The First Day of Practicum (1)
Preparations for the practicum were nearing completion.
Xiel put all the first-years through standard training, covering everything from monster countermeasures to the core protocols required in the field. At the same time, he ran supplementary physical conditioning for the students who had not previously taken his classes. Thanks to this, the newcomers—including Lydia—were showing slight but definite improvements in their stamina.
I will need to conduct separate physical training for them once the practicum is over.
The gap in basic physical endurance between his original students and the newcomers remained substantial. However, with the practicum just around the corner, overworking them was out of the question.
"That is all. Everyone halt and rest."
"Aaaargh..."
"Someone save me..."
Naturally, even this scaled-back regimen was grueling enough for them. Seeing the newcomers collapse, Delev and the other original first-years could not help but smirk.
"Man, we had days like that once too."
"Delev, that was barely two months ago," Celia snapped.
Delev glared at her with icy eyes. "Do you have to pick a fight with literally everything I say to feel satisfied?"
"Says the coward who sneakily steals swordsmanship techniques."
"Oh, really? Then why didn't you stop me? It wasn't even hard."
"Hey!"
The other students watched the two bicker with amused smiles.
"Those two get along so well, don't they?"
"It's not every day you see scions of the Two Great Families squabbling like that."
"Both their family heads carry such immense dignity, too..."
In any case, the atmosphere among the first-years was exceptionally good. When Xiel assumed responsibility for the entire first-year class's practicum, there had been no friction or ostracization of the newly joined students. That was thanks to how he had carefully distributed the original and incoming students across five squads. Recognizing that this event demanded even greater cooperation than the Exchange Event, Xiel had put considerable thought into the roster.
Cooperation is paramount for this practicum.
The primary objectives were to form squads, coordinate against monsters, and explore the ancient ruins to earn practicum points. Throughout that process, evaluators concealed in the area would observe and score their performance. Xiel naturally aimed for high marks. But far more than scores, his foremost concern was their safety.
"Squad leaders, gather for a moment."
From Squad 1 through Squad 5, Xiel summoned the leaders forward. Then, he presented them with the Praise Cards he had promised.
"So this is a Praise Card...!"
"It looks really peculiar."
It was the reward they had only heard rumors about. While Delev, Celia, and Anne had each received one before, Maris and Lydia were seeing it for the first time.
"The previous Praise Cards contained a sleeping gas mechanism, but I replaced the function this time."
It had something like that in it?
The three who had previously held one blinked in wide-eyed astonishment.
"Was that... why you told us to throw it when we were in danger?" Celia asked.
Xiel nodded. "Yes. Judging by your reaction, you never had reason to use it."
How could they have? The only person who had ever thrown one was Yurio, and even that had been a stroke of blind luck when he chucked it out of desperation.
Sleeping gas? Delev marveled inwardly. How on earth had anyone packed such an effect into a sheet of paper that thin? Could Instructor Xiel actually be knowledgeable in magic? No, come on. That's ridiculous... But then again, he is Instructor Xiel. You never know.
Delev pulled out his old Praise Card and turned it over and over, inspecting it with open fascination. Naturally, none of them had any way of knowing that its contents were the result of secret alchemical concoctions passed down among assassins for generations.
"It feels a bit heavier this time," someone noted.
"Yes. Adding functions made it so."
Instructor Xiel really prepares things like this for his students... Having only ever received instruction under Professor Elcanto, Lydia found the entire experience utterly surreal.
"Instructor, what kind of function does this card have, then?"
"I will explain now, Cadet Maris Sophen."
Xiel pulled a new Praise Card from his pocket and tore it cleanly down the center. He placed the top half onto the ground, and a small trickle of clear liquid began to seep out from between the layers.
The students exchanged puzzled looks.
Is that it?
Is it just... spilling something on the ground?
Then, Delev noticed something strange. "Huh?"
The fluid was flowing unnaturally. Rather than spreading out evenly in all directions, it formed a narrow stream, creeping forward along a single, deliberate bearing.
"It serves as an alternate compass."
"Ah!"
"Compasses are standard-issue equipment for everyone. However, within the interior of the ruins, there is a high probability that ordinary compasses will malfunction. That is why I incorporated this function."
There were countless crucial factors when exploring ancient ruins, but if one had to name the most critical of all, it was maintaining a sense of direction. In a sealed subterranean maze where identical corridors repeated endlessly, knowing which way was north was a matter of life and death.
