Care to Get Something to Eat? (1)
Even hearing the words directly, the students still found it difficult to believe.
"Us...? Against the second-years...?"
"Yes. You will win."
Not that they could win. It was a flat, definitive assertion: You will win.
"How? The upperclassmen are taking major courses and already being deployed on real field missions..."
Major courses. Real field missions. Both were undeniably important. But Xiel had observed them with his own two eyes.
"Their standard is not insurmountable."
He was not referring to the trio of fools who had bullied Karen and Yurio and ended up suspended for drinking. A short while ago, Xiel had audited a second-year major class with help from a teaching assistant. This conclusion came after carefully weighing the abilities of the second-years he had observed against the forty first-year students currently under his instruction.
"Us?"
"Yes."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Against the second-years?"
"Yes."
"How could we possibly..."
"Student Celia Rihardt. Phrase your questions efficiently. 'Can we truly defeat the second-years?' is an efficient question."
"Ah, right... So, how do we win?"
Deleve and Celia. Both were hailed as the finest talents of the first-year class, yet students of comparable genius would certainly be chosen from the second year as well. If an individual possessed utterly overwhelming talent, perhaps there was a chance, but even with the two of them, victory was far from guaranteed.
At least, that was how Celia saw it. Xiel, however, seemed to hold an entirely different view.
"Just do what you have been doing."
"Pardon?"
"Do as you have been taught. Your stamina is developing adequately, and your reflexes have noticeably improved. Once you engage in real combat, you will likely feel the difference from before."
He spoke with the quiet certainty of someone who had traveled to the near future, watched the outcome unfold, and returned to deliver a matter-of-fact report. Celia found herself momentarily stripped of words.
"It hasn't even been two months yet..."
"Have you ever fought the second-years?"
"No. We don't even spar among ourselves..."
The disciplinary regulations of the Sword School were surprisingly strict. Swords were to be worn only in designated zones. Private sparring required a professor's explicit authorization. Aside from that, all practical combat was restricted strictly to authorized classes. The problem was that the first-year major courses offered no sparring sessions whatsoever; everything was theory, form practice, and swinging at wooden dummies.
Naturally, they had virtually no way to gauge their growth, let alone cultivate real combat instincts.
Except in Xiel's class.
Reaction times and evasive maneuvers against basic strikes. Long-distance running records. Xiel quantified every metric and communicated their results, allowing them to track their tangible improvement.
The issue was that tracking personal improvement was one thing; being confident that all ten representatives would be selected from this elective—and that those ten would defeat the second-years—demanded an entirely different leap of faith.
"Solidify the fundamentals, and everything else will grow around them. Trust in that."
Xiel looked directly at Celia with his striking amber eyes, speaking with crystalline clarity. Trust me.
A jolt ran through her. Before she even realized it, Celia nodded.
"Yes..."
Even as she lowered her hand, fresh doubts bubbled up within her chest, yet she chose not to voice them. Strange as it was, a quiet sense of reassurance settled over her.
Can this elective class really be enough...? Can ten students from here actually be picked, and can we really beat the second-years?
Her skepticism remained, but it was no longer on the verge of erupting into frantic argument. Xiel's words possessed an odd, grounding weight. His logic was baffling, and you wouldn't find a shred of flexibility or compromise in the man no matter how hard you looked, yet that very rigidity inspired an uncanny trust.
For real? Then... if we win it all...
Scouting offers from knight orders...
Just getting selected would be massive, but if we can beat the second-years too...
Deleve and Celia, and to an extent Maris, were scions of the Five Great Families or prominent nobility, but the hearts of students from minor lineages and commoner backgrounds were beating furiously.
A chance to catch the eye of the empire! A chance to secure their futures!
"Karen, let's really throw ourselves into this."
"Should we sneak in some sparring sessions?"
"If we get caught, that's demerits."
"Come on, the seniors do it in secret all the time."
"They can only do that because they have free rein over the club rooms..."
