The Welcoming Party
"So, you're really not coming to the freshman welcoming party?"
"No, I'm actually curious, so I think I'll go. But don't look at me with that shady grin—I have no intention of clinging to freshmen to drag them into the Swordplay Department like you do."
"Ah, you caught me?"
Mor, who had been wearing a sly smirk at the news that I was attending, scratched the back of his head sheepishly.
"Honestly, I didn't think you'd show up. You skipped all the other gatherings, after all."
His words made me look back on the past month. Over the last few weeks, various invitations had piled up, all celebrating our advancement to the second year. I had rejected every single one of them. Back then, the thought of conversing with characters from a novel had felt too awkward.
Of course, things were different now. I no longer saw them as mere fictional characters, but as real people. As for the original novel, I treated its contents as a sort of prophecy.
'If this world truly followed the original plot to the letter, there wouldn't be so many incidents and accidents that were never mentioned in the book.'
For this world to be a carbon copy of the novel, the plot should have unfolded perfectly, but it didn't. Minor incidents kept cropping up, causing unexpected trouble. It was impossible to view this place as just a story anymore. To be honest, I had also hoped deep down that this world was real. After spending a month here, I was absolutely certain: this wasn't some dying delusion, but a completely different reality.
I let out a faint smirk. "That was then, and this is now. I can't keep isolating myself forever."
I wanted a quiet life, not a completely isolated one. I wanted to build moderate relationships with others and live normally. I had no desire to relive my past life, where everyone turned into zombies and left me to die in agonizing solitude.
"Oho, look who's talking. In that case, how about joining the Sword Club? With your skills, I'm sure Professor Carmel would welcome you with open arms."
"No thanks. I've already set my sights on a different club."
Mor's eyes widened in surprise. "Wow. I never imagined a sword-obsessed maniac like you would join anything other than the Sword Club... Are you for real?"
"You're one to talk. Who would ever guess that a guy who spends his time poaching freshmen for the Swordplay Department is actually a member of the Druid Club?"
As I mentioned before, most students in the Swordplay Department belonged to the Sword Club. Yet, the very guy who worked harder than anyone else to recruit freshmen for our department was in the Druid Club. It was a hilarious irony.
"Ahem! Clubs are just a hobby, you know...!"
"For a hobby, you sure spend a lot of time planting saplings in the breeding pens. There's a rumor going around that some green-haired lunatic is sneaking into the C-2 breeding pen control room not to hunt monsters, but to plant trees. Just how often do you do that for rumors to start spreading?"
"Hmph! I just happen to care more about my side gig than my main job."
"And that is exactly why people call you a lunatic."
Cutting the useless chatter short, I got straight to the point. "So, where is this welcoming party being held?"
"The Big Chicken Hof in Sector 11."
I had asked Mor for the location, but in hindsight, I probably didn't even need to.
Flocks of fresh-faced boys and girls, practically radiating the aura of wide-eyed freshmen, were heading in the same direction. Some wore elegant, old-fashioned attire, while others were dressed in crisp, formal suits, all walking with excited steps.
Among the crowd, however, were upperclassmen clad in combat gear and carrying weapons. These were the second- and third-year students who had already experienced a freshman welcoming party. Rather than celebrating, they were preparing for something. I was no exception. I lightly gripped the hilt of the sword resting at my waist.
"Hey! No cutting! Get in line properly!"
A member of the Disciplinary Committee, wearing a yellow armband, barked at a freshman trying to sneak ahead in the queue. All eyes snapped to the culprit, and onlookers clicked their tongues in disapproval.
"Seriously? Cutting in line at a welcoming party?"
"There's never a quiet day at this academy, is there?"
The freshman glared red-faced at the officer who had publicly humiliated them, but the Disciplinary Committee member didn't even spare them a second glance. They couldn't afford to waste their attention on a petty line-cutter.
The reason the Disciplinary Committee had deployed over a hundred members to a mere welcoming party was simple. It was because of a certain club that raided the event every single year like clockwork.
The Occupation Club. The strongest and most notorious organization in the academy. Even the Sword Club, which ranked among the top five student groups, couldn't even compare to them.
Led by superhuman powerhouses on par with the leaders of the Student Council and the Disciplinary Committee, the Occupation Club was a force to be reckoned with. To prevent their raid, the Disciplinary Committee had heavily secured the perimeter of the Big Chicken Hof.
Among the guards was none other than Irelia Leonhart, the Disciplinary Committee President, notoriously known as the "Madwoman." Seeing her there, the second-years and upperclassmen tilted their heads in confusion.
