Ahead of the Second Semester (3)
It went exactly as expected.
"Hahaha! Instructor Ziel! I'm back!"
Whoosh!
A bear of a human barreled forward with the momentum of his entire body—
Swish.
Ziel casually stepped aside.
"Gah! Just as expected! You're so fast!"
"I felt a threat to my life, Student Quantus Hophel."
As though this were the most routine greeting in the world, Quantus dusted himself off and scrambled to his feet.
"Your frame has grown even larger."
"Heheh. I ate plenty and trained like crazy over vacation!"
"Your reflexes have dulled. You will need to sharpen them again."
"Yes, Instructor!"
Gilbert stood frozen, utterly flabbergasted by the bizarre spectacle.
What on earth is this?
Quantus turned his gaze toward him. "By the way, who might you be?"
"He is Gilbert, the teaching assistant who will be instructing you alongside me starting this semester."
"Ah! The new TA! I am Quantus Hophel! The top dog among the first-years—well, second-years now! I even served as the leader during the first semester's Exchange Event!"
A hand resembling a bear's paw was thrust forward.
Caught off guard, Gilbert shook it.
Good grief, this kid is enormous.
Quantus stood a good two heads taller than Gilbert, his upper body built like a fortress of solid muscle.
No wonder they made him a leader.
Sadly, having no idea of Quantus's true nature as a blundering muscle-head, Gilbert promptly mistook him for an exemplary, outstanding student.
Furthermore, the sword belted at his hip caught Gilbert's eye.
That looks pretty battered.
Was the boy's family strapped for cash? An ancestral heirloom, perhaps? Yet seeing another sword strapped to the opposite hip made that seem unlikely.
"Instructor, I'm so excited for your classes this semester! I improved by leaps and bounds last term thanks to you!"
"Indeed. I did well. I shall do so again this semester."
"That's our instructor! Did you hear? Course registration was an absolute battlefield!"
"Was it."
"If Anne hadn't tipped me off, I never would've gotten in. Everyone was desperately trying to take only your classes!"
From the sound of it, the students' trust in Ziel was immense.
As expected of the Boss! Gilbert thought, swelling with pride.
"Anyway, I managed to get into both!"
"Good."
"I'll be the leader this time too, right?"
"No."
"Wh-why not?!"
"Neither of the two courses I am overseeing requires a leader."
Quantus's face crumpled in disappointment—only to brighten right back up in an instant, as if nothing had happened.
"Oh, right! Instructor, I underwent incredible training over the break!"
"Did you."
"Yes! My father and I rolled through the training grounds until we were covered in mud, and when word came that ruins were discovered nearby, I even went on an expedition!"
"A ruin expedition, you say."
"Thanks to that, I bulked up for two whole months, honed my swordsmanship, and came straight back to take your class!"
"Well done. I shall see how much you've improved during class."
"Yes, sir! Oh, and Instructor, there's something I found in those ruins..."
It was the very sword that had drawn Gilbert's eye earlier.
"Look at this. Amazing, isn't it?"
"It is battered."
"It's weathered, but it has antique elegance!"
"It simply looks battered."
"Well, I like it!"
Quantus was never one to be easily discouraged. Unless Anne was the one yelling at him, that is.
"The thing is, Instructor, I can't draw the blade. It doesn't seem to be rusted stuck... but not even my strength can budge it."
"If your physical strength cannot draw it, is there not another reason?"
"Exactly! If even my strength can't force it out, shouldn't there be some crazy powerful magic sealing it? I brought it along wondering if you might know anything about it."
Gilbert took the weapon and inspected it carefully.
"It looks weathered, but peering inside, there's no oxidation, Boss."
"Boss?"
"It is what he calls me," Ziel explained.
"Whoa, Boss! I'll call you that too!"
"You may not. Address me as Instructor, Student Quantus Hophel."
"Aw, why?!"
"Because you are not my subordinate."
"Aha! Then I'll be your subordinate too!"
"I refuse."
If Quantus were his subordinate, they would have to meet frequently—and even Ziel found those full-body tackles slightly daunting.
Gilbert spoke up again, continuing his analysis. "It doesn't seem stuck from rust... Ah, here. Between the scabbard and the guard, there's a seal. Traces of mana melted and solidified together. Right here, this spot."
