Academy's Extra (3)
I left my spot and headed not to the training ground, but to the nearby restroom.
"Urk—!"
The moment I reached the toilet, I vomited up everything inside me. The heaving wouldn't stop, pouring out endlessly.
"Huff... huff..."
Liquid I couldn't quite expel trickled down from the corners of my mouth. But I didn't wipe it off—instead, I just leaned against the wall as is.
"Fucking piece-of-shit body."
After pouring all my strength into controlling it, my body went completely limp. I didn't even have the energy to twitch a finger.
I spat out a short curse and steadied my breathing. I had no idea why this was happening, but I knew the reason.
In possession stories, the protagonist usually starts by erasing the original owner's memories upon possession. But even if the mind is gone, the body remembers—and those ingrained memories don't vanish in the process. A good example is scenes where the possessor is thrown into a new world but adapts quickly. It's because the body, unfamiliar or not, remembers and adjusts.
And the emotions I felt when facing Ariel Tianis were etched into this body, causing all this mess.
But honestly, it would fade in a few days. The body would eventually conform to its new soul since the original owner was gone.
Exceptions exist, though. If negative emotions like grudges or hatred are mixed in, they don't fade easily and trigger even stronger reactions. That's my current state.
"And it's not just that..."
Besides the princess, I could guess a few others who'd provoke this response. My little brother came to mind first.
Of course, the solution is simple: release those pent-up emotions. That would free me completely, giving me full control of this body.
But fixing it right away was impossible, so I'd have to manually suppress the reactions every time I encountered one of those hated figures. Luckily, my mental fortitude was strong enough to handle it easily.
I tidied up around me and hauled myself to my feet. Then, the moment I glanced at the clock pointing to 9:06...
"...I'm screwed."
My mind went blank. I'd planned to live without issues, but on the first day, I was late.
"Just don't dock points...!"
Praying the professor had some leniency, I bolted toward the training ground.
By the time I arrived, the professor had already finished roll call. And nothing drew his attention like I did.
"Skipped the first lecture, now late... quite the improvement."
His words made my head throb. This professor, Mailon, was famous for generous grading. But this idiot had ruined that relationship.
"Attendance points deducted. Stand in the back."
The penalty for tardiness was steep. I sighed and took my place at the end of the line.
The professor continued. "As I said, we're starting ranking matches today. Opponents are as announced, and today's results determine next week's pairings. Grades will be based on midterms and finals rankings. Any questions?"
No one spoke up—it was a repeat from last week. Of course, it was all new to me.
"Hmm, what to do with you..."
Our eyes met.
"No opponent, and it's too late to assign one now..."
Professor Mailon pondered my situation.
"Alright, you'll spar me one-on-one, and I'll evaluate you directly. Any complaints?"
"...None, sir."
Was this good or bad? Tch, shoulda attended the lecture. Rejection seemed unlikely, so I accepted for now.
And from beside me came snickering. With that, things settled, and the ranking matches began.
"We'll start the spars. First up..."
At the professor's call, two students stepped forward, took positions at the center with distance between them, and assumed ready stances. Ting— The moment he flicked the coin, they charged.
The match ended quickly. The professor would then point out strengths and weaknesses, and students would use that feedback to improve. Martial arts were ultimately physical endeavors. Unlike theory-heavy departments, the Knight Department emphasized spars and real combat to build experience.
'Hmm...'
With nothing else to do, I found myself absorbed in the matches.
"Haat—!"
A sword slashed fiercely. The spear user parried using the weapon's reach advantage and countered with a thrust. Wounds opened, blood scattered.
Tak! The swordsman backed off to catch his breath, but the spearman didn't miss the gap and charged. A mana-infused strike. Kwang! Something shattered.
As matches progressed, they grew intense enough to hardly qualify as "spars." The training ground's healing magic fixed major injuries, so students fought without hesitation. The air filled with heated fervor.
Focus sharpened for top-rank matches.
'Yawwwn~'
Unrelatedly, I yawned. The clanging metal hurt my ears, and even their best techniques left me unimpressed. Passion and spirit filled the air, but it barely stimulated me.
'What's the point of watching kids at this level.'
Considering age and talent, they fought well enough. Especially the protagonist, Ariel the princess, who had lead-role talent worthy of her future title as Sword Empress. I was tempted to train her myself.
Still, they were just students. Their effort was praiseworthy, but watching was boring for me.
Thus, the 1st and 2nd place matches ended. Ranking match winner: Ariel Tianis, last year's top graduate.
And with that, the spars' purpose was fulfilled.
"Kyle Arden. You're up."
Called, I stepped to the center without fuss. The professor stood opposite. Weapons: practice longswords. He held the same.
'A Master...'.
Incidentally, only Masters could teach here in the Knight Department.
