Chapter 12
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 12
Chapter Title: Students Need a Student Council
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Pastel examined the documents, each with signature lines for the various departments.
Completely empty signature lines.
Tremble, tremble.
"Everyone will support the student council, right? It doesn't make sense for the school not to have one."
She clenched both fists tight.
"A student council for the students! It's only been a day since the semester started, but think of all the effort we've put in!"
For example.
Buying smuggled goods with the student council budget.
Taking the airship out for smuggling purposes.
Using expensive mana stone fuel for free on the airship budget.
Achieving a 100% profit margin on smuggling thanks to it.
Hm?
A corrupt student council before the semester even begins—is it really necessary for the students?
Isn't abolishing the student council system far too justified?
She clutched her heart.
Gasp.
"B-but students need a student council. For the sake of the starving students!"
The starving student in question—Vice Student Council President, General Affairs Director, Planning Director, Publicity Director, Volunteer Director, and Guidance Director all in one—nodded.
『Surely you don't really plan to point swords at every department, do you? Don't underestimate your elders. Sufficient experience can backstab even the most talented.』
Pastel flinched, then shook her head.
"The top written exam scorer has her own ways!"
Oops.
Is it obvious?
Hehe.
She twisted her body playfully, then gathered up the documents.
"Anyway, I'll get support from every department!"
Time to head out.
"Senior, just one signature, pleeease."
Pastel clutched the documents to her chest and trailed after the upperclassman. The department representative quickened his pace, looking troubled.
She scurried even faster.
The representative looked more troubled and looped around the plaza repeatedly. Pastel followed right behind.
"Senior, really, just one signature."
Waaah.
Students gathered around the plaza like a fence. Some upperclassmen whispered among themselves.
—The student council just eats up budget and does nothing. Why not chase them out instead of dragging it on?
—What? How dare you chase out the young marquess.
—Sure, she's a marquess, but the Craft family is basically ruined anyw—mmph!
An upperclassman clamped down on the speaker.
—Shut this guy's mouth! How dare a commoner without a title be so disrespectful!
—Mmph!
—You think you can take lightly a family that's a founding merit and top contributor to imperial unification and Demon Realm conquest? Want to try insolence against a house respected by the imperial family?
—Mmmph!
The representative sped up even more.
Her short legs struggled to keep up, so Pastel broke into a jog. Her pink hair bounced with each step.
"Senior, just one signature."
Waaah.
The upperclassmen whispered again.
—What do we do? Who even is this kid?
—Haha! I've got a polite way to send her packing!
An upperclassman grabbed a desk and dragged it into the plaza.
"Marquess—no, freshman!"
"Yes?"
A desk was placed in the middle of the plaza.
The upperclassman dusted off his hands and grinned.
"This is a garden of scholarship and cradle of martial arts. You're top in written exams, so fine on the brains, but you want a weak student council to lead all departments?"
He swept his hand over the desk.
"Sparring with first-years is one thing."
He laid one arm on the desk.
"How about an arm wrestle?"
The upperclassman smiled meaningfully.
"I use a spear, but I'm a proper mage. I won't accept a student council that can't even beat a mage."
—Kyaa! That clever bastard! Knew it since he tripped swinging his spear at midnight! That's my friend!
—Yeah, yeah! The young marquess got zero in combat practicals, right? Smart head, but clear disadvantage and outcome!
The fleeing representative jumped on the opportunity.
"If you win, not only will I sign, but our department's honor is on the line—we'll back your cause."
Pastel's eyes went wide.
—She's panicking. What now?
—But the academy is cold and ruthless. The young marquess needs to learn that too.
—Right! We go all out even against kids!
Oof.
Pastel stood blankly in front of the desk.
Cheers erupted as the upperclassman on the opposite side took arm-wrestling position. The upperclassmen were loud.
Gasp, upperclassmen.
Am I in big trouble?
Nooo.
I've fallen into a ruthless death game.
A merciless world that shows no mercy to freshmen.
Pastel clumsily took her position.
Their hands clasped.
The feel of tough, rough calluses.
Ugh, the demon was right. The pressure of time can't be replaced by anything.
Especially not with soft hands untouched by calluses.
Sensing the difference, his smile deepened.
Nooo.
The upperclassman referee gripped their clasped hands.
