13. Academy Terror WWE
13. Academy Terror WWE
[──And so, we have obtained information regarding the location of the Sacred Relic.]
"Hm, a secret vault..."
"Can we trust this?"
"What choice do we have? And it's not an absurd claim. It's been decades since anyone last confirmed its location, after all."
"Tch."
A round table located somewhere.
Men and women, young and old alike, sat around it, frowning or shaking their heads.
A meeting of those at the bishop rank and above within the Wish Order.
Due to the Order's nature of operating covertly after being declared heretical by the Holy Kingdom, such gatherings were rare unless the matter was truly critical. But today's issue was more than enough to summon every high-ranking official.
The unexplained disappearance of the Dark Sword. And the plan to terrorize Grandis Academy to reclaim the Sacred Relic.
A matter that could shake the Order to its foundations, followed by a renewed attempt at a scheme that had already failed decades ago. Caution was only natural.
An elderly bishop at the round table turned toward the communication artifact, through which they spoke with Milia, a summoning mage stationed at the academy.
"However, Milia, is the Finance Director's sincerity not inherently suspect? I cannot fathom what benefit he seeks from terrorizing his own academy. No matter how I look at it, this reeks of a trap."
[Your Grace speaks truly. A simple matter might be one thing, but a large-scale attack like this is immensely dangerous, even if we time it for when the academy is empty.]
"Then..."
[But the Order's current state... is it not also dire? Even knowing it's a trap, we have no choice but to walk in.]
"...Mm."
Milia was a believer nominated as a bishop candidate specifically because she was a 3rd Rank mage. She held a position high enough to know about the sudden loss of the Dark Sword.
The Wish Order, by its very nature, drew in the powerless and weak. A high-Rank asset like a 3rd Rank mage was among their rarest. That was precisely why she had been dispatched to the academy alone in the first place.
Of course, the fact that Milia alone could be assigned to a mission that originally required at least a bishop... likely also meant the Order had already written off the academy.
Ever since the archbishop and elite forces back then had been slaughtered by a single Chairwoman, decades ago.
The Order had maintained its prestige, but its actual military strength still hadn't recovered from that day.
"The Pontiff is..."
"Predictable. He's exhausting every avenue to recover the Dark Sword."
"A bizarre and dreadful affair. How could something simply vanish without a trace in an instant?"
"We're keeping it as secret as possible, but rumors are already spreading among the faithful. The Order's decline is becoming visible to the naked eye."
Especially the secret of the Dark Sword's disappearance, known only to a handful of the highest officials, was becoming harder to contain.
It was inevitable. The Dark Sword's power, the doctrine of granting wishes, was the root of their faith. With that rendered impossible, it was only natural the Order would waver.
That was why Milia—still a mere believer, only a bishop candidate—could intrude on this meeting with such a commanding presence.
Whatever the true intentions of this "Finance Director" were, if this plan succeeded, they would have the Sacred Relic, a tangible symbol to hold before the world. The triumphant joy of having successfully attacked the mighty Grandis Academy to reclaim it. They could even use it to propagandize to the faithful that the Order was still strong.
In every respect, the path Milia had brought was realistically the best option.
"...More than anything, it's time we start considering the worst-case scenario."
"And what would that be?"
"That the Holy Kingdom finally made their move."
"...!!"
A jolt ran through the room.
That was the possibility everyone at the table had been deliberately avoiding.
The one they had all considered, yet stubbornly told themselves couldn't be possible.
"But does that even make sense? The Holy Kingdom is a nation, however diminished. You're saying they would gamble their very existence on the Sacred Relic?!"
"If they succeeded, would it not also explain how the Dark Sword suddenly disappeared?"
"That much is obvious! But could you do it? Could you gamble the fate of the Holy Kingdom, the destiny of the Goddess Church itself, to tamper with a conceptual Sacred Relic?! Fine! I'll speak plainly."
The man who had argued most fiercely, the Order's Holy Knight Commander, gritted his teeth.
Perhaps because the Dark Sword was gone, his once-bulky frame had been slowly growing more gaunt.
Maybe that was why he fought so desperately to refute the worst. If it were simply lost or stolen, it could be retrieved. But if, as another bishop said, the Holy Kingdom had truly acted...
