You Call This a Reward? *Correction
"...Fuck."
The sight of an unfamiliar ceiling told me everything I needed to know about how that duel had ended—and in the same breath, a curse spilled out of my mouth all on its own. Because from here on out, I would have to keep looking at that bastard's face. Leon Venil. The miserable son of a bitch who had insulted my mother.
"...I should have ground him up and swallowed him before I ever came here."
Hurling off the blanket draped over me, I shot upright in bed—and the moment I did, the smell of every medicine under the sun stabbed at my nose, as if it had been waiting for me.
"...The infirmary?"
"Figured that out already, did you?"
Unlike the other professors, this one wore a white coat—Professor Fred, the man in charge of the infirmary. Of course I knew him. I'd owed this place more than a few favors myself.
"Well... you know why you're here, right?"
"...Yes."
"Nothing wrong with you, anyway. Just dressed a few bruises and left it at that."
"...."
"The Chairwoman wants to see you once you're up. Go on, now."
What the actual fuck. She knocks a man unconscious, then tells him to come see her. I could feel my opinion of her being ground down, helplessly, somewhere deep in my mind.
"...Shit."
"Did you just curse the Chairwoman? Huh. Didn't have you pegged for that kind of nerve."
"...I'll go see her."
"There you go~"
If there was one silver lining, it was the looks. For six years, all I'd ever caught in people's eyes was disgust and contempt. Now, threaded faintly through them, was a glimmer of dread and fear. I wasn't used to that kind of gaze either, but it beat being soaked in disgust outright.
"...Ugh, fuck."
I wasn't normally the type to swear this much. I got up, finished getting ready, and stepped out of the infirmary, my feet carrying me straight toward the Chairwoman's office. I'd been there before, so I found my way without a single wrong turn.
"Welcome. I have been expecting you."
"...Where's Leon?"
Grrrind— grrrind—
I'd ground my teeth so hard on the way over that they barely ground anymore. If only I could have done something about that one bastard, I wouldn't be like this.
"I have placed him under suspension. He will not be returning for some time."
"...Ha. You stop me from killing him, and all he gets is a suspension?"
I snatched up a dagger on the spot and made to storm straight back out, but something invisible clamped down on my legs—and I knew instinctively that it was the Chairwoman's power.
"How hasty. Why not have a seat and talk first?"
"...Release me."
"There is no justification left for you any longer, in any case. You of all people would know that, would you not?"
For a moment I nearly lost it again and lunged right at her. The person who had wrecked both my chance and my justification was standing there, saying this to my face..!!
"...Might I suggest we resolve this with a conversation."
"Haah..."
"What would you like to drink? I have black tea, and coffee."
"...Coffee, please."
The instant the words left my mouth, the Chairwoman snapped her fingers, and in the blink of an eye a piping-hot cup of coffee—freshly brewed, by the warmth of it—came sailing toward me in its saucer.
"There is no poison, so drink with an easy mind."
"...Was that supposed to be a joke?"
"My apologies if it failed to amuse."
"...Ha. What is it you want to say?"
Exhaling softly, I dropped into the seat directly across from her. As if that was all she had been waiting for, she held something out in front of me.
"I did promise to open the treasury for you, did I not?"
"...You did. And I distinctly remember asking for that bastard's life in return."
"...Haha."
The Chairwoman's laugh looked almost sheepish. It was an answer laden with the clear intent to dodge. Just what was so special about House Venil that she would go this far? To the point of intruding on a Duel of Honor, no less?
"...It couldn't be that she's got some dirt on her, could it?"
As if a 9th-Circle archmage could fail to bury one lousy piece of leverage.
"...Donations, then?"
"...I would prefer, if you must mutter to yourself, that you do it more quietly."
"...."
"In any case, having combed through the treasury... this seemed the best fit."
"...?"
Between her slender fingers sat a small black cube, pouring out an air of menace as though it were begging never to be touched.
"A relic—the Cursed Clockwork Device, I believe it is called."
"...And how exactly is this supposed to help me—"
That goddamn bitch.
In the very next instant I flipped the table before me and hurled myself at her, a hand axe I had no memory of making already in one hand. It had never been a tool I was fond of—it butchered corpses far too thoroughly—but this was hardly the moment to be picky.
Shraaaaak—
The moment I split the table still hanging in midair, my hand axe came at her like driving rain—
"Fighting on Academy grounds without a professor's permission is a violation of school rules."
It never came close. My opponent was one of the foremost archmages in the Empire.
