The Chair's Comfort and Barbatos's Complaint
The academy president's office.
Beyond the desk, Ilaria Reinhardt reclined like she owned the oversized chair that could easily swallow her whole. The plush cushioning, crafted from the finest materials, enveloped her entire frame in a cocoon of softness. Watching her from across the room, Moriat's eyebrows furrowed in displeasure.
"When you're the academy president and the continent's only Great Sage, you should at least try to act with a bit of dignity."
"A day or two is nothing~"
"And today it's even worse than usual."
"But I can't help it~"
The president spun the chair in a slow, lazy circle. The speed of that rotation pushed Moriat's stress levels higher with every rotation. He let out a long sigh, rose from his chair, and carried his own cup of tea to sip directly.
Hot liquid slid down his throat, easing the tension in his shoulders just enough to feel tolerable.
"What the hell! If I'm drinking tea in the president's office, the actual president should get some too!"
"You could sip it, but you claim you won't drink it. Why put yourself through the hassle of bringing it over here?"
"It's the principle of the thing! The principle!"
"So, how did you like my description of the students? The way they look today, especially that blue-haired boy, seems extra pathetic."
It was a blunt jab, yet not entirely without purpose, so the president played along.
"They were the ones listed in the hero candidate evaluations."
"You still can't stop thinking about that blue boy, can you?"
Patrick Chevalier.
Just saying the name pulled the president into a distant reverie. Liath Reinhardt alone had been a talent measured in centuries. Surpassing her to become the top student was already a miracle, and Professor Moriat had witnessed it all.
"Professor Moriat must have seen the scene at the cottage."
"That landscape magic. I was stunned. You reached a level where you could wield martial arts, yet you could also use magic? Is that innate talent for mages?"
At the word "magic," the president let out a soft chuckle.
"If it were just magic, I wouldn't have to worry this much. That idiot mage is researching how such spells are cast, as if he'd ever figure it out."
"Not magic?"
"It looks like ordinary landscape magic from the outside, but it's not. It's just a display made possible by the caster's overwhelming skill. Logically, imprinting it straight onto a person's brain should be simpler. Especially since it shares the caster's emotions too."
"Then what is it?"
"I don't know."
At the president's answer, Moriat raised an eyebrow. Normally so reserved, she was proud in matters of magic. She claimed not to know, yet she'd find out eventually.
"It's a completely unfamiliar form. A 'phenomenon' that doesn't rely on mana at all? I've never heard of any academic discipline like it."
The president bit her nail hard.
"As much as I hate to admit it, this is in the realm of the unknowable. I can only call it a 'miracle.' And the guy who calls himself a swordsman? Professor, you're lying, right? A swordsman skilled enough to manifest something absurd like this?"
"I wish it weren't true, but it is. I had to use mana just to survive, and that's why rumors started spreading that I'm taking bribes."
Belkin let out a light laugh.
"Professor Moriat taking bribes? What a delightful joke. You even turned down the emperor's request."
"I decided that teaching these children is more worthwhile than lingering here beside the emperor."
"What a way to put it. Still chopping off the heads of those who don't deserve it."
"Your language choice is too crude for someone in your position. As academy president, you should choose words that fit the seat."
"Anyway, it's quite entertaining. A weird species like that walking into the academy. Especially the last part, it seems he didn't come here to study."
Moriat sighed heavily.
"A problem solver, then?"
"Showing off miracles and claiming you'd fix any request? That can't be right. He could have just gotten hired by a good noble family. Showing off that kind of ability means he's definitely capable of handling at least one job."
Belkin glanced at Moriat with a knowing look.
"That 'miracle' of hers... imprinting something directly into the brain. Might have potential. What do you think about challenging Patrick with it?"
Moriat's hand froze mid-sip at her words.
"...Once is fine. Prove yourself once more."
"For example?"
"Not everyone will accept Patrick as the top student. They'll doubt him, resent him."
"Even after you showed it?"
"Most people only learn by getting knocked down. The bulk of them are fools."
Belkin giggled and agreed.
"You're right."
2
"This doesn't sit right with me. This doesn't sit right with me, contractor~"
"You're making an annoying racket, Barbatos."
"But I have to. Look at them!"
Barbatos pointed toward the students in the lecture hall. Today was the first class, so an awkward tension filled the air. Yet some pairs had already formed bonds among themselves.
Forming connections always required conversation topics, and most students talked about recent events. The problem was those events revolved entirely around Patrick, and in the worst possible way.
"This top spot is his, huh?"
"I heard he got in through cheating. They say he had the proctor leak the exam questions early."
