Sunflower (1)
When people say happiness arrives after hardship, exactly how much hardship is appropriate?
"Kyaaaaaaaaaack!!!"
If the agony of a situation like this continued, it was clear people would stop wishing for happiness altogether.
Five Death Meteors had fallen from the sky. Four of them existed only to buy time while killing the first-year students. The real ones—carrying four high-grade demons—crashed with perfect accuracy onto the training ground where new buds were just beginning to sprout.
The meticulous timing of the strike at half past twelve, right when most students were eating lunch and engaged in individual training, revealed just how thoroughly the demons had prepared for this moment.
"Hmm, there's a professor? I was told there wouldn't be one."
"There's only one anyway. I'll kill him quickly and be right back."
"No, I'll do it! I need to digest that rose sandwich I just ate!"
Pomber licked the rose petals from the corner of his mouth, then leisurely scanned his surroundings. No matter how far he extended his senses, the only thing worth paying attention to was the single professor before him. The man didn't even appear fully prepared—just a single sword tucked at his waist with no other notable armaments.
"I'll handle him. The rest of you, begin the massacre!"
"Bullshit. Giving orders and acting like you're the leader all subtle-like."
"Still, it's a reasonable call. I'll leave it to you."
"..."
At Pomber's words, the other three high-grade demons nodded and scattered to their respective positions.
Damn it.
Gainard drew his sword, watching helplessly as the high-grade demons spread out. In the demons' original plan, no one strong enough to be classified as a professor should have been at the landing site. But Woo Dohyun's homesickness had kept Gainard tethered to the boy, forcing him to stay behind at the training ground.
It was a stroke of luck amid misfortune, yet the situation was far worse than expected.
Support won't arrive anytime soon.
From the moment he'd sensed the demons in the sky, some kind of interference had cut off all outside communication. It seemed the five impact zones from the Death Meteors had been isolated into separate areas.
My students are dying in real time.
For now the high-grade demons weren't actively slaughtering the students. They simply looked around in a leisurely manner, as if appreciating a show. But that was only temporary. The moment their whims shifted and they began the massacre in earnest, Gainard would have no means to stop them.
If only I'd brought my real sword.
He'd emphasized treating training like real combat, yet here he was—unable to follow his own example. Regret came too late. Cold reality showed him standing there in light casual clothes, armed with nothing but a practice blade.
His opponents, by contrast, were fully equipped, black mana radiating from their perfect armaments. The difference in power was obvious, so instead of rushing in, he stayed on guard and observed. He was looking for an opening.
If he could induce carelessness and swiftly eliminate one of them, the rest would grow wary and focus their attention on him. That was his plan—to minimize the casualties.
"Hmm? Why haven't you done anything yet? Just because we're standing still doesn't mean you get to—"
Unaware of this tactic, Pomber saw Gainard's stillness and assumed he was frightened. He opened his mouth in a lax posture.
Now!
Gainard moved instantly, seizing the moment. The sword drawn from his waist released a heavy sound, its momentum bearing down on the world itself.
One strike. Not a fight of conservation, but a decisive blow meant to kill one of them outright and seize their attention. Gainard unleashed every ounce of his power at once.
Swish.
In less than a second, Pomber's body was sliced diagonally before he could even react. He collapsed to the ground.
Thud.
It happened so quickly there wasn't even time for a scream. Gainard swiftly dismembered Pomber's corpse, eliminating any chance of future trouble. He had no idea what abilities the creature possessed, so he made certain of the kill.
"Who's next!"
He shouted immediately to draw the attention of the remaining high-grade demons.
Crack.
One student died without meaning. A student who hadn't been able to prepare for the sudden crisis, legs buckling as he collapsed, fell with eyes full of desperate hope—utterly in vain.
"What? He's dead already."
"Well, he was the weakest one."
Their reaction to a comrade's death was far too calm. Only then did Gainard truly grasp the severity of the situation.
These bastards have no sense of camaraderie.
Even though they were bound together by the common identity of demonkind, there was no belonging or loyalty between them. Therefore, the death of one who came with them wouldn't suddenly enrage the others or make them charge forward. They would simply carry out their assigned duties. As long as it didn't interfere with the mission, they ignored any variables—even if it meant one of their own dying.
"Kraaaaaaaaack!"
This was the moment the term meritocracy cut to the bone.
The higher-ranked students were able to flee farther and respond. The lower-ranked ones could do nothing and died helplessly. It was the judgment they reached the instant they realized their opponent was not someone they could handle.
"Fight me! What fun is there in tormenting the weak!"
Gainard immediately revised his plan and hurled himself toward the nearest high-grade demon. He needed time to recover after expending his full strength, but that no longer mattered. In a situation where the damage would multiply exponentially with every passing second, holding back was out of the question.
"Face me!"
"What a clingy guy. No thanks, I don't like you. Pomber was the one who acted up for no reason. We don't fall for tricks that easily, you know?"
The female high-grade demon named Rumlaou wore a smile that suggested she understood the situation perfectly. Adorned with gaudy decorations in her hair, she dodged Gainard's attacks with mocking ease, kicking nearby stones with brutal force to crush students' heads one by one.
She believed this alone would drive the professor before her into a frenzy, forcing him to reveal an opening.
Bam!
"Kuh!"
Her prediction proved correct. Witnessing his students dying before his eyes in real time, Gainard lost focus during combat. That lapse led directly to injury. Without armor, he took the high-grade demon's fist directly to his abdomen and was sent flying. Even as he flew, his only concern was for the students.
Just one. If only one person...
Since he could not command the students himself, if someone—anyone—could lead them even a little...
If they could establish an escape route and gather the panicked students in one place, it would be enough.
Boom!
Even after slamming into the wall, Gainard forced himself up again, thinking only of the students. Dizziness from the impact was irrelevant now.
"Kyaaaack!"
"Save me, please save me! Please!"
"Hmm, there aren't any children with spirit. I wonder what meaning that person sees in hunting down and killing these kinds."
"What's meaningless about cutting buds that threaten the future? You're not doubting that, are you?"
"Do not twist my words."
The training ground, which had been filled with harmonious training only minutes earlier, had transformed into a living hell. Screams begging them to stop, to spare their lives, became final words—fading without light, disappearing in vain. Precious lives that someone had cherished and nurtured were trampled like snapping twigs, sacrificed to orders.
Please, just one person, anyone...
Leaping toward Rumlaou once more, Gainard prayed desperately. They said heroes were forged in moments of crisis, and Mirinae Academy was a place overflowing with talented children. Swinging his sword, he prayed for the emergence of a leader who could guide them all.
"Please! Please, I'll give you anything! I'll give you whatever you want!"
"What I want is for all of you to die, you vermin. You've fled quite far, haven't you?"
Even though he had tied down one high-grade demon, two more were still rampaging across the training ground. And once they finished their slaughter here, they would scatter and begin separate operations. He had to find a way to prevent that.
"Oh my, brother, you're getting impatient?"
"..."
Impatience and anxiety wrapped around Gainard's entire body, slowing his movements and scattering his focus. A continuous chain of misfortune and pain. Under Rumlaou's mockery, he was slowly being consumed, damage accumulating.
As a swordsman who wielded a heavy blade, any loss of concentration created massive openings. Rumlaou, a striker, exploited those gaps thoroughly, pummeling him at will. The disparity was so great it resembled a sandbag. Some students had already given up on running and lost all hope.
Please... just one person...
Barely clinging to his fading consciousness, struggling to continue his counterattacks, Gainard wished with everything he had.
And then, at last—
It was the arrival of Lee Seokhyun.