Chapter 76: Second Arrangement (2)
Banshee.
Unlike the Specter, a ghostly undead specialized in close combat, the Banshee was an undead that wielded magic. A high-ranking one at that, rivaling even a lich.
And among them, a Banshee Queen?
‘She’s gotta be a mage.’
A mage had to die first before they could be resurrected as a Banshee.
The destination was the magic department.
On the way, he glanced at a lantern by the roadside. His face reflected in the glass.
‘Just like with Baek So-cheon.’
The name was Kern, but his skin was overlaid with his own appearance.
‘Well, it’s just the name changing to Kern…’
He shrugged it off.
He grabbed one of the cleaners working outside.
“Excuse me.”
“… Yes, what is it?”
“Where in the academy do they teach mages?”
“Over that way, sir.”
The cleaner cautiously pointed in the direction. He seemed to be on his best behavior after seeing the academy uniform. He asked one more thing.
“Thank you. By the way, what do you think about necromancers?”
“… Necromancers? What’s that?”
The cleaner tilted his head as if he’d never heard the term.
He explained a bit more plainly.
“Any mages around here who summon undead or something?”
“… Summon undead? Is that even possible? I’m not the most learned, but I’ve never heard of any mage like that.”
Kim Minwoo tilted his head.
‘Are there no necromancers in this world?’
That didn’t quite add up. This was the world where the Death Lord had run rampant.
The Death Lord was a necromancer.
He must have summoned hordes of undead.
No necromancers at all?
Two possibilities came to mind.
First, they’d been so thoroughly purged in the past that they’d vanished from public memory.
Necromancers getting hunted down wasn’t anything new, so it wasn’t surprising.
‘Second possibility…’
Maybe there wasn’t even a spell for summoning undead.
In that case, the Death Lord might have been the pioneer of necromancy.
‘If it’s the first one, all my skills are sealed.’
He looked at the cleaner.
“Then, what about anyone handling corpses or anything gloomy like that?”
“Uh… mages from the Death School do that, I think.”
“Death School?”
“Yeah. They use corpses or curses, bones, poison—that kind of magic, from what I’ve heard.”
“Thanks. See you.”
A building came into view in the distance.
As he entered, he saw guards standing there. One of them, spotting the badge on his uniform, tilted his head.
“Swordsmanship department? Classes are in session right now. What brings you here?”
“Is there a student named Merhen here? Professor Charles asked me to drop something off for him.”
He name-dropped Charles.
The guard, clearly familiar with the name, waved him through without suspicion and headed to the counter to talk to the female staff member.
A moment later.
“He’s here. But he’s in class right now…”
“I’ll wait.”
He nodded and approached the woman at the counter.
“Excuse me.”
“Yes?”
“Do you offer classes on the Death School here?”
“We do.”
“What about switching departments?”
“… Switching departments?”
“Yeah. I want to study that kind of magic.”
Merhen was here, so if he could switch, he would. Sticking close to him would let him figure out the clear conditions faster.
He’d asked the cleaner earlier to check if there was any magic branch worth pursuing.
At least the Death School overlapped with curses.
It’d be easier to switch than learning entirely new magic from scratch.
“Looking at your badge, Mr. Kern, you’re still a second-year. As long as you pass the exam, it’s fine.”
“What kind of exam?”
“For Death mages… one moment.”
She checked some papers and looked back at him.
“You’ll need to get evaluated by Professor Wellington. It’s an aptitude test. He’s on the third floor. Go after classes end.”
“Thanks.”
He waited a bit, and the bell rang.
The whole building grew noisy.
‘Classes over?’
He headed to the third floor.
[Professor Wellington’s Office]
He knocked on the door with the sign.
“Who is it?”
“Kern, from the swordsmanship department. May I come in?”
“… Enter.”
He stepped into the office.
A pale man wearing round glasses stared at him intently.
“What brings a swordsmanship student here?”
“I want to become a Death mage.”
“… You’re a swordsman?”
“Yeah. Is that a problem?”
“No, not really…”
Wellington tilted his head.
The Death School was one of the branches even mages avoided.
They spent their days handling corpses.
It left a stench clinging to their bodies, and their spells weren’t exactly visually appealing.
And they weren’t particularly stronger than other schools.
So a swordsman cadet coming to study Death magic? It was bound to raise eyebrows.
… But if he wanted to, what could he do?
Professor Wellington pulled out a pure white crystal orb.
“This orb tests aptitude for death magic. If you have it, it’ll turn pitch black. Place your hand on it.”
Kern placed his hand on it.
Up until then, Wellington hadn’t expected much.
Every now and then, swordsmanship students like this showed up.
Becoming a knight wasn’t easy.
Endless bone-grinding training, swinging a sword until your hands bled.
After a year or two, they’d desperately want to jump to another department. Especially the untalented ones.
Most picked the magic department.
Each magic branch had aptitudes, and if you lucked into one, you could train as a mage.
Sitting at a desk studying seemed comfy.
Plus, it was as honorable as being a knight. But aptitudes were rare.
