The Entrance Ceremony Cliché
In academy web novels, there is a classic trope known as the entrance ceremony raid. It’s that cliché where, right in the middle of a perfectly normal ceremony, some mysterious intruders or monsters launch a sudden attack, throwing everything into utter chaos, only for the protagonist and his party to save the day. Sure, these days, some novels feature professors staging illusions just to test the students, but I Became the Academy's Scoundrel adheres to tradition with unnecessary rigidity. It doesn't just throw random thugs or monsters at the students; it unleashes a literal demon that toys with humans as if they were mere playthings.
While it was a mess for the protagonist's party to clean up, I brought my sword along just in case. One must always prepare for the worst.
Screeech.
The silver blade slid smoothly from its scabbard. In that instant, the world seemed to grind to a halt, and countless sword paths unfurled before my eyes. Among them was a path that could effortlessly slaughter every single student currently gathered at the academy.
I promptly sheathed the weapon. Unless I wanted to play the villain, I was just an ordinary student who wanted nothing more than to graduate in peace. I had absolutely no desire to become a public enemy, hunted and on the run in a world that was far more filled with dreams and hope than my previous one.
"…Anyway, I wonder if Idrian has run into Miruel yet."
During the entrance ceremony, unable to endure the relentless mockery of the crowd, Idrian was supposed to wander off to the park. There, he would meet Miruel, the future 'Knight of Harvest.' Of course, that grand epithet was a title she wouldn't earn until the mid-point of the story. Right now, she was likely just an ordinary girl with a latent talent for swordsmanship.
Idrian was supposed to recognize her potential, take her under his wing, and train her, kickstarting her rapid growth. If any variable disrupted this meeting, it would be a disaster. She was destined to become Idrian's right-hand partner, a loyal companion, and his lover, walking alongside him through every grueling trial ahead. Losing the connection between Miruel and Idrian was practically equivalent to severing the protagonist's right arm.
"Better to move than to sit here worrying."
Hesitation only breeds delay. Recalling the bitter, blood-soaked lesson I had learned the hard way in my previous life, I set off. My destination was the academy store. It was the stage for Idrian and Miruel's fateful first encounter—and the very spot where the demon would soon manifest.
The store was quiet. Since everyone, from freshmen to seniors, had flocked to watch the entrance ceremony, there were barely five people wandering around. Having plenty of time to spare, I flipped open the textbook I had brought along. If I wanted to graduate properly and make a decent living, I needed to maintain good grades. Time is as precious as gold; wasting it on nervous pacing would only lead to irreversible regret.
"……"
I forced the magic formulas—which refused to make sense no matter how many times I read them—into my skull. No matter how I looked at it, I wasn't cut out for academics. Still, I forced myself to memorize them. No matter how much I hated it, it wasn't something I could just skip. I wondered how much time had passed like that.
"*Pant, pant.*"
A boy shaped like a literal ball stumbled into the store, drenched in sweat. Immediately, cold, biting glares converged on him.
"What the? Why is that absolute scoundrel, Idrian, here?"
"He actually got into the academy with a trash body like that? I guess even Marquis Goldenroad has a soft spot for his own blood."
"He'll probably drop out before the first semester even ends."
"By the way, did you hear he got caught stealing Lady Jelsi's underwear last month? To think the heir of a prestigious marquisate would behave so degenerately... *Tsk, tsk.*"
"And last week, he was screaming in his mansion like he was possessed, causing a massive noise disturbance. I feel so sorry for Marquis Goldenroad."
Amusingly, every single derogatory rumor they whispered was the absolute truth. In this world, a miracle of logic occurred where any absurd, nonsensical tale became factual the moment you attached the name 'Idrian Goldenroad' to it. It really put into perspective just how much of a degenerate the original Idrian Goldenroad had been before the protagonist possessed him. To put it another way, the transmigrated protagonist now had to pay off all of that scoundrel's karma.
Poor bastard.
I offered my silent condolences to Idrian, who was destined to walk a path of thorns. Sitting right next to me, he muttered to himself in a voice so faint I could barely catch it.
"To think I'm exhausted after walking for just a few minutes..."
He gasped for breath, clearly pushed to his absolute limit. Still, I hadn't expected the protagonist to sit right next to me. In that case...
"Aaaah! I'm going to be so late!"
Our directionally challenged country-girl heroine, Miruel, let out a panicked shriek as she sprinted toward the auditorium where the entrance ceremony was being held. The protagonist was half-conscious due to his abysmal physical state, and Miruel was in a frantic rush because she was running late. Their paths were bound to cross. And then...
Miruel tripped over an uneven paving stone. But wait, the trajectory of her fall was a bit off. She was supposed to crash into Idrian, who would break her fall and help her up. Instead, she was hurtling directly toward me as I sat on the bench in front of the store.
"Aaaah!"
That wasn't my scream. It was Miruel's. Her head slammed directly into my chest, and she let out a sharp cry of pain.
"Ouch... That hurts... It feels like I just headbutted a block of solid steel..."
Rubbing her rapidly reddening forehead, Miruel looked up. Tears welled in the corners of her eyes.
Uh, wait. I didn't see this coming.
