Chapter 87
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 87
“Very well, Garfield Morty. I shall permit your return to my class.”
After lunch with Elena, I headed to Ishtal for my Basic Swordsmanship class.
Before the session began, Professor Zimmer announced Garfield's reinstatement in front of the assembled students. At Zimmer’s words, Garfield snapped to attention, his voice trembling with nerves.
“Yes—yes, sir! I’ll work my hardest from now on! I won't be a burden to the class!”
“I see. I was far too harsh before. I offer you my sincere apologies.”
As Professor Zimmer bowed his head, a panicked Garfield hurriedly moved to help him up.
“Oh, no, sir! Please, it’s quite all right!”
The surrounding students murmured in shock at Zimmer's sudden change in demeanor. It was rare for a professor to apologize to a student—especially with so many witnesses watching.
‘Apologizing to Garfield was one of the conditions stipulated in my contract with Zimmer.’
Zimmer himself had admitted to feeling guilty about the incident, so the apology hadn't been a difficult concession for him. After all, Garfield had merely been a scapegoat—an excuse to justify his harsh grading adjustments.
“Thank you for accepting my apology. You may return to your place.”
After his exchange with Zimmer, Garfield returned to my side with a beaming expression and fell back into line.
“Thank you, Sir Roen. This is all thanks to you.”
“Just don't forget to buy me a meal later.”
After settling the matter with Garfield, Zimmer’s eyes met mine for a fleeting moment before he addressed the class again.
“I have one more announcement. Previously, I limited the number of A-grades in this class to a single student. However, due to a revision in the Union’s ordinances, at least five percent of the student body must now be assigned an A-grade. Since there are roughly a hundred students in this class, that means at least five of you must receive an A.”
The students began to buzz with excitement at Zimmer’s statement. It wasn't the ten A-grades Verdandi had originally planned for, but we were grateful just to have the quota increased to five.
However, Zimmer didn’t stop there. He loosened the grading criteria even further.
“To be honest, my decision to limit the A-grades to one person was an emotional one. Therefore, as a gesture of apology to you all, I will set the A-grade quota to the current maximum of twenty-five percent. The quotas for the grades below that will also be set to their respective maximums. Let this serve as my apology for the confusion I’ve caused.”
“!!”
“Professor, you’re the best!”
“Whoa!”
The grading criteria had become incredibly lenient compared to before. In an instant, the hostile atmosphere toward Zimmer evaporated as if it had never existed, replaced by the cheers of joyful students. At this rate, he was practically handing out high marks.
This, too, was a condition in my contract.
Other subjects might be different, but a physically demanding class like Basic Swordsmanship was a massive disadvantage for me. A curve like this should be enough to secure a decent grade.
As the excited students buzzed, dreaming of their bright futures, Zimmer spoke again.
“Quiet. However, as you have all chosen the path of the warrior, you must agree that you should devote yourselves to training regardless of grades. The intensity of the training will remain exactly as it was before.”
“……”
Zimmer’s words threw a bucket of cold water on the celebratory mood. With a thin smile, he pointed toward the training grounds and said softly, “Well? What are you waiting for? Get running.”
*
“Hah… Hah…”
Another day, another death march in Basic Swordsmanship.
This time, I placed 45th.
Despite my grueling schedule, I had exercised every single day without fail, yet my rank refused to improve any further. The lower ranks were filled with students from other academies, making them easy enough to overtake, but the middle and upper ranks were occupied by the human weapons of Ishtal.
They were monsters who could shrink the earth with every stride and practically fly through the air. In terms of pure physical ability, they were on an entirely different level.
It made sense. These were knight cadets—trainees who would one day charge through battlefields showered in magic and arrows with nothing but their bodies to protect them.
“...I can feel the wall.”
Using Bell's Magic Orb to neutralize the [Nine Yin Severed Meridians] trait allowed me to use magic, but the penalty remained. The crushing debuff of having my Strength, Stamina, and Endurance stats cut in half was still in effect.
I had managed to connect my magic circuits through a workaround, but it seemed I couldn't overcome the system-level stat reduction.
As I lay on the ground gasping for breath, someone approached.
“Still, your time has gotten faster. What matters is that you're improving, just like someone once said.”
A sturdy-looking boy stood in the shade. It was Gaurel.
“That’s true. Same goes for Garfield.”
Tearing my gaze away from Garfield, who was still stubbornly running laps, I took the water bottle Gaurel offered and hauled myself to my feet.
“Ugh.”
As I stood up, I felt a faint gaze from a distance. I turned my head and saw Freya, surrounded by her aides and other students as always, watching me in silence. When our eyes met, she subtly turned away, avoiding my gaze.
‘...It seems she's bothered by the fact that she rejected my offer.’
Freya had flatly refused my proposal to help solve the supply problem for the athletic festival. But with no viable alternative, she must still be struggling to find a solution.
‘...I’ve already received a letter from Sheika about it.’
She wrote that Freya was personally visiting Stella Port, desperately searching for a new supplier. It was a little pitiful to see her trying so hard, but that was the price of rejecting my hand.
“What, are you interested in Freya, too?”
“...?”
“You were staring blankly at her. Most guys admire Freya. She's ranked second in this month's student popularity poll.”
A popularity poll. The Union Daily held an anonymous popularity poll for students every month. Since Freya was number two, I assumed Elena must be number one this time.
