That Is Called a Transaction
Following the defeat of the Ruinbark, the first-year students of the Sword School returned to camp in exceptionally high spirits.
“Are we seriously going to get the highest score?”
“I know, right! We took down all those beasts, and then even a Ruinbark!”
“Well, strictly speaking, Instructor Xiel defeated the Ruinbark. Would that really count toward our score?”
In truth, none of them actually cared about the grade. The core of their excitement was simple: they had concluded the field exam in triumphant success.
Above all, the conversation gravitated ceaselessly toward the battle between Xiel and the Ruinbark.
“I had no idea the instructor was that strong.”
“His footwork was insane, but did you see the way he casually parried that massive blow with just a flick of his blade?”
“What kind of life did he lead before coming here?”
“Hey, did you hear? Some people say he was dispatched directly by the Imperial Court.”
“Seriously?”
“Think about it. Why else would the second prince attend our exchange event in person?”
Rumors bred further rumors, snowballing into grander tales with every passing second.
“Could he be… a hidden prince?”
“No way, for real?”
“Come on, you’ve heard the rumors, haven’t you? The whispers about what happened before the First Prince was born…”
The gossip escalated until wild speculation pegged him as an illegitimate imperial scion.
“Then why would he come to the academy?”
“Maybe to avoid a succession war?”
“His features definitely have that aristocratic air. There’s something timeless and elegant about his face.”
“Have you looked into his eyes? Every time I look at him, I feel like I’m being drawn in.”
“Oh my gosh, you too? Me too!”
Whenever the topic turned to Xiel’s appearance, the female students seemed ready to chatter for hours on end. The male students, meanwhile, plunged into serious debates regarding the overwhelming martial prowess he had displayed.
“Wait, does this mean Instructor Xiel is ranked higher than Professor Elcanto? The professor used to be a Great Knight, right?”
“Have you looked at the professor’s belly lately? How is he supposed to take on Instructor Xiel with that gut?”
“Hey, a Great Knight is still a Great Knight. Even if Instructor Xiel manifested a Magic Sword, wielding one isn’t the sole requirement to be a Great Knight, is it? I heard a few upperclassmen can pull that off too.”
“Are you blind? The movement is on a totally different level! Didn’t you hear Yurio? He said it takes at least five Great Knights to fight a Ruinbark!”
“Maybe the instructor just had prior intel on the beast?”
“Intel or not, the man is an absolute monster with a sword! Are you an instructor anti or something?”
It was the classic teenage argument over power tiers, devolving into a heated dispute over whether Xiel was genuinely stronger than a Great Knight.
“He’s definitely stronger than a Great Knight! Be honest, who else could bring down a Ruinbark like that?”
“Couldn’t it just have been a fluke? Honestly, within reason… being that powerful makes zero sense.”
Naturally, the skeptics were in the minority. In any crowd, there were always those who contrarily opposed whatever the majority believed. Before long, however, the dissenting voices were utterly drowned out, arriving at a firm consensus.
“The instructor is unquestionably stronger than a Great Knight. That’s the bottom line. Bring any Great Knight you want and pit him against a Ruinbark. Who could win that? Am I right?”
The one driving the final nail into that argument was none other than Deleve.
“There is zero room for doubt! He was even lecturing us in the middle of trading blows with the beast! Who else on earth could pull that off?”
His impassioned speech bordered on outright worship.
“H-Hey… was Deleve always like this?”
“Maybe his brain got scrambled when the instructor beat the snot out of him at the start of the semester.”
“I mean, what he’s saying isn’t wrong.”
“Still, he looks insanely impressed. I’ve never seen Deleve act this worked up before.”
Just as they noted, none of them had ever witnessed Deleve speak with such fervent zeal. And in truth, Deleve had every reason to be moved.
That scene was truly…
The sight of Instructor Xiel casually avoiding every strike from the Ruinbark before delivering crushing counterattacks—that composed lethality had left a profound mark on Deleve’s pride as an aspiring swordsman. It was the kind of absolute martial power no warrior could witness without admiration. Deleve grew so animated he seemed ready to fight anyone who dared disagree.