One person. Exactly one student among them still clung to deep suspicion.
I haven't even successfully landed a counterattack yet.
Deleve Kundel. The student with the strongest thirst for validation in the entire hall could not bring himself to believe it. Win against the second-years with what they had right now?
Deleve did not trust easily. If he hadn't seen something with his own eyes, he assumed deception first. It wasn't due to any tragic backstory—no bloody succession feuds or shadowy assassination attempts. It was simply a protective reflex formed after years of his two older brothers relentlessly teasing and tricking the baby of the family.
He had just begun to rebuild confidence in his swordsmanship when Xiel utterly dismantled him during their very first lesson, causing his chronic skepticism to flare up with a vengeance. And right now, that paranoia was peaking.
"Instructor."
"Student Deleve Kundel. Speak."
"When swords clash against swords, fundamentals and physical conditioning surely have their limits. I believe swordsmanship encompasses a domain that cannot be explained through fundamentals alone."
At least his demeanor lacked the insolent swagger of their first encounter. Nor was his argument baseless. A considerable number of students found themselves agreeing, and even Celia offered a slight nod.
"You are not mistaken, Student Deleve Kundel."
Surprisingly, Xiel conceded the point without hesitation.
"Swordsmanship cannot be fully explained by fundamentals alone."
Come to think of it, had Instructor Xiel ever once demonstrated his own blade work to them?
"Swordsmanship certainly warrants careful consideration."
"Then... how can you be so certain?"
Deleve could not wrap his head around it. But Xiel existed far beyond the boundaries of Deleve's comprehension.
"It simply appears so to me."
"Pardon?"
"That is how your respective levels appear. Student Deleve Kundel."
Levels?
"Furthermore." Xiel peered into Deleve with his unblinking amber eyes. "I hold the highest expectations for you, Student Deleve Kundel."
At the sudden, unvarnished praise, Deleve's jaw slowly went slack.
* * *
The pedagogical guide, Beloved Teacher, Hated Teacher, had noted it clearly.
"Praise yields effective results."
It had explained that skillfully applied praise could coax out a student's hidden potential. That seemed to describe their recent session to perfection. Following that brief encouragement, the students had focused with terrifying intensity, producing results far superior to anything seen before. Deleve had come within a hair's breadth of executing a counterattack.
In the end, he had fallen short, and it had been marked as a failure, yet every student in the hall—Deleve included—burned with newfound fighting spirit.
Watching their steady improvement, Xiel felt an emotion called pride. He could not yet define the concept with complete clarity, but feeling "good" was unmistakable.
And there was another matter putting him in exceptionally high spirits.
Right this very moment.
"A monthly salary, is it...?"
During his days as Phantom, Xiel had rarely ever used "money." Not in the sense of ordinary consumer spending. To him, money had been nothing more than operational supplies disbursed prior to an assignment—bribes to grease the palms of informants and brokers, or emergency funds to sustain himself if an infiltration dragged on. Naturally, he had never received money as compensation for his labor. Every assassin of Black Sky was brainwashed without exception, returning straight to headquarters the moment a target was dead.
"So this is the Imperial Bank."
The Imperial Bank. The sole official financial institution of the Valdrain Empire, and this was its Academy branch. For the first time in his life, Xiel stepped into an establishment called a bank—to withdraw his earned wages.
Others entering the facility were typically overwhelmed by the sheer grandeur: a massive chandelier, vaulted ceilings gleaming as though cast in solid gold, and decorations of staggering value stretching as high as the eye could see.
"Everything is rather large."
Offering only that curt assessment, Xiel walked inside.
"Welcome, valued customer."
A cool breeze greeted him alongside a uniformed clerk wearing a bright, practiced smile.
Within two seconds of crossing the threshold, Xiel's instincts mapped the entire layout:
Security is substantial.
Thirty armed guards. Sixteen traps disguised as decorative fixtures. Twenty-three entirely concealed traps. A security vault door operated by complex warding magic.
