Chapter 155
Chapter 155
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 155
Chapter Title: Puppets in the Academy
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The cadets surrounding me numbered eleven in total, and surprisingly, not a single one was a doll.
'Isn't that unexpected?'
For a doll, the most critical situation to avoid would be sustaining serious injury.
Unless they were an utter eccentric, few people would pay attention to whether someone was breathing properly...
But if shattered skin fell away like porcelain shards, anyone would grow suspicious.
So, dolls probably had certain commands instinctively imprinted in them.
For instance, 'Always avoid situations where you get hurt.'
Crash!
The moment Talis toppled over, two cadets on either side lunged at me simultaneously.
I kicked the table upward from below.
As the food on the table soared into the air, I snatched up empty beer mugs in both hands and smashed them against the heads of the two.
With a shattering clang, both collapsed flat.
'I went easy on them.'
If I'd struck their faces instead of the tops of their heads, their features would have been shredded by the glass shards.
"You little shit!"
A particularly burly guy reached for me. His strikes were quick for his size, but that was all.
I reversed his extended arm, grabbing it, then hurled him toward the rickety table area.
Crash! Being so hefty, he smashed two tables, but since these bastards had started the trouble, it wasn't my problem.
Anyway, they were just a ragtag bunch, so dealing with them was annoying but not difficult.
Eight or nine, something like that. The moment I laid out that many greenhorn cadets...
Shing!
A chilling sound of steel rang out.
One guy who had been lingering unusually far back drew his sword.
"No weapons!"
Glenn cried out in slight panic, but that bastard's eyes were already rolled back halfway.
Whether he'd lost his reason or not, he let out a feral roar as he thrust his blade.
I gathered internal energy into my index finger and flicked it.
Clang...!
"...!"
The cadet dropped his sword, his wrist throbbing with pain. In that gap, I slapped his cheek.
Not with my palm, but the back of my hand.
Crack! The sound and pain would be comparable to a punch. Like the burly one earlier, this guy flew off with excessive flair.
"...I heard the Bednicker runt was a spoiled brat. Was the Iron-Blooded Duke just bluffing?"
A somewhat heavy voice spoke up.
It was the shop owner.
In truth, while handling the other greenhorns, I'd been keeping my attention on this one the whole time.
Not just his age, but the aura he exuded wasn't at a cadet's level.
"You seem too skilled to be wasting away as a tavern keeper."
The man snorted and charged at me. The mana infused in his fist carried an unusually strong, clear momentum.
Refined energy visible even to the naked eye—the mark of an expert.
'Nice.'
I grinned, channeling my own internal energy before throwing a punch.
Boom!
Our fists collided spectacularly in midair.
"...!"
Naturally, unlike swords, clashes of bare fists in empty space were rare.
Unless they were perfectly coordinated from the start, it meant the counterattacker had precisely pierced the attack point, something impossible without superior insight to one's opponent.
"You look down on me?"
As expected, this man had the skill to realize that much.
He growled threateningly and pressed his assault harder.
I easily dodged his attacks while thinking.
He was a man with abundant experience in man-to-man combat.
In an empire that fundamentally scorned unarmed martial arts, someone trained to this level in fisticuffs was uncommon.
As I continued fighting him, various possibilities came to mind.
Relatively young age.
A face and demeanor unfit for a tavern owner.
The stealth in concealing his aura until just now.
And his proficiency in hand-to-hand combat.
Swords were excellent weapons, but their major drawback was inevitably provoking the opponent's wariness.
Thus, those in infiltration or espionage trained with concealable weapons or honed their bare bodies.
"Special Forces?"
"...!"
I'd guessed based on Varter, but the man's breathing hitched slightly.
'Leaking like that.'
It had been a while since I'd had a proper fight, and I wanted to prolong it, but I couldn't ignore such an obvious opening.
I immediately reached out and seized his collar. Even then, he reflexively grabbed my wrist, but his expression hardened the instant he did.
The moment his palm met mine, he'd realized the gap in our levels.
Smack!
I yanked him in by the collar and drove a fist into his gut.
Then I flung him toward the kitchen beyond.
Crash, and silence fell.
I looked at Glenn.
I was curious what reaction he'd show, but his massive hat and wide glasses reaching his cheeks hid his face well.
