Chapter 175
Chapter 175
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 175
Chapter Title: The Power of Evil 3
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Jefrin Academy has two major media outlets.
One is In Justice, the student council's official publication, where students typically check for official campus announcements.
It's said to be boring as hell, but since In Justice posts student grades and doubles as a mouthpiece for the professors, like it or not, it's used as a notice board.
The other is the Jefrin Newspaper Club.
Recognized as a full-fledged club activity—separate from the guilds—they operate under the catchphrase of delivering campus news faster than anyone else.
Of course, as a club activity distinct from guilds, profit-making is prohibited. However, various guilds and companies within Jefrin emphasize a "virtuous cycle" through "charity," and in return, the Jefrin Newspaper Club runs "thank-you" ads for those companies.
That's why the newspaper they publish—nicknamed the Daily Jefrin—is even more sensational, guild-friendly, spineless, and tabloid-esque.
And that's precisely why students love the Daily Jefrin. They go wild for it.
But not on that day.
The tone was different.
In an article about the current regime's leader, Eve von Loengrin, they slipped in an ad for Wolfram von Loengrin right below it.
Some students realized that the shadow of the former student council president had deeply infiltrated Jefrin.
Yet in this situation, few dared to cry out for justice rashly.
Even though they were kids in their prime, both sides were imperial heirs. Jefrin was too steeped in worldly cynicism for lofty ideals. And someone else would surely step up—someone other than themselves.
Finally, there were simply more kids who thrilled to the darkness than to the light.
But Wolfram von Loengrin was a darkness too profound to touch.
So naturally, their focus turned to his minions embedded in each grade.
First-year general studies: Milmyu von Sabre.
Second-year knight division: Nepthelian.
Third-year magic division: Aila Trista. Rudika Hassan Shadow.
These four were the most frequently named celebrities.
Some called them the Four Black Flame Constellations. Others, the Four Divine Beasts. Or the Four Heavenly Kings. Names varied, but they were Jefrin's hottest four right now.
"I feel like rebelling today."
"...Is that any different from usual?"
"My rebellion grows bigger every day!"
"...I see. So it does."
"Yes!"
Of course, the individuals themselves were astonishingly oblivious.
First-year classes.
Around this time, Jefrin's general studies students split into two paths.
Magic division hopefuls formed special classes for basic magic theory, while knight division aspirants threw themselves into practical training.
Second-year assignments were based on first-year second-semester grades.
That's why knight hopefuls—like the class Milmyu was in—endlessly repeated near-combat spars and battle simulations to fine-tune those grades.
"That's enough!"
"...Good work, sir."
"...G-good... work, sir."
And Milmyu von Sabre claimed another perfect victory today.
No one in Jefrin was unaware of her battle gauntlet style by now.
Get caught in her grasp up close, and it was over—instant shockwave knockout.
To fight her, you had to keep distance.
But distance didn't guarantee safety. Get tagged by the ring-shaped projectiles on her gauntlets, and she'd yank you in for the takedown.
Close range was suicide, and her ranged shots were absurdly fast. Yet Milmyu von Sabre had a glaring weakness.
Her innate stats.
Low stamina, lacking strength, mediocre agility—overwhelm her with superior stats in a melee scrum, and you'd seize victory.
The red-haired boy calculated as much. Kelters gripped his one-handed straight sword and baited the scrum.
It seemed to work at first. Milmyu faltered, just for a moment.
But her counter flowed in a direction Kelters hadn't anticipated.
Pounding the training ground floor with her fist to kick up dust, blinding him—then charging full-tilt to smash him.
Kelters crumpled on the spot, clutching his gut. Milmyu turned away without a flicker of emotion.
Her gaze fixed on the horizon. To her, classmates were no longer rivals. Kelters clenched his fist.
Recent rumors had reached his ears too.
The "villain" Prince Wolfram von Loengrin's four favored students included Milmyu von Sabre.
Kelters didn't know who this Wolfram was.
He tried not to prejudge people, so even amid the bad press, he withheld judgment.
Still, he envied that distant classmate's back—her lord chosen, her eyes on a broader world.
The "former top student" slumped here, while the "current top" saw even Jefrin's divisions as mere stepping stones.
Her path seemed to vow walking into the darkness alongside her lord, should he shine there.
That afternoon.
Kelters dragged his aching body to the library.
He sat, opened a book, dove into theory. Midway, he quietly jotted his stats beside it.
