13. Academy Terror WWE
13. Academy Terror WWE
Of course, my sympathy stayed strictly internal.
The secret cabin outside Grandis Academy. There, I met Milia and the Order's terror squad.
They were, without exaggeration, the elite forces the Wish Order could scrape together with its remaining strength.
Milia regarded Malton in silence.
The man who had once been her ally.
Now her adversary.
"I have heard His Excellency the Holy Knight Commander's lofty opinion."
"...The words seem to carry a barb."
"Not at all. I find it an excellent suggestion. One I have considered myself."
Malton's intent might have been impure, but his point itself was sound. At present, Milia was effectively leashed by the Finance Director.
This operation would decide the Wish Order's fate. Being dragged around unilaterally in such a critical plan was dangerous. One wrong mood from the Finance Director, and the Order's elite troops could be wiped out to a man.
On the surface, Malton's objection was entirely reasonable. If Milia mishandled her response here, she would look weak.
As it happened, Pope Milia had already prepared an excellent answer.
"If we abduct the Finance Director and hold him hostage, we could negotiate with the academy. Should the relic recovery fail, we could demand an exchange for him."
"Then why—"
"I trust you realize that Finance Director Adam Caines is the Chairwoman's closest subordinate?"
"...The Chairwoman."
"That monster will genuinely declare war on the Wish Order."
The moment the Chairwoman became a true enemy, the plan's success and the Order's survival were moot. Oblivion would follow regardless.
Nearly every high-ranking officer and elite soldier in the Order—save the Pontiff and a handful of bishops—stood in this room. If the Chairwoman annihilated them all, Malton included, the Wish Order would end that very day. The Pontiff held the Order's highest seat, but he could not leave the Holy Land.
"...Has the Chairwoman not already made herself our enemy?"
"The Finance Director informed me. The Chairwoman does not hold the Order in especially high regard. To her, we are merely one of the many factions that attacked the academy in its early days."
"..."
A stir rippled through the assembly. They had every reason to be unsettled. The academy they had considered their foe did not even consider them worth the title.
As a lion does not regard a mantis as an enemy. Decades after the failed relic-recovery operation, the Order still had not replenished the forces it lost. To the Chairwoman, they were a trivial nuisance. Someone let out a hollow sigh.
"That is precisely why this terror operation is viable at all. And the Holy Knight Commander's proposal crosses a line from which there is no return—against that very Chairwoman."
"Terror already crosses a line—no, it does not. Damn it all."
They had infiltrated and attacked the academy once before, and this was the treatment they received. A second offense would hardly change things.
True, the circumstances differed from the academy's earliest days, but the Finance Director's calm assurances about the operation suggested the Chairwoman would not escalate her hostility beyond a certain point.
Once Milia's persuasion-without-persuasion concluded, the others began muttering among themselves.
"The academy will not treat us as an enemy even after a terror attack? That arrogance beggars belief."
"8th Ranks earn the right to arrogance. Did we not witness that demon—that Saintess—in the Holy Kingdom? And even she is the weakest among the 8th Ranks, the newest. She would not compare to the Human Butcher."
"She was once called the Mad Dragon. There were serious debates about mobilizing to subjugate her. Had she not distinguished herself in the Kingdom's civil war, the Kingdom would have thrown every resource at killing her long ago. And now that monster runs an academy? Hah."
With a figure like that as the subject, the remarks turned grim. Fear of the Chairwoman saturated the air.
Decades ago, at the height of the Wish Order's power, a single woman had massacred their archbishops, bishops, and elite faithful. The archbishop of that era had been 7th Rank. Several bishops, too. Among the faithful, multiple 6th Ranks. A terrifying concentration of strength, all meticulously assembled for the relic operation—and all dead. The Chairwoman, even now, did not consider that force worth remembering.
A monster who had carved trauma into the Order's bones.
No one voiced the word "retreat," but fear lingered in their eyes.
"...Still. That was decades ago."
"Lord Malton?"
"The Chairwoman is an 8th Rank, yes. Absurdly powerful. But she has spent decades rotting behind a desk as the head of an academy, has she not?"
"..."
Transcendent or monster, decades were decades. That long confined to the academy, without real combat. Her skills must have rusted since her prime. An ordinary person would have aged past their Rank and died. She endured only because she was an 8th Rank.
That was Malton's argument. A frail hope, perhaps. For the Wish Order, the only hope they had.
Milia's expression did not shift.
"So, you propose we abduct him?"
"...What?"
"Calling the Chairwoman rusted and decayed is tantamount to claiming she can be managed. Does that mean His Excellency the Holy Knight Commander intends to hold off an enraged Chairwoman himself?"
"If that sounded like a provocation, was I mistaken?"
"I am merely trying to understand. Abducting the Finance Director is the worst possible move. It not only guarantees the Chairwoman's fury—it actively escalates a situation that could otherwise conclude smoothly."
"Smoothly? Hah! So we are to trust the Finance Director, hope everything flows smoothly, and then face the Chairwoman if she descends to ambush us? Every assurance that the academy does not regard us as an enemy comes from that man's mouth! Better to strike first!"
"That is merely reckless impatience."
"Even so, it prevents a knife in the back!"
The argument between Milia and Malton lengthened. Voices rose.
Then the masked man who had held his silence all the while approached quietly.
"Holy Knight Commander Malton."
"...Your Excellency."
"This discussion holds little further value. By the Pontiff's decree, once we joined Sister Milia, we are to follow her word."
"But—!"
"I understand the dangers you describe. Yet Sister Milia's reasoning is not baseless. More to the point—this cabin was provided by the Finance Director, was it not?"
"It was."