Maybe one in ten thousand, and even then, usually too faint to be useful.
‘He’s just dodging.’
Probably came to Death magic as a last resort after no other matches.
Then.
“…!”
Wellington, gazing boredly at the orb, went wide-eyed.
The white orb had changed.
Pitch black!
“Oh, it really turned black.”
“M-My goodness!”
Wellington’s hand trembled holding the orb. He’d never seen or heard of such strong aptitude. He urgently grabbed Kim Minwoo’s hand.
“Y-You’re going to be a mage, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Good! Smart choice! Wasting this talent on a sword would be a continental tragedy! You must learn Death magic!”
“So, department switch?”
“Of course! But… what were your grades like?”
“Dead last, I think.”
Wellington grinned.
‘Snagging him won’t be hard.’
Sometimes other departments opposed transfers, especially for top students.
But not this time.
Dead last.
‘Come to think of it, there’s that famous screw-up in swordsmanship.’
From a noble family, always bottom of the class, terrible behavior too.
Rumor was he got in through connections to the Imperial Academy.
Name was Ke… something.
“Your name…”
“Kern.”
“Oh…”
“What?”
“Nothing. Pack your dorm stuff and come back. I’ll assign a room right away.”
Wellington answered quickly.
That stuff didn’t matter.
What mattered was that the Death School’s next master had appeared.
A famous screw-up meant the transfer would be easy.
Or so he thought…
“I’ll say it again: Kern is the hope of our swordsmanship department. We absolutely, under no circumstances, can allow his transfer!”
“… Pardon?”
“We can’t let him go!”
“I heard he’s… infamous?”
“Infamous? He just beat a professor one-on-one!”
“…?”
“You haven’t heard?”
“First time…”
The department head nodded gravely.
“He took down Professor Charles in one go. Even Charles admitted it—Kern’s a once-in-a-millennium genius.”
Wellington’s face hardened.
Professor Charles was one of the top swordsmen in the department.
‘This won’t be easy…’
Now he understood the department head’s sudden opposition.
Even so.
“What do we do? We really need to transfer Kern.”
“Why are you after a knight cadet for the magic department? Find an aptitude or something?”
Wellington nodded seriously.
“He’s a confirmed next master for the Death School.”
“… What?”
The department head’s face hardened.
Next master confirmed.
Now he got why Wellington was so desperate.
He wouldn’t want to lose talent like that either.
“Kern himself strongly wants the transfer. Surely you know a student’s will matters most.”
“Ahem… Why does he want to transfer in the first place? I need to hear his reasons.”
“Fine. Call Kern in.”
Wellington brightened.
Reasons didn’t matter.
Kern had come to them himself.
No downside.
Soon, Kern entered the department head’s office.
“Hello.”
“Yes. Kern, I hear you want to transfer.”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Does it matter?”
“You leaving swordsmanship is a huge loss for the Empire. I need to know why.”
The department head said sternly.
“Nothing left to learn.”
“Nothing… to learn?”
“I can beat professors. What more is there? No more time to waste. Let me go.”
“… You’re mistaken about something.”
The department head’s aura rose slowly.
“The swordsmanship department is vast. Plenty of people left to teach you.”
“Then bring them all.”
Kern said indifferently, flicking his ear.
“Let’s see if that’s possible.”
* * *
All swordsmanship students gathered in one place. A massive event had erupted.
The infamous screw-up Kern versus the entire professor staff!
Classes halted as professors rushed over, so students could watch from afar.
“My goodness.”
“How many have fallen now?”
Starting with Professor Charles on the rematch, then Professor Hamingten, Professor Millanol…
Big-name professors couldn’t last fifty exchanges before a blade at their throats. Even the last one, Department Head Arnold, fared no better.
He managed nearly a hundred fierce bouts, but still ended with the blade at his neck.
“See? Nothing left to learn.”
“Ha, hahaha…”
Arnold laughed hollowly.
In his youth, he’d been vice-captain of the Imperial Guard Knights.
He’d even studied Kern’s swordsmanship during the prior professor matches.
And still lost.
No excuses left.
‘To catch him…’
At least an active knight captain level?
A retired old-timer like him couldn’t handle this young man.
“You really must go?”
“I really must.”
“Even if we’d give anything for your sake?”
Earlier, it was just about not losing talent. Now, it was heartbreaking.
Arnold’s eyes pleaded.
“I still couldn’t attend magic classes.”
“Couldn’t attend?”
“Don’t I have to stick to swordsmanship classes?”
In that moment.
Arnold’s eyes gleamed fiercely.
“You want to take other department classes?”
“Precisely, only the classes ‘I want’.”
Same classes as Merhen. If that worked, the sign didn’t matter. Magic or swordsmanship classes were pointless either way.
“I see. Is that it…”
Arnold’s sly gaze turned to Professor Wellington in the distance.
‘Let them compete.’
Pit them against each other, and something good might come.
That’s why he’d set this up.
Kim Minwoo smiled quietly.