Special Class Civil War
The special class routine feels worlds apart from regular classes. Everyone just does their own thing. They're all the types who'll stir up trouble even if left alone, so no one bothers them. That's the academy's policy.
"Even so, this is too much!"
Freedom doesn't mean you can disturb others, though. The special class has its own rules.
When I sauntered in late, basking in my leisurely tardiness, the room was already a madhouse. Eldrin the alchemist had spilled a corrosive acidic potion on the novel Ranta was reading. Thanks to that, the whole book was gone, and Eldrin was digging in her ear, claiming it was for research.
'They said the special class is full of geniuses... but this is just kid stuff.'
"What are you gonna do about my book? It was a first edition! Do you even get how valuable it is?"
"How much?"
"You can't buy another one!"
Ranta snapped at Eldrin. Meanwhile, Shariel was timidly trying to break it up.
"P-please calm down... Fighting isn't good, I think... I-I mean, that's just my opinion..."
Of course, no one paid any attention to her weak voice.
"I've got plenty of money. Tons from selling potions. Nothing's irreplaceable with cash."
"You don't get it. It's a first edition I tracked down myself. No more are being printed!"
"Come on, let's stop this."
I stepped between them, if only out of pity for poor Shariel caught in the middle. Ranta glared at me.
"Who the hell are you?"
"Celestia, at your service."
"Like I care? Move."
"Of course."
But that didn't mean I was backing down. I clapped my palms twice to trigger the classroom sensors.
Clap—clap—
Just like Edn had done, the desks and chairs stuck to the walls, the room's walls stretched out, expanding the space. I grabbed wooden swords from the cabinet and set them in front of the two.
"What the—?"
"You seemed stuck on how to settle this, so I thought I'd lend a hand..."
"F-fighting isn't good..."
It wasn't for the dopamine rush. And I definitely never thought petty squabbles were the most fun. Yeah... not at all. I just wanted to help them out.
"I'll referee the duel. Winner gets whatever the loser owes. Sound fair?"
"Ha, how do you replace a first edition?"
"Perfect. Ranta, your demand is restoring the first edition. Eldrin, what's yours?"
"Don't mess with my experiments."
"Hold up. I never messed with your experiments. I'm the innocent victim here!"
"Save it for after you win. Whether you're a victim or not doesn't matter if you lose."
"Hey, this is unfair. My book's melted, and I only get compensated if I win?"
"Jealous?"
"What?"
"Duel me first, then her? That'd just hurt you more..."
I quietly drew the Black Demon Sword. Ranta let out a disbelieving scoff, then nodded.
"Fine. I win, it's over. Whatever."
It absolutely wasn't because I wanted to watch their duel ASAP by stacking the deck. No... definitely not. Just helping out, that's all.
Anyway.
"Make it fun and flashy, yeah? I'll toss the wooden swords—when they hit the floor, go. Get ready..."
"Wait. This is unfair to me too."
Now Eldrin complained.
"What's the issue now?"
"I'm not built for combat. I'm an alchemist."
"And? Why blame others for being weak?"
"I'm not dueling."
She declared she'd sit it out. Damn... no dopamine, then... I mean, nothing gets solved. I had no choice but to draw the Black Demon Sword.
Shing—
"What're you doing?"
"You melted someone else's book—you gotta take the risk. Right, Ranta?"
"First sensible thing you've said..."
"Looks like it. So, what now?"
"Sorry, but I'll compensate with money. No duel."
"Scared?"
"What?"
"If you're scared, can't be helped."
I unleashed my ultimate move: "Chicken?" The effect was immediate.
"Chicken? No. I was skipping the duel 'cause it'd be too dangerous for me. Your hand or some body part could melt like that book. But chicken? Fine, let's do it."
She grumbled as she gathered her potions. Swordsmen wield swords, mages wield mana—like that, alchemists wield potions. I'd roped them both in, ignored Shariel's worries, and tossed the wooden swords into the air.
Thud—
"Fine. I'll kill you!"
"No regrets!"
The swords hit the floor. The duel began, and Ranta moved first. What was his talent? Curious, I watched him closely. He bit his own finger out of nowhere.
'Huh...?'
Whoosh—!
His blood burst out, turning into black mist that spread everywhere.
"Cough...! Cough...!"
"Hah, black magic, huh?"
Eldrin backed away from the smoke, pulling out a potion. Ranta grabbed chemicals, stuffed them in a vial, spat in it. It bubbled like a chemical reaction.
'Intriguing...'
I closed my eyes, analyzing Ranta's moves. That black mist... cooler than I thought. Wish I could learn it...
"What can a potion do?"
From the mist, Ranta drew a dagger and slashed his palm. The mist coalesced into dozens of black daggers flying at Eldrin.
Almost simultaneously, Eldrin smashed a potion on the floor.
Fwoosh—!
A gale blew, twisting the daggers' paths away from her. Then she hurled another potion. Unbelievably fast for an alchemist—it exploded near Ranta.
Boom—!
But Ranta shrouded himself in black mist like a shield, blocking it.
"P-please stop fighting..."
Shariel trembled, watching them. No one listened.
"Hah, trying to beat me with that? Alchemist trash..."
"What'd you call me?"
Bang—! Sizzle—! Psssh—!
Tensions boiled over. Dozens of potions flew; dozens of black spells countered. The fight seemed evenly matched overall. But Eldrin's potions were running low, while Ranta had mana to spare. Her potion-fueled defense was slowly crumbling.
But then...
"I said STOP FIGHTING!"
Crackle—!
Shariel yelled. A massive current surged from her feet, zapping Ranta and Eldrin—who weren't ready—straight to the floor. I reacted just in time, leaping into the air and dodging unscathed.
"Gasp...! S-sorry...!"
Shariel rushed to the fallen pair too late. Both were out cold.
Shariel Dransua. The only special class member in the protagonist Glan Braden's group. Before she snaps, she never uses magic—earning her the nickname "Fake Special Class" in the original story. Plenty wondered why she was even there. She does nothing. Until she gets mad, she's no different from any ordinary person who can't cast spells. Not super smart, not creative, no sword skills. But once anger kicks in? Total reversal. Just a tiny grudge from being ignored, and she causes this disaster.
"What now...?"
"Hmm... I'd love to just dump them nearby..."
I eyed the downed Eldrin and Ranta. Felt wrong to leave them here.
"Infirmary dump it is."
Trash goes in the bin—like injured folks in the infirmary. Silently, I slung Ranta over one shoulder.
"You'll help, right?"
"M-me...?"
"You caused this mess."
"A-ah... yeah... true..."
Shariel grabbed Eldrin's feet and started dragging with grunts. Oh lord. Dragging like that...
"Great idea."
I dropped Ranta. Dragging like that would be fun for sure. I like fun.
"Race to the infirmary first?"
"Huh...? That's kinda..."
"Go!"
I dragged Ranta full speed toward the infirmary. Midway, a bump woke him briefly, but he passed out again soon. Got them safely dumped.