Chapter 28
Chapter 28
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 28
Chapter Title: Foolproof Plan
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◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ If there's a plan that's bound to succeed no matter how badly you screw it up, what kind of mood do you think its executor would be in?
Even though it was a one-time cheat key, Philip felt utterly at ease.
'With a dragon on our side, how could we possibly fail?'
This situation was quite special.
If demons hadn't been involved, Philip never would have been able to enlist her help.
To understand why, you first had to know the original story's lore.
The dragons of this world were essentially the continent's guardians.
They protected only the land called "Ittuda," and humans—mere inhabitants of it—weren't particularly under their protection.
In the original story, they never appeared until humanity faced extinction.
Philip knew about the "pact" between the dragons and the demons.
It was the agreement struck between the Dragon Lord and the Archduke of the Demon Realm to avoid all-out war.
'You may exterminate humans, but never corrupt them. If you do, we'll turn a blind eye to you attacking them.'
'Agreed.'
It was a profoundly pragmatic and efficient deal.
From the dragons' perspective, humans were just one part of the continent's ecosystem. There was no need to sacrifice anything to protect them.
But if humans fell to corruption and sided with the demons, it would upset the balance of power.
Humans could bolster demon strength through human sacrifices or black magic rituals, after all.
In short, Nephen—the leader of the Crescent—was an incubus, one of the demons best suited to corrupting humans.
To Previa Academy, he must have seemed like a cockroach crawling out of a new neighbor's house.
The moment she spotted him, she would have seen him as a problem that absolutely had to be eradicated.
While waiting for word from Stella, the Black Cat Tribe's chieftain, Philip went about his academy duties.
As a new instructor, he was less a low-year teacher and more a general errand boy for the entire academy. But since it was still early in the semester, there wasn't much on his plate.
Just a bunch of annoying busywork.
'I do what they tell me without complaint, so they keep piling it on.'
He'd been summoned as a safety officer at the request of Dunmers Haslan, the third associate professor in the swordsmanship department.
"I've heard a lot about you. This is the first time seeing you in person, though, right?"
Professor Dunmers Haslan was in his late thirties, descended from a fallen noble house.
He'd started as a bottom-rung mercenary, risen to swordmaster for a royal with no heir, and by his late twenties, reclaimed his family name and secured a professorship at the prestigious academy.
A textbook rags-to-riches success story.
...So why's he looking at me like that?
Philip sensed thick contempt and mockery in Haslan's gaze.
"Ah, yes. Nice to meet you."
But he couldn't start a fight right off the bat, so Philip kept his discomfort hidden.
"Honestly, I didn't think you'd last this long. You know the rumors..."
Laughter erupted from the fifth-year students gathered in the swordsmanship training hall at Haslan's half-joking remark.
Fifth-years were usually nineteen if they'd enrolled normally.
Not much of an age gap with twenty-two-year-old Philip, so it was natural they'd look down on him to some extent.
"Haha, I feel lucky too. Now that I'm here, I plan to stick around a while. Who knows? Maybe I'll outlast you, Professor."
Philip replied with a smile. Haslan's eyebrow twitched.
"...What do you mean by that?"
"What else? You'll climb higher, right? You don't strike me as the type to stay a professor forever. Did I say something wrong?"
Haslan forced the corner of his mouth upward.
'Cheeky delinquent bastard.'
Philip's verbal footwork was no joke.
Haslan knew Philip had the moral high ground. Attacking him outright would just make him look petty.
'He doesn't belong here anyway. Some spoiled playboy thinking he can sully this sacred academy.'
"Thanks for the vote of confidence. Anyway, I appreciate your help today. These kids are full of youthful vigor, so things might get heated. Keep an eye out."
"Yes, sir."
Philip nodded.
The fifth-year swordsmanship department's schedule today was sparring.
By nineteen, talented students could usually reinforce their bodies with aura, and the exceptionally gifted could even channel it faintly into wooden swords.
Previa Academy used real swords in classes starting from fourth year.
Thus, preventing accidents required at least three instructors present.
If you didn't intervene the moment a match was decided, a student could get seriously hurt.
"Alright, let's begin. Veron, Relbes—you two first."
"Yes, Professor."
The other students stepped back, leaving the named pair.
Philip noticed an exchange of glances between Veron and Relbes.
They faced each other with real swords, bowed in formal salute.
"Begin."
At Haslan's signal, Veron and Relbes raised their swords and began circling.
—Ugh, this is so boring. Master.
About thirty seconds in, Neria whispered. Philip gave a slight nod of agreement. To his eyes, their moves and tells were plain as day.
