest gift of all: healing magic.
They were known as healers.
Operating from the buffer position, they reduced incoming harm to allies, stimulated cellular regeneration, and revitalized stamina, excelling in both defense and auxiliary support. Most ordinary mages, no matter how hard they trained, could offer nothing more than brief lingering buffs that accelerated natural recovery or boosted vitality. But while such sustained restoration and pain dampening were certainly valuable, a true healer's art belonged to an entirely different realm.
It was not conditional support like pressure bandaging, coagulants, or gradual recovery. It was, quite literally, instantaneous healing.
Even if a person suffered trauma so severe that physicians would shake their heads in defeat, the arrival of a healer completely altered the equation. Flesh miraculously regenerated, and so long as blood loss could be managed, a glimmer of survival remained. They held the power to sway the balance between life and death, snatching dying souls from the brink of the grave through sheer devotion and holy art. That was the peerless strength of healing magic.
"All the critically injured have been treated," Erika reported. "If they rest like this, they shouldn't suffer any complications even after the exam concludes."
Thanks to Michelle organizing the scattered students into a cohesive group and Erika tending to their wounds, the students who had been spiraling into panic amidst the rain and mudslides had fully regained their composure. Yet this also meant that anyone stranded alone was in grave peril. Tightening the ribbon in her reddish-brown hair, Michelle turned to her partner.
"Erika, could you keep watch over everyone here for a little while?"
"Are you really going back out there...? Will you be okay, Michelle?"
"I have to go. If this is an exam, there are people out there who have no choice but to endure it to the bitter end."
Indeed. Students from Classes D and E would never willingly forfeit a chance at promotion. The survivors huddled here were proof enough: they gritted their teeth and bore the pain even with scraped-raw skin and large splinters impaled in their backs. The proctors overseeing the exam would not intervene, meaning those left behind would never make it out in one piece unless their peers reached out a helping hand.
And so, Michelle set out into the tempest to search for those clinging desperately to survival.
A few minutes into her trek through the blinding sheets of rain, she encountered another group.
"We've already swept this entire perimeter," a voice called out. "The only sector left is..."
Lady Ophelia had already taken command and erected a massive relief camp. Because of her swift action, Michelle had far less ground to cover than anticipated. The only uncharted territory was the southern field, which lay close to one of the four starting points for the fourth phase. And there...
"Damn it... in this downpour, I can barely tell which way is which!"
"Is this bright enough?"
"Much better! How long can you keep that up?"
"Unless I suddenly collapse, I should be able to maintain it for a few hours."
"Reliable as always. Let's get to shelter and start a fire first to warm up."
Through the haze, Michelle caught sight of Junon carrying Sylvia on his back.
"...Am I seeing things?"
Michelle blinked and rubbed her eyes once, twice, murmuring in disbelief. But there was no mistaking it: a short distance away, guided by a luminous ribbon of conjured light, Junon was trudging forward with Sylvia secured across his shoulders. It was undeniable reality.
For several minutes, Michelle could not tear her gaze away as Junon moved steadily forward, carrying the girl who was utterly caked in grime from rolling through the mud. Eventually, the silhouette of the boy supporting the female student disappeared into the entrance of a makeshift shelter hastily constructed from tent canvas, timber, and broad foliage.
"That makes no sense at all..."
It was a contradiction.
There was simply no other word in the world to describe what she had just witnessed.
Were my ears playing tricks on me?
What the hell was she babbling about? What? She was sorry?
"It was... all my fault..."
There it was again.
Sorry? Her fault?
Those words felt utterly divorced from the Sylvia I used to know. For a split second, I wondered if the Talbrut Ark was projecting auditory illusions directly into my brain... but no, that was ridiculous. Her hair might have looked darker after being soaked in muddy water, but a splash of dirt hardly changed a person's core identity. The girl lying before me was undoubtedly the very same Sylvia who had once tormented me.
Her eyes, however, remained shut tight.
She tossed and groaned as though trapped in the clutches of a foul nightmare, the words slipping out of her as unconscious sleep-talk.
So she was just talking in her sleep.
Well, stranger things have happened. Anyone could suffer through a nightmare.
Deciding to let it go, I rested my chin on my palm and tried to tune into the rhythmic patter of the rain outside, only to notice movement across the shelter. Someone else was nodding off.
Come to think of it, Renias really went through the wringer today.
She had spent the entire afternoon wrestling against her innate acrophobia, shedding tears and running her nose raw just to overcome it. That ordeal alone must have completely drained her mental reserves. On top of that, she hadn't rested her body for a single second since, laboring to build this shelter. Her fatigue had to be astronomical. It was entirely natural that she was dozing off with her head propped against the shelter's timber frame.
"Ugh... ngh..."