"Get ready. 3! 2! 1! Go!"
The arm wrestle began.
Nooo waaah.
Pastel trembled and stayed still.
The watching upperclassman looked a bit sorry for her. Then he mercilessly applied force.
His arm strained forward.
Clunk.
Nooo.
Clunk, clunk?
Clunk...?
The twisting upperclassman froze. The freshman's hand hadn't budged. His shaking eyes met Pastel's.
Nooo, intense gaze.
He straightened his posture. With a serious expression, he inhaled deeply and tensed his muscles.
"Hah!"
A resolute shout.
His wrist bent hard.
Clunk.
Nooo, rough calluses.
His eyes trembled. He creaked his head around to look at the spectators.
The upperclassmen whistled.
"Our hero! Smartest in the department!"
He whipped his head back to stare at Pastel. Sweat poured down his face.
Then he whispered quickly.
"M-Marquess, I've always admired you—"
"Senior!"
Lost in her own world, Pastel squeezed her eyes shut.
"Freshman, I'll go all out!"
"Wai—!"
"Raaah!"
The girl wrenched her arm with full force. His arm bent without resistance.
"Aaaack!"
His hand slammed roughly onto the desk. A boom echoed. The desk splintered. He rolled across the ground amid the debris.
"Aaaah!"
Dust rose.
Silence fell.
Pastel clutched her hand and stared blankly at her rolling opponent.
Oof.
The dignity of the elders?
The demon's calm voice echoed.
Her lips curved up.
Hehe, did I win?
Yay.
She turned, facing the slack-jawed crowd.
She thrust her arm high.
"I win!"
Now sign for the student council.
From the ground, the upperclassman groaned in pain.
"Ah, are you okay?!"
Moments later, Pastel got her signature. On the side, the upperclassman who'd suggested the arm wrestle was getting kicked while rolling on the ground.
The department representative sighed and looked around at his department mates. Then, with a serious face, he declared.
"At this point, with our department's honor on the line, we execute the drowned rat strategy."
Pastel would witness the bizarre sight of arm-wrestling challenges in every department she visited after that.
—Hey, our department politely sent the marquess packing with arm wrestling. She's zero in combat, right? Hit her weak spot clean.
—Oh yeah? Us too then?
"With our department's honor on the line..."
The desk splintered.
"Aaaack!"
—Wh-what? What kind of monstrous strength is that? Zero in combat my ass! You cheaters! How are you even human?!
—Help us out too now.
Whoa.
Pastel left behind the department she'd smashed through like breaking dojang boards. She gazed at the nearly filled signature sheet.
Her cheeks flushed pink.
"Demon! Demon! The seniors are so nice! They united to pick a fair event and let the freshman win without embarrassing her!"
Was the world always this kind?
Beautiful.
Yay, almost full.
Students really do need a student council after all. Even if it's corrupt.
"Hey! You!"
A sharp voice rang out. Turning, she saw a burly, large-framed male student approaching.
Sword and shield in his hands.
Whoa, that build?
Upperclassman?
A group of unfamiliar first-years trailed behind him.
Hm?
She quickly scanned her mental student roster. She'd memorized all potential friends from the student council files just in case.
Ah, the ones who entered via Demon Realm airship.
They look unfamiliar.
So the sword-and-shield guy is...
Leonard Tyler, earl's family.
What did he eat to look so much older? Insanely talented build.
Behind the sturdy Leonard, another male student peeked out.
Dustin Wilder.
The guy from her first airship duel.
Dustin stared at Pastel, looking cowed.
Huh?
"Oh, friend, why are you here?"
Leonard ignored her and stepped forward, his bulk hiding the boy.
Hm.
Leonard glared.
"Hey, who are you to strut around like student council when you're the same age as us?"
Pastel's eyes widened.
Gasp.
Too spot on.
Leонаrd's eyes gleamed. They darted around the onlookers, then fixed on the delicate girl.
"Seniors told me to stand down, but first-year honor is at stake. Letting a kid like you run loose leaves me ashamed to show my face."
A handkerchief was tossed.
It plopped on her pink hair.
Huh.
Pastel glanced at Dustin with the handkerchief on her head. He flinched and hid behind Leonard, avoiding her gaze.
Oh dear.
