Grace (1)
Garnet was alone in the training hall, absorbed in drills against the tin knights.
Clang!
"Hah!"
Not a single wasted motion could be found in the way her body flowed through each swing of the sword. Barely a handful of exchanges in, her blade snapped the tin knight's neck clean off.
Crash!
"Whew…"
Only then did Garnet let out her breath and wipe the sweat from her brow. In the corner of the training hall, tin knights already lay heaped in a pile — every one of them broken against her.
They had been built for exactly that purpose, so there was nothing wrong with it. Garnet simply muttered to herself, sounding vaguely disappointed.
"…Should I ask them to raise the output a little?"
The novice-grade tin knights were far too easy for her now. Units tuned to higher output were typically assigned to tougher duties — guarding the main gate, patrolling the campus grounds. Students could have their output adjusted to match their skill, too, so long as their homeroom professor signed off on it.
"…Never mind."
But the moment she belatedly remembered who her homeroom professor was, Garnet just puffed out her cheeks in a pout.
"I'll prove myself properly with results… and then I'll go back."
She intended to score well in the Alheim Practical and demonstrate her ability. Otherwise, she felt she would never be able to shake the fear she harbored toward that man.
"…This is all I need."
Garnet gazed down fondly at the old sword in her hand, as if it were some precious treasure. Its length, its weight — every smallest detail felt like a gift prepared just for her. Never in her dreams had she imagined that a dusty old sword stumbled upon in a back alley could turn out to be such a masterpiece.
"With this sword… I can do it alone."
She still hadn't managed to recruit a single team member, but to Garnet right now, that was a trivial concern.
"Who knows… maybe I could actually aim for first place…"
As she stroked the blade with a gentle hand, Garnet suddenly frowned.
"I'm so thirsty… why do I keep getting so thirsty lately…?"
Even accounting for her punishing training load, she felt like she'd been drinking an unusual amount of water these days. "Have I been practicing too hard…?" The water bottles she'd prepared in advance had long since run dry, and yet the more she drank, the more a burning thirst smoldered in her throat. As if it were yearning for something other than water entirely.
"Haah… I'll have to go get more water again…"
"You're being a huge nuisance, Potts."
Behind her, just as she was narrowing her eyes in irritation, came the voice of an uninvited guest. Three male students swaggered toward her with a loose, insolent gait.
"If you pile up tin knights like this, what are the rest of us supposed to use?"
It was Pas, a first-year of the Swordsmanship Department infamous for his arrogance and love of showing off.
"Look how many you've stacked up. Trying to flaunt something?"
"Guess she wants to show off how great she is."
Despite his gang's taunts, the training hall Garnet stood in was perfectly deserted. Anyone could see they were clearly picking a fight, and her eyes flashed dangerously.
"If you've got no business here, get lost, Pas."
"You're the one who should get lost."
Unfazed by her threat, Pas shrugged his shoulders and sneered.
"This training ground is ours from now on. You've had it all to yourself until now, haven't you? People should know how to yield."
"That's not going to happen. If you want it, try taking it by force."
Even at the sight of her leveled blade, Pas's gang merely snickered.
"Don't you think that's enough bluffing? We all placed in the top ten of the entrance exam, you know. However good you think you are, there's no way you can take all three of us at once—"
"All that tongue-wagging must mean you're not very confident, hm? No wonder you three flock around together without a shred of shame."
Confidence drained instantly from the faces of Pas's gang, replaced by something vicious. They soon surrounded Garnet from three directions, drew their swords, and growled.
"You brought this on yourself. The bloodline of a traitor, daring to… Today we'll fix that insolent attitude of yours."
Pas muttered under his breath, his face twisted with spite. Garnet heaved a deep sigh at the situation — one she'd grown sick of experiencing long ago.
"Get him."
At the signal, the gang charged from all sides. And as Garnet watched them come with a scornful snort, her eyes glinted for an instant.
In a single fluid sequence, she knocked away all three of their swords at once.
"Ugh…!"