"The practical was staged by the instructor to create a dramatic situation. How did a bottom-ranked student score at the top?"
One reason Barbatos's irritation ran so deep was because these words clashed with reality. But the real source of her anger was the way Patrick was being avoided.
People would brush past him, subtly shoulder-check him, or doze off in their seats while objects flew through the air. When they turned to see who threw it, the culprit was already laughing.
Thanks to all of it, Barbatos's rage had reached its limit.
"What are you doing! I'll pay the price, but right now, kill every single human in this room!"
"You sure talk like a proper demon."
She wasn't truly that far from demonic, not in the part that received payment.
"Receiving my power to punish them wouldn't mean much anyway."
"They're ignoring the contractor because they doubt his strength, right?"
"Doubting strength is just a side issue. If I try to handle every little shove, it only makes things bigger. Nothing gets solved."
"Solved?"
"Directly punish the one who started this atmosphere, or make the leader step up and be humiliated in front of everyone. For now, it's best to wait."
Patrick lay face-down on the desk, eyes closed.
"Just another excuse to sleep, I suppose."
Barbatos's words went ignored.
His consciousness was sinking into darkness when a deep male voice suddenly echoed through the hall.
"Is Patrick Chevalier here?"
At first he thought it was Liath, but the voice was too masculine. After days without a saint's power, this was impossible. The only person who could call him by name was Liath, yet he was too lazy to care. He stayed put.
"The only blue-haired person here is you. Trying to hide, are you?"
The man grabbed Patrick by the hair and yanked him upright. Patrick looked up and delivered his only possible response.
"You're the professor, aren't you, student?"
"Challenge on the first meeting? Looks like the parasite type. That tongue of yours is pretty sharp."
"I was just stating the facts."
"If you're provoking, you should be ready to take it!"
The man hurled Patrick straight into the wall. Pain flared as he hit. His eyebrows furrowed.
Damn body.
Only a few ribs cracked from the impact, but thanks to Barbatos, his body was healed enough for daily life. It was only temporary, of course. Truly functional for anything beyond basics.
"Pay me immediately! Execute that inferior human right now! I'll take just ten percent as the price, so hurry!"
Patrick ignored the nonsense spoken like a sales clerk and rose to his feet.
"The top student can't even handle this one move. How did he get ahead of Liath?"
"Related to Liath?"
"Don't speak her name so casually. A mere baron can't afford to call the duchess's eldest daughter by her given name!"
"You're noisy. Liath must have arranged this. She wanted me trampled because she couldn't stand the top spot. If that's the case, it's a head-in-the-sand move. Just eating away at your own reputation."
"You bastard!"
Before the fist could land, Patrick added, "You'd better think carefully. The wall hit looked like an accident, but direct contact is entirely different. Do what you normally would. Unless you came here to hit me, you came to deliver something, didn't you?"
Surprisingly, the man actually listened.
"My name is Hargal Eckhardt. My family has served House Reinhardt for generations."
"Enough with the self-introduction. Get to the point."
"Tsk, every word you say bothers me. You know about the ranking match?"
Patrick nodded.
The ranking system directly measured martial power. Students at the top received extra points for graduation and scholarships. Though Märchen Academy was the continent's best, it still served as a necessary stepping stone. Students had to raise their own value through good performance.
Ranking matches were the ideal way to do it. Lower ranks challenged constantly; top ranks defended. Competition without stagnation, strength growth guaranteed.
Graduates who rose to the top had mostly become heroes, high-ranking mercenaries, or high officials. Students aimed high for that reason.
"You want to challenge me in a ranking match?"
"Yes. Hargal Eckhardt formally challenges Patrick Chevalier to a ranking match!"
Patrick's lips curved into a faint smile.
"Fine. Sign here on this paper."
Patrick had already prepared a contract. He handed it over. No tricks, no need. The details were simple: date, time, location for lunch with many people.
Hargal read it carefully and nodded.
"I agree to hold the ranking match at noon tomorrow. Is this sufficient?"
"Yes, I agree as well."
The moment their signatures were made, red threads bound them together. Hargal could no longer refuse the match.
"Barbatos. I'll pay part of the emotions I received at the entrance ceremony."
"What did you say? Fake top student."
"It's nothing."
Patrick extended his hand toward Hargal. The man tried to swat it away, but the subtle muscle movements in Patrick made the gesture useless. His fingers closed around Hargal's face.
"This is just the value of the first greeting."
"What? How did your hand end up on my face."
Hargal's protest was cut short.
Patrick slammed him down onto the floor.
—BANG!
"Don't worry. I adjusted the force so you wouldn't bleed."
Everyone else felt the situation had gone strangely wrong.