"Fine!"
Pastel beamed.
"But are you okay with that?"
She addressed not Leonard, but Dustin.
"You'll be humiliated if you lose."
Dustin flinched.
Leonard flushed red.
"What did you say?!"
Sword drawn, shield raised.
"Come at me! What are you idiots doing? Clear a space!"
A circular area formed around them.
Leonard took stance.
"I'll even let you have first strike!"
His large shield covered his sturdy frame.
"Come on!"
Pastel didn't charge. She tilted her head and tapped the hilt of her magic sword.
Right?
She thought for a moment, then drew her magic sword.
Leонаrd's eyes sharpened seriously as he gripped his large shield carefully. The iron shield steadily covered his big frame.
Hm.
Pastel assumed her stance.
One, two, three!
She kicked off the ground.
The pink blur charged at Leonard. Her magic sword swung toward the shield.
Leонаrd's eyes lit up. He gripped the shield firm. The sword strike seemed headed straight for it.
But the magic sword grazed just in front of the shield without touching.
A paper-thin margin as the blade arced in a circle. Pastel spun her body and tossed the sword skyward.
Leonard stared blankly at the flying sword.
"What?"
Pastel clenched her fist with a cold expression. She stomped the ground hard. She smashed the shield with full force. A boom rang out. The air trembled, and the shield crumpled.
Leonard staggered. His eyes widened. She slipped through the gap in his broken stance and splayed shield. Pink hair whipped.
Her foot stamped precisely. Her fist traced an arc. It struck his abdomen. Impact exploded.
Leonard gasped and doubled over. Sword and shield dropped from his hands. His knees hit the ground, air whooshing from his mouth.
Pastel dusted her hands.
"Sparring should be done with feather swords."
She reached for the sky. The falling sword spun and landed in her hand.
She swung it like shaking off water, sheathing it with a click.
Pastel turned. Her pink hair fluttered.
Silence fell.
Her eyes met Dustin's dazed stare.
She smiled sweetly.
Her pink lips moved.
—See you later, friend.
She left the scene.
The signatures were nearly complete.
Whoa whoa.
Just one more to finish.
Magic Department.
Hehe.
Arm wrestling here too?
The Magic Department's representative eyed her sleepily.
"Don't wanna."
Pardon?
A blonde girl peeked from behind the representative's robe. She muttered loudly to herself.
"Stirring up departments with dirty tricks—classic Craft. But I've foiled your sneaky plot. Mother, I'll protect your alma mater, the Magic Department. I can do it."
Melissa's cheeks flushed.
The representative, having overheard along with Pastel, scratched his head. He brushed off his robe unnecessarily and spoke.
"Well, can't sign. We need big budgets. Better off without a student council that takes budget but offers no help."
Department budgets were tight.
A few standout students got funding poured in, but most didn't. To cover shortfalls, they had to borrow outside power.
Easiest was family help.
But most academy students were illegitimate or branch family, or even commoners. Families couldn't help much.
Another way was merchant guild investment. But that required connections first—tricky.
Best they could do was take external commissions, venture out, and network with guilds as much as possible.
Last hope: professor aid. But professors weren't well-off either.
Post-Demon Realm conquest, Sky Island was political backwater. Most here lacked power or influence.
The guilds their professors could connect to were middling at best.
"Then, then."
Her head spun.
"No school festival or anything?"
Pastel's eyes sparkled.
"A festival to promote industry-academia collaboration!"
Whoa, festival.
The representative looked puzzled.
"Festival out of nowhere? If you mean department demos, we have those."
"Not department level! School-wide festival! Festival! Where everyone shows off achievements and has fun chatting!"
"No idea what you're getting at. Research and training don't need festivals. Too much play is bad."
What kind of dry place is this?
No wonder there's no uniform.
Pastel flailed her arms.
"We need to invite big merchant guilds through the festival! That makes opportunities easy!"
The representative seemed unconvinced. He muttered lukewarmly.
"Think that'll work?"
"They'll definitely come!"
No good.
"Industry-academia collaboration festival!"
Pastel thrust one arm high.
"The student council will make it happen!"
She shouted with all her might and rummaged out the documents.
Held them out with both hands.
"So, senior, a signature, please..."
Hehe.
The representative looked dumbfounded.