Instead of colliding with Idrian as she was supposed to, Miruel had veered off-course and crashed into me. Thanks to that, Idrian, who should have been knocked over, was standing perfectly fine and could have just gone on his way... except he didn't. For some reason, the protagonist was staring intently at us. When I looked down at Miruel to see why, the reason became immediately clear. Blood was dripping from her forehead.
What the? She's bleeding just from bumping into my chest?
Idrian pulled two handkerchiefs from his pocket and handed them to Miruel and me.
"You seem to be bleeding quite a bit. Please, use this to wipe it."
"Ah, thank you so much..."
Blushing furiously, Miruel bowed her head and pressed the handkerchief to her forehead to stop the bleeding. I used the other one to dab away the blood that had splattered onto my clothes. The rumors weren't kidding when they said he couldn't bear to see anyone injured. The nickname 'walking first-aid kit' was well-deserved.
As if possessing a magic pocket, Idrian began pulling out bandages, antiseptic, and all sorts of medical supplies from his coat to treat Miruel's wound. But still, could a simple bump really cause that much bleeding? As I studied Miruel with a puzzled expression, my gaze fell upon what I was holding in my hand, and the realization hit me. I was holding my sword.
Ah. My stat boost.
It was the unique perk I had received upon falling into this novel's world. As long as I held a sword—regardless of its type—my stats and swordsmanship proficiency skyrocketed to a level where I could go toe-to-toe with the academy's professors. Just how strong did I get? Well, even Sword Qi capable of slicing through solid steel like tofu couldn't leave a single scratch on my body. I hadn't been hit by anything stronger than that, so I couldn't say for sure where my limit lay. In other words, Miruel had essentially headbutted a substance far harder than steel. A normal person would bleed from tripping onto a stone floor; crashing into my magically reinforced body was bound to split her forehead open. Frankly, she was lucky she hadn't suffered a concussion.
At that exact moment, a surge of demonic energy erupted across the academy grounds. It was the unmistakable signature of a demon, the power of the corrupted. Sensing it through my mana perception, I whipped my head toward the source.
Screeech!
The fabric of space began to tear open. The agonizing, metallic screech made me wince. Before long, a massive, gaping void materialized—a Gate, the demonic rift that spewed monsters into the world. The students nearby had already fled in terror. The only ones left in the vicinity were me, Idrian, and Miruel. And out of the three of us, I had absolutely no intention of joining this fight. This battle belonged to Idrian and Miruel, not me.
While Idrian and Miruel were distracted by the Gate, I quietly slipped away. However, to prepare for any unexpected variables, I made sure to stay close enough to intervene at a moment's notice. If only the Gate had remained dormant. But the needlessly diligent rift fulfilled its grim purpose of slaughtering humans. The portal widened, and a dense, suffocating wave of demonic energy—on an entirely different level from before—poured out. A massive horn protruding from its forehead, crimson skin, and an arrogant gaze that looked down on all creation. It was a high-ranking demon representing one of the four great weapons: the Demon of the Sword, Soword. Or rather, a replica of it had descended upon the mortal realm. The sheer pressure of its demonic energy sent nearby objects flying through the air.
"Aaaah! Help me!"
It was the pot-bellied store owner, who hadn't managed to escape in time. He was the kind soul who always gave me free cream buns, telling me to study hard. I slung the owner over my shoulder and quickly carried him out of the danger zone. Although this replica was incomparably weaker than the original demon, it was still a formidable foe for the current Idrian and Miruel to handle. Looking around, Miruel's face paled with panic.
"Where did everyone go?"
It was only natural for her to panic, seeing how the students who had been there just moments ago had vanished. Idrian, however, seemed accustomed to such crises. He drew the sword at his waist. His eyes burned with the unyielding resolve of a hero who would never back down, no matter the adversity.
Idrian closely observed the demon before him. It possessed a muscular physique that put his own flabby body to shame, radiating the demonic energy of a mid-tier demon. It was an opponent he couldn't possibly defeat alone. But fortunately, he wasn't alone.
"I'll buy us some time! Please, run away!"
Miruel forced her trembling arms to raise her sword. It wasn't that she couldn't sense the overwhelming gap in their power. Yet, she chose to risk her life and stand her ground. She hadn't enrolled in the academy just to run away like a coward. She refused to abandon the weak beside her, nor did she want to flee and leave behind the kind person who had just treated her wound. Though she had heard the whispers calling him a scoundrel, she chose to trust only what she had seen and experienced firsthand. As she steeled herself for death, a voice muffled by layers of fat reached her ears.
"Get a grip. This is a formidable foe that neither of us can face alone."
Idrian was still so obese he looked ready to roll away. Yet, even this state was the result of a grueling week of agonizing effort to shed weight. Initially, he had been so buried in fat that he could barely breathe, nearly dying from suffocation. Compared to those early days, he felt practically weightless now. If he combined his strength with the girl beside him and poured out every drop of the aura he had painstakingly gathered over the past week, they had a fighting chance. The demon, which had been scanning its surroundings like a tourist taking in the sights, locked its gaze onto the two of them. Its grotesque, half-formed face twisted into a sickening grin.
"How convenient. I was just starting to feel a bit peckish."
A sword forged of blood and flesh slid from the demon's palm.
"Human flesh is on the menu today!"
The demon's blade clashed violently with the swords of the two freshmen.