Training Instructor Irie (1)
The afterglow of the day before didn't take long to shatter. Today was my first day reporting to Granz Academy — yet the very first feeling to greet me when I opened my eyes that morning was...
"...Ugh, I really don't want to go."
An utterly, damnably practical annoyance. They were bound to look down on me for having not a drop of mana as it was, and according to what Emilia had told me yesterday, the rumor that I was some good-for-nothing who'd slunk in on my family's coattails had already made the full rounds. How many piercing stares from students would I have to endure? I was tired just thinking about it.
'Well, at least I can fall back on being a count's son.'
But as I mulled that over, Emilia's voice from the night before drifted back to me — along with the lonely look on her face as she'd spoken.
"Ah... this school has so many children of very powerful families, you see..."
Just look at those three insufferable Three Founding Mages from my past life. Nearly every mage I'd ever known had been a creature of superiority complexes and turf wars. I could guess without watching how badly a commoner special-admission student was being ground down in that crowd.
'If I run into her at the Academy, I'll have to keep an eye out for her.'
She had ties to Torso, and something about her predicament — so like my own in my past life — oddly tugged at me. The more idle thoughts I chased, the less I wanted to go to work at all.
'Still, a job's a job.'
I forced myself out of bed, washed up, and readied myself to head out. Of course, I didn't forget to strap on the sword old Torso had given me, enshrined so carefully in the corner of my inn room.
'Beautiful work, every time I lay eyes on it.'
I couldn't yet say what the masterfully forged blade could do, but when its weight settled heavy against my thigh, I finally felt ready to face the day.
My destination, Granz Academy, stood no great distance from my room at the inn. Perhaps fifteen minutes on foot? The moment I arrived, the Academy's enormous front gate rose up to greet me.
As expected of the Empire's foremost institution of learning. Buildings packed densely together, their sharp spires soaring high enough to pierce the sky. The grounds were absurdly expansive — I half expected to lose my way — but what wearied me more than anything was...
...the piercing, persistent stares boring into me from every direction, exactly as I'd predicted.
"Is that him?"
"Yeah, that trash with no mana who got in on the Count family's name..."
With every step, the murmurs of uniformed students carried clearly to my ears.
'Emilia was right. The rumor has spread annoyingly well.'
Ignoring the flood of attention, I made my way to my assigned building and opened the door to the faculty office. The atmosphere inside proved no different.
"I am Irie Argensia, joining you as of today. I look forward to working with you."
Even with a full ninety-degree bow, the seated staff offered no reply — only listless sidelong glances. One man in the corner, for whatever reason, was outright glaring at me as though I were his sworn enemy.
Just as a suffocating silence settled over the office—
"Ah, welcome. We've been expecting you."
A courteous voice, smoothing the tension flat, came from behind me. The man looked about my age — not particularly large in build, but what lodged firmly in my memory was his face. Long, slit eyes that gave nothing away, and a soft smile resting at the corners of his mouth.
"I am Blaine, professor of first-year Magic Theory. You're every bit as handsome as I heard. I look forward to working with you."
The man who called himself Blaine offered a handshake with an easy, genial grin — a lone display of kindness amid all that exclusionary frost.
"Thank you."
I clasped his hand and gave a light nod. Well, no harm in him playing friendly for now. Unfortunately, my experience said this breed was unlikely to be a good sort. I had never once met a smiling, narrow-eyed flatterer whose insides weren't pitch black.
Still, he hadn't actually harmed me yet, so I humored him with vague agreement — and while I did, the firmly shut door at the back of the office swung open, and an old man with snow-white hair walked out.
Aside from the long white beard trailing down his chest, he was an utterly ordinary old man without a single distinguishing feature.
"..."
And yet the air grew heavy the instant he appeared. This was no ordinary power.
"Oh, you've arrived! Welcome."
The old man approached me with a benevolent smile, as if the frosty air around us were of no concern whatsoever.
"I am Theodore, headmaster of this Academy. Sir Dalton has told me a great deal about you."
"Thank you for your hospitality. I look forward to serving with you."
Theodore gave my shoulder a light pat, then raised his voice as though to make certain every soul in the office heard.
"Instructor Irie here will be taking charge of our Academy's first-year Class A as its homeroom teacher and training instructor."
'What?'
Had I misheard? Class A — where the Academy's finest elites gathered. And he meant to hand that class to me?
I wasn't the only one startled by the headmaster's declaration.
Bang!
The man who'd been glaring at me from the corner slammed his desk and shot to his feet, his eyes already brimming with fury.
"Headmaster! That is unjust!"
"How exactly is a man without a single drop of mana supposed to help train students?! Class A especially... that was the class I had been leading. I beg you to reconsider your decision!"
"Professor Ervin. Did I not tell you in advance? This matter is already settled."
Theodore cut him off, flat and dry.
"Class A's instruction goes to Instructor Irie. Professor Ervin, I suggest you devote yourself to your other duties."