"What on earth is this liquid?" Celia asked, unable to suppress her curiosity. "The magnetic interference inside the ruins makes ordinary compasses useless. How does this fluid pinpoint north so accurately...?"
"I do not wish to tell you."
"..."
He genuinely did not want to share it. It was a trade secret.
W-What was that answer? Rather than Celia, who was somewhat used to his bluntness, Lydia was the one caught completely off guard by the deadpan refusal.
"And there is one more feature."
Xiel retrieved a piece of timber he had prepared for class exercises, set it down a short distance away, and aimed the remaining piece of the torn card toward it.
"The other half is used like this."
One half was for navigating the ruins. The remaining half was—
FLASH!
"Ugh!"
"Ack!"
—for warding off beasts.
"T-The light...!"
"How did that happen?"
The squad leaders gaped in sheer disbelief. The moment the instructor threw the scrap of card against the wood, a searing flash of blinding radiance and roaring sparks had detonated simultaneously.
"Monsters generally possess an instinctive fear of fire and overwhelming light. This function was designed with that trait in mind."
It was astonishing.
"...How did you pack something like that into a thin card?"
"Did you craft a magic artifact?"
"How on earth did you manage this...?"
One half of a delicate card tracked direction, while the other erupted with fire and flashbang brilliance. Xiel's response was entirely matter-of-fact.
"It cost a great deal of money."
"Oh..."
"Ah..."
It truly had cost a fortune. While the compounding recipe was an assassin secret, gathering the rare reagents required substantial funds. In particular, the specialized paper stock used to sandwich the materials had cost him dearly this time around. That was why he had restricted the distribution to squad leaders alone. Even so, he did not consider it a waste.
"Use them when you are in danger to preserve your lives."
Student safety was always the absolute priority. Because the practicum involved scions of noble bloodlines, the academy faculty naturally implemented measures to manage hazards. Even so, Xiel was a former legend once feared across the continent as the Phantom. He had planned for every possible variable and unexpected crisis.
Of course, the most flawless safeguard of all was Xiel himself.
"Will we ever even need to use these when you're there with us, Instructor?"
"If I step in, there will be nothing left for you to do."
"Ah."
A sudden wave of tension swept through the students, sharper than anything they had felt during the Exchange Event. Dealing with subterranean beasts and charting ancient corridors carried far higher lethality than sparring with fellow students.
"Fight as though every clash were a true battle for your lives. That is the only way to build authentic experience and sharpen your abilities."
It was advice born of cold, direct experience. Xiel had been forged into an assassin amidst training that differed in no way from real mortal combat. In that hellish crucible, having crossed the threshold between life and death countless times, he had emerged as a mythic killer. Along the way, he had watched countless peers fail to become assassins, dying unceremoniously in the dark.
Of course, he had no intention of letting any of his students die.
"Dismissed. You have tomorrow to rest. Relaying this to your squad members and preparing accordingly."
The hour of departure for the practicum grounds was drawing near.
Valhafen, imperial capital of the Valdrain Empire.
The Koers Ruins, where the field practicum would take place, lay a full day's march on foot from the capital gates. As a result, the departure of the participating students formed a grand, sprawling procession—an expeditionary march in every sense of the word.
Among the marching columns, one group stood out with unmistakable prominence: the first-years.
"Wait, what is with those massive rucksacks on the first-years?"
"Are they going to war or something?"
Second- and third-year students sneered as they watched the underclassmen trudge along carrying towering packs. By comparison, their own packs were remarkably light, containing little more than emergency rations and basic camping necessities. After all, the exercise lasted only three days and two nights. It was merely a brief excursion; what could possibly warrant hauling that much gear?
Conversely, two senior faculty members watched the sight with keen intrigue.
Does Instructor Xiel know something we don't?
Professor Idel, in charge of the fourth-years, and Professor Isabella, overseeing the fifth-years, studied the column closely. As the senior echelons of the academy, the fourth and fifth years operated in far more perilous zones than their junior peers. Because of that, they did not find the first-years' heavy gear absurd in the slightest. If anything...
Damn it, should I have made my students pack more?
Instructor Xiel's thoroughness is remarkable.
They found themselves worrying that their own upperclassmen were underprepared. It was a reaction completely opposite to that of the second- and third-years.