"If all of this were a trap, if the Chairwoman intended an ambush, this location would be the ideal place for it. But no one has approached."
"...!!"
So that was why the Archbishop had remained silent. He had been scanning the perimeter.
Like Malton, the Archbishop had ascended to 7th Rank through the Dark Sword's power, but even before that, he had been regarded as a talent who could reach 7th Rank on his own merit. An unforeseen accident had simply pushed him into the Order's embrace—and behind a mask.
The Archbishop surveyed the room, then turned to Milia.
"Sister Milia."
"Yes, Your Excellency."
"By the Pontiff's command, from this moment all judgment and authority rest with you. See the plan to success without fail."
"...I shall bear it in mind."
Malton fell silent. With the Archbishop's endorsement, Milia stepped before the assembly.
Eyes converged on her in an instant. Some gazes carried mana or ki; an ordinary believer would have been overwhelmed, stammering under the pressure.
Milia, as if she found the attention comfortable, parted her lips with practiced ease.
"Grandis Academy is currently in its final exam period. Nearly all students have departed campus for outdoor field training. The First Guard Unit and Second Guard Corps accompanied them as escorts."
Technically, Milia was also a student who should be sitting exams. The Finance Director had already handled that detail.
She gauged the room's reaction and continued without a flicker of hesitation.
"A small number of students remain, but most are in the Administration track. Our approach is through the Magic Department; the campus is vast enough that we are unlikely to encounter any."
"Students are not the problem. The Guard Corps is."
"Naturally. Our greatest concern is the Third Guard Corps, which remains on campus for patrol. Thanks to the Finance Director, we have obtained their patrol routes and personnel roster. With due caution, we can avoid them as well."
"But once the attack begins, the Guard Corps will respond."
"That is why all personnel will commence operations simultaneously once in position. We destroy designated buildings to draw attention, scatter along separate routes, and converge on the Secret Vault."
She answered questions without pause, issuing only the essential details. Her competence drew tilted heads from several in the room. As a bishop-candidate, Milia was known to many present. The Milia they knew was a timid, withdrawn sister—not the capable figure before them now.
But at a juncture this critical, no one was inclined to remark on the discrepancy. No one stepped forward to question it.
Milia paused, checked the window, then opened the cabin door.
"It is time. We move."
"All personnel, follow Sister Milia. Maintain vigilance—do not relax your guard!"
""""Yes!""""
Solemn resolve. Readiness to lay down their lives if it came to that.
These handpicked operatives formed the Order's core. They understood better than anyone what the Dark Sword's loss meant, what dire straits the Order now faced, and why this operation carried such weight.
A terror attack on Grandis Academy, of all places. For the Wish Order's future, success was imperative.
Under Milia's guidance, the Archbishop took point, followed by Malton, the bishops, and the elite faithful, all advancing with wary attention.
They moved with utmost stealth. Their destination was—
"Ah, you've all arrived. One moment, let me count heads."
"...The Finance Director?"
"You must be the Archbishop Sister Milia mentioned. A pleasure. But first—the headcount."
"...Very well."
A decrepit side gate set into the academy's perimeter wall.
The white-haired man waiting before it, humming to himself, left even the Archbishop visibly off-balance. The mask could not hide his bewilderment.
The Finance Director breezed past the questioning looks and began ticking off the awkwardly assembled faithful one by one.
"Eighteen, nineteen, twenty. Exact. Right! Everyone, please arrange yourselves as previously instructed!"
"Instructed?"
"Oh? Did you not read the plan? The team assignments are all in there."
The plan? A question mark hovered momentarily over every head in the group—then comprehension dawned. He meant that two-hundred-page sheaf of paper. Their thoughts aligned as one.
Is there a single person alive who would read and memorize that entire thing?
The problem was that the man standing in front of them was exactly that person.
"You'll find it on page 162. But no matter."
"...My apologies. Instruct us, and we shall form up."
"Very well. Hans? Delian? Kaylee? I've no way to match names to faces—kindly raise your hands."
"Uh..."
The solemn resolve from moments earlier had evaporated. An awkward atmosphere settled as the named believers sheepishly raised their hands. The Finance Director pulled them aside, scanned their faces, and retrieved a sheet of paper from his pocket, which he handed to the point man.
"Brother Hans, correct?"
"Y-yes, that is correct."
"You and two others form Team One. Say it with me—Team One."
"...Team One?"
"Excellent. Next—Team Two!"
What... what was this?
Standing at the side gate, the Finance Director was handling the Order's operatives with the brisk cheer of a tour guide. Dismay rippled through the ranks. Was the man unhinged? Or did he truly not regard them as enemies?
Once the teams had sorted themselves out, the Finance Director clapped his hands for attention.
Clap, clap!
"I admit I'm a bit disappointed about the team assignments, but you do all know the Secret Vault's location and your routes, yes?"
"That—"
"Just in case, I've noted each team's route and demolition targets on the paper I distributed moments ago. A word of caution: do not destroy any building other than those listed. And naturally, do not injure the Guard Corps."
"Wait. Are you saying we should stand and take it even if the Guard Corps attacks us?"
"Hardly. But the Guard Corps won't be in a position to attack you. They won't be able to keep up."
"What?"
"You'll understand when you see it. Now then."
The Finance Director checked the time. Then, to the assembled faithful who had come to terrorize his academy, he offered a bright smile.
"If the operation succeeds, regroup here in exactly one hour. Off you go! Do mind the clock—I cannot be held responsible for latecomers."
"..."
He swung open the side gate and gestured them inside. The faithful exchanged glances.
"This... is a terror attack, right...?"
That was the only murmur they could manage.