The Class Assignment Exam (1)
To think the teams would end up assembled like this...
I cautiously gauged the tension simmering between Evan and Albert. Unsurprisingly, given what had transpired previously, the bad blood between them was at an absolute peak. Had they crossed paths without me standing between them to buffer the blow, a fistfight might have erupted right on the spot. Even though I wasn't doing a single thing, I had somehow been thrust into the role of the party's mediator.
Evan, at least, seemed to be swallowing his temper purely because I was standing beside him. As for the boy named Albert Lakharr...
Wait, what's with him...?
Why was he acting like that? The mental resonance bleeding off him felt distinctly bizarre.
On the surface, he was the exact same Albert Lakharr I remembered—wearing that familiar, pompous sneer, practically bloated with arrogant pride. Back when we first crossed paths, his face had been twisted with pure disdain, his entire posture dripping with conceited hostility, and his psychic aura fairly reeked of vanity. Yet now, despite bearing the exact same aloof expression and haughty demeanor, the thought waves radiating from him were completely different.
No, more accurately, there were barely any thought waves at all.
Did something happen to him?
A person's thought waves were essentially surface-level consciousness leaking into the surroundings via involuntary mana emissions. At this point in the timeline, either the bitter resentment from the eve of the entrance ceremony should still be festering, or, if he had looked into Evan's background, he would have discovered Evan was getting along splendidly with Stella and me. By all accounts, his mental waves should have been reeking of venomous jealousy directed straight at Evan.
Given Albert's fierce pride in magic, he naturally harbored feelings for Stella—publicly hailed as the hope of the Red Magic Tower and an unmatched prodigy. Seeing an unrefined nobody like Evan casually chumming around with her should have driven him mad with envy. In short, the catalyst that pushed their rivalry off a cliff in the original canon was Evan becoming friends with Stella. And right now, the two of them were indeed friendly, just as I had intended.
Yet far from burning with jealousy, I couldn't sense even the slightest prickle of discomfort from him. It made no sense whatsoever.
Am I just failing to read him...?
That was impossible. For someone's thoughts to slip past my divine perception, they either had to have attained a level of mastery so absurdly transcendent that they could flawlessly conceal their mental aura... or they had to be completely unconscious. Since it obviously wasn't the latter, that meant the former, but...
"Just make sure you don't drag me down, you black-haired mutt."
"Why, you little..."
Yeah, right. As if.
You're telling me this kid grew enough in a matter of days to suppress every stray wisp of mana, hiding his thoughts entirely except when he speaks? Completely absurd. Just looking at how he picked a fight right off the bat, poisoning the atmosphere, proved he hadn't matured mentally in the slightest.
When someone breaks through to a higher realm of mastery, their temperament usually follows suit. Would an expert capable of sealing away their mental aura really get bogged down by petty provocations? It reeked of suspicion. Evan, having been the target of an unprovoked jab, naturally harbored zero affection for Albert, but Albert's case was different. If he had actually attained spiritual maturity, he would have apologized for the incident that day rather than deliberately stoking the flames like this.
What do I do...?
Albert's oddity aside, the more pressing dilemma was whether we could even survive out in the forest while saddled with a party so hostile they might tear into each other at any second. To get placed into Class A, we needed high marks, but how on earth were we supposed to rack up points and survive when the tension was thick enough to choke on?
Even as an ultra-hardcore veteran who had cleared this game countless times, I had zero confidence in this dumpster fire of a lineup.
I want to reroll this team so bad...
Wait, was this my fault? Did things end up like this because I derailed the tutorial storyline? Should I have just let him get suspended?
I'm going crazy here...
Whatever. Class A or not, the first priority was surviving. With our entrance exam scores, we wouldn't end up dumped into the lowest class, but landing in a bottom-tier rank would utterly ruin my schedule for raising the Hero.
I have to make it to Class B at the very least...!
