A Foreboding Flag
Truthfully, when Pino first heard the rumors about the Academy, the emotion that welled up in her was not anticipation or admiration, but suspicion. An educational institution founded by one of the Empire's highest authorities. Pass the exam and you could learn how to wield magic. And they claimed it didn't matter what your status was? That didn't make any sense.
Having grown up watching the son of a provincial lord commit all sorts of atrocities in the village without ever facing punishment, living in luxury instead, Pino simply couldn't imagine commoners and nobles sitting side by side in the same classroom, no matter how hard she tried. She thought they were probably just saying that while the reality was completely different. Yet she still crossed the Academy's threshold because she figured that even if discrimination existed, learning anything at all would be worth it. So what if she was treated as a stepping stone for nobles? If she could escape her day-to-day struggle of living hand to mouth after enduring it for a few years, that would be enough.
She had no special background and wasn't born into a wealthy family. Though she possessed a natural talent for magic, she had no desire to join the Star God Church and become a priestess. This was Pino's own desperate measure.
But the Academy was different from what she had expected. It wasn't truly equal—if you could even call it that—but there was almost no overt discrimination. The professors treated students harshly regardless of their family background, as if to say, "Why should I care what your house is like?" While students did squabble among themselves, even that quieted down after a certain insane rich kid beat a wild boar to a pulp on a rainy day until dust flew. Of course, there were still those who acted like the "noble sirs" Pino knew, but even they didn't dare harass her, given that she was often seen chatting with both the madman and the Imperial Princess. It was probably best not to dwell on which of the two had contributed more to curing their anger management issues.
What truly troubled Pino was the Academy itself. Regular classes were manageable. Professor Neville was a nasty piece of work who loved dismantling the mental state of lazy or presumptuous students in front of everyone, but at least attending his lectures didn't put your life in danger. If it weren't for that ruthless person she'd met during the entrance exam, she might have applied to the martial arts department thinking it would be like her old archery days and ended up in hell. Compared to that, things were peaceful.
But the assignments and requests were something she could never get used to. Students fighting each other with swords, fighting golems with swords, fighting the Imperial Southern Army with swords, fighting some Imperial prince with swords… At this point, she wondered if the problem wasn't the Academy but that insane, unscrupulous merchant. Still, after experiencing all those incidents, Pino had come to realize that the Academy was by no means a kind or merciful organization toward its students. More specifically, it seemed to operate under the belief that losing a few students during the learning process was simply inevitable.
Once, she had asked a certain fashion-priestess girl known for her sharp mind about it, and received this answer:
"But why does this damn Academy work people so hard? I mean, I get the harsh treatment. But if you're going to exploit us like that, shouldn't you at least make sure we come back alive? It's not like they don't have the means. Didn't they use those magical tools last time that take damage in your place or teleport you away? Sure, they're not cheap, but isn't it better than losing talented people you've spent money training?"
"That's a reasonable opinion! But if those tools were used routinely, how do you think you would fight, Pino?"
"How? What do you mean?"
"I mean, if you knew you wouldn't die even if you took a serious injury, could you really fight with everything you have? Wouldn't some part of you feel a sense of security or become careless?"
"No, that doesn't make sense. Are you saying they don't use them for that reason? If anything, knowing there's no risk to your life should let you fight more calmly and rationally, right?"
"That would be true if those magical tools functioned perfectly in every situation. But since they run on spells, there's always a chance they'll fail. The tool could be damaged, the magic power in the environment could be unstable and prevent teleportation, or the opponent might have abilities that bypass it. Things like that."
"……"
"Of course, this is all just speculation! Maybe they're simply not using them due to budget or technical limitations."
"So in the end, we won't be getting that benefit."
"Probably not under normal circumstances? Though in truly dire situations, they might use them even if it means accepting some side effects. Then again, if the place is dangerous enough to warrant that, I'm not sure whether it's good news or not."
"They didn't even provide them for life-or-death requests, so what does it matter?"
At the time, she had just laughed hollowly, but perhaps that conversation had been a kind of omen… or, to borrow that unscrupulous merchant's favorite word, a "flag."
"Everyone, wear these bracelets before departure. Each set of three rings has the function of absorbing a certain amount of damage in your place. However, unlike the ones used in the previous assignment, they lack the teleportation function, so don't expect that. Those require combination with various spells prepared in advance on the field, making them useless in the Eastern Mountains. Additionally, I advise against taking magical tools assigned to others or using similar tools you already possess together, as there's a high risk of the spells interfering with each other and rendering everything ineffective. Furthermore, due to the environment inside the mountain range, communication tools are likely to malfunction. If you have anything you wish to contact others about, I recommend doing so before ascending the mountain. Transportation will be provided by the carriages over there."