"Whoa, you really know your stuff, Assistant Instructor!"
Gilbert puffed out his chest with pride.
"You are knowledgeable, Gilbert."
"Heheh, I'm glad I could be of help!"
"Then why was this sword sealed?"
"Ah, well, that, I'm not quite sure..."
"You do not know, Gilbert."
"..."
Gilbert hesitated for a moment before offering, "If we dispel the seal locking the seam, it should slide open easily enough."
"Is that so. Yet if it was sealed, there must have been a good reason."
"Usually... it's either to prevent anyone else from ever using the blade, or because it's a cursed demonic sword..."
"A demonic sword!"
Quantus's eyes lit up with unbridled excitement.
It was pronounced enough that Ziel felt compelled to remark, "Your heart rate is rising rapidly, Student Quantus Hophel."
"But Instructor, he said it might be a demonic sword!"
"He said it could be a possibility. Nothing has been confirmed."
Ziel took the sword into his hands and examined it.
It was sealed tight; no sensation leaked through.
Intriguing.
Turning the weapon over in his hands, Ziel asked Gilbert, "How does one break the seal?"
"You would normally take it to a specialist. With this type of seal, one has to locate the hidden circuit inside."
"A circuit. Similar to a safe, then."
Hardly had the words left his mouth before Ziel drew upon his mana.
A moment later.
Click.
"Th-that was fast..."
"As expected of the Instructor..."
The scabbard and crossguard parted, and the blade slipped free—
"Boss!" Gilbert yelled in alarm.
A thick plume of violet smoke erupted alongside the bared steel!
Protecting the students is the top priority.
Ziel's words from yesterday flashed through Gilbert's mind—his explicit order that in any emergency, safeguarding the students came above all else.
"Get down, Quantus!"
Before the vapor could billow across the courtyard, Gilbert charged forward, tackling Quantus straight to the cobblestones.
Boss!
Gilbert pinned Quantus beneath him, his heart hammering with dread.
"Instructor!"
Amid Quantus's booming cry, Ziel was momentarily enveloped in the swirling purple haze.
When the mist finally thinned—
"B-Boss? Are you all right?"
Gilbert scrambled to his feet.
Ziel had not collapsed.
He remained standing, completely upright.
"Boss...?"
Ziel, who had been studying the drawn blade, turned his head.
"What is the matter?"
"Uh, w-well, are you hurt?"
"I am fine. It was not threatening, so I did not dodge."
"Ah..."
Gilbert exhaled in dizzy relief, feeling as though his heart had plummeted into his stomach.
"Your pulse has accelerated significantly as well, Gilbert."
"I was terrified for you! Of course it did!"
"Is that so. It was a cause for concern, then."
"Purple smoke suddenly blasting out of a sword isn't exactly normal!"
Wait, how does he even know my heart rate jumped anyway?
"Wait, look at this..."
Gilbert turned toward the nearby flowerbed where the violet haze had drifted, and gasped in horror.
The blossoms and green stalks had completely withered away, reduced to blackened husks.
A life-draining curse?
To think such vile magic would spew from a sword. Was the weapon sealed so that anyone who excavated and unsheathed it would immediately fall victim?
Yet the Boss is completely unscathed.
It was immensely fortunate, but equally astonishing.
"Are you truly unharmed, Boss? The flowers and plants over here..."
"I am fine. There is nothing wrong with my body."
His breathing technique functioned without impediment, and he felt neither vertigo nor physical trauma.
Ziel was genuinely in perfect health.
Even he was somewhat surprised.
There must be a reason I did not sense it as a threat.
Even without actively invoking the Breathing of the Polar Night, Ziel's senses were extraordinarily acute. These senses worked in concert to detect danger, yet the vapor that erupted as the sword was drawn had registered as negligible.
That was why he had not bothered to evade.
And yet, observing the flowerbed, every plant touched by the smoke was dead.
Even if poison is injected, it should at least produce an effect.
Ziel had handled countless toxins in his past, and during his training, he had endured repeated injections to cultivate biological tolerances. But high resistance did not mean immunity to the toxin's basic mechanics; it merely meant the body metabolized and neutralized it faster.
In that sense—
This was not poison.
A curse, then?
If so, why had it failed to affect him? Had there been any change within him...?
"Ah."
A realization struck Ziel.
