A Pitiful-Looking Child
A cruel dryad who had steeped herself so deeply in tree-fairy ways that she knew nothing of human empathy.
A cold-blooded demon who divided an enormous blackboard into five distinct sections, hammered out five full pages of lecture notes in a single sweep, and wiped the slate clean in under a minute.
And then, to deliver a second blow of despair, she immediately began a second round of notes across the erased slate—a veritable two-tier lecture from the depths of hell.
Professor Weird's reputation plunged into the abyss in the blink of an eye.
The students practically trembled with a sense of utter betrayal.
"The imperial professors weren't insulting her for nothing when they called her a barbaric vine-weaver!"
"Damn it, why did I ever let my curiosity get the better of me just to learn nature magic?!"
"If only that professor's underboob beneath those leaves hadn't seduced my eyes, I never would've signed up for this lecture in the first place!"
The students vented their fury to the point of awakening latent regional bigotry. Just as these poor wretches were learning the terrifying reality of the honey-trap in practical terms, Dorothy extended a saving hand.
"Hey, everyone. You took the third-period lecture today, right? I'm selling pages one through three and pages two through three for ten Points each. Anyone want to buy?"
Tears of deep emotion welled in the students' eyes.
"I'll buy! Please, let me buy!"
"Where on earth did you get something so precious?!"
"I was commissioned by Orknodi to handle sales. I didn't write these down myself."
Having secured the missing notes, the students finally breathed a collective sigh of relief. Starting with the next lecture, they planned to form squads of at least five people and divide the blackboard into assigned sectors—an area-marking defense strategy to ensure they would never suffer like this again. Since this had been their very first ambush, all they truly needed was to get their hands on today's missed transcriptions.
"Thank you. You really saved our lives. If it were those imperial snobs, they would've finished their notes and never shared a single word with us."
"Totally agreed."
"By the way, how did Orknodi know to target pages one through three and two through three specifically? Is it just because she's the top student and has a crazy brain?"
"No idea."
Truth be told, Dorothy had been wondering the exact same thing.
And so, breaking her usual routine of holing up in her room the moment she returned to the dormitory, she made her way over and knocked on Orknodi's door.
"If you're looking for Orknodi, her schedule is packed straight through fifth period."
"Fifth period...? They have classes that late?"
"A night class. When I asked the drill instructor, he said it was prepared for nocturnal students. But who are you?"
"Dorothy. I'm a classmate who's been indebted to Orknodi since the entrance exam. I live in Room 120."
"Orknodi sure has a lot of friends. I already knew that, but still..."
Hestia failed to conceal a twinge of bitterness. Dorothy addressed her in a bright, cheerful voice.
"You're Hestia, the one who moved into the room next to Orknodi, right?"
"Yeah."
"So, how was it? Being in the same squad as her?"
It was not what Dorothy had originally come to ask, but curiosity naturally won out. Teaming up with the valedictorian who had stood out above everyone else since the entrance exam was no small thing. Having indirectly witnessed Orknodi's extraordinary capabilities during Basics and Understanding of Mana Usage, Dorothy could hardly help being intrigued.
"For starters... it's intimidating."
"I knew it. That kid really is something else in all kinds of ways."
"Even more than that, though... I just can't help feeling sorry for her."
"Huh? For Orknodi? Why?"
She was the youngest enrollee and the youngest valedictorian in the academy's history, shattering every age-related record in existence. If someone like her was pitiful, ordinary people like Dorothy might as well be classified as refugees from a third-world country.
"Haven't you noticed? No matter what that child does, she never settles for anything less than absolute perfection."
"Isn't that just natural because she's the top student?"
"No, it's not natural. Orknodi is only eleven years old."
"I mean, she's certainly bold for her age, but early education isn't exactly rare. Kids can just be precocious."
"You must not have seen it, but Orknodi used lethal assassination techniques during her duel with the imperial martial artist, Lotto. And in Professor Plato's class, she took the blind spot behind the Grand Duchess of the North."
"...Okay, that does sound a little weird."
"Can't you feel the direction of her early education? This is solid proof backing the theory that Orknodi was trained as an assassin. Sticking close behind a cryomancer knowing full well she risked freezing to death goes way beyond normal."
Hestia viewed Orknodi's obsession with flawless results as a dark habit forged in a horrifying upbringing.
"It has to be. A vile environment where failing to produce results meant beatings, and failing to be the absolute best meant you didn't survive. It only makes sense if she grew up somewhere like that."
"Wait, that's just straight-up child abuse!"
"Do you really think a cold-blooded noble house raising a child to be a weapon would care about something like that? Anyone who's taken on dirty work for high nobility while working as a mercenary knows the truth."
Hestia was a seasoned berserker. In her mercenary guild days, she had been summoned alongside prominent names from all across the land for massive operations that peeled back the shadows of the aristocracy.
Vast underground facilities.
Children locked inside cages with iron collars clamped around their necks.
Some trained as pack mules, some broken into bed-slaves, and others drilled into remorseless assassins—a stomach-churning den of horrors. It was a memory she never wished to recall.
"W-Wait a second. Then the reason Orknodi was so good at coordinating today... was because of experiences like that?"
"Coordinating?"
"During Professor Weird's lecture today..."
