That Might Change from Now On (2)
Scritch, scratch.
The evaluators’ pens moved in a furious blur across their clipboards.
Field evaluators! Though everyone had a vague notion of who they might be, not a single soul ever laid eyes on them throughout the duration of the practical exam.
And for good reason.
Escaping the intelligence bureau is the best thing that ever happened to me. It’s so peaceful out here.
Every last one of them belonged to the Imperial Intelligence Department.
Whispers claimed the agency was expanding at a breakneck pace, yet its scale, its roster, and the true scope of its operations remained shrouded beneath a veil of absolute secrecy. And now, its elite operatives had been deployed as field evaluators for an academy exercise. It might have seemed absurd to dispatch imperial intelligence agents on such a mundane assignment, but to anyone in the know, it made perfect sense. Edelbein Academy, after all, was an institution established under the direct initiative of the imperial throne.
What a shame there are only two days left.
If anything, the operatives regarded this as a choice assignment. All they had to do was remain concealed and grade children without a care in the world. With work piling up endlessly ever since the destruction of the Black Sky assassination syndicate, this brief respite was an absolute blessing.
Besides, no one was better suited for the task. As sworn agents of the intelligence department, they were utterly immune to outside bribery or solicitation—hardly anyone even knew their identities to approach them in the first place. On top of that, they possessed the supreme stealth required to shadow the students unseen and more than enough combat prowess to deal with rogue magic beasts. Of course, such an arrangement was only possible because the imperial house stood behind Edelbein Academy.
“The Arcane School first-years… are in for a rough time,” muttered Agent 9, assigned to oversee the magic department, clicking his tongue in dismay.
Their cohort had been a catastrophe from the very beginning. While formal scoring was supposed to start upon reaching the campsite, Agent 9 had observed their entire journey from start to finish.
Their golem broke down so they couldn't even pack their supplies, the students are completely exhausted, and the professor charges into a beast hunt without offering a single practical solution… What a disaster.
Naturally, the lion’s share of the score depended on beast subjugation and ruins exploration. Yet qualitative metrics like preparedness and teamwork also carried significant weight. In that regard, the Arcane School first-years displayed virtually zero cooperation, and their preparation was an absolute disgrace.
“Over here! Support this flank—aaargh!”
“Casualty! We’ve got an injury!”
“M-My arm! My arm fell off—!”
“It didn’t fall off! It’s just a scratch, you idiot!”
Total pandemonium. There was no formation, no strategy, and no tactical discipline whatsoever. At first, they had made a feeble attempt to follow what they had practiced, but the students’ physical stamina was simply too abysmal.
Well, that’s what happens when you spend the entire night shivering on the frozen ground.
Their physical condition was in the gutter, meaning they couldn't demonstrate even half of what they had trained for.
“Are you alright? Fall back to the rear!”
“P-Professor! At this rate, we’re all going to—”
“You’re not going to die, so fall back!”
“Y-Yes, sir!”
Fortunately, Professor Emeric was putting up a valiant fight, so it seemed unlikely any student would suffer fatal harm. But in Agent 9’s eyes, the outcome of this exercise was already written in stone.
When the opening act is this shambolic, the rest isn't even worth watching.
Scritch, scratch.
Scoring lay entirely at the evaluator’s discretion. Points could be granted with generosity or stripped away without mercy. Consequently, the Arcane School’s scores were being slashed to ribbons. While the professor was performing admirably enough, an instructor’s individual evaluation would do little to salvage the students’ overall marks.
Furthermore, the evaluators had one more duty: intervening to protect students in dire emergencies.
Fwip! Thunk!
Agent 9 flicked a throwing dagger at a beast Emeric had momentarily overlooked. A Tepic, its sharp claws poised to strike down a terrified student, crashed heavily onto the soil, lifeless.
“H-Haaah… haaah!”
“Run! Hurry!”
The student scrambled away in blind panic, completely oblivious to what had just saved their life. Naturally, this too went straight onto the grading sheet. The mere fact that an evaluator had been forced to intervene incurred a severe penalty.