They would never get it back.
"Do you truly think we... that the Wish Order holds such value? Value enough for the Holy Kingdom to gamble its national fate? Had they failed, it would have been total self-destruction!"
"...But even so."
"Right now, it's more plausible that the Dark Sword vanished through some method unknown to us than to believe the Holy Kingdom took such a gamble! And above all, if what the bishop says is true..."
The Holy Knight Commander's eyes fixed on the communication artifact. A means of contact once commonly used, but now reserved only for the direst occasions.
Beyond it was Milia. Merely a bishop candidate, yet a believer no one in this meeting dared treat lightly.
A believer who had brought a way to revive a crumbling Order. The sole person able to contact the Finance Director, the lynchpin of their terror plan. She would naturally lead this operation.
The Holy Knight Commander did not like that.
Just as he had refuted the Holy Kingdom theory with pragmatic reasoning.
He was, in many ways, a man who kept a clear, practical eye on reality—especially the reality of his own standing.
"That only means the burden on Believer Milia will grow that much heavier."
[Malton, Holy Knight Commander, I appreciate your concern.]
"Believer Milia."
[Yes.]
"Might I dare to share that burden?"
[... ... ...]
The Holy Knight Commander, Malton, did not speak out of pure consideration. He was demanding she hand over control of the operation.
He sensed in Milia not a pure intent to save the Order from its decline—but the scent of a competitor trying to use this event to solidify her position within the Order.
From Malton's perspective, aiming even higher than the Commander's seat, Milia was an unwelcome presence. If this plan succeeded, she would be guaranteed a bishop's seat at minimum, and beyond that, her influence as the one who revived the Order would be absolute.
The other bishops were not blind to Milia's ambitions either. But they had remained silent because, separate from that, she had undeniably brought them a way to restore the Order. If she truly pulled it off, she would be a talent deserving of such reward.
In fact, Malton's open challenge drew startled, disapproving stares from the other bishops.
"Malton, Holy Knight Commander, hold your tongue!"
"Hold my tongue? I'm afraid I don't quite see why."
"Are you trying to seize command of this operation when you don't even know Grandis Academy or this 'Finance Director' properly?! If this plan fails because of petty infighting, will you take responsibility?!"
"Well, of course I—"
"That will be enough."
"...Your Holiness."
"Your Holiness."
At the sudden voice, everyone at the round table hurriedly rose from their seats. But the one they called Pontiff was not a giant like Malton, nor an adult like the other bishops.
He was a mere boy. Barely into his mid-teens by appearance. Even the Pontiff's vestments, tailored to his size, still dragged slightly on the floor.
Yet the boy's eyes blazed with a dazzling light. Or rather, one did—the other was a dead, pitch-black void.
A truly contradictory and grotesque sight, yet the bishops and the Holy Knight Commander bowed their heads in silence.
"Malton."
"Yes, Your Holiness."
"This operation will be led by Believer Milia."
"...Understood."
Unlike the others, Malton's bow was born of pragmatic deference to power, not faith.
And thus, he had nothing more to say. As much as he wanted to check a new rival, he had to avoid marking himself in the eyes of those above him.
The boy, his gait strangely unsteady as he walked, turned his gaze toward the masked man who had remained silent throughout the meeting.
"Archbishop."
"I receive your command."
"Proceed to the academy according to the list Believer Milia submitted. You will command those forces until you arrive. Once there, follow Believer Milia's instructions."
"So it shall be."
The man called Archbishop bowed deeply. Amidst all the bowed heads, the boy settled into the highest seat.
Wavering, uncertain, and yet innocently guileless.
The Pontiff of the Wish Order smiled.
"Believer Milia."
[...Yes, Your Holiness.]
"The expectations I place upon you are great. Please, reclaim the Sacred Relic for us."
[In the name of the Order.]
"In the name of the Order. You may take your leave now. Then, the next agenda item is—"
Click.
Midway through the Pontiff's light remark, the artifact's connection cut off. The device didn't transmit visuals, but even so, Pope Milia—who had been maintaining a rigidly formal posture, just in case—let out a long breath.
Things weren't going to be simple, it seemed.
'Malton.'
'Before,' he'd been a fairly useful bastard. Had just the right amount of ambition to be easy to exploit, and on top of that, he never aimed for the Pontiff's seat, so coexistence was possible.