Strength 15, Stamina 16, Dexterity 14, Magic 16, Will 16.
Not bad.
He felt like he could be anything, do anything.
Yet why did his future feel so blocked?
Libraries demanded silence, but Kelters voiced his heart anyway.
"I want to find it too. A path beyond the divisions... the road I must take."
Oh no.
Silence in the library, and he'd blabbered nonsense.
Kelters clamped his mouth shut, but his slip had reached someone's ears. Footsteps rustled closer.
"......"
She was beautiful. Clearly no first-year—must be a senior.
Kelters bowed deeply in apology, but she just smiled gently and shook her head.
She scribbled on a scrap of paper and handed it over.
Kelters tilted his head. She wrote another note, reassuringly.
At those words, Kelters stared into her eyes.
He was a bearer of light magic. Among its gifts, he could read hearts.
Thus, he "saw" her—and knew her words were unvarnished truth.
He rose and followed her lead outside. They exchanged introductions.
"...First-year runner-up, Kelters. Y-you're a senior, right? Your name...?"
"Yes. Fourth-year knight division top seat, Isolde Cruelle. Straight to the point... you want to leap beyond the divisions?"
"Yes...? ...Yes!"
"Ever heard of graduate school?"
"............Pardon?"
And that was the first meeting between Kelters and Isolde Cruelle.
Oddly, five people gathered at the convenience store today.
Advertising really pays off, huh? Well, not quite—it was the usual four plus Eve.
Why? We'd blasted promo in the Daily Jefrin, yet no one showed? We had everything they could want—worth a visit, right?
Milmyu, after letting Kelters land a counter, dragged Aila off for Trista-style self-defense crash course.
Nefti, with her current site wrapped, pored over intel sheets for the next job.
So at the outdoor table: me, Eve, and Rudika.
"...Wolfram. That newspaper article—you ordered it, right?"
"No idea what you... yeah. So drop the attitude."
"Wh-what were you thinking? Explain properly, or you're dead here!"
"...Hm."
Didn't expect her to catch on so fast. Sharp as ever.
"Pure congratulations, Eve von Loengrin."
"......Congrats? On my uniform size?"
"Exactly. Who watched your brutal diet up close? Me. Just commissioned a heartfelt article to celebrate your hard work."
"...Not sarcasm? That headline was vicious!"
"Headline was spicy, sure. But the body praised Eve von Loengrin's uniform measurements as ideal. Deep truth."
"......Huh. True...?"
"Yeah. You earned it. Just praise."
"Uh, ahem. Yeah, I worked hard. Ahem."
"To mark your diet win, free waffle on the house? Sound good?"
"......Not a bad choice."
Eve nodded at my words.
What to do with this simpleton? If she becomes emperor, will the empire be okay...?
With Sylphia as her aide, she'll get chewed up by bad nobles and tank the empire—this uncle worries.
"Anyway, you connect with the Daily Jefrin? Front-page ad space ain't cheap."
"Friendly enough for a few article tips and ads."
"...Be careful. You know their rep? That club head especially..."
"Second-year magic division, Daily Tabloid. Alias: 【Master Creator】."
"Knew it, good. ...Scary moniker."
"Hm."
"That impressive? I think it's cool."
Rudika bit into her spicy chicken skewer—self-named masterpiece—and tilted her head as Eve and I nodded.
Ah, she wouldn't know.
"Jefrin Newspaper Club picks the next head based on most shocking article. Daily Tabloid's year-end piece last year? Truly shocking."
"Yeah... gave me chills."
"What was it? You were on expedition then, Rudika."
Yeah. Terrifying, massive scoop.
"Indiscriminate Graduate School Worship."
"Yep. Bumped prior year's grad applicants over 10% above average."
"...What? For real...?"
"Yep. 'Master Creator'—master of creation, double meaning."
"Master's (Master) Generator (Creator). That's Daily Tabloid."
"...Yeah. Professors resented the club at first, but her results let them overlook some lines crossed."
"...Shadow family target? Villain? Shall I put in a request?"
What? That extreme?
"Nah. Look at public opinion now. No division student missed the Zolf and Rantica prof scandals."
"...True, but..."
"Poison loses potency after one dose. Stir grad school hype again, no one enrolls."
"Right. Who'd fall for it twice?"
Besides, I couldn't tolerate such trash articles.
Someone enrolling in grad school over my planted piece?
Yeah right. Who'd do that?