The Half-Dragon Dean's Address
A woman with fiery red hair like flickering flames and brilliant golden eyes. Her pointed ears like an elf's and the two small horns protruding from her head made it clear she wasn't human. Ashbel Dryg, head of the red faction.
Someone once said that if you debated who was the strongest swordsman on the continent, countless candidates would come up. But if you asked who was the strongest mage, everyone would unhesitatingly pick her.
Dean of Lumiere Academy and one of the five dukes propping up the empire. In a world where dragons had become a cheap punchline, she was the last remaining half-dragon—the final dragon.
That was the person who ascended the podium. A being who could turn every cadet here into ash with a single gesture, even if they all rushed her at once.
"That's Ashbel Dryg, one of the five dukes…."
"Talk about an understatement. Even the rumors don't do her beauty justice."
The cadets here seemed oblivious to all that. True to cliché romance fantasy tropes, they were solely obsessed with critiquing the dean's looks.
They chattered on about her appearance, but I knew her true nature. She looked like a stunning beauty in her twenties, but in reality, she was an old hen. True to her long-lived heritage, she was over 500 years old. With the Astoria Empire's reign hitting around 500 years, calling her a living witness to imperial history wasn't an exaggeration.
Anyway, as she took the stage, waves of mana rippled out from her, centered on her presence. And then, as she swept her gaze over the crowd—
Huh? Her eyes lingered on me for a split second as they passed by. It was brief, but I definitely felt it.
Did our eyes meet…?
Probably just my imagination. Anyway, after scanning everyone once, the old… er, dean exhaled and began her speech. She wasn't shouting, but her voice felt vividly clear, like it was right in my ear. No mic, yet it reached even the farthest seats—must've been some magical amplification.
"You all now stand as equal students in a place of fair opportunity and strict evaluation. Your family, origins, and past hold no meaning here at Lumiere."
A subtle murmur rippled through the cadets at those words. Displeasure flickered on the nobles' faces, faint hope on the commoners'.
Yeah, figures. The dean herself had declared it.
At the academy, outside status didn't matter—everything was equal. It was the academy's rule, designed to foster competition for nobles' growth and hope for commoners' fresh starts.
But as I'd said before, that was just lip service. The moment you took it seriously and bantered casually with a noble, you'd be fucked.
Academy life lasted four years. Even if you scraped by somehow during that time, once it ended, you lost the academy's protection. And after graduation, you'd work somewhere in the empire—beefing with nobles then? Good luck.
If you wanted to live out your days as an academy cadet, be my guest—no one's stopping you.
The dean's boring speech showed no sign of ending. In the game, there'd been a skip button; here, nothing. I was going nuts from the tedium.
"Donnesia."
"What, Ian?"
So, I decided to shoot the shit with Donnesia. The dean's speech was irrelevant anyway—just a sleep aid. Better to spend the time tipping her off to hidden pieces and mechanics that could make her stronger.
We were in different departments, so unless general studies overlapped, I wouldn't be around. Sure, she was stronger than me now, but there were still hidden pieces in the magic department route to boost her further.
Would've been nice to tell Isabella too, but her growling had kept her seated away from us—such a shame.
The entrance ceremony ended after the top freshman's oath. As expected, Angelica was the one on stage. No one else could've bumped Donnesia to second and claimed first.
Bet that stung. The empire's academy top freshman spot going not to an imperial, but to someone from the Kingdom of Karl, of all places.
Karl Kingdom and the Astoria Empire were rivals in a WWE-style blood feud. The emperor's gut must be burning. Losing the top title to Karl, no less.
Karl was probably popping champagne. Hell yeah—fuck the rotten imperial family. If they made others shed blood tears, they deserved some of their own.
"This concludes the entrance ceremony. Please proceed to the classrooms indicated for your chosen departments."
With the dean's words, the Great Hall's lights flickered back on. Students buzzed and dispersed like an ebbing tide.
"Guess we part ways here, Ian."
"Yeah. Make sure you remember everything I told you."
The hidden pieces I'd shared with Donnesia. If she grabbed them all, she'd grow even stronger than now. With four protagonists added, she didn't need to, but still—one more powerhouse made my life easier. Her growth was my blessing.
So grow big and strong…!
"You're really clueless…."
"What'd you say?"
"Nothing, really…."
Donnesia muttered something incomprehensible, sighed, bowed her head to me, and vanished into the crowd.
First class at 9 a.m., huh. Even after I signed up, what a pain in the ass.
I watched her retreating figure, steeling myself to head to that godforsaken 9 a.m. classroom—but…
Wait.
Something clicked, halting my steps. I glanced toward where Donnesia had gone.
Without her bodyguard—me—guys and ladies swarmed her, trying to chat her up.
Did I ever actually tell Donnesia about those hidden pieces…?
When I'd mentioned them, she'd nodded like she got it—but just nodded, nothing more. No "How do you know?" or anything. Like she was dead certain I knew, accepting it as natural.
I'd thought she was half-listening, so I checked with Insight: it said she was convinced. So I'd let it slide.
No way, right…?
Nah. When we first met after her Dreamland return, she'd treated me as plain old Ian de Logres. Her anger at Isabella? Just family loyalty.
