An Unforgettable Name

I tore through every single question Professor Kyope threw at me, dismantling each one no matter how venomously she had twisted the phrasing.

No matter how convoluted or spiteful she made the problems, I had never once dropped out of the top tier on written exams. Watching the arrogant sneer curdle and warp across Professor Kyope’s face was a genuine spectacle. Armed with the memories of my previous life, I had already mastered the third- and fourth-year curriculum from top to bottom, leaving the so-called Wicked Witch with no choice but to wave the white flag.

"T-that will be all for today’s lecture...!"

Her face a knot of fury, Professor Kyope hastily swept up her textbooks and scrambled for the exit. Grinding her teeth loud enough to hear, the middle-aged professor rushed toward the front door—only to lose her footing on the threshold and take a clumsy, undignified dive.

Crash!

"Aaaagh..."

Man, what a relief.

Had she commanded even a shred of respect, students would have rushed forward to ask if she was alright and help her to her feet. But this was a woman notorious for tormenting the lower classes, heaping contempt and ridicule upon them under the guise of instruction. The students looked down at the sprawled-out Wicked Witch with faces of pure, sunny delight.

Snickering under their breath, the Class E students shot her sideways glances and began filing out through the rear door. Not a single soul offered a hand.

No reason ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to sit through garbage like that anyway.

I was no exception.

Professor Kyope would be too humiliated to make a scene, meaning she would let the class leave without a fuss. Just like that, I found myself with unexpected free time. Normally, this lecture would have led straight into the morning assembly, but since I had chased her off ahead of schedule...

I might as well take this chance to check on my physical condition.

Grabbing my bag, I walked out of the classroom, intent on putting the spare time to good use.

Lebrant Academy belonged to the Grand Duchy of Ardelion, a nation that shared its ancestral roots with the Altena Empire. In keeping with that imperial heritage, the academy operated on the premise that all citizens should learn equally, awaken their innate gifts, and grow into contributing members of society. To that end, it provided generous welfare to every student without exception.

In practice, this welfare was straightforward: full coverage for food, clothing, shelter, and academic advancement. Any student who came through the gates wishing to learn and awaken their talents, having signed the enrollment agreement, was deemed worthy of receiving the institution's complete support. Barring the grounds reserved for the Grand Duke's private estate, that meant free access to all seven halls and sixteen wings that covered eighty percent of the capital city of Lebrant.

Naturally, class rankings had nothing to do with access to academy welfare.

"Found it. The Comprehensive Examination Room."

The facility was designed to assess which specialties a student developed through their studies and how their latent talents were awakening. I had come here to obtain a precise, objective reading of where my body stood.

The sheet handed to me after the battery of tests laid out my magical profile in exacting detail.

"Nothing unusual here."

A report like this was supposed to define the course of a student's training. In my previous life, the fact that my magic tier was marked as indeterminate had caused no end of headaches when trying to figure out which direction to pursue.

Though I could channel the fire element, the spark was pitifully weak, and even weaving it through a magic circle yielded pathetic efficiency. That was why, back then, I had poured everything into nurturing my awakened Unique Magic instead.

"...Come to think of it, I haven't checked on that yet."

Rather than tracing a circle for flame magic, I channeled my innate mana directly into my right palm. A disc-shaped barrier rippled into existence.

Unique Magic.

Just as every human possessed a distinct constitution and personality, mana differed from person to person in color, capacity, cohesion, saturation, and circulation. Unique Magic was an extension of that truth; shaped by an individual's mana affinity, it was said to sprout and bloom in response to their deepest emotions and state of mind.

I wasn't entirely sure how my own fit into that framework, but its fundamental purpose was simple: intercepting and nullifying enemy strikes. It functioned like a reliable shield, which was the very reason I had been designated for the Vanguard position.

Yet leaning on magic as a makeshift shield was a trap. According to my past experience, it was an ability destined to be lost down the line.

Who in their right mind would pour blood and sweat into honing a power knowing it would slip through their fingers in the future? At the very least, I had no intention of repeating such folly.

"Haaah..."

Approaching combat through pure magic was bound to hit a wall. That left only one viable path for the battlefield.

The physical body. A strong, tempered frame was a dependable asset under any circumstance.

A sturdy body wasn't just useful for hunting beasts; it was versatile enough to handle nearly any trial. It served as the ultimate weapon of last resort when trapped in environments where magic was sealed. It formed the foundation for hand-to-hand combat and weapon mastery alike. Even ranged weapons like bows and crossbows—tools that could buy a precious second or carve out a momentary opening—demanded raw physical power.

From being backed into a corner in extreme survival scenarios to breaking through treacherous terrain, the answer had been staring me in the face all along.

I headed straight to the physical training room, brimming with ambition, but once inside, I had no idea where to begin. Left with no better alternative, I grabbed a set of weights and tried to follow the beginner training routine posted on the wall.

And yet... just how neglected was this body? Even though the placard clearly read 'Beginner Routine,' I couldn't even finish the sequence properly.

"Man... seriously? My stamina is in absolute shambles..."

To think I had entertained the idea of relying on magic in this state. Still, finding out early was a silver lining. At the very least, I now understood beyond a shadow of a doubt that my current physical condition was too atrocious to leave unattended.