“Anyway! Instructor Xiel is unimaginably strong! A Great Knight wouldn’t stand a chance! Everyone agrees, right?”
Right at that moment, a flat voice sounded from behind them.
“What are you agreeing on?”
The students whirled around to find Xiel standing there, expressionless.
“I-Instructor? When did you…”
“I just arrived. Your voices carry quite far.”
“We’re sorry…”
“We do not know when other magic beasts might approach. Keep your voices down.”
“Y-Yes, sir!”
Xiel repeated his question calmly.
“So, what were you agreeing on?”
“Ah, well, that’s…”
Only then did the students regain their senses. Discussing their instructor’s combat tier right to his face felt somewhat awkward. Deleve, however, did not hesitate.
“Instructor, I have a question.”
“What is it, Cadet Deleve Kundel?”
“You are stronger than a Great Knight, aren’t you?”
Xiel answered without a beat of hesitation.
“I am.”
“I knew it!”
“And I am stronger than an Imperial Knight.”
“…Pardon?”
Rather than elaborating on their bewildered expressions, Xiel simply offered a final reminder.
“Lower your voices, and keep all conversations to a quiet murmur if possible. Squad 1 will be on patrol shortly, so prepare yourselves. That is all.”
With that, Xiel walked away into the darkness.
He had not simply dropped by and left; he had dropped another explosive debate right into their laps.
“W-Was he bluffing? Stronger than an Imperial Knight?”
“Come on, an Imperial Knight is going a bit far…”
“Deleve, what do you think?”
Deleve stood stunned for a moment before managing a faint, breathless reply.
“…It’s the instructor. You never know.”
“You’ve completely lost your mind. Why don’t you just go confess your love to him?”
“Stronger than an Imperial Knight? Come on. Does he think an Imperial Knight’s title is something you win in a card game?”
“Even our instructor has a boastful side, huh.”
The new debate showed signs of fizzling out quickly due to the sheer absurdity of the claim. Yet one person—and one person alone—believed it from the bottom of his heart.
He might really be stronger than an Imperial Knight.
It was an unshakeable conviction. The way Xiel moved during his duel with the Ruinbark was etched indelibly into Deleve’s mind. He had seen it clearly. Or rather, he chose to believe it wholeheartedly.
Meanwhile…
The night grows deep.
Having left the squabbling teenagers behind, Xiel stoked the campfire in front of his tent while keeping his senses spread across the perimeter. The primary objective of the practical exam was complete, but the exam itself was not yet over. Magic beasts still roamed the forest, and there was no telling when another predator might emerge.
I already confirmed their scores are exceptional, so there is no need to worry about grading.
The marks he had glimpsed over Agent 8’s shoulder were stellar. Barring any unforeseen incident, the students would secure top evaluations for this field test. He could also sense that Agent 8, whom he had put to sleep earlier, had returned to his post. The agent likely remained baffled about how he had lost consciousness in the first place.
Now that the practical exam is drawing to a close… next is wrapping up the semester.
His very first semester at Edelbein Academy was nearing its conclusion. Back when he was an assassin, his perception of time had been entirely different. Time was merely calculated according to the requirements of a mission; he had never experienced it in this steady, sequential manner. Yet slowly, his habits, perspectives, and thoughts were transforming—at a pace that surprised even himself.
Am I growing accustomed to this life, or am I changing?
Xiel lingered in quiet contemplation before recalling the upcoming schedule.
Which means the ‘vacation’ the students mentioned will begin soon.
Vacation: a two-month period of free time that followed the conclusion of the academic term. From what he had gathered, many students used this time to return to their hometowns, leaving the vast academy grounds largely deserted.
Hometown.
Xiel thought back to the distant city where he had once begged on the streets before being swept into the assassination syndicate. That place, of course, was no home. It held no sentimental warmth.
I should investigate the things that have piqued my curiosity during the break.
Two tasks immediately came to mind.
First, the lingering traces of his fallen syndicate, Black Sky.
Now that the organization was dismantled, its fate was none of his concern. However, the leakage of documents and specialized equipment that Black Sky once held was a different matter entirely. The compact hand mirror he had discovered in that equipment shop was proof of that leak.