Nothing that presents an insurmountable obstacle, however.
Approximately twelve windows. Six of them viable as emergency exit routes. Four candidate blind spots suitable for temporary concealment if needed.
Xiel finished his calculations. In this space, he could eliminate a high-value target and escape or vanish within five seconds.
Of course, he had not come to assassinate anyone today.
"How may I assist you?"
"I have come to withdraw my salary from my account." Xiel spoke with an expression of subtle pride, entirely unaware of the look on his own face.
"Ah, of course. Are you an Academy faculty member?"
"Yes. The Sword School."
"Right this way, please."
Moments later, Xiel sat before another clerk with an exceptionally pleasant demeanor.
"Good day, Customer Xiel Steelheart. I will be assisting you today. You mentioned you wished to withdraw your salary?"
"Yes."
"Understood. Please provide your signature and mana impression here."
For the signature, he penned the clean script he had prepared in advance while constructing his cover identity for this infiltration.
"Please place your fingertip here to register your mana."
Tap.
"Confirmed, thank you."
This, too, utilized an intricately crafted layer of artificial skin infused with an independently prepared trace of mana. Xiel peeled the thin film from his fingertip and concealed it with practiced ease.
"Your balance confirms a total of 2,500 Cel. How much would you like to withdraw?"
"The entire amount."
Fwip, clink.
The teller deftly counted the coins with remarkably nimble fingers, sliding forward a mixture of silver and gold.
"Here is one 1,000-Cel gold coin, and the remaining amount in fifteen 100-Cel silver coins. Would you prefer a different denomination breakdown?"
She would master dagger arts quickly with hands that fast.
After briefly admiring her dexterity, Xiel swept the coins into a leather pouch.
"Looking at your record, this is your first account and your very first salary. Congratulations."
Xiel paused, mildly confused. Was this an occasion that warranted congratulations?
I am merely receiving compensation for work rendered.
It seemed Xiel's grasp of everyday economics still had a long way to go.
"Now that you've received your first paycheck, do you have any special plans for it?"
This, he felt fully equipped to answer.
"I am going to eat."
"Ah! A meal is wonderful. A handsome gentleman like yourself will surely dine at a fine establishment with your significant other..."
"I will be eating alone."
"Ah..."
"And I will be eating a great deal."
Xiel was utterly sincere. He had only recently realized that a salary even existed, which left him nursing a quiet sense of injustice. Had he known earlier, he would have eaten delicious food much sooner.
"I am going to eat right now."
"Ah... I see... Yes, of course. Oh, and Customer Xiel Steelheart, there is a secured parcel addressed to you."
"Understood. Hand it over."
Xiel received a small package. Sealed with mana, it could only be unraveled by the designated recipient's magical signature.
"Is our business finished?"
"Yes. That concludes your transaction, sir."
"Then I shall be going to eat."
"Ah... yes. Enjoy your meal!"
True to her professionalism, the bank clerk maintained her bright, pleasant smile until the very end.
Shortly after Xiel exited through the heavy doors, the counter behind him erupted into hushed chatter.
"Whoa, who was that? How can someone be so handsome?"
"A Sword School faculty member."
"Ah! That elective instructor? The one everyone's saying is drop-dead gorgeous?"
"Where on earth do you keep hearing these rumors?"
"My boyfriend works in the Sword School administrative office! So, what did he say? Spill!"
"What would he say? He just withdrew his money and left."
"Aw, man. I thought our Ella was finally escaping the single life."
"Escaping what? Keep your voice down."
Grumbling, Ella suddenly gasped as something crossed her mind, turning back toward her colleague.
"Oh, right."
"Hm?"
"He said he was on his way to eat."
"Who?"
"That instructor just now."
"With who?"
"Alone."
"Huh? Why? He's so good-looking."
"I know, right? And he said he was going to eat an enormous amount."
"...What an eccentric guy."
Ella murmured softly to herself, "Though he did look awfully happy when he said he was going to eat."