If Elena was like the sun—a radiant idol shining brightly for all—then Freya was like the gentle moon, a mysterious presence illuminating the night path. Their popularity varied depending on personal taste, and their rankings often traded places.
I knew Beatrice and Kiriel usually ranked right after those two. Beatrice was popular for the grace and dignity befitting an Imperial Princess, while Kiriel, despite being a bit of a ditz, possessed the classic beauty of a High Elf and got along well with everyone.
“Oh, but your name was on the list this time, too.”
“Mine?”
“Yeah, you were 52nd, I think? Higher than I expected.”
‘52nd, huh.’
If the students from Izelin Academy had all voted for me, a rank like that was plausible. It wasn't particularly meaningful, but it wasn't bad news either. I knew that placing first in the Union's popularity poll earned one the title of [Academy Idol].
Of course, there was no chance of that happening... but still.
As we chatted, the sound of ragged breathing grew closer.
“Hah, hah... I have... returned.”
Click.
As Garfield, the last one to finish, crossed the line, Zimmer clicked the stopwatch in his hand.
“23 minutes and 17 seconds. You've improved.”
Garfield's time had improved by several dozen seconds. He was making steady progress.
“Good. Keep up the hard work.”
“Y-yes... Hah... Hah...”
And so, with Garfield completing the hellish run, the Basic Swordsmanship class moved on to the next stage in a much more relaxed atmosphere.
*
Eredor Hall of Truth, 5th Floor. Beatrice's office.
Beatrice sat upright in her chair, quietly gazing down at a crystal orb placed neatly on the table. In the darkness, the orb glowed elegantly in the moonlight streaming through the window.
It was the one she had used in a practical class a few days ago. For some reason, she had taken a liking to it and had requested special permission from Martelzier to keep it.
The crystal orb was beautiful, but it wasn't particularly outstanding compared to the other treasures in her collection. Was she so fond of it because she had made it with her own hands, or because it was a joint creation made with her group members?
Beatrice was smiling faintly at the orb when it happened.
Thump—.
Suddenly, a violent chill spread through her body.
“...Kuh.”
It was followed by excruciating pain, as if her heart were being pierced by needles of ice. It was a pain she had experienced countless times, yet one she could never grow accustomed to.
Beatrice clutched her chest with one hand while her other, trembling hand fumbled across the table.
Creeak—.
She struggled to pull open the drawer and withdrew a glass vial. Beatrice quickly swallowed the pill she kept prepared for such emergencies. As the red pill entered her system, the magic of flame began to flow gently through her circuits.
Swoosh—.
The warmth from the pill spread throughout her body, and the cold energy that had been seizing her heart soon vanished.
“Hah, hah.”
Having passed the crisis, Beatrice leaned back in her chair, nearly collapsing, her breath coming in ragged gasps. This pain had tormented her for so long. When would she ever be completely free from it? When would she be free from this curse and able to walk outside as she pleased?
But... Beatrice knew the truth. This wasn't an illness or an injury; it was an inborn condition.
A cure was nowhere to be found on the continent. The Empire's countless mages and physicians had searched far and wide for a treatment, but no permanent solution existed. They had only managed to develop a pill that could temporarily offset the pain of the irregular seizures.
“Hoo.”
Once the last vestiges of pain left her body, Beatrice let out a long sigh and sat up. She had just steadied her breathing with a drink of cold water when a sound came from the door.
Knock, knock—.
Someone was visiting her office late at night.
“...Come in.”
The person who opened the door was a beautiful woman with a cold, professional expression. She bowed politely to Beatrice.
“Greetings, Your Highness.”
“...What is it?”
The woman who raised her head was Wayne, Martelzier's assistant for the Intermediate Introduction to Magic course. Her true identity, however, was an inspector dispatched from the Imperial Special Affairs Department.
She had been sent to the Union to investigate the strange phenomenon that had occurred in the Howling Mountains. No matter how impressive the Chairman's connections were, he couldn't completely shake off the influence of the Cassandra Empire.
The Chairman had managed to turn away most of the 'official' inspectors, but it seemed he hadn't fully grasped the reach of the Imperial Family's hidden daggers. Or perhaps he knew and simply couldn't stop them.
“Your Highness. We have found several noteworthy pieces of evidence at the location where the incident occurred.”
“……”
Inside the transparent envelope Wayne presented were a few scraps of cloth.
“This is a magic robe woven from third-grade mana fabric—the kind my predecessor, Assistant Professor Demer, favored. And... a Union uniform.”
“A uniform. Can you identify the owner?”
“Unfortunately, it is too badly damaged for our current technology to identify.”
It was a scrap of white cloth, so severely corroded by powerful demonic energy that its original form was nearly unrecognizable. There were limits to analyzing the properties of the magic that had destroyed it.
Beatrice nodded in understanding.
“I see. In that case, investigate all the shopping malls and clothing stores within the Union. Compile a list of anyone who has purchased a new uniform or had one repaired within the last month.”
“As you command.”
“Also, collect the roster of all students in Practical Training Group C, as well as the location data for the automated golems that were deployed in the examination area.”
The anomaly during the practical exam. Traces of a Dark Mana Stone and the disappearance of Assistant Professor Demer. And now, a fragment of a uniform found at the scene.
Through this series of clues, she might finally take one step closer to the truth behind the incident.