There was another astonishing detail.
"Keep it moving! Let's keep our spirits up!"
"Just a little farther until the rest stop!"
The squad leaders called out steady encouragement to their members, and despite the heavy packs, the first-years showed remarkably little fatigue. They had already been marching for half a day, yet their stamina was holding up remarkably well. And right beside them, carrying an identical heavy rucksack on his own back, walked Xiel himself.
The mere participation of first-years was unprecedented in academy history. Even accounting for that, their conduct on the march was shattering expectations at every turn.
Meanwhile, another column marched alongside them.
"Tsk, tsk. When you know nothing of magic, you're doomed to such crude methods."
"Seeing them haul all that weight on their own backs proves they don't have brains between their ears. Only thinking of brute physical labor..."
Marching in formation a short distance away were the students of the Arcane School. Their professors looked toward the Sword School procession with blatant derision. The Arcane School was employing a fundamentally different approach.
"No abnormalities with the puppets. We can proceed at current pace."
"Good. Ensure they receive regular mana infusions as we advance. Make sure those ignorant brutes see how civilized people travel."
RUMBLE!
Massive wooden carriages, piled high with mountain-loads of luggage, rolled smoothly across the road. Pulling them were not horses or men, but mechanical puppets—the very same constructs that had appeared during the first match of the Sword School's Exchange Event. Demonstrating exceptional utility for simple, repetitive tasks, they served as the Arcane School's personal pack animals.
Naturally, using such delicate enchantments for manual labor was absurdly expensive. In fact, the puppets utilized in the Exchange Event had been leased at an exorbitant fee by the Sword School. For the Arcane School, however, commandeering a handful of puppets was trivial. Consequently, while the Sword School cadets were drenched in sweat, the Arcane School students strolled along comfortably, entirely unencumbered by baggage.
"Hey, it's getting hot again over here. Cast the cooling enchantment."
"Yes, Senior!"
"Hurry it up. You're already a third-year and that's the best you can do?"
"My apologies! Casting right away!"
Cadets conscripted from each grade level were even circulating magic to chill the ambient air around their seniors. Under such conditions, it was no wonder the Arcane School looked upon the Sword School as little more than barbarians.
Ignorant savages. Do they honestly call that marching training?
Professor Titus, supervising professor of the Arcane School's third-years, wore a cold, contemptuous smirk. He had harbored a bitter grudge against the Sword School lately, particularly toward that first-year instructor, Xiel Steelheart.
It was all because of that bastard.
The Dean of Academic Affairs, who had backed his faction, had been summarily dismissed. Fortunately, Titus had severed ties quickly enough to gloss over his own involvement, but he had come dangerously close to being dragged down alongside him. He could forgive anyone else, but that insolent instructor deserved to be knocked down a peg.
Titus flicked his fingers, summoning someone to his side. It was the first-year supervisor, Professor Emeric.
"Professor Emeric."
"Yes, Professor Titus?"
"You remember what we discussed, correct? Their assigned sector is right beside yours, so make sure there are no mistakes."
"Of course."
A sly smirk touched Emeric's lips. Blame your foolish instructor for your misfortune, little first-years. Heh.
A foul scheme was brewing beneath the surface.
"I hear he's been getting quite a bit of attention in the Sword School lately," Emeric murmured, "but what does that matter? In the end, he's just an uneducated swordsman, isn't he? A mere elective lecturer..."
"Indeed. I trust you will teach that ignorant brute a proper lesson, Professor Emeric." Titus clicked his tongue in mock pity. "I wonder if someone like him even knows what a first-tier spell is."
"He likely doesn't even know what magic is in the first place."
"Now, now! Professor Emeric! How could you speak so harshly?"
Emeric flinched at Titus's sudden scolding. You were just badmouthing him yourself, you hypocrite!
"Ah... was saying he doesn't know magic a bit too far...?" Emeric shrank back sheepishly.
Titus merely grinned, clapping him on the shoulder with a snicker. "Before he could possibly understand magic, he wouldn't even know what mana is, would he? He's just an elective lecturer, after all."
"Ah! You're quite right. An elective lecturer! Hahaha!"
The two Arcane School professors laughed derisively in unison.
Yet, there was one crucial truth they failed to realize.
Among the countless souls assassinated by the Phantom's hand... there had been quite a few mages. And among them were some of the most celebrated names the empire had ever known.