"You..."
Then, the man I'd thrown into the kitchen groaned as he rose.
He glared at me with bulging eyes.
"If you lay even a finger on him..."
"Shut your trap and bring more tomato beer."
"What...?"
"I only got half a glass. Haven't eaten either. I'm hungry."
"..."
Glenn, who had been silent, finally spoke.
"Marco, do as Ruan says."
"...Understood."
The man called Marco nodded and vanished into the kitchen, though I still felt his gaze.
Meanwhile, I righted the overturned table and brushed off the crumbs from it.
"Your Highness... run..."
Talis's voice came.
"Not thugs after all, but loyalists. So, that classroom stunt was your order too?"
Glenn glanced at me briefly before saying.
"Talis, get out."
"Yes?"
"Now."
"...A-alright."
Talis and the cadets staggered to their feet and left the shop.
Some too impaired to move were dragged out by others, looking just like defeated remnants.
'Of course.'
No matter how depraved noble brats got, they wouldn't have the guts to play thug before imperial blood.
Especially an authoritarian like Talis—they instinctively cowered before greater power.
Glenn spoke.
"Mind if I give you some advice?"
"What?"
"You could beat me half to death here, and there'd be no issue."
I'd thought he'd spout more nonsense, but he continued with a serious face.
"If you're holding back because you fear the imperial family, you don't have to."
"..."
I had no idea if it was bullshit or what.
But I had no intention of hitting Glenn anyway.
Not because I couldn't trust his words, but because that had been my stance from the start.
As I stared silently, he shut his mouth too. Just the faint tremble at his jawline was visible.
On a hunch, I asked.
"You got a taste for getting beaten?"
"N-No way."
"Then why say that crap all of a sudden?"
"..."
With Glenn silent, I pressed on.
"You investigated my background, called all your gang to corner me. Can't even answer a simple question?"
"..."
"Tell me. I may look like this, but I'm good at listening to friends' troubles."
At my words, Glenn burst into laughter.
As if he'd heard a vicious joke.
"Like you said, I did investigate you. That's when I learned your reputation. The Iron-Blooded Duke's sole blemish, the Bednicker family black sheep, trash who received no blessings."
"Sold the family heirloom sword too."
I added lightly.
"...If someone like you beats me senseless and I roll on the floor, no one would see me as imperial blood. The imperial authority would hit rock bottom first."
"Hmm."
"I told you before? I have hundreds of siblings."
"Yeah."
"But officially called princes or princesses? Fewer than ten. So what happened to the rest?"
"Your Highness."
A voice from the kitchen seemed to restrain him, but.
Glenn forced a smile and said.
"Most died or vanished. Don't even know if they're alive."
"..."
"So, those ten who received the [Scarlet] name—what criteria selected them? How did a failure like me become the Fourth Prince?"
Glenn tapped his hat.
"Hair color. Not status, achievements, or talent—just how vivid and intense the color, the higher the score. Like grading livestock at a slaughterhouse."
Pfft hahaha... Glenn roared with laughter.
"This is the reality of this empire's imperial family. A cesspool full of blind old fogeys obsessed with symbolism and madmen deranged by red."
Then the tomato beer arrived.
I asked Marco, who glared murderously.
"No spit in it, right?"
"We don't tamper with food."
"I'll believe you."
I spoke solemnly, then swapped my glass with Glenn's. No protest meant it was true.
I took a few sips of the uniquely flavored tomato beer before saying.
"Now I see."
"...?"
"You're a doll too."
Of course, not literally.
But in my eyes, Glenn lived a life not much different from one.
"What?"
I splashed the remaining tomato beer in his face.
"Your High—!"
Marco startled, then charged me. Unlike before, his fist brimmed with killing intent.
Meaning he swung to kill, but.
I didn't even glance his way as I swung my hand.
Smack!
Marco couldn't react to my backhand, took it to the forehead, and crashed into the wall.
To Glenn, staring wide-eyed, I said.
"If you hate the imperial family so much and loathe your hair color, shave it off. Your sister at the academy dyes hers, but what are you?"
"...That's."
"The Bednicker blood in me annoys me too. Thanks to our esteemed Family Head, the expectations on this name are no joke. But so what."