Dorothy recounted everything that had transpired in class: a mad professor's unhinged blizzard of text, and Orknodi deftly transcribing only the single most valuable sections. She spoke of how Orknodi had looked at the board with dead, emotionless eyes as though she had weathered such trials a thousand times before—pretending to stare blankly while deep in solitary thought.
"Let's be good to her. To Orknodi."
"Yeah. We definitely should."
Though Hestia and Dorothy had shared virtually no common ground until now, the two bonded tightly over their shared conviction that Orknodi was a tragic soul in need of warmth.
It was a very different kind of socialization than anything Orknodi had planned for Hestia, but so long as they reached the destination, the detour hardly mattered. At the very least, the likelihood of Hestia suddenly snapping and turning into a genocidal berserker had grown remarkably slim.
Meanwhile, as Dorothy busily peddled lecture notes to other students for Points, Orknodi arrived at the outdoor grounds of the Knight Faculty to attend her fourth-period Wednesday course: Ranged Weapon Mastery.
"My forearms are still throbbing."
"I pulled that bow way too many times."
"I should've just gone with javelin throwing."
"Aren't pistols the real jackpot? All you have to do is pull the trigger."
"And take classes alongside that red-haired lunatic? No thanks."
"Yeah, that's a hard pass."
"I'd be terrified of catching a stray bullet from right beside me."
The lower-class students, who had far fewer mandatory credits to fulfill than the Upper Class, looked noticeably more relaxed. Simply enduring fewer cycles of sadistic torment at the hands of eccentric professors was enough to keep a person's complexion healthy and their mental state intact.
"Young pillars of the continent! Today's session will also proceed in squads divided by your primary weapon!"
The reactions of the archery squad upon spotting Orknodi were split cleanly into three camps.
"Hey, Orknodi!"
"Are you picking up the longbow again today?"
"I can't believe you can even draw that thing with those slender arms."
First were the Group A students, who offered genuine admiration for her physical power.
"Whoa, she surprised me."
"Oh right, Orknodi's here."
"Doesn't it feel like she's going to hit us with something? It's kind of terrifying."
Second were the Group B students, who shrank back in fear of her steadily spreading notoriety.
"...She is merely a child. There is no need to be so guarded. In other courses, perhaps, but certainly not here in Ranged Weapon Mastery."
"Scholar's right. We have nothing to fear."
"No matter how remarkable Orknodi is, she'll never beat Scholar in archery!"
The descendant of the Divine Archer.
One of the most famous supporting figures among the imperial nobility, occupying the quintessential long-range carry role typical of academy settings. Scholar, flanked by the flock of sycophants trailing his every move, made up the third group.
"Aren't those guys way too arrogant?"
"How dare they talk like they're issuing a challenge to Orknodi?"
"Orknodi, say something back to them!"
Yet the party in question couldn't have cared less.
"Huh? Doesn't really matter to me. Archery isn't my specialty anyway. I'm not even that great of a shot. Hehe."
"Come on, anyone with eyes could see you were incredible earlier!"
"Exactly! Drawing a bow that even grown adults struggle to pull and planting arrows dead-center on the target at eleven years old isn't a parlor trick just anyone can pull off!"
For some reason, the Group A students grew indignant on her behalf.
I mean, the guy was literally born to fire arrows. How am I supposed to beat that?
In any game, the designated ranged specialist handled distance weaponry with near-omnipotent competence. While there were rare instances of troll picks whose abysmal hit rates made them bizarrely popular, Scholar was most definitely not one of those cases.
"Now then, I will explain the technique we are mastering today."
Before the instructor began the briefing, Orknodi let her mind wander.
Well, it's only the second lecture. No matter how much fuss they kick up, it won't be anything crazy.
If the first session was about hitting stationary targets, the second would logically move on to swaying marks. It wasn't that she lacked confidence in her skills, but neither was it a class where she needed to show off. In both rapid-fire contests and distance trials, she had neither the confidence nor the slightest reason to compete against a tier-one ranged specialist like Scholar.
"Due to the outstanding average skill level of the archery squad, we have decided to advance the curriculum originally scheduled for the fourth session."
"...What?!"
"Rest easy, it is nothing overly complicated. You will simply run through a light obstacle course while shooting on the move to hit as many targets as possible in a competitive format."
"Whoa. We're gonna see who sets a better record, Orknodi or Scholar."
"This test carries a ten-percent weight toward your final grade, but you can always make that up with raw grit later, so just treat it as shooting some arrows and having fun."
Wait, they just bumped up the syllabus and slammed us with a surprise exam worth ten percent of the grade?!
The students who had been watching Orknodi and Scholar with eager anticipation suddenly realized the fire had spread to their own skirts, their faces turning completely pale.
"W-Why would you do this to us?!"
"We're still beginners!"
The instructor scratched the back of his head, glancing in Orknodi's direction.
"Professor Eveningshooter stated that since even a small child is performing so exceptionally, the archery squad could easily handle a faster pace."
"That makes no sense! Look at Orknodi's arms! How is she supposed to draw a bow properly with such delicate arms?!"
"Look at her height! If she tries to clear those obstacles, she's going to trip and burst into tears!"
"Don't you even feel bad for poor Orknodi?!"
"..."
Every single person currently using her as a human shield had been cheering her on and goading her to pick a fight only moments ago.
"I'm completely fine!"
Finding their sudden hypocrisy wonderfully obnoxious, Orknodi raised her hand with bright, cheerful vigor, making sure to score extra points with the instructor.