Just watching their footwork told him everything.
And another thirty seconds passed. Philip realized the other students were holding their breath, watching intently, and let out a soft sigh.
—They're just gonna circle until someone slips up. That's not how you swordfight! Neria's dying of frustration here!
He could almost hear Neria thumping her chest. Philip stifled a laugh and waited silently for something to happen.
Then, the one named Veron lunged first, aiming for his opponent's thigh.
Relbes parried and backpedaled three full steps.
...Why's he coming my way?
That direction was where Philip stood.
And sure enough, Veron pursued in that direction.
No, seriously—why me?
Philip hadn't even drawn his sword. As Relbes rolled aside to dodge the charge, Philip suddenly found himself exposed to Veron's attack.
Veron's blade shot toward Philip's upper body.
"Huh?"
Philip reacted on instinct despite his surprise. He slapped the sword aside with an aura-infused hand and hooked Veron's leg to avoid a collision.
"Gwah!"
Poor Veron dropped his sword, flew briefly through the air, and crashed into an innocent bystander student watching the match.
"...?"
Philip stared at Veron with utter confusion.
A student with five years of elite academy training making such a rookie mistake? It defied common sense.
But he quickly read the situation from their faces.
Not just Veron—Relbes looked mortified too.
They were trying to screw me over.
Philip chuckled and approached, offering a hand to Veron.
"You okay?"
Veron ignored it and stood on his own. His face was beet red.
"You need more lower-body training. How do you expect to beat an enemy if you can't even control your own? Haven't the professors or instructors pointed this out?"
Philip's tone turned uncharacteristically snide. He glanced at Haslan and the fifth-year instructors.
Not saying anything?
They would've spotted the half-assed effort instantly. Their silence spoke volumes about the atmosphere.
Veron probably wasn't normally this sloppy. He'd just conspired with Relbes beforehand to embarrass Philip.
Philip felt his mood sour.
There were limits to treating someone like a joke. He locked eyes with Professor Haslan.
"If I may, Professor—Veron needs basic drills before sparring."
"...He seems tense today. He's not usually like this."
"Then teach him meditation. If nerves cause slips like that, what happens in a real fight where lives are on the line?"
Haslan narrowed his eyes as Philip showed no sign of backing down.
"Are you saying my teaching methods are flawed?"
"Flawed or not, this is the result. Even my first-years wouldn't attack an observing instructor. Is my opinion really irrelevant here?"
Students acting on impulse was one thing, but a professor like Haslan had no excuse.
Letting it slide was against Philip's principles.
Real irritation bubbled up. Deep in his chest, the soul of the delinquent he'd thought vanished upon possession stirred.
Students or not watching, he was done here.
"I get your point. But judging my students is my job. Just do yours for—"
—Master! Over there! Left bushes!
Haslan's voice overlapped with Neria's in his mind. Naturally, Neria's took priority.
Philip's gaze snapped to the direction she indicated.
'Huh?'
A wounded black cat limped from the bushes, staring at him.
'No way. It can't be.'
He recalled Stella's message.
'Give me one day. I'll gather every Black Cat Tribesman who can fight and devise a solid plan.'
Seeing that injured cat and hearing her voice in his mind, Philip sensed something had gone terribly wrong. He shouted,
"Hold on! Emergency—I have to go!"
"...You're overstepping your bounds—what?!"
As Philip hurried over, a flustered Haslan yelled,
"What are you doing?"
In his panic, Philip blurted,
"Direct inquiries to the Dean!"
He scooped up the injured cat from the bushes and bolted from the training hall.
'Handle the fallout, sis.'
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "Philip... sir... is that you?"
The cat was a stranger, but unmistakably Black Cat Tribe. Otherwise, it wouldn't be meowing in a young woman's voice.
"Yes, it's me. What happened?"
Thankfully, her injuries weren't life-threatening, but Philip started first aid on her bloodied foreleg and half-severed tail.
"I'm Lana, the chieftain Stella's cousin. I'm so ashamed to bring you this news..."
"It's fine. Tell me—I'm ready."
He'd gotten tense for a moment, but with the dragon on their side, the big picture hadn't changed. It was just more damage than expected.
But Lana's next words had Philip slapping his forehead.
"The Black Cat Tribe... was attacked. The chieftain was badly hurt and had to hide. The intruders forced us to abandon our village and flee."
'This is insane.'
Philip's irritation flared, but he bit back a retort upon meeting Lana's teary eyes. The pleading gaze, on the verge of tears, left him speechless.
"You're the only one who can help our tribe. Please... I beg you..."