"Guhk…!"
Having floored two of the gang with the flat of her blade, Garnet drove a kick into Pas's chest and sent him sprawling to the ground.
"Hiihk…!"
Then, eyes flashing, she pressed a keen edge against his throat.
"W-wait, just a moment…!"
The arrogance of moments ago had vanished utterly from Pas's begging face. And Garnet, somehow, found the sight rather pleasing. So pleasing that she began to understand why Kallen had crushed her so mercilessly back then. Before she knew it, the corners of her mouth had curled into a strangely twisted smile.
Then, all at once, she felt an impulse to go one step further. She wanted to drive the blade into that defenseless throat of Pas's, to watch the fountain of blood erupt as she savored his pain-laced screams.
"H-hiihk…!"
Pas's face went deathly pale as Garnet, her eyes glazing over, pressed the sword in closer and closer.
"I-I'm sorry! I was wrong! Please, please forgive me…!"
"…Huh?"
At last, focus returned to Garnet's eyes. She snapped back to her senses and frowned faintly. However repulsive the thug and his gang were, there were lines that should never be crossed. Reining in the surging impulse, she kicked Pas in the chest and muttered:
"Get lost."
"H-hiihk…!"
Hoisted up by his gang, Pas scrambled desperately to his feet and fled.
"How is she even more vicious than before…"
"And her face looks kinda more alluring somehow, too…"
Even as they scurried away with their tails between their legs, they couldn't resist tossing insults over their shoulders, and Garnet could only shake her head.
"…What was that just now?"
She clenched and unclenched her hand a few times, tilting her head in puzzlement. "Maybe I'm just too tired… should I take a break?" But she quickly waved the thought away and set her face with fresh resolve.
"…No. Every minute and second is precious — what rest? I'll just head straight to the dormitory later and sleep."
Garnet squared her stance at once and began swinging her sword against the tin knights again. A strange, crimson light of yearning flickering in the corners of her eyes.
"…So thirsty…"
As the Alheim Practical drew near, the professors' work grew busier by the day. Gathered in the conference room, they were fully occupied reviewing the team formation sheets submitted by the new students.
"Honestly, do they think they're going on a picnic?" One professor sighed and ranted as he mercilessly slashed underlines down the page. "We told them explicitly to avoid forming parties from within a single department, and they… ugh, honestly…"
The number of parties formed, the intent behind them, and the distribution of their members were all evaluation factors weighed before the practical even began. Once the exam was properly underway, a complex set of additional criteria would come into play — teamwork, the severity of injuries sustained, whether a student withdrew midway, and so on.
That said, taking the practical alone didn't come with only disadvantages. A student who failed to find a party and faced the exam by himself would score low on sociability and teamwork, but his individual performance marks could be assessed relatively generously. The final score would only be tallied after the exam, once every factor had been summed.
"…That much, the students probably understand. What they couldn't possibly imagine is what's waiting for them in the forest."
Blithe, who had been presiding over the professors, spoke up.
"As I mentioned earlier, this year's exam will include an unannounced surprise element."
A characteristically sly smile played at the corners of her mouth.
"A number of teaching assistants, members of the Caliburn Guard, and one of our professors will be disguised as a Demonic Human and deployed into the Alheim Forest."
Professor Blithe continued, hands clasped behind her back, in a smooth, measured tone.
"How the students respond when confronted with unexpected, overwhelming evil before their very eyes — that will be the evaluation criterion. This is an amendment ordered by the Headmistress herself, reflecting requests from both the knightly orders and the Church."
A student who fled without so much as raising a blade would score highly on metacognition — the sound judgment of one's own limits. But questions might be raised about their loyalty to the Empire and to humanity. Conversely, a student who fought to the death might earn high marks for the latter, only to struggle on the former.
"Well, the field prefers the latter temperament, mind you. Skill and experience can be accumulated over time, but a steadfast heart is largely something you're born with."
Even so, fleeing would not automatically incur penalties. After all, it could be a perfectly realistic choice, reached by soberly weighing one's own ability against the circumstances around them.
