Hit Confirmed
There are all sorts of ability users in the world. Most of them pass through the Continental Academy. And some of them even settle down there permanently. Rather than being used as weapons by their nations, they choose to live as educators or advisors.
Today's addition to Abel's team—Abel, Seria, and the two duchesses—was Kalrun, an academy staff member who fit that description perfectly.
"Nice to meet you all. I'm Kalrun. Ah, I'm not an official professor yet, so no need to call me 'Professor.' Feel free to use my name."
An ability user tasked with safely evacuating the Empire's citizens left in the village. Kalrun's ability was in the mental category—a highly unusual type that manipulated illusions. It was something you'd rarely even hear about, let alone encounter.
Even Seria stared in surprise, but for Abel, staying quiet was impossible.
"Welcome, Kalrun. We've been waiting. I heard you have illusion abilities—could you maybe use it on me once, just to show how the hallucination works?!"
"Pardon? Ahaha! The professors said this year's freshmen are bold, and sure enough, Abel, you're spot on! What a gutsy joke to start with!"
"...Not a joke."
"...Not a joke?"
Illusion abilities weren't some casual drink. What kind of person was this guy?
Kalrun glanced at Seria in bewilderment beside him, but she'd grown so accustomed to Abel by now that she didn't even comment on it. When he turned to look, the twin duchesses were beaming at Abel, whispering about how manly he was—which only made his head spin more.
Worried Abel might actually throw a tantrum demanding a demo, Kalrun quickly added,
"Mental abilities all consume an enormous amount of stamina. That's why so few people can master them properly."
"So you're saying it's risky to use it carelessly, in case you mess up at a critical moment."
"I get your thirst for knowledge, Abel—I've been a student myself. But this is a real battle, so let's save it for later."
Convinced by Kalrun's words, Abel swallowed his disappointment. Mental ability users were indeed rare. If he didn't gain experience now, he might not adapt when it mattered most. Plus, Kalrun was an ally—no need for a life-or-death duel, so there was plenty to learn.
But right now, the mission came first. Ahead lay the attackers targeting the Academy mixed in with innocent villagers. Remembering how he'd staked his life on abilities just to avoid becoming one of those innocents, Abel knew their blood couldn't be spilled.
"So we'll use your illusion to draw out the villagers, then wipe out the enemies in the chaos. Can you disorient the enemies with it too?"
"Those at the pinnacle of mental abilities could. But me? Against non-ability users, I can barely nudge their actions."
"Not outright control, then."
Valuable intel already. A crucial distinction. Not forced compulsion, but a prod. The moment someone saw through the illusion with a 'that doesn't feel right,' it'd shatter harmlessly. And anyone skilled enough would spot the signs and prepare countermeasures.
Every ability had strengths and weaknesses. Near-invincible, maybe—but never truly invincible.
With such perfect ability users, why did a romance fantasy have to be at the center? Abel genuinely cursed this world.
"Evening's when the villagers get busy—shall we strike then?"
"Great idea, Abel. What do the rest of you think?"
Seria nodded vigorously—no need for more nagging. Irshu and Tarshu peeked at her, then whispered their agreement in sync.
Kalrun eyed Abel with admiration, impressed. Even close-knit teams split opinions in moments like this. Reputation in the Academy—and future social standing—hinged on roles and merits. Subtle rivalries were common, but not here.
He chalked it up to Abel being exceptionally talented with proven feats.
'Maybe he can even help with my official professor appointment.'
Students often owed their mentors, but mentors could ride students' coattails too. Hoping for the latter, Kalrun awaited evening.
The sun dipped low. Operation time approached.
Oblivious villagers bustled with dinner prep. Men returned from fields, women lit outdoor fires, children clutched parents' hands after parting with friends, heading home.
"Now, Kalrun."
At the signal, Kalrun took a deep breath. He locked eyes on every villager in sight, imprinting them. Then planted personalized illusions, luring them far from the enemies' hideout.
One craved a pre-sunset stroll. Another detoured for neighborly gossip. Someone circled the village with wife and child; another rushed back to the field, 'forgetting' a tool.
Illusions they wouldn't question, within believable limits.
The warehouse—likely enemy hideout—emptied of villagers.
"Nngh…."
Kalrun's face twisted, paling as color drained. Even just sitting and using his power strained him this much.
Mental abilities really guzzle stamina, Abel noted, checking his waist-hung sword. Another lesson learned today.
"Let's move. Irshu, Tarshu—guard Kalrun here and watch for trouble. Seria…."
Originally, he'd planned to leave Seria with them and go solo. Not from doubt in her skills—he now strongly urged her into combat. But one reason held him back: the four-man team on the opposite side.
'If I take her, they'll whine later about the danger. Just thinking about it gives me a headache.'
But voicing it sparked Seria's fierce backlash. After all their training, hadn't she changed? To end the fight before villagers got hurt, she needed to join.
Bracing for their nagging, Abel agreed to bring her.
"We'll head to the village together. If issues arise en route, prioritize evacuating villagers."
"Got it, Abel! Ah, wait. Kids!"
Red butterflies fluttered around Seria like flames. Past pyrokinesis users just handled fire, but hers was fire yet not—flame butterflies, endlessly fascinating.
"I'll send some with you. Not super strong, but helpful."
"Thanks. You know the plan? Keep your distance as much as possible."
"Will do."
When trouble hits, plans simplify. Now, only the clash awaited.
Drawing his sword, Abel dashed toward the suspected enemy spot. Distance grew from Seria, but their styles made it safer.
The opposite team should be moving too. Rel likely mirrored his role. Simultaneous strikes ideal, but no comms meant imperfect timing.
So he'd strike first.
Abel smashed the warehouse door and charged in.
Evening dimmed the unlit interior, but Seria's butterflies lit it like torches.
"Wh-what?!"
To darkness-adapted foes, the sudden light blinded momentarily. They could have attacked intruders, but losing one sense—even briefly—threw them into panic.
Luckily, they hadn't anticipated this assault. If they had, they wouldn't hide—they'd have fled, gritting teeth.
"What else? You bastards."
No one as strong as Jureung, but enough to hone skills. Abel bellowed confidently,
"An extra here to farm mob EXP."
The Ability Supremacists, naturally, gawked at the nonsense.