Honestly, Glenn was so pathetic I wanted to smack the back of his head.
But considering his age, it wasn't quite that pitiful, so I held back.
"Sure, your hatred weighs more than mine. The imperial authority dwarfs the Bednickers'. But is that necessarily bad?"
"What?"
"I decided to use my bloodline. Just the Bednicker name makes mountains of guys grovel, so I can weed out the pathetic ones intimidated by prestige first. It's a top family, so I can borrow money if needed, get help in various ways. More importantly."
I met Glenn's eyes and continued.
"I take no pride in this name. To me, Bednicker is not a brand but a tool. But look at you now."
I clicked my tongue at the prince drenched in tomato beer.
"Hate the imperial family, so you hide your hair with a hat? Hate being called prince, hate the treatment more? You a kid?"
I saw Glenn's fists clench, but I didn't stop berating.
"Remember what you said when I used honorifics before?"
"..."
"'Don't call me that.' That's your true nature. When emotions flare even a bit, it's not a request but an order. Just like with those guys who left or that one sleeping over there."
"..."
"And yet you hate your imperial blood, call the Dark Cult evil... Damn. Thought you had something, but it's just adolescent angst."
"What do you know...!"
To me, Glenn's words sounded like "I have no rebuttal."
I stood as I said.
"You were buying, right? Food and drinks are fine, but the mood sucks. I'm out."
"Wait, stop..."
His half-open mouth shut.
From his look, he'd been about to command "Stop!" or "Sit!"
I snorted and left the shop.
Glenn's piercing gaze burned into my back, but what could he do.
Anyway, I'd spouted a sermon in the heat of the moment...
But the time wasn't entirely wasted.
At least one thing was certain.
Glenn Scarlet was not a cultist.
* * *
Back at the dorms, I tracked down the leaders one by one to share the current situation.
With classes scattered across schedules, by the time we finished, the sun had set.
I led the leaders back to the hideout.
Seren and the female leaders were already there.
Had they used the inner kitchen?
Bread, roasted meat, sausages, and stew sat on the table.
I grabbed a sausage by hand and ate as I asked.
"How'd it go?"
"Out of a hundred, twenty-one were dolls. Some margin for error, but applying this ratio to the entire academy enrollment means about two hundred students are dolls."
"..."
Silence fell.
Sharl spoke up in a fearful tone.
"...Hard to believe what you say, but I saw a non-breathing cadet myself. Denying it would just be escapism."
Her tone suggested she'd accepted the situation. I liked her unflappable demeanor.
Of course, not everyone would react that way.
"W-What? Some event or something? Makes no sense. This is Cartel Academy... Second safest place after the capital, right?"
Karis couldn't accept it.
"Sh-Shouldn't we ask others for help?"
Pam seemed terrified.
"Call the imperial knights or Heros's active heroes..."
"Forgot? This is an island first. The river's not that wide, but there's only one big bridge to the mainland, and the dean monitors it thoroughly."
"Use magic tools then—"
"Communication crystals? Well... I doubt a grand archmage lacks countermeasures for that."
"..."
I continued to the paling Pam.
"Get it together. We learned in training camp. Dark Cult attacks can happen anytime, anywhere. Sure, this mess at the academy is insane... But we joined the training camp to handle unexpected crises like this."
Clapping got the leaders nodding reluctantly, but.
Some irresponsible faces still irked me.
I decided to hammer home reality.
"This is just the testing phase now. We have multiple ways to detect dolls... But they won't stay like this."
"What do you mean?"
"What happens when they make [breathing dolls] or [dolls with real blood and veins under the skin]?"
"What then?"
I shot a pitiful look at the dumbstruck Karis, then continued flatly.
"No one will spot their true nature. And when these dolls graduate? Total disaster. All these students are vetted talents, mostly elite. Fast track to imperial posts in months? Imagine: imperial knights, Heros heroes, noble heirs—all Demon King pawns."
"..."
"Not funny. The empire's top academy becomes a cultist breeding ground."
Only then did the leaders' faces harden.
I'm no pessimist.
If things continue, it'll unfold exactly as I said.
War with the Dark Cult starting within a decade.
A thriving cult, crumbling empire.
The nameless empire's downfall might begin with the doll army born here at the academy.