Acrobatic Training

When Dorothy first told Giselle that Orknodi was forcing a lower-class student to leap through flaming rings, he was certain there had been some sort of misunderstanding.

How could there not be?

She was a child who had endured a pitiful past, yet remained gentler and kinder than anyone. The thought of such a sweet, harmless soul doing something so cruel was utterly unimaginable to him.

"...Why is this real?"

Upon actually arriving at the scene, however, the spectacle unfolding before his very eyes was unvarnished, undeniable truth.

In Graduating the Academy on Pure Luck, pulling off achievements granted titles alongside stat-boosting modifiers. But these achievements weren't limited to monumental, world-shaking feats. Even bizarre, unhinged stunts no normal person would ever attempt—such as Passing Through a Flaming Ring—often rewarded titles upon success.

'The circus eccentricities course is the most efficient way to suck up stats in a short amount of time!'

And so, I vigorously cracked the whip.

"Jump, Mob! This time you're clearing three in a row!"

"I can't, I can't, I can't! My body feels so heavyyy!"

"Clear this, and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you'll get more agile!"

As I cheered Mob on with all my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠might, a horrified voice rang out from behind me.

"Little lady. What in the world are you doing?"

"Oh. When did you get here, Mister Giselle?"

"I rushed over after hearing a rumor that you were abusing a male student, Orknodi... but to think it was actually true..."

"Hmph! It's not abuse, okay? It's training."

"I suppose one could argue circus training counts as training."

Looking at his completely dumbfounded expression, I took a second to consider how this whole scene might look to an outsider. A little girl cracking a whip, forcing a boy festooned with heavy iron weights to dive headfirst through flaming hoops.

...Yeah, okay, not exactly normal.

"Try to understand. Mob has to pump up his stats by today if he wants to pass tomorrow's exam!"

Honestly, if Mob hadn't been teetering on the brink of flunking out, I wouldn't have had to resort to this in the first place.

"Aaaargh! My leg! My leeeeg—!"

"Oops, putting it out right now!"

I forcefully hurled a bucket filled in advance with a Water Creation spell, splashing away the flames licking at Mob's trousers. Watching Mob thrash around before going completely limp from the dousing made him look like a fresh corpse discovered at a murder scene, which coaxed out a tiny giggle.

"Tee-hee! What're you doing, Mob? You can't be exhausted already from just that."

"...Give me ten minutes... ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠please..."

"Fine. Ten minutes, and not a second more!"

Mob let out a deep, soul-weary sigh as I flipped a sand timer on the ground to track the precise countdown.

"No matter how urgent the training might be, isn't this far too dangerous?" Giselle pressed. "He actually caught fire just now."

"That's why I kept a bucket full of water ready!"

Casting Create Water into the recently emptied bucket once more, sparkling bubbles fizzed to the surface. I dipped a finger in and tasted it—sweet, delicious, customized cider-flavored water, perfected to my exact tastes. It puts out fires and quenches your thirst—isn't this totally overpowered?

"Won't the academy step in and discipline you over the risk of a serious accident?"

"Ah, don't worry about that," an instructor resting in the shade behind some wooden crates chimed in, waving a hand to make his presence known. "Lady Orknodi sought permission beforehand, so I've been keeping watch."

"Would you like a cup of water, sir?"

"Oh, much obliged. Funny how the water Lady Orknodi conjures has that fizzy, sweet tang to it. I'm quite fond of it. Those apprentice water peddlers ought to take notes."

"Heh-heh. If just anyone could do this, it wouldn't be special! It all comes down to know-how, you know."

"Haha! Any so-called mage with less know-how than an eleven-year-old doesn't deserve the title."

"Aww, it's just 'cause I'm so amazing."

While I laughed and chatted merrily with the instructor, Giselle glared at the man with deep, profound disapproval written across his face.

"Little lady. A proper adult does not order others to perform tasks they cannot accomplish themselves. Even with an instructor present, this regimen is far too extreme."

"Is that the problem?"

"That is precisely the problem."

"Hmph. Then I just have to prove I can do it, right? And you won't say a peep after that, will you, Mister Giselle?"

"Orknodi? What are you trying to... O-Orknodi?!"

Before Giselle could bother trying to stop me, I sprang toward the flaming hoop.

Whoosh!

Thanks to my petite stature, I didn't need to duck my head like Mob. Instead, I bounded high into the air, soaring straight through. The moment I cleared the first ring, I planted one hand in an open patch of ground, thrusting off the earth with all the strength in my arms to shoot through the next.

Finally, both feet touched down, only to rebound like coiled springs—unfolding my body into a breathtaking 1080-degree mid-air spin before sticking the landing with arms spread wide. Ta-da!

Having witnessed my flawless landing, Giselle finally breathed a sigh of relief.

"You truly have a knack for giving people heart attacks. I was terrified you would catch fire. Please, I beg of you, never do that again."