Just as one girl was about to drift into deep slumber, the other seemed to plunge into an even darker nightmare. Breaking into a heavy cold sweat, Sylvia gasped sharply for air until, unable to bear it any longer, her eyes snapped wide open.
"You awake?"
"What... Why are you..."
"Just giving you fair warning," I said flatly. "We broke our backs building this place, so don't even think about wrecking it. If this falls apart, you'll be causing trouble for the girl over there, too. She helped me put it up."
Truthfully, I had wanted to phrase it a bit differently: I didn't build this place for you to relax in. You were passed out on the road, so I dragged you here. If you throw a tantrum, you'll regret it.
Seeing Sylvia's pathetic state, however, made those harsh words feel unnecessary. Using Renias as an excuse seemed like the most effective deterrent. If Sylvia's grudge was directed solely at me, there was always a chance she might trash the shelter out of spite, and I had no desire to stir up needless trouble. Even Sylvia would think twice about ruining something built by Renias Lantana, an idol she looked up to with sparkling eyes.
"—Huh?"
Sylvia shielded her eyes, turned her back to me, and muttered something in a voice as tiny as a mouse's squeak. If she wanted me to understand, she needed to speak clearly... but whatever. I wasn't particularly in the mood to chat with her anyway. My own stamina was running on fumes after hauling a rain-drenched body all the way here.
"Save it for later. Talk after the exam is over, or whenever..."
"I made your life miserable every time I saw you," she choked out. "You could have just left me there... so why did you save me?"
"Haah... Did you not hear me say I'm tired and we should talk la—?"
"Answer me!"
While I was venting my annoyance, Sylvia pushed her battered body upright and seized me by the collar with both hands. Normally, having someone grab me like that would have made my blood boil. But this time, it didn't.
...Because there wasn't an ounce of strength behind her grip.
"Didn't you want revenge? No matter what happened to me, you could have laughed in my face! You could have told me to go to hell and looked the other way! So why... why did you bother bringing me here?!"
Tears streamed down her cheeks, her trembling gaze desperate for an answer. She couldn't even raise her voice properly, barely forcing the words past her throat, yet she was obsessed with knowing this one thing. She wasn't truly gripping my collar; she was practically clinging to me, shaking from head to toe. Did she really need to hear it that badly? Was she in so much agony that she had to break down in tears, a stark contrast to the cold, expressionless bully she used to be?
That sight cemented my conviction.
"Before I answer that," I said quietly, "I think you're the one who needs to explain why you always pulled your punches whenever you fought me."
"...!"
Her eyes wavered, her pupils dilating in shock.
When someone's hidden sore spot is lightly brushed against, they might stammer, blush, or flare up in anger. But when that core secret is laid completely bare, all words fail them, and their entire body freezes in place. Exactly like Sylvia right now.
Her reaction was the unmistakable signature of someone crushed under the weight of deep, festering guilt.
"At first, I hated you because you targeted me so relentlessly," I said. "I had no idea back then. It was only later that I realized you were holding back the entire time."
"How could you... possibly..."
"Drop it. Whatever your reasons were, I don't harbor much ill will toward you anymore. I just figured you had your own circumstances for acting that way."
"..."
The persistent sense of incongruity I had felt toward Sylvia before my regression hadn't been my imagination after all. And now, I finally had my answer.
I closed my eyes for a moment, turned my head aside, cleared my throat, and decided to push the complicated baggage off for another day.
"More importantly... sorry for looking, but do you realize you're basically in your underwear right now?"
"Ah...!"
In an instant, the delicate hands barely clutching my collar slipped away, followed by the frantic rustle of fabric. She was undoubtedly wrapping herself in the spare cloth to hide her exposed frame. By now, the clothes she had been wearing were probably dry anyway.
"I'm heading over to the entrance to wake my partner. While I'm gone, go put your dry clothes back on by the fire."
I woke Renias, swapped positions with her, and told her to get some proper sleep while I kept watch over the surroundings for the remainder of the test. From that moment until the final chime signaling the end of the exam, Sylvia did not speak a single word to me. She only exchanged quiet murmurs with Renias.
Regardless of what had happened, I felt the nagging knot of dissonance that had been scratching at my chest loosen just a little.
While Junon cast aside his lingering doubts and waited for the end-of-term evaluation to conclude, Michelle returned to her camp.
In the southern sector, there had been no students trailing behind Junon's pair, meaning no latecomers remained to be rescued. Michelle had had no reason to linger in the storm any longer. Even so, a strange dissonance was slowly unfurling within her heart.
"...Erika. Can I ask you something?"
"Sure, go ahead. What is it?"
"Hypothetically speaking... if there was someone who relentlessly tormented you every single day, do you think you could step in to save them when their life was on the line?"
"Huh...?"
It was, by all accounts, a rather difficult question.