Chapter 33
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 33
Chapter Title: Clubs (1)
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I looked down at the thugs kneeling on the ground, clutching their heads.
They clearly looked like back-alley scum. At the very least, their leader had nearly reached the mid-level.
It was no wonder the Class B students couldn't handle them easily.
Even Erina probably would've struggled to fend off a skilled fighter while dealing with numbers.
Agnes at this point in the story would've been the same. Well, she'd grown a bit after a few real battles since then.
Behind me, the students groaned as they pulled themselves together. Lucas and Cedric.
"Urgh..."
They'd both taken hits, but Lucas seemed far better off than Cedric.
He was an extra who never even got a name in the original story, so there was no way to know his abilities.
Honestly, he might not even factor into the main story going forward.
Lucas stood up on his own, while Pat helped Cedric to his feet. The two of them opened their mouths as if to say something, then closed them again.
They avoided my gaze the whole time.
"Um..."
"You should get treated quick. Musclehead you might be fine, but the other guy's in bad shape."
At my words, they bowed once and hurried toward the academy.
Why are they acting like that?
I tilted my head, and Agnes, standing beside me, whispered.
"They're commoners originally. They can't just speak properly in front of a noble—especially you, Deron."
Oh, right?
I'd only encountered this world through text, and hadn't researched much beyond that.
I nodded, figuring that made sense enough.
"Anyway."
I turned my attention from the vanished trio to the thugs in front of me. The moment they met my eyes, one gulped hard.
Having taken Erina's Crimson Flame head-on, one side of his head was scorched.
Not quite bald, but awkwardly half-charred.
I scratched my head and asked,
"You won't talk about your backer, huh?"
"I'll talk."
"Huh?"
In novels and such, don't they always resist at first? Squirming, getting tortured, then finally spilling.
That kind of plot twist, right?
"Torture? Why would I have any loyalty for that? You're crazy."
Agnes, Erina, and Han all stared at me blankly.
"What?"
"Deron... are you a psycho?"
Han asked cautiously. Agnes's face was stiff.
"......"
Erina had gone pale blue and couldn't speak.
I realized they were seriously misunderstanding something.
No, I didn't mean I'd actually do it. I was just thinking hypothetically.
What if they had overflowing loyalty and held out to the end? They might need torture—even nail-pulling by an expert.
......I'm the crazy one.
The more I thought about it, the more psychopathic it sounded.
Calmly saying, "You won't talk, obviously? Guess we'll torture you till you do."
Erina was trembling now, her face drained of color. She was getting scared of me in real time.
The thugs listening in were shaking too, of course.
They seemed terrified they'd actually face that.
"Who's your backer?"
Hey, just tell me that, and no such thing happens. I swear on my remaining lifespan.
Torturing someone isn't easy anyway, and I don't want to.
I'd seen the line about torturing Kern, but in this world, that meant days of stabbing knife wounds into hands and cauterizing with irons.
I still wasn't used to stuff like that.
Damn it.
As Kern eyed me warily and started to open his mouth carefully, the surrounding air grew frigid.
At the same time, suspicious mana gathered around Kern and his crew. The mana soon billowed out in black smoke.
Erina and Han hadn't caught it properly, but Agnes the magic swordsman and I spotted it instantly.
Magic. High-tier at that.
I didn't know who cast it, but it was pre-stored magic.
"Gah! Save m—"
Light flashed from within the black smoke. Kern and his men screamed wildly.
Agnes and Han tried to blow the smoke away, but it wouldn't disperse. If anything, more cold air filled the spots they cleared.
After a moment, the smoke slowly faded.
And before us, no one remained.
"Cough, cough!"
Kern gasped for breath.
He'd really thought he was dead. Just moments ago.
"What the hell?!"
"Didn't I say I'd spare you?"
Kern glared at the man before him.
His face was hooded, but his build wasn't fully concealed.
A sturdy physique, unmistakably like his son's.
The father of Luberic Keias.
Count Peyten Keias.
He muttered coldly, looking down at Kern.
"The job?"
"Success. We picked a fight and beat 'em good."
"Any evidence left?"
Kern clicked his tongue.
"What do you take us for? Not a scrap!"
"Wrong."
"...?"
Peyten shook his head.
Kern was puzzled. No evidence— what was he talking about?
But the next instant.
Clank.
"...!"
Kern realized what evidence Peyten meant.
"Evidence overflowing right in front of me. Gotta clean these up."
"...!!!"
"Don't worry. Won't kill you."
Just take your hands and voice, simple as that.
With those cold words echoing in the air, a magic circle formed.
And a silent scream filled the space.
"Everyone enjoy the Spring Festival?"
"""Yes."""
Professor Ardin nodded in satisfaction. Then he looked my way.
"Deron, no strain on your body?"
"No issues."
"Still, report any anomalies right away. I'll send you straight to the infirmary."
Thanks, but no thanks.
Time passed once more, reaching mid-May. I'd finally escaped that stuffy infirmary.
I still needed the cane, but being out was something.
No more nurse nagging, no more academy meal slop.
No more lumpy beds.
"As you know, from now on, you'll face the academy's systems head-on. Starting with rankings, then clubs."
Murmurs rippled through the class. The students knew, but they were chatting among themselves.
I had my path set, so I stayed quiet.
"Quiet."
Only after Professor Ardin's warning did the room hush.
"Today's not a joint class, yet you're with Class B because of this. I'll briefly explain the upcoming schedule. Listening once only."
I cross-checked the professor's info with my memory. Just in case something was off.
"First, ranking matches start July 10th, two weeks before break. Tournament format. Grades could swap your classes."
True enough. I'd heard of A-Classers dropping to B. Not in the original, but my personal intel.
I'd possessed the original, but I lived here. Can't be clueless about the academy.
"Next, clubs. Probation's over, so you can apply now."
Clubs. There were a few episodes on that. One of the academy's highlights—sad if skipped.
"Note, rumors of the demon race battles have circulated among seniors for a while."
The professor said it flatly, but I felt a slight headache. Word of me killing Morax had spread?
Skip for now. Later issue.
"You can create or join clubs, but creation needs at least five members."
Known. Pass.
"Probation over means a simple test. Proper class attendance should yield normal scores."
Teachers who say that always dump brutal exams.
Passive line for profs?
Anyway, mostly known info. Nothing to sweat...
"Finally, Class B has a transfer student."
What? Transfer?
Whispers spread among students. Iliad Academy had transfers?
News to me too.
"Come in."
The door swung open with confident steps.
Slim waist, alluring legs. Striking features that drew the eye.
A beauty.
But two things truly captivated the class.
Her hair and eyes.
Strands in a pastel shade, light purple.
And eyes like embedded jewels—known as Jewel Eyes.
Her graceful gait held an upright poise that screamed nobility, no guessing needed.
Iliad ignored status, but no one could slouch before her.
"We greet Your Highness the Princess."
I stood immediately and bowed. Others followed suit, one by one.
Augustus Leonhart Regina.
The Empire's Second Princess.
One of the realm's noblest had transferred to the academy.
Professor Ardin sighed deeply, as if expecting this. Face screaming annoyance.
But Regina's was full of smiles. I couldn't guess her thoughts.
Just knew she was stunning.
"Raise your heads, all."
At Regina's words, everyone looked up. Not one disobeyed. The Emperor's prestige touched the heavens.
A princess warranted this much.
"What this princess seeks from this academy is one thing alone."
Regina murmured a few more lines.
It took little time for confusion to color every face.