Neville Brix, who had preemptively explained even the questions students were likely to ask without being prompted—as if revealing his own personality—addressed the gathered students for the assignment.
"Then, depart."
The students' reactions varied. Some wore grave expressions upon realizing the meaning of the bracelets. Others looked disinterested and began to move, while some let half of the announcement go in one ear and out the other. Pino, who at least belonged to the sensible category among those gathered here, let out an internal sigh and raised her hand to ask a question.
"Professor. Are we going alone? I heard there would be a supervisor."
Neville glanced at her and replied, "They are already with you. Do not worry and depart," before turning his back and leaving without another word.
Pino looked around, but all she saw were fellow students. While she tilted her head in confusion, the others seemed unconcerned and began heading toward the carriages.
"Sage, it seems we must depart as well."
"Haa, yeah, yeah, let's go, let's go. It'll work out somehow."
At Rabaul's urging, Pino silently began walking. The carriage carrying them departed shortly after, racing eastward at high speed. Atop its roof rode a single black butterfly.
Around the time the Academy students were heading toward the Eastern Mountains, Chrome was diligently searching inside Star Land.
"Guoooooo!"
"Uwaaaah!"
Correction: he was being diligently chased.
Pale, rotting skin. Saliva and blood mixed together dripping from their mouths. Various organs visible through damaged body parts.
"No way, seriously? Zombies now?!"
Chrome shouted in frustration as four zombies fiercely pursued him from behind. Compared to the typical characteristic of their kind—where dozens were standard and thousands could form spectacular hordes depending on the work's scale—this was a rather pathetic number. But for the one being chased, even four was plenty annoying. Especially when they came with an extremely troublesome trait.
Following the guidance of the Golden Mist and the Mysterious Stone, he advanced for a while. When the first walking corpse attacked, Chrome hadn't been particularly flustered. He even had the leisure to ponder fundamental questions like, "How does a corpse stay so fresh when people don't come here often?"
If it had an annoying trait like infection, it would be troublesome, so he maintained distance and threw "Flame Fragments" to burn them before they could approach. He did have several "Flame Crystals" as well, but from a cost-effectiveness standpoint, using them right from the start felt wasteful. The attack succeeded, and the authentic, realistic classic zombie burned up and stopped moving.
The problem came next. At the spot where the zombie fell, the ground beside it suddenly bulged upward, and new zombies crawled out from the earth. Not one, but two. The young man, whose abilities dropped by about 35% when caught off guard, quickly understood the mechanism. He didn't bother destroying the next zombies and instead bound them with nets and adhesive to immobilize them.
The issue was that the clearly captured zombies trembled in that state before melting into a handful of bloody liquid, and new pits formed beside the melted spots. This time, the multiplication by two was a bonus.
"Is it a structure where they call reinforcements when they fall? Or is attacking itself the trigger? Is there a limit to the numbers? Or maybe they only die completely when attacked with specific means……"
Many hypotheses flashed through his mind, but Chrome only had one body and one life to test them. He chose to flee, and fortunately, the zombies didn't increase in number just from running away without doing anything. The chase continued for quite some time.
"Huh?"
In the space filled only with the zombies' grotesque cries, a young girl's voice rang out. Long black hair. Sleeves so long her hands were invisible. A girl whose large eyes somehow reminded one of a large dog looked at Chrome with wide eyes, and Chrome blinked in return.
"Joy?"
"I thought you were a good person, but you're actually evil!"
"Wait, that's not what you should be saying right n—"
Chrome reflexively tried to argue, but the rest of his words didn't come out. With terrifying force, iron balls whizzed past his ears and beautifully blew off the heads of the zombies chasing him. Their power was as lethal as ever.
The girl, Joy, smiled and spoke.
"Hmph, it's fine now. Humans are supposed to help each other and live together. I learned that too! Even if someone's evil, leaving them to die feels a bit pitiful!"
Chrome watched the girl puff out her chest with an "ahem" through narrowed, bitter eyes, then suddenly felt a sense of foreboding and looked behind him. He immediately spotted eight mounds of earth writhing on the ground and grabbed Joy before sprinting away.
"Huh? What? Wait, there are more now? I'll blow them all away—"
"Forget it! Stop making things more troublesome and just run!"
Chrome gritted his teeth at the unwanted, forcibly increased party member's trolling.