The Academy's Assault (2)
A blinding white void where the only sound was a shrill, endless beep. And the shadowless lamps. Lights so intense they permitted not even a single shadow. Yet the glare they cast created such harsh backlighting that nothing in front of me was visible at all.
So. Rip. Insert. Rip. Insert.
The masked doctor repeated the motion over and over.
Even when I begged that it hurt, there was no mercy like anesthesia. Even when I pleaded to be killed, there was no mercy like euthanasia. All for the sake of a single experiment.
Lying there, I stared at the beams of light pouring from the many holes above me, repeating an agony that felt like it would never end.
“Huk, huk!”
I woke with a gasp. What met my eyes wasn’t the shadowless lamp spitting bright light from countless holes, but the ceiling of an academy dormitory bathed in the soft yellow glow of a nightlight.
My breathing came so hard I wondered if I might pass out. The blanket, the bed, and even the clothes Ian had given me were long since soaked through with cold sweat.
Because I had woken from an unpleasant dream, I lifted my arm to check whether I had turned into a wolf again.
“You didn’t transform.”
The man sitting beside me spoke as if it were nothing, but I couldn’t trust it until I saw it with my own eyes. Just as he said, my body remained unchanged. I let out a breath of relief and covered both eyes with my right arm.
“Ian… I’m sorry, but could you tell me how many times this makes…?”
My voice barely scraped out.
“Third time.”
Ian answered as though it were no big deal. Haha. It hasn’t even been two hours yet. This is already the third time I’ve had a nightmare, thrashed, and woken up… The thought of how pathetic I was made me want to laugh at myself.
The collar Dottore had fastened around my neck had been cut off by Ian long ago, yet I still felt chained to the past.
I had troubled Ian again. He had lent me his bed and clothes, and I had drenched them in sweat. Once more, I forced the words out with what little strength I could muster.
“Sorry. For the bed… and the clothes.”
“Don’t worry about it. Want me to peel you an apple or something?”
But Ian simply shook his head as if it didn’t matter. As he started to get up, I quickly stopped him.
“No, I’m good on the apple.”
I forced a smile and declined. Sorry, but right now I really don’t want an apple.
I may not have the right to act spoiled, but… apples scare me now.
Sleeping itself had become terrifying. It never happened in the infirmary. When I slept alone, I fell straight back into that past. Strangely, back then sleeping had been a comfort. It was one of the few things that let me endure that hell. If I could just sleep a little longer, I could forget all that nonsense.
But now that nonsense torments me inside my dreams. The beeping. The low humming. The sound of something being torn. Even the scratch of nails clawing at a bed. It mocks me, as if I’m still bound to the past.
Rip. Insert. Rip. Insert.
If I could sleep just a little longer, just a tiny bit longer, maybe I could forget all that nonsense. And yet the more I sleep, the more those vile sounds keep tormenting me. Then what the hell am I supposed to—
“Ian.”
“Yeah?”
“How long do I have to sleep before I can forget all this nonsense?”
How long do I have to sleep before I stop hearing it? How many more of these dreams before I can escape that man?
“…It looks like it’ll take a little more time.”
“I see…”
I gave him a bitter smile. Of course there was nothing more Ian could do for me. He was the one who had cut the collar. He had already done everything he could. Breaking free from these chains was something I had to do myself.
I turned over, trying to go back to sleep.
“You’re going to sleep again?”
“…Yeah. I have to.”
I have to keep sleeping until I can escape that nonsense.
Just as I was about to close my eyes—
“Still… why don’t you have a seizure when you sleep next to me?”
The indifferent boy’s mutter reached my ears.
Who knows. Why don’t I have seizures when I sleep next to Ian? Is it because he’s the one I contracted with? Or maybe there’s something even more fundamental.
A very faint memory from when I was extremely young. If I dug around in it, something might come back to me. It isn’t an apple. I feel like there was something soft I could hug… but I can’t remember. It’s a memory from when I was little. Since it’s so hazy compared to the apple, it probably wasn’t that important.
“Did you used to hug a doll when you were little?”
“…No way. A doll would’ve been a luxury for me.”
There’s no way I had a doll. I had barely survived as a pickpocket. How could someone like me have had a doll to hug?
At that moment—
“I’ll dry out at this rate, you idiot.”
He slowly approached and lay down beside me.
“Why?”
“I can’t sleep anyway, and if you keep thrashing like that Dante’s going to wake up. I’ll just lie here next to you and turn my back. You said hugging something stops the seizures, right?”
Ian muttered while staring at the ceiling. The sheer absurdity of it made me let out a helpless laugh.
“I’m all sweaty though…”
“Yeah, you are pretty damp. Want me to go buy you a doll?”
“No… it’s fine.”
It wasn’t the faint softness I remembered, just something hard. But the size was perfect for hugging. It really did feel similar to whatever I had held back then…
Still. If I sleep now, maybe I can forget that nonsense.
Three days passed.
In front of the club room after afternoon classes ended. I slid the door open with a rattling sound. The interior was pitch dark, proving I was the first to arrive. No one was inside. Since the door wasn’t locked even though I was first, it seemed Eileen had opened it and then stepped out somewhere for a moment.
I sat down in an empty seat. Angelica, who had come with me, did the same. I opened my status window to check my condition.
The result of all the suffering I went through sparring with Angelica. I was now level 37. Not only that, Logress Swordsmanship had reached level 6, Orlando’s Muscle Training Method level 3, and even Mad Orlando had risen to level 2.