"Boss, is something wrong with your body after all...?!"
"No, not that."
The Heart of the Necromancer King!
Just days ago, he had purified the corrupted mana sealed within that cursed relic.
And he had done so directly through his own physical body!
Corruption was often classified as a strain of curse.
In that case...
Did I develop a tolerance to curses?
From cleansing that vile, ancient mana with his own flesh and blood?
That seems highly probable.
An unforeseen windfall.
Six hundred years ago, the Necromancer King had drowned the continent in horror—and here Ziel was, reaping accidental dividends from purifying that monster's lingering mana.
Of course—
This also means the Breathing of the Polar Night still has room to make me stronger.
Much of the credit belonged to the peerless art that only Ziel had mastered.
Ignorant of these profound revelations, Gilbert fidgeted anxiously and asked again, "Y-you're really okay, Boss?"
"Yes."
"For real?"
"Yes."
"Maybe you should visit the infirmary just in case..."
"I am fine."
Brushing aside Gilbert's fretting, Ziel turned his attention to Quantus, whom they had momentarily forgotten during the fuss.
"Student Quantus Hophel. Are you unhurt?"
Ziel had taken the toxic cloud point-blank, yet Quantus was the only casualty. He had grazed his elbow against the stone paving when Gilbert tackled him.
"A scratch like this heals if you just spit on it!"
"Saliva increases the likelihood of bacterial infection. Go to the infirmary and receive proper treatment."
"I'm fi—"
"If you are stubborn, I will summon Student Anne Peshua."
"Heading there right this second!"
Quantus then suddenly caught himself.
"Um... Instructor. I'm sorry."
"Do not be."
"I really had no idea it was something like that..."
"You did not know, and no one here knew either. There is no need to apologize for what you could not foresee."
"Yes, sir."
"Go receive treatment."
"But..."
Quantus hesitated, lingering on the spot.
Ziel pondered for a second before grasping the boy's hesitation.
"You need not say you are sorry any further."
Reassuring his student—that was the sacred duty of an instructor, the proper course of—
"Um... that sword is mine."
"Ah."
Ziel handed the weapon back.
Gathering his chipped, ancient blade, Quantus set off. Watching from behind, his massive shoulders bounced with rhythmic excitement.
Is he happy?
Watching the receding mountain of muscle, Gilbert muttered, "There sure are a lot of unique students here, Boss."
"Mm."
What did it mean to be 'unique'?
Ziel decided another visit to the library was in order.
"By the way, Boss, I stopped by the gymnasium earlier, and it looks like the magic puppets are starting to arrive."
"They were scheduled for delivery by today. We should go verify them immediately."
"Right. As you mentioned last time, you plan to configure each puppet according to the individual students' data, correct?"
"Yes."
Fifty magic puppets.
Forty of them would be customized as personalized sparring partners tailored to each student's specific level.
The remaining ten were spares.
He seemed so stern and solemn... Who knew an old man like that had such a hobby?
To think an esteemed professor of the Arcane School enjoyed playing with dolls like a little girl—dressing up exorbitantly expensive combat automata in frilly frocks!
Well, thanks to that... we've managed to introduce an unimaginable training regimen.
In truth, magic puppets were far too expensive, rendering their overall training efficiency notoriously low. The upfront cost alone was staggering, not to mention the specialized technicians needed for calibration and ongoing repairs.
Because of that, other professors in the Sword School utilized them sparingly, or only during campus-wide Exchange Events where the entire college participated...
Yet Ziel had simply gone and commandeered fifty units in one fell swoop!
As expected of the Boss. Is he going to recruit mages from the Arcane School next?
Gilbert envisioned a radiant future for their underground syndicate.
Wait a minute. Does our organization still... not have a name?
It struck him that Ziel had yet to disclose that most vital detail.
Just as Gilbert opened his mouth to ask:
"Someone is coming again."
"Pardon?"
"This time, it is best we avoid the area entirely."
"Huh? Who's coming?"
"A student who will trail us relentlessly if left alone."
At Ziel's warning, Gilbert followed along without fully understanding.
A short while later.
"Shoot, they told me he was definitely around here..."
Vacation was over.
Frustrated and yearning after sixty long days without catching a single glimpse of Instructor Ziel, Celia appeared, trailing a delicate cloud of perfume in her wake.