The Placement Exam (Interlude)
A sworn enemy.
At that heavy utterance, I swallowed nervously.
The Party of Salvation…
Centuries ago, while the world descended into absolute chaos under the ravages of the Calamity War, the sudden invasion of the Demon King’s army had brought humanity helpless to the brink of utter extinction. It was then, like an impossible miracle, that the Hero Party appeared.
Though they ultimately failed to destroy the Demon King, they succeeded in sealing the beast away, shutting the colossal gates leading into the Demon Realm and wrenching the continent from the jaws of annihilation. Thus, history remembered them as the Party of Salvation. Even now, towering statues dedicated in their honor stood within the heart of the Empire, a testament to the near-mythic reverence they held in the public eye.
And right now…
“That damn pile of dry bones…”
The pink-haired girl sitting right in front of me, Arhen Isis, was the living master of one of those very statues.
“It sounds a bit strange coming from me, but… it really feels surreal,” I murmured.
“What does?”
“Just… thinking that the legendary Archmage who once stood as a pillar of the ancient Hero Party is right here before my eyes… You know, in the flesh.”
At my words, Master Arhen’s face twisted into an unsightly scowl.
Wait a minute.
Did I just step on a massive landmine?
“Are you… teasing me about my age right now, brat?”
Gasp.
“Wh-What?! N-No! Absolutely not! Never!”
How could she even think that?! I shook my head wildly from side to side with an expression of pure, unadulterated injustice.
Master Arhen glared daggers at me for a few excruciating heartbeats, but soon the hostility melted from her features, replaced by a mischievous snicker. “Relax, I was only pulling your leg.”
“Ah… Whew…”
My heart nearly leapt straight out of my chest.
More than that, I had no idea she was the kind of person who enjoyed playing pranks like this. Then again, judging by her dark glare a second ago, she seemed genuinely irritated…
— By the way, where did that grand old matron act of yours go?
“…What?” Master Arhen stiffened.
“Gr-Grand…”
A grand matron?
Now that I thought about it, her way of speaking did seem completely different from before.
— Weren’t you stubborn about forcing that stiff, archaic tone just to look mature in front of the kids?
“Ah…”
Only then did she seem to realize she had completely dropped her dignified facade. Her eyes went wide for a split second before she whipped her head away, deliberately avoiding eye contact.
What was that about?
“Still, calling me an old hag is crossing the line, don’t you think…?”
— Well, you are one.
“You want me to end you right here, you damn nuisance?! I’ll seal your mouth shut permanently!”
— …
Was this truly the kind of bickering exchanged between heroes of the legendary Party of Salvation? My head spun with profound confusion.
“Anyway… back to the main point,” Arhen cleared her throat, regaining her composure. “As you probably gathered the moment I called it a sack of bones, the culprit is an undead. And not just any undead—a Lich, the very apex of the undead race.”
“A Lich…”
From what I recalled, becoming a Lich generally required a mortal to possess vast quantities of mana on par with an Archmage in their lifetime. Wait a second…
“Don’t tell me… an executive of the Demon King’s army used to be human?”
“Indeed. I don’t know the full details, but she was likely a human from an era even older than mine. Nowadays, she’s nothing more than a wretched bag of bones who claims she’s forgotten every scrap of her mortal memories, barking on about being the Lord of Nastron and blabbering about how pathetic lower humans are.”
“Ah…”
That was vicious.
Coming from a girl with sweet pink hair and a petite, doll-like appearance, the stream of vulgar curses was astonishingly coarse. She must have truly despised that entity from the bottom of her soul.
“Regardless, now that I know that thing was behind this, my duty as the head of this institution is clear.” Arhen smirked, though the smile lacked any real warmth.
“Um… what do you intend to do going forward?” An uneasy feeling churned in my stomach.
“Well, this isn’t really something I ought to discuss with an ordinary student… but since you are the current generation’s Hero, it’s best you know. First, as the Academy’s headmaster, I plan to issue a formal apology and announce this incident to the world.”
“What?!” I blurted out. Wait, wasn’t that the exact opposite of what Aria wanted?!
“It can’t be helped. Rumors regarding the ambush have already spread across the entire student body. Trying to conceal it at this point would be entirely pointless.”
“That’s…”
I couldn't refute her. Walking down the corridors, every classroom was already buzzing with whispers about the sudden demonic incursion.
“Moreover… I carry a profound guilt toward the current Saint. Allowing our defenses to be breached falls squarely on my shoulders. I must bear the responsibility.”
Holding her accountable for an unforeseen strike by an ancient calamity felt far too harsh. Yet Master Arhen spoke as if taking full blame were the only natural course of action.
I understood her rationale. Even if a demonic ambush was akin to a sudden natural disaster, failing to anticipate that catastrophe remained the fault of those charged with continental defense.
“Of course, there will be widespread panic… but more than anything, uniting our strength matters most right now.”
“Yes…”
“Do not fret too much, child. Regular lectures will resume as scheduled.” Popping the candy she had been twirling between her fingers into her mouth, Arhen flashed a faint grin, stepped forward, and reached out to pat my head. Because of the vast height difference, she had to stand on the tips of her toes to reach me—a comical sight under normal circumstances, yet not a single laugh could surface in my throat.