'The Disciplinary Committee President herself is here for a freshman welcoming party?' She was famous for being incredibly heavy-bottomed, rarely moving unless a major crisis threatened the entire academy—such as an attack on the entrance ceremony or the appearance of an irregular monster.
Yet, here she was, personally overseeing security for an annual event. The older students couldn't help but grow tense. 'Just how massive is this raid going to be for the President herself to show up?!' Meanwhile, the freshmen—the actual targets of the impending attack—remained blissfully ignorant, chatting away with bright smiles.
"Whoa, this is a pub?" Despite its humble name, the interior of the Big Chicken Hof was incredibly lavish.
It felt more like a banquet hosted by high nobility. Waiters bustled back and forth, carrying trays of fragrant wine and exquisite dishes that delighted both the eyes and the nose.
As I wandered around the venue, unsure of where to go, a voice called out to me. "Hey! Kanteil! The Swordplay Department is over here!" A familiar mop of green hair caught my eye.
Mor was sitting with several familiar faces I had seen in the lecture halls. While the freshmen were busy playing noble and sipping wine, the Swordplay Department's tables were piled high with draft beer and fried chicken, perfectly fitting the establishment's name.
For context, while the legal age of adulthood in this world was twenty—just like on Earth—any superhuman capable of wielding mana or aura was legally recognized as an adult from the age of fifteen.
"Kanteil, did you see the Disciplinary Committee outside? Even their President is here. It's intense. I guess the rumors about the Occupation Club sharpening their blades for this year are true."
Of course, no matter how reckless the Occupation Club was, they couldn't inflict actual, serious harm on the freshmen. Doing so would give the Disciplinary Committee, the professors, and the Student Council—the true rulers of the academy—every excuse to intervene and crush them.
Even so, the Occupation Club raided the welcoming party for one reason: infamy. Reputation wasn't built solely through good deeds. In fact, infamy often carved itself much deeper into people's minds. Just like how a beloved celebrity who regularly donated to charity could be instantly ruined and blacklisted by a single scandal.
The Occupation Club raided the welcoming party to engrave their name into the minds of the freshmen. By displaying their overwhelming power, they enticed new recruits, demonstrating that they possessed a strength that even the Disciplinary Committee couldn't easily suppress.
Mana users who hungered for greater heights were easily swayed by that temptation. Through this, the Occupation Club expanded its ranks and systematically conquered other clubs during the Club Battles.
'In a way, it's highly efficient. There's no need to walk on eggshells around others. Though, to pull this off, you need an overwhelmingly powerful figure who can fight on equal footing with the Disciplinary Committee President.'
Unfortunately for the average student, the Occupation Club did indeed possess a powerhouse comparable to Irelia. Their Club President. A figure shrouded in absolute mystery, whose identity was unknown to both the Disciplinary Committee and the Student Council.
'By the way, Irelia shouldn't be appearing in the welcoming party episode.' No matter what, the star of this welcoming party was supposed to be Idrian Goldenroad. This was a battle where superhuman-level forces shouldn't be interfering.
"Kanteil, you want to go poach some freshmen too? The Spearmanship Department is already making their move. Oh, wait, is that person behind you looking for you?" Mor asked, glancing past my shoulder.
"No, I'm good. I just came to watch."
Mor and the other Swordplay students were already burning with competitive spirit. In the Martial Arts Faculty, the undisputed rival of the Swordplay Department was the Spearmanship Department. Since ancient times, swordsmen and spearmen had clashed over who reigned supreme, and that rivalry was still alive and well. If Idrian, the former hero, had heard them, he would have scoffed in disdain: 'Of all things to fight over, you're fighting over weapons? You brainless fools.'
"You guys go ahead. I'll watch our seats."
"A shame, but alright. Guys! Kanteil's holding down the fort! Let's go drag every single freshman we can find over here!"
"WHOOOOOOOO!"
A pack of dozens of wild monkeys charged into the bloodless battlefield, eager to pluck fresh sprouts to add to their troop.
With the Swordplay guys gone, the table finally grew quiet. I casually turned my head toward the person sneaking up behind me.
"Eek! You startled me!"
"I don't think someone who was sneaking up on me so suspiciously has the right to say that."
At my blunt remark, her face flushed as pink as her hair. To make matters worse, she began flapping her arms like an embarrassed penguin.
"S-Suspicious?! I was just... I just wanted to thank you properly..."
Despite the wizard robe pulled low over her head, her pink hair and striking beauty couldn't be hidden. Seril Lever—the academy's sole dunce when normal, but the absolute strongest mage among the students when she went out of control—had come to find me.