There was only one scenario in which the new evaluation would spell disaster.
"…When a student kneels before a mighty foe and seeks to embrace its wickedness of their own will."
By now, all of Blithe's usual levity had vanished, and a chill aura radiated from her.
"Filtering out the easy-falling clay from the true stone in advance is also one of the goals of this newly adopted criterion."
She continued in a voice that clipped off at each word.
"Should any student bow their head before a Demonic Human, they will spend the remainder of their enrollment in the penitence chamber, holding special counseling sessions with the priests of the Church of Aten."
"…"
"But of course, I don't believe for a moment our dear students would ever do such a thing!"
As if nothing had happened, Blithe broke into a bright smile and restored the room's atmosphere with her usual frivolous voice.
"Now then — we still have to pick which professor will play the Demonic Human. Who would be good? Hmm? Everyone, share your thoughts."
"My students have already fought me so many times… they'd see through it at a glance…"
"Mine too. Kids these days are sharp as tacks, you know…"
"Ahem…"
To the impeccably dignified professors of Elysion, dressing up as a Demonic Human was a thoroughly distasteful assignment. After a few of them waved their hands in refusal, the eyes of the conference room quickly converged on one figure in the corner.
Because anyone could see that the person sitting there was, by far, the best fit for the role.
"…Me?"
Kallen, who had been half-asleep through the meeting, scrunched up his face at once.
"Hoho, even by my own eye, our Professor Kallen does look the most trustworthy for the part."
"No, really, this is far too sudden—"
Even at the revolted look on Kallen's face, Professor Blithe merely sent a sticky, knowing gaze his way. And Professor Jiya, who had been glancing at Kallen with open distaste the whole time, spat out a curt remark.
"Well, he is the best fit for a Demonic Human in every respect. His looks, and his character…"
"Pfft—"
Jiya, it seemed, had still not forgotten the humiliation of days past. At her barb, light laughter burst from around the table before anyone could stop it. Kallen pulled a sour expression and was about to shake his head with indifferent resignation.
"…Forget it. I'll pass on such a tedious chore—"
"Ah, and I nearly forgot to mention this."
Professor Blithe let out a small gasp as though something had just occurred to her, then added in a subtly coaxing voice.
"The professor who takes on the Demonic Human role will be awarded a token of gratitude in recognition of their labors. Along with… a rather substantial consolation payment."
"I'll do it."
And just like that, as if nothing had ever happened, Kallen's hand shot up.
'Professor Kallen. You simply must restrain yourself this time, do you understand? Just because you're immersed in the Demonic Human role does NOT mean you can go beating the students black and blue like last time. Hmm? Knocking them unconscious is more than enough…'
After the meeting ended, Kallen walked the corridor, chewing over Blithe's admonition with an oddly uneasy look on his face. He had snapped up the offer the moment "substantial consolation payment" left her lips, but only now did it occur to him that it had all felt a little too neatly scripted.
"…Could that old witch be pulling another scheme on me…? Nah, no way…"
"Are you Professor Kallen?"
Behind him, as he grumbled with his brow deeply furrowed, someone suddenly addressed him. He whirled around — and standing before him was a tall, strikingly handsome young man. His polished bearing and fine clothing marked him at a glance as the son of a wealthy house.
Kallen felt an odd flicker of déjà vu at the sight of the man's red hair, and answered warily.
"That I am… though I don't believe I know you?"
"Forgive my discourtesy. My name is Dorian Vitelles."
The man bowed his head courteously once more.
"I have come to offer an apology on behalf of my father, who is currently bedridden."
"An apology…?"
Only at the mention of the name Vitelles did Kallen's gaze shift to the space behind the well-dressed man. And there, discovering who stood waiting, Kallen narrowed his eyes to slits.
"…"
Because there stood the breathtakingly audacious new student of the Magic Department — Judith Vitelles, shuffling her feet with the sullen, downcast face of a condemned criminal.