"Mister Giselle, you ask for too much!"

"If you promise me, I will buy you a delicacy you have never tasted before."

"Whoa, really?!"

"I promise."

"Yay, deal!"

We linked pinkies, shook our hands up and down, and stamped our thumbs together.

"Hee-hee."

"Phew... Your acrobatic prowess was remarkable. Have you had similar experience somewhere before?"

"I used to do it tons in the past! To get fast and agile, you have to be great at acrobatics. Back when I was a newbie, I caught fire all the time, but once you get the hang of it, it's not scary at all, and getting the rewards is super easy. Honestly, it's pure gravy!"

Giselle suddenly turned his back, gazing up at the sky as his shoulders trembled faintly.

"Mister Giselle?"

"Ah, my apologies. A bit of dust flew into my eye, you see..."

"Getting old sounds so tough!"

"...Indeed. Worries only multiply with age, so not a single day passes in peace."

While we chattered, the sands of the ten-minute timer completely piled up at the bottom.

"Up and at 'em, Mob! Time for acrobatic jumping again!"

"Urrgh... I'm so exhausted..."

"Stop whining and get up already! That way we can move on to five-dagger juggling, plate spinning, and aerial somersaults before tomorrow!"

"The exam is about shattering boulders, so why the heck are we doing agility training anyway...?"

"You need a high Agility multiplier to land critical hits on weak points, obviously!"

"This is seriously so wrong..."

"Mob. Have you ever been top of the class?"

"..."

"If not, do as you're told!"

Lurching to his feet like a shambling zombie, Mob dashed toward the flaming rings once more. This time, his upper body caught fire, and he thrashed about shouting bloody murder.

Dousing him vigorously with a bucket of water, I shook my head in thought.

"Mob really is such a slow learner!"

"Just... let me flunk..."

At Mob's pathetic whimpering, I tipped a bottle of protein shake I had received from Professor Plato right down his throat.

"Chug this and get your stamina back, on the double!"

I'm taking care of him with such tender love and care—there's no way I'll let him fail!

Ishtar the Hero was feeling troubled.

"Orknodi... Why of all things must you be counted among the Demon King candidates...?"

Her number-one candidate for a companion. A child she coveted more than anyone else—yet she was a candidate for Demon King.

Others might not know, but Ishtar did.

Demon Lord.

Dark Princess.

Those were prerequisites for ascending as a Demon King—prerequisite classes.

The great powers of the Demon Realm had the right to contest the Demon King's throne. Orknodi was destined for that very qualification. If she so desired, she could become a Demon King candidate at any moment. Even the evil gods watched her every move.

If the sinister evils reached out to her, could she truly resist the temptation?

Hardly.

Mortals were inherently frail before the allure of power. After all, wasn't lust for power the very reason most students had enrolled in the academy?

"Ishtar. Give up already."

"Orknodi isn't an official Demon King candidate yet."

"You know that if a traitor emerges from the Hero's party, that era's Hero almost certainly fails their divine mission."

"It's just so infuriating. How on earth did the Foundation find Orknodi, entice that child, and force her down such a wicked path? Curse this fate..."

The moment she heard the rumors about what had happened during the Discernment lecture, Ishtar directed her resentment not at Orknodi, but at the Foundation rumored to pull the strings from the shadows.

The Weihimhai Foundation.

An organization that scouted talents across the entire world, dispatched them to the continent's premier educational institution, and leveraged those talents as hostages to exert leverage over the academy.

This sinister syndicate had ultimately succeeded in picking a prodigy worthy of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠joining the Hero's party as their top scholarship student, holding her hostage in broad daylight. Enough to leave Ishtar, the contemporary Hero, wracked with agony over how to treat Orknodi.

"If you're that worried, why not go see her yourself?"

Ishtar's childhood friend, Saintess Yupi, gave her advice, unable to watch Ishtar mope and agonize all day long.

"I should. Thanks for the advice, Yupi."

First, meet her. Go speak with Orknodi directly.

Her aptitude might simply be a bizarre fluke of nature, and the Foundation might have surprisingly provided her with a proper upbringing, right?

Seeking out her whereabouts, Ishtar arrived at a secluded corner of the grounds—only to find flaming hoops, an abused boy, and Orknodi personally leaping through the flames as if exasperated.

"See? You just do it like this and like this! Why can't you get it?"

What in the world is going on here?

As Ishtar stood there dumbfounded, Giselle's muttered words in the corner drifted into her ears.

"Those Foundation bastards... Just how young was Orknodi when they subjected her to such horrific discipline...? To train her so mercilessly that she considers something like this 'pure gravy'..."

Dammit.

The Foundation really was evil through and through.

Ishtar made up her mind right then and there.

No matter what it took, she would tear that child from the Foundation's clutches. Even if it meant braving grave peril, she would welcome her into the Hero's party.

For what right did someone have to call themselves a Hero if they couldn't even save a single little girl before their eyes?