"...I will admit to my slip of the tongue, so kindly surrender your weapons."
"...Fuck's sake."
"Profanity is likewise a violation of school rules... but I shall let it pass."
Snap—
The instant she snapped her fingers, everything around us began drifting up into the air, and even the table I had split in two knit itself whole again and settled back into place.
"A magic tool that can command souls. That is the true nature of this relic..."
"...."
"Who is to say you will not see your mother again?"
"...You're giving me this? In exchange for that bastard's life?"
It was an item that demanded extraordinary care in its handling, so persuading the professors had taken some doing... but if I could prove that I possessed the strength to wield this relic without incident—
"Then I may grant it to you, as freely as you please."
"...And how am I to prove this power of mine?"
"Well... you need only show me at this midterm evaluation."
Ding-dong-dang—
I wanted to ask more, but alas, at that very moment the bell announcing the start of lectures rang out. Told that she had not summoned me, so I needn't worry and should head back for now, I had no choice but to leave the office and make my way to class.
"...The midterm evaluation."
Naturally, I was late to the lecture. Professor Philian, who had been teaching Imperial History, flew into a towering rage, and I found myself condemned, as punishment, to transcribe the entirety of the history lecture by hand and submit it for inspection.
...It's fine, my ass... shit...
Around that same hour—
A pillar of the Empire's education. Head of the institution that had produced talent beyond counting. One of the rare 9th-Circle mages in all the Empire. Ruine Descartes was sunk deep in thought.
The delinquent's air about him had certainly vanished, but...
His eyes, when she had seen him in her office the other day, had been unmistakably more lifeless than before. They resembled—only faintly, but unmistakably—the eyes of those who had survived a battlefield through unbearable agony. At the time, she had dismissed it as a misreading.
But yesterday and today, that life had dwindled to nearly nothing, and his once-black eyes had gone murky, as though shot through with gray.
What could have changed him so? Was it wise to simply leave him be?
And what troubled her even more—
There had been no hesitation. None at all...
His daggers and hand axes had flown straight and true for Leon's head. Had she not canceled them with Dispel while simultaneously deploying a shield, even she might have been in danger. Attacks that a mere cadet would have been hard-pressed to withstand.
No matter that a Duel of Honor sanctioned killing. Knowing murder only from the page and actually resolving to commit it were worlds apart. And yet he had aimed for the head without a flicker of hesitation.
Had he perhaps turned into something even more dangerous? Had giving him the relic been the wrong choice?
"Please... let my choice not have been wrong."
Praying that it had not, she buried herself once more in a mountain of documents, spending her hours adjusting the arrangements for the midterm evaluation.
"Look at me... apparently trusting the Chairwoman's word again."
Only after finishing every page of the transcription and submitting it for inspection could I finally return to my dormitory. This small room, which these days almost felt cozy. Inside it, I took out the thing I would be studying for the rest of the day.
The relic I had received from the Chairwoman.
Cursed Clockwork Device
A relic was not something you could simply use the moment you obtained it. Every relic imposed upon whoever sought to wield it a trial known as Assimilation.
Relics came into being from the desires of those who had once owned or used them—unfulfilled urges, grudges, and the like gathering together until the object gained the power to project them. A result brought forth while nothing was paid in return.
Such violations of physical law warped space itself, and from the distortion, beings of darkness were born. What arose from that was a Gate. This was why relics could only ever be found within Gates.
And naturally, in order to fulfill the desire dwelling within, a relic would seek to dominate its user—fusing the urges, grudges, and emotions of its former life with their own. That was the trial called Assimilation, and it was also why relic wielders were so few.
"Given that it lets you handle souls... there must be quite a few lingering spirits bound to it..."
Losing one's mind mid-Assimilation was hardly a rarity, so I resolved to proceed with care. Besides, even if I succeeded, unless I posted an excellent result at the midterm evaluation, the odds were good I would have to hand it back. And how bitter would it be, returning a relic I had already assimilated?
"If I can just... get past the midterm evaluation."
I might get to see my mother again. Assuming the Chairwoman had not been lying, that was.
There was still a little time before the midterm evaluation, so until then, I had to scrape together teammates however I could. Students my age—seventeen—were classed as seniors at the Academy, and the evaluation would be held for us accordingly.
The more teammates the better, in principle, but unless someone was trustworthy enough to watch my back, I didn't strictly need them. Not that it mattered. Surviving was the one thing I was confident in.
And anyway, it's not like I have any friends.