Only then did every puzzle piece click into place — the reason he'd been shooting daggers at me from the moment I walked in. A stranger had rolled in off the street and snatched the post right out from under him; his reaction was only natural.
'"You'll understand once you get there," was it?'
They'd dumped me into a post far more troublesome than I'd bargained for. If I'd known, I should have wrung something more out of the family before I left... The whole arrangement felt like a losing deal.
Still, I'd braced myself for some of this, and there was no undoing it now. Seeing the students I'd been assigned came first. Leaving the staff's unpleasant stares behind me, I followed the headmaster out of the office.
The students, apparently briefed in advance, had gathered at the training ground at the heart of the Academy. There looked to be roughly thirty of them, each in the thick of hurling the spells they were most confident in, and around them shimmered a transparent barrier — a magic tool, the headmaster had said, that kept stray spells from leaking out.
'...They certainly live up to being the Academy's top class.'
In terms of raw spell power, at least.
I paid the results of their magic no mind and focused instead on their movements in the instant before release. One had his gaze locked on his fingertips. Another inhaled too deeply, shoulders splayed open. Yet another dragged his chant out so long I wondered who was supposed to stand there and wait for it. If this were real combat, the vast majority were no different from Ellen.
My gaze drifted naturally across the faces of the students flinging their magic about. The entourage of a foreign prince studying abroad from a neighboring country. The Tower Master's granddaughter. Beyond them, the heirs of the continent's most renowned magic families.
It wasn't all dross, though. Even in that glittering crowd, a handful of students stood out.
The first to catch my eye was a male student in a uniform bearing a crimson lion crest, his face set in an arrogant sneer. If my memory served, that was the emblem of Rotglut, house of one of the Three Founding Mages.
Beside him, a girl sat dozing right on the training ground floor — and even asleep, the soft-featured girl was wrapped in an aura that was anything but ordinary. In the very back row I also spotted Emilia, glancing about nervously until her eyes met mine and went round as saucers.
But towering over them all, radiating a presence that crushed everything else—
KRA-KOOM!!
A thunderous report shook the training ground. A single point of light gathered at her fingertips, bloomed across the empty air, then split into hundreds of beams that tore through the target at the center.
At the very heart of the training ground, standing alone some five steps from everyone else, was a girl with silver hair tinged with blue. The imperial princess they called the Star of the Empire — Elenora.
"..."
The moment Headmaster Theodore and I stepped onto the platform, the ceaseless crackle of spells cut off all at once, and more than thirty pairs of eyes swung toward us. A few gazes showed keen interest in me, but the vast majority brimmed with hostility and naked contempt.
"Ahem. I trust everyone's practice is coming along nicely?"
Theodore broke the silence with a mild voice.
"As of today, Instructor Irie here will serve as homeroom teacher and training instructor of your first-year Class A."
Despite the headmaster's courteous introduction, only a frigid stillness hung over the training ground. A welcoming round of applause? Naturally, there was none. If anything, the taut pressure of drawn mana alone pressed down on the air.
And the one to shatter that hostile silence was none other than Princess Elenora.
"Headmaster."
Elenora spoke in a voice like ice.
"Forgive the interruption, but I cannot accept this."
"And what is it Your Highness finds displeasing?"
At Theodore's unhurried question, Elenora's blue eyes turned to me.
"The Academy is not a playground. It is where mages are forged for war. Entrusting our training to an incompetent who cannot even hold mana is a deception of the students — an insult to the imperial family itself."
By the look of it, most of the students agreed with her.
'So it comes to this after all.'
I hadn't expected a complaint-free welcome. Feeling no particular need to argue, I simply watched her in silence — and Elenora's eyes, already irritated, sharpened further.
"You came here bearing the title of training instructor. Shouldn't you at least be of some use to us?"
"...And what manner of help would you like, Your Highness?"
When I replied with studied indifference, Elenora lifted her chin and answered with imperious disdain.
"We hear you cannot use magic. Then prove you possess some other talent worth teaching us."
'Prove it, is it.'
If anything, the situation suited me fine. Words would never reach students this proud — and weren't they handing me, on day one, the perfect pretext to whip them into shape my way?
"Very well. How would you have me prove it?"
I addressed Elenora with a confident look, and she scoffed at my answer.
"It's simple. If even one of the students here — myself included — acknowledges your skill, we will accept you as our training instructor."
"In other words, if I subdue even one of you, you'll acknowledge me as instructor... is that about the shape of it?"
"That is correct."
The moment her answer fell, jeers burst out across the training ground. The gist: how absurd, a mana-less nobody subduing any one of us.
Undeterred by the torrent of contempt, I walked slowly down from the platform.
"Well now. That's a generous offer."
At my easy reply, the sneering mouths faltered for a beat.
Without waiting on their reactions, I unbuckled the sword at my waist and tossed it to the ground.
Clang!
The screech of steel striking the earth rang across the training ground. Every bewildered eye was now fixed on me — on the incomprehensible act of casting aside one's own weapon.
I called out to them, bold and clear.
"Then, anyone at all — the first student who'd like to become one with the floor, step forward."