Having locked in my target, I began calculating how to farm the required score. Slaying the command unit was by far the best option, but with this dysfunctional trio, taking one down looked practically impossible. Unlike before, the commander-type we'd be facing was strictly a beast—merely a hostile monster, not a creature of darkness—so my holy power wouldn't deal lethal exorcism damage. In this battle, I was essentially reduced to a pure heal-and-buff dispenser.
In other words, those two would have to do all the heavy lifting in combat, and judging by their stellar synergy right now, cooperating to fell a boss monster was a pipe dream. Our best bet was to avoid infighting, clearly divide our roles, display seamless teamwork to the examiners, and pick off as many standard demonic beasts as possible. That was the ideal plan, at least...
"Now then... begin the exam."
Whether these two knuckleheads would actually follow my script was another story entirely. Sigh...
A wind heralding a new era was sweeping through the Academy. Word had spread like wildfire that both the chosen Hero who drew the legendary Holy Sword and the revered Saint whose deeds had moved the entire Empire had enrolled. Among the myriad rumors was one claiming the Saint personally granted confessions, a murmuring that only accelerated how rapidly her renown echoed across the campus.
The tales surrounding her appointment as the Saint were equally legendary. How she willingly walked the path of penance, sacrificing her own life to rescue humble adventurers despite being merely an initiate; or how she ventured into the dreaded Demonic Realm—a frozen hell everyone else shunned—escorted by just a single holy knight, saving countless souls. It was even said that very holy knight was an adventurer she had once given her life to save.
A benevolent holy maiden who devoted herself to the world despite her sightless eyes and deaf ears—her legend was whispered with awe among adventurers and mercenaries alike. Indeed, one hardly had to look far; ask almost anyone nearby, and they could recount her deeds in full. Evan, too, had been indifferent to such gossip at first, but learned it all the moment he crossed paths with Aria. Even Stella, who professed not to care one whit about the outside world, knew every detail, leaving Evan embarrassed by his own initial ignorance.
Yet... the first emotion Evan felt upon laying eyes on Aria was singular and undeniable.
He could not simply stand by and watch.
Seeing her stand alone against a demon with that petite, disabled frame was something he could never overlook—not just as the chosen Hero, but as a fellow human being. The sight of her throwing herself forward to rescue Stella without a shred of self-preservation had seemed so perilously fragile. No, beyond mere fragility, Evan had felt a chilling mixture of awe and terror.
How... how could someone sacrifice themselves so utterly for a complete stranger, someone who was not even kin? Could he ever bring himself to do the same?
Some might argue that it didn't matter because she couldn't die anyway. But anyone who witnessed Aria's actions—anyone who understood the true nature of a Saint's divine authority—would realize that death would be a far gentler mercy. Merely channeling that power brought unbearable agony, so how could she wield it without the faintest hesitation?
Aria was flesh and blood, just like the rest of them. When her body was torn or broken, she felt the exact same excruciating pain. Yet how could she never falter, fully knowing she would endure wounds that would instantly kill an ordinary person?
It wasn't that Evan failed to comprehend self-sacrifice entirely. Long before he became the Hero, as a mere human who held a sword, his master had taught him the burden and duty that every swordsman must bear. His conviction regarding that duty had never wavered, even after drawing the Holy Sword. As long as he had pulled the blade from its resting place, fulfilling the destiny and duties of the Hero was a vow he intended to keep. Even though subjugating the Demon King still felt like a distant, unfathomable horizon, he had never ceased his relentless training, driven by the sole determination to save the world.
But... she, Aria, was cut from a different cloth.
At first, he assumed she acted purely out of a saintly desire to vanquish the Demon King and bring peace to the realm. But the recent incident had revealed that her resolve operated on a plane far beyond such commonplace ideals. There was something profoundly different about Aria's worldview.
"Aria... you..."
Tearing his gaze away from Albert, Evan looked down at Aria. Seeing her wear that calm, benevolent smile—one that gave away none of her inner thoughts—Evan was seized by an overwhelming tangle of emotions. Although he was the chosen Hero... he could not fathom the depth of the resolve she carried.
What could she have possibly endured to make her go this far? He simply could not understand.