Ten Days Before the Semester
Olympia Academy.
The world's premier educational institution, where gifted talents from every corner of the globe gathered. Split between the Knight Department and the Mage Department, Olympia was infamous for the fierce rivalry burning between the two.
Because of that, students within each department forged tight friendships and bound themselves together with a fierce sense of solidarity. And if they ever spotted a weakness in the other side, digging into it was only natural.
Which meant—
"Hey. Stand-in. What are you doing?"
—it was hardly unusual for the Knight Department's troublemakers to pick on a powerless Mage Department student.
"……"
Golden hair and blue eyes. But he clearly never bothered taking care of them—they hung limp and dry. Heracle, the Mage Department's resident outsider. Watching him stare off into space without so much as a reaction, Jackson—the Knight Department thug—let a thick smile crawl across his face.
"This bastard…… you not gonna snap out of it?"
But for some reason, there was still no answer. Normally by now he would have gotten to watch Heracle's crushed self-esteem on full display.
Did this guy actually lose his mind?
He wasn't paying them any attention at all.
Wondering what the hell he was even doing, Jackson led his pack over. Up close, a faint mutter reached their ears.
"……Indestructible Body…… hardens the body, huh."
"The hell are you mumbling about?"
Gibberish. At the sudden nonsense, Jackson immediately swung.
Thwack!
A clean blow to the back of Heracle's head. Next should have come the usual scene—this guy clutching his skull and squeezing out a few tears—
"……What the fuck."
It hurt. His hand hurt. Like he'd just punched a boulder—no, like he'd smashed his fist into solid iron. A stinging numbness shot through it. Jackson grabbed his hand as it flushed bright red, his head filling with confusion—and in that exact moment—
"……?"
Heracle glanced their way. The same guy who until now hadn't spared Jackson's crew so much as a thought. He registered the one who'd just cracked him across the back of the skull, and—
"Aha."
—broke into a wide smile, as if something had just clicked into place.
"……Guess I can treat this like a tutorial? Perfect timing. Some trash mobs just showed up."
"Has this bastard lost his mind?"
He clearly wasn't right in the head. Jackson's eyes flared. He had no idea what was going on—whether the guy had bolted an iron plate to the back of his skull or what—but he was not about to forgive Heracle, who until now had been nothing but Jackson's crew's personal toy, for daring to take that kind of attitude.
Jackson's hand clenched into a fist. Knight Department or not, he hadn't brought a sword, and swinging live steel in a place like this would bring down a storm of consequences he couldn't handle.
"You're dead to—"
He threw the punch, intending to beat him half to death somewhere no one would notice—and in that instant—
"Puhuek!"
CRAAACK—!
A lightning-fast counterpunch exploded out of Heracle's guard, caught Jackson square on the jaw, and sent him flying through the air in a spectacular arc.