Tepics aren't even dangerous if you hold your ground in a tight group. What a shame.
Small magic beasts like Tepics lacked individual combat strength and relied solely on pack numbers. If their prey appeared numerous and resolute, they were easily intimidated and hesitated to pounce. Put simply, if the mages had stood together and projected strength, this messy melee would never have occurred in the first place.
At this rate, they won’t even make it through the ruins.
Agent 9 continued jotting down cold, ruthless assessments with a flick of his wrist.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the forest, Agent 8 was overseeing the Sword School first-years.
“Flawless,” Agent 8 murmured.
His pen moved at a pace far brisker and busier than Agent 9’s, solely because the students under his scrutiny were performing exceptionally well across the board. Strategy. Tactics. Teamwork. Even their individual crisis-management skills—everything was magnificent.
In particular, their strategy of splitting into squads with distinct responsibilities to counter the beasts was nothing short of brilliant.
They’re deliberately refusing to trade blows with the Tepics. Very wise.
Tepics never charged when outnumbered, especially when confronted with open fire. And what remarkable fire it was. Unlike standard torches, these burned with an unnatural, violent roar, cowing the pack into helpless hesitation.
While exploiting those behavioral quirks, the students also handled the subterranean threat seamlessly.
“Ground tremor! Count three seconds and roll!”
“Left or right?”
“Right!”
Having read the attack patterns of the burrowing Peckworms, the students rolled across the clearing in flawless unison, prompting a wry chuckle from Agent 8. Could first-years truly be this coordinated? Peckworms were exceptionally troublesome regardless of their numbers. Misjudge their breach point, and they would burst from the earth to devour whatever stood above before vanishing underground in the blink of an eye. Fortunately, these were neither exceptionally large nor fiercely aggressive, but even so, they were hardly an easy match for fledglings seeing their first real combat.
That instructor trained them frighteningly well.
Agent 8 shifted his gaze toward Xiel.
Arms crossed, the instructor observed his students with a detached, emotionless gaze. Even within the intelligence bureau, Agent 8 had heard rumors about the new elective lecturer at Edelbein Academy’s Sword School—whispers that his skills were extraordinary.
To think he’s this capable.
He was certainly worth keeping an eye on. In truth, the operatives had another unspoken mission alongside student safety: gathering intelligence on noteworthy figures under the cover of their evaluator roles. The reason was simple enough. The intelligence department answered solely to the imperial house, and the crown was constantly engaged in a silent tug-of-war with the high nobility.
Hm?
Suddenly, Agent 8 felt a strange prickle on his skin.
Am I imagining things?
There was definitely a gaze directed straight toward his hiding spot.
Wait…
What was that?
No, that’s impossible.
The camouflage and stealth techniques of imperial intelligence were absolute perfection. To this day, not a single operative acting as an evaluator had ever been detected before concluding their mission.
And yet…
He’s been watching from the shadows the entire time.
Xiel had noticed the operative’s presence from the precise moment they stepped foot into the campsite. He simply hadn't paid it any mind. The evaluator fell outside the scope of his lesson plan. Perform well, receive high marks; perform poorly, receive low marks. It was a simple, self-evident truth, so Xiel chose to concentrate entirely on what his students could control.
“Kieeeeeeek!”
Amidst the clash, the most troublesome foe—a Swordbird lurking high in the canopy—finally took to the sky. True to its name, the edges of its bladed wings gleamed like honed steel. A diving strike carrying all the beast's aerial momentum was devastatingly lethal.
Now comes the real test, Agent 8 thought, setting aside his unease and leaning forward.
Right at that moment, Xiel’s voice cut through the clearing.
“Squad 1, Squad 2. Provide support.”
“Yes, sir!”