"Haa... *wheeze*..."

Sprawled flat on my back with sweat pouring from every pore, I lay with my mouth open, gasping for air like a novice out of his depth. As I waited for my breath to return, my mind drifted toward other thoughts.

By nature, a human fighting a magical beast one-on-one was at a severe disadvantage. That was why forming a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠balanced team, with each position fulfilling its role, was essential. While many squads were temporary arrangements, some forged bonds that lasted indefinitely. At that point, people no longer referred to them as teams; they were given an official name and called a party.

The prime example was the group I had once belonged to: the Tembris Party.

Every single member was an overwhelming force on their own, and once their talents converged, the resulting synergy was nothing short of monstrous.

Except for me, of course.

I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had lost count of how many times I overheard people whispering behind my back, wondering what a guy like me was doing standing among them. Hearing those remarks had made me reckless, driving me to push myself to the brink in a desperate bid to refine my magic.

Even now, I still didn't understand why Goden—the de facto leader and beating heart of Tembris—had recruited me. Bluntly speaking, I doubted I had ever truly contributed to that party. Once I lost my power, I had done nothing but lean on them...

"This time, I need to stay as far away from them as possible."

I had no intention of becoming a burden to the people destined to save this country, nor could I afford to hold them back. A few of them were the only people at the academy I could genuinely call friends, but even if the path ahead felt lonely, this was the right call.

Just as my ragged breathing began to level out and I braced myself to sit up—

The mana-amplified broadcast echoed through the halls, announcing the arrival of the sovereign ruler of the principality.

I hadn't realized how quickly the time had slipped by.

The day’s schedule was far from over, but there wouldn't be any more classes after Professor Kyope’s morning lecture. Once the Grand Duke finished his unannounced assembly, the atmosphere across the academy was bound to turn grim.

I scrubbed the sweat from my skin in the washroom, threw my uniform back on, and stepped outside—only to run straight into someone familiar.

"The training gym? Well, that's a rare sight. And here I thought you spent all your free time holed up in the mana halls."

Whenever memories of the days before my death surfaced, a dull ache twisted in my chest. But hearing that nostalgic voice brought an unexpected sting to the back of my nose.

When my eyes met his face, the words caught in my throat.

"Junon? Hey, kid, what's gotten into you today?"

I knew I had to say something, but my throat felt parched, clamping shut like a stubborn clamshell refusing to show its pearl. I forced my lips to part.

"I'm... fine."

"You can barely squeeze out a word, and you call that fine? Physical conditioning is just like mana cultivation. If you push a body that isn't ready, you'll only end up breaking yourself. You know that, don't you?"

"...I'm really alright. I was just thirsty, that's all."

"Is that right?" he asked with a quizzical glance, but the cloud of suspicion passed quickly. He reached down, plucked a water bottle from his belt, and tossed it toward me. "You'd better not use this as an excuse to skip my lecture tomorrow. Pull a stunt like that, and you're getting ten whacks from the attendance ledger."

Unlike the other professors, he was an educator in the truest sense of the word.

A man who, when Lebrant Academy's defensive lines crumbled in an hour of pure despair, had burned through his own life to ensure his students could escape.

Jake Calau Beryl.

I could never forget that name.

He was the man who had thrown his life away to save mine.

"That aside, while it was clearly mutual fault this time, you can't go causing any more trouble. You hear me?"

...Trouble. He was referring to one thing.

Up until now, I had constantly protested the unfair treatment inflicted upon Vanguards. Unlike the other students from Classes D and E who resigned themselves to it as a custom, I had refused to take it lying down.

When nobles arrogantly brushed off abuse as 'academy tradition,' sneering and openly mocking the lower classes, I had repeatedly lost my temper and swung my fists. Overcome with fury, I had grabbed those jeering fools by the collar and pummeled them like a rabid hound.

That was the 'trouble' Professor Jake was talking about.

"A few other professors and I agree that the current treatment of Vanguards is completely unjust. I'm not saying you're wrong to be angry. But... just endure it until the end-of-term evaluations. The situation is going to change. I promise you that."

"...Yes, sir."

"Look at you, all obedient today. I half expected you to throw a fit and tell me to stop talking nonsense."

Well... that's because I already know things will turn out exactly as you said, Professor.

"A friend of mine who died decades ago was pointed at just like you, called talentless and worthless. But in the end, that bastard was the one who saved my life. So I believe in you. One day, your sprout will break through the soil, and you'll grow into someone incredible."

"Don't you ever believe your vessel is small! I've watched you for years, and I swear it—Junon, you're better than anyone in this place!!"

The memory ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of Professor Jake standing resolute, prepared to die, overlapped with the man standing before me. It wasn't the voice of the easygoing, teasing teacher he showed his students every day, but the roaring voice of a commander rallying morale and leading from the front lines. The memory of his back as he braved certain death to shield me flickered vividly before my eyes.

Hearing his present voice while remembering his past tore at my insides.

"Anyway, if you're done washing up, let's head to the courtyard. No sense in giving the other professors an excuse to chew you out."

"Right behind you."

My stomach ached with the memory of how he had died...

...but it would pass. Give it a little time, and this bitter ache would fade.

Probably.