“You fought well. I am truly sorry for putting you through such an ordeal.”
As she murmured those gentle words, her youthful countenance appeared utterly heartbroken.
“Haaah…”
Inside the quiet infirmary, where soft sunlight spilled through the tall windowpanes, a young woman with hair the deep azure of a calm ocean stood gazing down at the bed, letting out a heavy sigh.
Another… demonic attack…
What on earth were the esteemed faculty members doing to allow the demons to infiltrate the grounds twice in such quick succession? It wasn't merely that they had been overwhelmed; they hadn't even realized the barrier was breached until it was too late. In that light, their negligence was unforgivable.
Unlike the chaotic entrance ceremony, this catastrophe unfolded right in the middle of an official examination. It was impossible to keep quiet. Naturally, rampant rumors of the demonic strike had already saturated every corner of the Academy.
Though the Holy Kingdom had formally declared that the ancient war against the demons was destined to resume, modern humans had long treated such proclamations as distant fairy tales. The common belief was that peace would endure undisturbed—and that complacency had invited this catastrophe.
This incident during the placement exam was bound to strike a mortal blow to the Academy’s prestige. Even through mere hushed whispers overheard in the hallways, Stella knew many voices were fiercely demanding that Headmaster Arhen resign to take accountability.
Then there was the matter of the heir to the Lakhar family, who had suffered profound psychological trauma. While the precise details remained shrouded in mystery, he had been found completely shattered mentally. Even now, plagued by ceaseless nightmares, every trace of his usual pompous arrogance had vanished without a trace.
Stella didn't know the young noble well, but she didn't find his breakdown impossible to fathom. After all, she had stared into a similar abyss of absolute horror not so long ago.
“Just what happened in there…?” she whispered softly.
Naturally, no outsider knew what had truly transpired inside that dark chamber. The surveillance magic cast on the students had long been disabled, and the clash had taken place not in the open rainforest, but deep within the boss room of an artificial dungeon. The only thing she could reasonably deduce was that this foolish, gentle Saint had once again faced a demonic horror all on her own.
No one could offer a clear explanation. Albert could do nothing except babble frantic apologies to Aria, incapable of stringing together a coherent account of the fight. The only peculiar detail was the violent, hysterical fits he suffered whenever he caught sight of his own right hand—prompting observers to guess that he had lost the limb in the fray, only for Aria to miraculously restore it.
After all, when search parties finally located Aria, her own arm was missing.
Despite surviving another demonic onslaught, the simple fact that no one had died was an immense blessing.
“Aria…”
How did Aria view her? To the Saint, Stella might simply be one ordinary classmate among many. But to Stella, Aria was different. She was her very first real friend, a person who felt like precious family.
No… calling her family might be presumptuous. That was merely Stella’s selfish wish; she had no way of knowing how deep Aria’s feelings ran in return.
“Why do you push yourself to such extremes…?”
With a somber gaze, Stella reached out and gently brushed the golden bangs away from Aria’s pale forehead. Utterly oblivious to the agonizing worry consuming those around her, the Saint slept on, her features serene and entirely at peace. When would this girl ever learn to care for herself?
At first, Stella hadn't cared in the slightest about holy titles or divine maidens. Yet in the span of a single day, Aria had treated her with a warmth and gentleness she had never known. Desperate to repay the Saint who had shielded her at the cost of her own blood, Stella had poured her very soul back into magical research.
To the rest of the world, Aria’s sacred power looked like a peerless divine miracle. But to Stella, it looked like nothing less than an atrocious curse.
Every time she healed another living soul, she took their mortal agony and physical trauma onto her own frail flesh. She was denied even the solace of an easy death. A young girl saddled by the gods with a sacred duty she never asked for, forced to endure endless torment to slay the Demon King—that was the reality of Aria’s existence.
People looked at her and showered her with hollow adoration—the Embodiment of the Goddess, the Saint of Devotion, the Maiden of Miracles. To Stella, those worshipful titles felt utterly sickening. It looked like nothing more than cowards foisting the horrors of the world entirely onto a young girl’s shoulders so they wouldn't have to face the storm themselves.
Even burdened under that crushing, suffocating destiny, Aria had maintained her pure, gentle smile. And now, after saving yet another life at the expense of her own, she had remained unconscious for three agonizing days.
Could this world truly call this justice?
…
If she could, she wanted to scream at the gods themselves. She wanted to demand why they forced Aria through such unbearable agony, why of all the souls under heaven, it had to be her.
Yet if the Demon King was a primordial calamity visited upon all living things, then mortals had no choice but to overcome it. Whatever the divine beings were plotting, they must have chosen Aria for a reason.
Which meant…
A spell that can spare Aria from feeling pain…
To stand by Aria’s side, to fight alongside her and banish the Demon King once and for all, only one solitary path remained open to her.
I have no choice… but to become an Archmage.
And to achieve that pinnacle, she had to forge an original magic formula entirely her own. For Stella, that was the only salvation left to pursue.