Despite being the class's strongest vanguard, Deleb and Celia’s squads had remained on standby in the rear. Now, they sprang into motion. While engaging both Tepics and Peckworms, an ambush from a diving Swordbird could have proved fatal. But Squads 1 and 2 stepped forward bearing weapons prepared specifically for this moment, leaving their swords sheathed.
“Spears up!”
Clang! Claaang!
Instead of swinging short blades, they raised long spears in tight formation, denying the Swordbird’s descent and deflecting its bladed dive.
“Whoa!”
“W-We blocked it!”
“It works just like we practiced!”
In a contest between earth and sky, the aerial combatant naturally held the initiative. The countermeasure Xiel had devised was simple: reach. When forty students armed with long spears spread out in cohesive clusters, not even a Swordbird dared dive into the thicket of points.
A brilliant tactic.
Scritch, scratch.
Agent 8’s pen resumed its frantic dance. Swordbirds were undeniably lethal, which meant attempting to face them head-on in an aerial dogfight was pure folly. In other words, Xiel understood their instincts intimately. If a Swordbird judged its prey too troublesome to harvest, it quickly broke off the attack. By focusing entirely on an impenetrable defense, the beast would eventually give up and fly away on its own.
The more Agent 8 watched, the more impressed he became. It would have been one thing if these were third- or fourth-year cadets, but to see first-years executing such refined tactics with absolute composure in a live combat zone was staggering. Above all, the mastermind behind it all—Xiel Steelheart—left the deepest impression. To maintain such absolute command over a hundred unruly first-years and orchestrate such a seamless defense was nothing short of miraculous.
Scritch, scratch.
The evaluator’s pen flew across the section for instructor assessment as well. Meanwhile, the students’ subjugation operation was rapidly drawing to a close.
Thwack! Crunch!
“Got the Peckworm over here!”
“There are two more underground! Stay sharp!”
“Swordbird! Another one incoming!”
Clang!
Another aerial strike was turned aside by a wall of spearheads.
“The Tepics are circling! Fire, bring the fire!”
“Over here! Keep waving the torches!”
They periodically drove off the prowling Tepics, never letting the beasts find an opening.
Thwack!
“Is that the last Peckworm?”
“That’s all of them!”
“The Swordbirds retreated completely!”
“The Tepics are scattering into the woods!”
And finally, silence returned to the clearing.
“Did… did we win?”
“There’s nothing left!”
“Whaaaa!”
“We cleared the hunt!”
The second day’s subjugation had ended. Naturally, there were zero fatalities, and barely anyone had sustained an injury.
“Man, my hands are still shaking. How on earth did we pull that off?”
“Because we stuck together, obviously!”
There’s hardly anything left to critique, Agent 8 thought. While some individual students stood out more than others, not a single first-year had failed their assigned role. It was an exemplary showing. If he had to single out the most impressive performers, it was undoubtedly the squad leaders. Standing at the forefront with cool heads, they had rallied and directed their peers to seize victory. If Xiel had laid the strategic foundation, it was the squad leaders who had brought it to life on the battlefield.
“Ann, hmm. Reluctant as I am to admit it, you possess the makings of a true leader. You’re second only to me.”
“Whatever you say, Quantus. Go pick up that dropped sword over there. I’ll tally the wounded.”
“Understood, Leader!”
They checked the injured, clapped the backs of classmates who had collapsed from sheer exhaustion, and gathered the carcasses of the slain Peckworms without forgetting the cleanup. They were performing every duty expected of them, and then some.
Agent 8 concluded his grading for the first mission of the second day. The Sword School first-years’ overall score was, without question, perfect.
“Are you injured?” Xiel asked, stopping before a cadet.
“Yes, earlier when the Peckworm breached…”
“Did it catch your chin?”
“No, sir. The shockwave knocked me off balance, so I just rolled on the ground.”
“Then you’ll be fine. Disinfect the scrapes and apply a bandage.”
The post-battle management was equally immaculate. Xiel personally inspected the wounded to stabilize the situation before issuing marching orders to the squad leaders.