He was a rare 7th Rank within the Order—albeit borrowed from the Dark Sword's power—and had supported Milia when she climbed to Archbishop and then Pontiff.
But this time, things looked different.
'The Order's current state is one thing, that whore being 6th Rank is another, and the Dark Sword vanishing... something has changed.'
What could the reason be? If she had to guess, the changes had started before Pope Milia herself had awakened.
Those changes had turned Malton into an enemy. But thanks to them, she had been able to build a position for herself even now—a position that, originally, she had only been able to secure after the academy fell and the Sacred Relic was in hand.
Allies became enemies, crises turned into opportunities.
And in the middle of it all, the two most suspicious figures remained the same.
'That Finance Director bastard, and that whore.'
One was a lunatic whose reasons for wanting his own academy attacked were incomprehensible.
The other had reached 6th Rank—a clear, massive anomaly. Whether that was caused by something else, or whether the whore herself was the cause.
She'd just have to play her part perfectly and figure it out slowly.
"Student Milia? Student Milia~?"
"...!!"
"Hmm, where on earth did she go...?"
At the demonic whisper drifting from somewhere, Pope Milia held her breath. She masked her presence, layering every cloaking spell she knew.
Right now, the place where she'd been using the communication artifact wasn't a dormitory or a proper room, but a janitorial supply closet. The reason she'd communicated from this damp, musty, rank little space was simple.
She had to hide from that demonic bastard.
"Student Milia! There's something I need to discuss with you! It will only take a moment, so please come out!"
"... ... ..."
"Ah... what a pain."
She'd thought it more times than she could count, but that Finance Director bastard was something beyond a demon.
He'd kept bringing documents under the guise of terrorist planning. She'd found it suspicious... until she realized he was just smoothly offloading his work onto her.
Thinking it was all necessary for the plan, she'd reviewed everything and pointed out any anomalies. The Finance Director had taken full advantage of that, using Milia as a living error-detection spell.
When she'd realized and confronted him, his response had been:
──'Isn't helping each other the bare minimum for a "relationship of trust"?'
──What the hell does that even...
──If you're unwilling, then we can just consider this whole terror plan non-existent. After all, your side "asked first"—I have no particular attachment to it!
──... ... ...
Of course, looking at the documents he'd prepared, it seemed the Finance Director did need the attack from his side as well. But Milia was the more desperate one. If the Finance Director, on the off-chance, started looking for a different terror group, Milia's chances of being buried as a nobody in a crumbling Wish Order were far too high.
She might be a Pope, but that was meaningless without a foundation. For now, the more desperate Milia was unquestionably the one under his thumb.
So instead of openly refusing, she'd simply resorted to evading the Finance Director entirely. She could always make excuses later about where she'd been, saying something came up.
But the question was: why was a mere 1st Rank...
"I feel like she's somewhere around here..."
"...!!"
Why did he have to have such damn good instincts?
Step. Step.
Inside the dark supply closet with the door shut, Milia desperately held her breath. Normally, no one came to this closet, tucked away in the corner.
And yet, she heard footsteps. Steady footsteps. Drawing closer.
And then.
"Ah, there you are?"
"Eee, aaaah...!!"
"What on earth is wrong? You look like you've seen a monster."
A monster would have been so much better.
Milia screamed as the door swung open and the Finance Director's sinisterly grinning face squeezed through the gap.
And the Finance Director simply dragged Milia out.
In the name of "trust," Milia found herself forced into eighteen hours of unpaid labor a day, her attendance for lectures even handled by the Finance Director's authority.
And now, two weeks of that had passed.
So when the terror team—finally arrived from the Empire, where the Wish Order's main stronghold lay—including Malton, the Holy Knight Commander, spoke up...
"Incidentally, if you're just going to be pushed around by this 'Finance Director' fellow, wouldn't taking him hostage be a better approach?"
"...Excuse me?"
"Believer Milia, I'm not denigrating your plan. It's just that this seems like a better option to me, that's all."
Even to words so clearly aimed at undermining her.
Milia simply...
"... ... ..."
"Believer Milia?"
"...Haah."
Instead of showing offense.
She could only empathize, from the depths of her soul.
*