Someone Fired the Hell Decapitating Sword
The reason Lethe clung so stubbornly to the Imperial Academy was never simply so that he, as a transmigrator, could milk the easy life of academy existence.
There was no better place than this. As a space for the four demon girls he had once saved—the current Demon Kings—to gradually blend into this world, nowhere else came close to the Academy as it stood now.
Those who had already grown older carried clear wariness and hostility toward demons. The same held true for those who had fought long on the battlefield. They had no desire to mix with demonkind.
He understood. After so much blood and so many lives had been exchanged, anyone who could simply laugh about it would have to be mad.
But the Academy students were different. They were still young, and more importantly, far removed from the war.
Influenced by others, they might chant “Demons are bad!” yet none of them had ever actually seen why for themselves.
Some might call them immature, clueless about the ways of the world.
Yet precisely because of that, they could look upon another world, another kind of being, with clearer eyes and form their own judgments. Only they could witness the Demon Kings’ true faces and carry that truth to those around them.
That was exactly why Lethe valued the Academy so highly.
If I want my kids to live well without hearing a single harsh word, they have to mix in properly here.
The four Demon Kings followed him with fierce devotion. For his sake they had even eliminated their fellow Demon Kings.
Anyone who could witness that and still dismiss them was no human being at all. And more than anything, the old affection still remained.
That was why he wanted all the more to soothe the Demon Kings, to let them settle into the Academy—and eventually into the world itself.
The world was already in disarray, destinies tangled beyond repair. If that was the case, then Demon Kings and Heroes getting along just might be possible.
…Yeah. It really might be possible, you know?
He stepped before the students for another lecture—and was met with a sight he could scarcely believe.
Michaela was sitting right beside the Demon Kings. The Hero, and the leader of them no less!
Lethe could not hide his inner astonishment. Demon Kings and a Hero, side by side.
Had his girls managed this? With that peculiar friendliness of theirs, had they somehow grown close to Michaela in such a short time?! This was an incredibly positive picture! Kids, go for it! You can do this!
“Everyone, focus. From this point on, I will teach you about practical combat magic.”
Even as he leapt for joy inside, outwardly he played the stern war hero to perfection.
“Before we begin, there is one question I would like to ask the students. When a battle involving magic breaks out in real combat, whose odds of victory do you believe are higher?”
A hand shot up.
Normally a question like this left everyone glancing around for cues. Silently applauding the student who had stepped forward with courage, Lethe pointed to the raised hand.
“Instructor! Please refrain from using the word ‘person’ and rephrase with a different term! It sounds as though you are implying that only humans of the Empire can be the sole victors!”
“….”
Applause retracted. Shit, now that he looked, it was a damn knife-ear. Hock, spit. He spat inwardly this time.
Knife-ears. Pointy bastards. Tree-huggers who loved the forest so much they spent every day hunting for wood.
During the war they had chased their pride only to have their necks literally sent flying by the demons—complete idiots.
That was what elves were, in Lethe’s mind.
Weren’t they beautiful? Weren’t they fairies? Sure, they were fairies. Every last one of them was a handsome man or a beautiful woman.
But those handsome men and beautiful women needed beautiful hearts as well. If they possessed rotten personalities, no amount of beauty would produce anything but pure nausea. Lethe had learned that lesson with absolute certainty.
Fantasy equals elves, always elves! After getting smacked hard in the back of the head a few times for that assumption, he had sworn them off completely.
And he was far from the only one who found this particular elf displeasing.
“….”
“….”
“….”
“….”
Four pairs of ice-cold eyes locked onto the elf student. Along with a silence so terrifying it asked, Who the hell do you think you are to interrupt that man’s words and offer unsolicited advice?
Then those four pairs of eyes met Lethe’s directly.
Ahjussi. Can I kill him?
Just kill him already, Oraboni.
Master. Please give the order to eliminate that one!
…Should I kill him?
No, kids. Don’t. You mustn’t. Please just hold back a little.
Lethe gave a small shake of his head, and mercifully the meaning reached the Demon Kings.
Once again, the peace of the Academy was preserved by the war hero.
“Ahem. Right. Again. When a battle involving magic breaks out in real combat, which side do you believe has the higher odds of victory?”
This time a different student raised a hand. You’re not about to offer some weird correction too, are you?
“Wouldn’t the side with the greatest amount of mana naturally hold the advantage?”
“The amount of mana one possesses… Hmm. That is not entirely wrong. But it is not the correct answer.”
At Lethe’s reply the student lowered their hand, still wearing a look of incomplete understanding.
They seemed to be the type who considered mana quantity more important than anything else. In cases like this, only eye-level education could truly win their agreement.