"Ready?"
I felt the sword's weight and recalled Arden swordsmanship. Faintly remembered by the body, I figured I could manage decently.
'Just half-ass it for now.'
To game the grades, I needed to show weakness first. Then, later improvements would score big. Plus, this was just a spar—not a life-or-death fight. No need to go all out.
"Ready, sir."
"Come at me with all you've got."
Professor Mailon beckoned. I gripped my sword and kicked off the ground.
Chaeng! Swords clashed. The professor withdrew and pressed his attack. Target: Kyle's gut. Slow movement, but Kyle had no time to react.
"Guhk—!"
Pain twisted his face. Professor Mailon didn't stop. The blunt blade tip stabbed his belly again.
Kyle groaned and collapsed, clutching his stomach, face pressed to the ground.
"Get up. That wasn't hard enough to keep you down."
Mailon eyed Kyle pitifully. He hadn't infused mana, matching Kyle's level. Yet this reaction?
He'd have scored better charging in rage.
"......"
Kyle clamped his mouth shut, using his sword as a crutch to rise. The students burst into laughter at the amusing sight.
"Just like the rumors. Even last place wouldn't flop like that."
"I could last longer."
"Is he really a bastard child?"
Such chatter mixed with the laughs, refusing to die down. It was a rare scene: getting hit, falling, dirt and wounds on his face. It thrilled students who hated him. The professor's scolding amplified the pleasure.
But Princess Ariel couldn't laugh. Pity? No. She wouldn't care if, when, or how Kyle died. That's why she'd kept him in school—to let karma bury him.
Her glances at the scoundrel had another reason.
Royal blood awakened special abilities at 13, like divine stigmata. Hers: Sensory Transcendence. It elevated and aided senses, including the five basics, intuition, and sixth sense.
From it, she gained many powers—one being mind reading.
Thus, she knew. No agony, rage, or shame. Emotions anyone else would feel were absent. What she sensed: nothing. He felt zero about this spar.
'That scoundrel...?'
Ariel couldn't believe it. His mind was always dark: envy, jealousy, rage forming shadows. Even post-trial, it brimmed with fury and inferiority instead of remorse.
That's who he was. Yet now, this emptiness?
'Nothing's changed...'
Mannerisms, speech, habits, aura—all identical. But her most trusted sense said: this man was Kyle, yet not Kyle.
Today's talk proved it. He'd never spoken to her without his fake mask. And that yawn betraying boredom throughout?
'Should've read his mind once...'
Mind reading drained stamina; she rarely used it. It'd just sour her mood anyway.
Wondering what happened, Ariel pondered deeply. Reaching one conclusion:
'Did the trial shock him that much?'
She didn't believe in sudden reform. Long-ingrained nature didn't change on a whim. Absurd—unless soul-swapped or brain-damaged...
People didn't change. That was her conviction from experience.
But... maybe, just maybe. She'd seen him faint mid-trial.
'He might've really changed.'
Whatever weekend thoughts shifted him, the change was real.
Even so.
'Changed or not, it changes nothing.'
His crimes remained. If truly reformed, others would notice and forgive. Ariel refilled mana and focused on the spar.
One-sided, but a Master's moves offered lessons. Soon, it ended. Loser: Kyle Arden, naturally.
And he showed no interest in the defeat.
"Good work."
"Th-thank you... sir..."
I rasped through ragged breaths. As expected, this body hit limits fast. Gaps showed mid-spar, but without stamina, counters failed...
'What a chore.'
Still, I'd shown weakness. Now, just demonstrate growth later.
I caught my breath, loosened muscles, and rested. The training ground's healing magic aided recovery.
"Time's up, so class ends here."
With "see you next week," the professor dismissed us. Students packed weapons and left.
Last out: the princess, staring intensely before departing.
"Did I talk too much...?"
Aimed to create distance, but it drew more attention than planned. Should've chattered vaguely. Better avoid her for a while.
I lay on the now-empty training ground. Schedule done—no morning rush.
"Lunchtime already...?"
My wristwatch neared noon. Two lectures, and it was already lunch.
"What to eat."
I'd brought an apple, but fruit wouldn't fill the energy gap.
"If only I had silver—no, even coppers..."
Student cafeteria menus came to mind. Cheapest: 10-copper academy meal. Original Kyle would've sneered, but I craved it.
"Sigh, no choice. Apples till I earn cash."
Shaking it off, I rose. Then spotted a figure at the entrance: Elraim.
Boring wait, yet she dutifully guarded. Tempted to tease, but no rapport. Instead:
"Elraim. Got any spare coin...?"
She spun and retreated far off. No dice.
A bit miffed, I pulled out the apple and munched. Day's schedule over, but chores remained.
I headed straight for the Student Council Hall.