Besides, if she'd realized I was the guy from Dreamland, would she have jumped in so fiercely? She'd have ghosted me or chewed me out. She had every reason to resent me—broken promise, ditched her alone.
Her treating me like family now was probably just carryover from the original Ian's good rapport. Not me.
Nah. I shook my head.
"Lord Ian?"
A familiar bright voice turned me around—not a giant loaf of bread, but golden blonde hair. Iris approached with her sparkling capybara eyes.
"Ah, Lady Iris."
"What are you doing there?"
"Just thinking for a moment."
Classic capybara. My face must look savage right now per the pattern, yet she ignored my Heavenly Demon Lord's Aura and came right up.
Where's her sidekick, though?
"Where's Lady Haede?"
"Ede had something to do and went ahead."
Got it.
"Do you have a 9 a.m. class too, Lord Ian?"
"Yes. 'Basics and Understanding of Swordsmanship,' I think…."
"Oh! I'm in that one too! Great!"
Iris clapped delightedly. What was she, a retriever? Her vibe nearly made me chuckle.
"So, we should head out now…."
"Wanna go together?"
She invited me with those signature harmless eyes.
…Huh? Weird.
"Don't you have someone to go with?"
"You don't either, Lord Ian!"
"That's not what I meant."
Why tell me that? With her affinity, she'd have snagged a few male leads at the ball, right? Angelica and Isabella were tied to the 2nd Prince; Donnesia grabbed none. That ball was basically Iris's playground.
"Didn't Prince Charles or Asdel from the Holy Kingdom ask you to go together?"
"Oh! How'd you know?"
Not "oh!"—why didn't you go with them?
"Then go with them, why…."
"Well…."
Iris explained: Karl's 1st Prince Charles, Holy Kingdom's Asdel, and Getia Tower Kingdom's 3rd Prince Arus had all invited her. But their rivalry heated up so fast—one wrong word and it'd explode. So Iris bailed to go alone.
Arus was magic department anyway, so out. In the game, you'd pick one option and done. But reality? Iris's personality made choosing impossible—it was her choice, not the player's.
Just go with all of them? Nah, too much growling; no chance to suggest it.
What a clusterfuck.
"That's her, right? The one who turned down Prince Charles and Asdel's invitations?"
"Oh, what a country bumpkin—zero manners."
"So uncultured she doesn't even realize her rudeness."
"Disgraceful how the world packages that impoliteness as 'innocence.'"
The ladies' chirping spiked. Felt like toxic idol stans from my past life.
Her shoulders visibly shrank for a split second under their barbs. Not saintess yet—just a rural baron's daughter. Perfect prey.
But these idiots needed defending. They caused this mess and just ditched? How's their follow-through worse than that scumbag 2nd Prince? He'd at least deflected arrows for Isabella.
"It's fine… I'll go alone."
"No, let's go together."
"You sure? I don't want you taking flak because of me…."
My rep couldn't sink lower anyway.
"It's fine. Nowhere lower to go. And what can they do? If they badmouth, they should worry about their own necks first."
Even with Dad out of politics and me a bastard, house Logres wasn't chump change. Unless it was another grand duchy or the imperial family, they'd toe the line.
Fuck 'em.
Pushing open the swinging door revealed a massive lecture hall. Fitting for the continent's top academy—the room lived up to the hype, huge. Naturally, packed with people.
And there were the morons who'd shit on Iris and bolted.
"Ah, Lis! Over here! Saved you a seat!"
Among the cadets, a lady waved. Classic romance heroine look, with emerald-green eyes. Iris's friend, Haede.
Her "something to do" was seat-saving? She spotted me next to Iris, looked shocked; I waved back in kind.
We approached; she bowed politely.
"Ah, Lord Ian's here too?"
"Yeah, same class."
I returned the greeting, scanning for other seats. Drop Iris with Haede, then sit farther off.
"Well, then I'll…."
"Um…."
"You. What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"Huh?"
Then some weirdo blocked my path, demanding what I was up to.
Popping up out of nowhere to hassle me? Could snap his waist in half and he'd have no grounds to complain.
But I'm a 21st-century intellectual—I'll give him a moment. Speak, fool.
"What?"
"I'm asking why you're intimidating her."
Her? Iris? Finally, the chivalry-sick idiot shows.
Face rang a bell—probably a sub-male lead.
This prick was fabricating shit.
"Why would I intimidate her?"
Ridiculous. Only "crime" was shielding her from the male leads' mess.
I get the young blood wanting to impress girls, but not at my expense. Fuck off.
I ignored him like he was worthless, aiming for an empty seat nearby.
But.
"I'm not done talking."
This bastard laid a hand on my shoulder?
Oh, fuck.
Patience has limits. "Bear humiliation thrice to avoid murder," they say. Flip side: after three, murder's fair game.
I'd endured plenty.
Imperial trash rags pulling aggro? Endured.
Ladies whispering shit? Endured.
This clown blocking and grilling me? Endured.
Buddha himself would applaud now.
"Now some no-name nobody's playing hero."
"What?"
"Hey, who the fuck are you with?"
They think I'm a pushover 'cause I held back? Three strikes, asshole.