“Let’s look at it this way. Think of it not as a magical battle, but as a simple contest of strength. Obviously, what the body needs to move is the various nutrients that come from food. So, if we must draw a comparison, food is essentially the same as mana.”
Nods all around.
“Then, in a contest of strength, is the side that has eaten a great deal of food always at an absolute advantage?”
With that example, at last a few students’ faces lit with realization.
“Of course, someone who has eaten their fill holds an edge over someone fighting on an empty stomach. I won’t deny that. But what matters more is exactly when and how that strength is used.”
Finishing his words, Lethe gave a light snap of his fingers.
A soft crackle rose from his fingertips, and a flame flickered into existence.
“Whoa!”
“As you can see, I generated this fire-element magic with the bare minimum of mana and formula. Conventional magic pursues greater precision, power, and spectacle—but that is not combat magic. Combat magic must be fast. Even if it looks unimpressive, it must be something you can master, something that can force a change in the blink of an eye.”
Snap—
He flicked his fingers again, and the magic vanished in an instant.
Every student, even the Heroes, let out gasps of admiration. A war hero truly was different. To pull that off so effortlessly!
“Heehee!”
Somewhere a strange little laugh rang out, but no one paid it any mind.
They simply assumed someone had been goofing off and chuckled to themselves.
But Lethe was not among them. He had seen it clearly.
Ashu. Don’t laugh like that. Don’t you dare laugh! The madness is leaking out! Hey!
Look at that terrifying expression! A face ready to burst into thunderous applause at any second!
The face of someone who would do anything to pour every cheer in existence onto Lethe!
A Demon King so overwhelmed by how cool he was, so excited she simply could not endure it!
Kids. What are you doing? Stop her! Huh?! Stop her already!
Lethe desperately begged the other Demon Kings beside her for help.
But Marmar had already reached the same state of rapture as Astaroth.
And Sitri… well, she was holding on for now, but her face had flushed so red it looked ready to explode. The moment she moved, she would clearly detonate with a “Master is the absolute best!”
His last hope, El, had already lost it completely and was panting out hot breaths of “Haaah!”
Tap-tap—
Just then, Michaela, seated right beside the Demon Kings, quietly rapped the desk with mana-laced knuckles.
Her face was twisted into a fierce scowl, clearly full of complaints. Yet the action itself was unmistakably one taken out of consideration for Lethe. Only then did the Demon Kings finally snap back to their senses.
…Have they really grown a little closer?
Only a few days ago Michaela had been snarling as if ready to fight the moment she saw the Demon Kings. Lethe remembered that clearly.
Just as the four girls had been unable to escape the fate of becoming Demon Kings, he had believed the Heroes’ fate of opposing those Demon Kings was equally inescapable. For him, this was a genuine surprise.
Just what method had they used to choose a ceasefire over conflict?
As the lecture continued, Lethe called on several students to attempt magic of their own.
He did not want powerful, flashy spells. Faster and more precise was enough. Even something that could serve as momentary support would do.
“…Not bad. Try to make it a little faster.”
“Excellent. Very well done.”
“Tsk. I clearly told you not to be seduced by spectacle.”
If the foundation was solid, everything after that became far easier than expected.
After having the students keep practicing their magic manifestations, Lethe decided the time had come.
“Astaroth.”
The Red Demon King whipped her head up.
“Come forward.”
The moment that name left Lethe’s lips, the students’ reactions split into two broad camps.
Astonishment, admiration, and a touch of fear at hearing him so casually call the name of the “Butcher” who had wiped every last demon from this world for failing to share her ideals—even her own kind.
Or simple confusion as to why he was deliberately singling out a Demon King and summoning her before the class.
“To position!!”
As if the memories of their shared days still burned bright, Astaroth sprang forward with pure delight, even raising one hand high, and took her place right beside Lethe.
“Well? Do you think you can manage something similar to what the students have been doing so far, Student Astaroth?”
What Lethe wanted from Astaroth was clear. As a new student who had entered the Academy, she was to leave an appropriate impression on the others.
Just in case, he had deliberately asked whether she could do something similar, and he even mouthed the words “Go easy” so the students would not notice, ordering her to restrain the magic’s intensity.
“Yes! Ahju… I mean, Instructor! I can do it!”
There was just one thing Lethe had overlooked.
This Red Demon King had still not recovered from her abnormal state. No—being called forward by none other than Lethe himself had only excited her further.
“Uryaaaah!—!”
The words “Go easy” were twisted by that excitement into “Show them!”
And Astaroth was a Demon King who never held back in moments like these.
Fwoosh— Rumble-rumble-rumble!— KRAKOOOOOM!!—
That day, the students witnessed it. The magic barrier painstakingly crafted by the Empire’s finest mages shattering into pieces.
It was the moment a Demon King fired the Hell Decapitating Sword into the sky.