Compared to Angelica’s level right in front of me, it was still pathetically low. But at this point, I should at least be able to avoid dying in the upcoming event.
Yes. As long as I don’t die, that’s enough. Unlike last time, I didn’t need to win. The event that was about to happen was a defeat event.
It was an early academy episode where one of the executives of the Twilight Sect would lead a horde of underlings and storm the academy. The boss of that event was a villain named Scaramuccia.
He appeared to show players just how strong the executives of the Twilight Sect—the group we would have to fight later—really were. In the story, the powerful figures like the headmaster or the skeleton professor couldn’t intervene. He would suddenly pop out in that situation.
The protagonist was only in the late 30s, and the strongest ally on our side was either Brother Cassian or Professor Silves. Meanwhile this guy had specs over level 70, plus a gimmick that made attacks miss if you didn’t know what you were doing. A truly shameless bastard.
Unlike the early enemies, he was the first to bring a gimmick and personally taught newbies what a gimmick even was. A teacher more like a teacher than the actual professors. He was what people called a newbie shredder.
Even though it was labeled a defeat event, you still had to deal a certain amount of damage to clear it, and you had to hold out until the skeleton professor stepped in. If you didn’t know the gimmick, everyone would hold hands and die together.
But of course the protagonists, who were meeting this villain for the first time, wouldn’t know the gimmick. Exactly. Which meant I had to run around doing the dirty work again this time too.
God damn it. The difficulty had shot up because Donnesia and I had entered the academy instead of Brother Cassian. On the bright side, the number of protagonists had increased to four, and we had a monster like Angelica on our side.
But unlike before, the opponent this time was a genuine Sword Master who could use both aura and mana without any restrictions, so in reality there wasn’t much difference.
The one saving grace was that, for some reason, he couldn’t use an Aura Blade—the exclusive privilege of Sword Masters.
He was also a one-armed man who seemed to have lost his left arm somewhere. Still, even with those penalties, he could easily wipe our entire group out. That was the problem.
Another problem was that I had no idea when or where these bastards would appear. The dungeon spawn location was random like in Kafka’s case, and I knew the attack would happen during club time after afternoon classes ended.
In the game, I remembered that while the protagonist was doing club activities in the club room, an extra would shout “We’re under attack!” and the event would trigger immediately. Targeting the time when there were the fewest professors around—truly a despicable bunch.
At least they didn’t attack on weekends. Maybe even villains respected holidays. And since it spawned as a medium-random event before midterms, they never committed the heinous act of attacking during midterms and forcing everyone to take make-up exams.
‘Hey, Ian.’
‘What?’
At that moment, the sliding door opened. A woman entered, her golden hair swaying. It was Senior Eileen, and—
Clack.
“Is this the Ancient Literature Club?”
The sound of joints moving accompanied a skeleton stepping into the club room. Luke Eaenril stood behind her. But why was this gentleman here at the club?
“Professor, what are you doing here?”
“Hm? You didn’t hear?”
Blue flames flickered inside his eye sockets as Professor Luke opened his jawbone.
“I have been appointed as the advisor for the Ancient Literature Club.”
“……?”
What was he talking about? In the game, Professor Luke had shown no interest in being a club advisor.
Eileen’s eyes sparkled as she clenched her fists and chimed in excitedly.
“Professor Luke agreed to be our club advisor!”
Seeing how happy Eileen was, it looked like even though she had talked a big game, she had still used her daddy card in the end.
“So you ended up using imperial authority after all…”
At my joke, Eileen’s face crumpled. Just as she was about to say something, Professor Luke cut in.
“No, I volunteered.”
He tapped his chin with a bony finger, making a clacking sound.
“I did consider the Baking Club where Miss Iris, Charles, Kyle, and Dante are members.”
Ah, so Dante was there. I had asked him once before, but he said he had already joined a club and declined. As for Kyle, the young ladies around him had made such a fuss that I knew even if I didn’t want to.
“It just didn’t seem like a good fit for me and Miss Iris.”
The blue flames in his eye sockets began to dim. Maybe because he was undead, he seemed to have sensed Iris’s Saintess talent. And since Asdel of the Holy Kingdom was also here, it wasn’t strange that Professor Luke would feel reluctant.
“So the headmaster decided to take charge of that club instead.”
“The headmaster himself?”
At Eileen’s words, Professor Luke nodded.
“It makes sense, since it’s a gathering of famous figures from various countries.”
This part was the same as the game. In the original, the headmaster personally advised the club that the protagonist and the male leads belonged to.
But why had this gentleman chosen to become the advisor for this club? Other than being an old skeleton, he had no connection to ancient literature, did he?
“Then why the Ancient Literature Club?”
“Well, the reason is…”
The moment Professor Luke opened his jawbone to speak—
Oath of Chivalry has been activated.
Knightly Star is watching you.
A sudden alert window appeared before my eyes. And then—
—Vrrrrrm.
With a low vibrating hum, black flames sparked around us. Then—
Shrrrrrrk———!!
The empty air in the corner of the club room tore open. The club room gradually became covered in blue moss from the center outward. Black vines surged up from it, rapidly filling the space.
Dungeon erosion. The phenomenon that occurred when a dungeon was created. There was only one reason this could happen inside the academy.
Already? Wait, it’s appearing right here?
I looked at the skeleton professor in front of me.
“Is this a celebration party to commemorate becoming our advisor?”
As if answering Professor Luke’s sly remark, hands began to emerge from the torn space.