“The Swordbirds may return at any moment. Maintain a perimeter while resting, and we will depart immediately. Consume your dry rations and drink adequate water during the break.”
Rest and caloric intake were vital. As the students sat down, Xiel stared at the pile of Peckworm carcasses, struck by a useful thought.
Squelch.
Stepping up to a dead Peckworm, he plunged his dagger into its hide and extracted a small, glistening organ.
“Wh-What is that?”
“Ugh! The smell!”
A horrific, eye-watering stench billowed out in every direction.
“This is the Peckworm’s scent gland,” Xiel said calmly.
“B-But why are you taking that?”
“It deters magic beasts. Any beast weaker than a Peckworm will avoid approaching it.”
“I-It’s going to deter us, too…”
“The odor can be minimized.”
Unhooking the canteen from his belt, Xiel thoroughly rinsed the gland before slipping it into an empty leather pouch and pulling the drawstrings tight. The overwhelming stench subsided significantly.
“Take it.”
“Ugh… I-Instructor…”
Celia recoiled in sheer horror, taking two hurried steps backward. For someone who had bathed exclusively in the finest perfumes her entire life, this was nothing short of torture.
“Carrying this reduces the necessity of combat.”
“B-But still!”
“Will you refuse?”
“……”
Celia bit her lip. I have to make a good impression if he’s ever going to accept becoming my escort knight! Clinging to her hopeless fantasy, Celia reluctantly accepted the pouch. The other squad leaders, their faces pale and tearful, were forced to follow suit.
“Why am I holding beast guts…?”
“Honestly, I’d rather just fight…”
Even Deleb, who trusted Xiel blindly at this point, held the pouch with an expression as if he had swallowed a live centipede. Never in his wildest dreams had he anticipated this.
“Leader, stay back. Don’t come over here.”
“Ugh, the stench!”
“Our leader stinks!”
Watching their squad members actively flee from them after praising them mere minutes ago was deeply disheartening. Yet humanity is nothing if not adaptable.
Actually… it’s bearable.
Once washed, tucked inside the leather, and securely fastened, the smell became tolerable enough to ignore.
“By the way, how did you know about this, Instructor? It wasn’t in our beast compendium,” Celia asked, her face still pinched.
In truth, very few people knew that Peckworms possessed a repellent scent gland. Scholars who studied magic beasts in depth were rare, and finding a safe environment to dissect and observe them was rarer still.
“I used it during my training.”
“Ah…”
Celia nodded in instant understanding. Since it was Instructor Xiel, it made sense. Naturally, it never crossed her mind that the training he spoke of was the brutal curriculum of an assassin organization. Assassins utilized every conceivable element in existence to secure a kill. In the process of honing his five senses to superhuman limits, Xiel had been exposed to every foul stench the world had to offer.
Just what kind of monster trained Instructor Xiel? Celia wondered. Whoever it was, they were bound to be an even greater terror.
Up in his perch, Agent 8 watched Xiel harvest the glands with wide eyes.
Even upperclassmen wouldn't know Peckworms have scent glands. To think he knows such obscure practical lore…
His impressive depth of knowledge stirred equal parts admiration and bewilderment. Is he deeply versed in monster ecology, too?
Scritch, scratch.
Naturally, this too was recorded as bonus points on the evaluation sheet.
Flap, flutter.
Just then, a small bird—different from the one he had dispatched earlier—swooped down and landed beside Agent 8.
What’s this?
Untying the small parchment bound to the bird’s leg, Agent 8 unfurled it. The contents were rather peculiar.
Traces suspected to belong to a magic beast—hair and droppings—discovered near Sector 9. Exercise extreme caution during operations.
Sector 9?
Sector 9 was the practical exam zone designated for the Arcane School first-years. It was hardly surprising that magic beasts would roam such an area.
Why send this warning to me?
Agent 8 tilted his head in confusion, but before he could ponder it further, he realized the Sword School first-years were already packing up and marching out. Stashing the note inside his coat, he slipped silently through the branches to follow them.