It is best to recover and destroy anything that could be traced back to me.
Xiel recalled the chaotic day the organization collapsed.
‘Xiel… has your brainwashing broken?’
‘Is that why… you spared your target on your last mission?’
‘Who helped you?’
He had offered no reply. Only the cold flash of a dagger had answered them.
Xiel gave a small, faint frown as the memory drifted away.
What is done is done.
He then considered the spoils harvested from the Ruinbark’s carcass. Trophies gathered from the tepics, swordbirds, and peckworms fought by the first-years held little commercial value, but the Ruinbark was another story—especially the armored bark plates he had meticulously flensed from its body.
If processed properly, those could be fashioned into useful defensive gear for the students.
He would need to seek out a skilled craftsman over the break.
Then came the second task: House Siren.
They are quiet for now, but there is no telling what they might attempt next.
They posed a direct threat to his students. House Siren was deeply entangled with the puppet manipulation incident that occurred during Match 1 of the Exchange Event. Xiel already knew this, and he intended to use the vacation to look into them thoroughly.
They might threaten my students again.
It was a straightforward, thoroughly instructor-like justification.
“Ah.”
A sudden thought struck him.
Cadet Celia Rihardt mentioned there was an exceptional restaurant in Sector 7.
He would have to sample good food as well. But wait…
Do instructors continue to receive a salary during vacation?
Xiel froze, plunged into profound distress.
“If not, that would be problematic…”
He had received performance bonuses, but ever since taking Deleve to Lancaster’s Star, Xiel had come to truly understand the indispensable value of money.
I have ample time ahead of me. The more money I possess, the better.
Yet eating delicious food was equally vital. Which one took precedence? A deep, agonizing dilemma gripped his mind.
Does life possess meaning without good food?
On the other hand, a life without funds would be just as devoid of meaning—or rather, devoid of enjoyment. It was the first time since the shattering of his brainwashing that he had grappled with such an existential, philosophical question.
Perhaps Professor Elcanto knows the answer.
Just as he furrowed his brow in deep concentration, he picked up the sound of approaching footsteps.
Cadet Celia Rihardt.
Her pace was slightly brisker than usual. Sure enough, her voice rang out a moment later.
“Instructor!”
“Something has occurred, Cadet Celia Rihardt.”
“How did you know?”
“The cadence and stride of your steps sounded different.”
Only then did Xiel shift his amber eyes toward her.
“Is it regarding the Arcane School?”
Celia jumped, her crimson hair swaying as her eyes widened in shock.
“H-How did you know that too?”
“I caught the scent.”
The scent? Celia stared, unable to fathom his meaning.
If he chose to, Xiel could memorize the unique scent of every individual he encountered. In truth, he had recognized Celia’s approach largely by the faint perfume carried upon the night breeze. But lingering faintly on her clothes now was a different, distinct body odor, and alongside it…
The scent of blood.
“Let us go.”
“Y-Yes, sir.”
Celia followed behind him, completely dumbfounded. She had barely managed to call out to him, yet he had acted as if he already grasped the entire situation.
Could he really become… my escort knight?
She had already been left breathless after watching him effortlessly dispatch the Ruinbark. The thought of extending an offer for him to serve as her personal escort kept tugging at her mind. What she had initially sought was someone of decent skill with a handsome face to accompany her in high society. But Xiel’s capabilities were not merely decent—they were terrifyingly peerless.
Still, if someone like him became my knight…!
“Cadet Celia Rihardt, what are you pondering?”
“Huh?”
She looked up to find Xiel already several paces ahead. Lost in thought, she had lagged behind.
“A-Ah, nothing! I’m coming!”
A few moments later, Xiel came upon the source of the scent.
Emeric Kent, the supervising professor for the Arcane School’s first-year class.
“I-Instructor Xiel!”
The moment Emeric saw Xiel, he scrambled to his feet. Under the flickering glow of the distant campfire, his face appeared dreadfully haggard. His robes were frayed and torn in multiple places, revealing hastily wrapped bandages beneath.
The musk of magic beasts clings to him as well.
Now the reason for the additional beasts that had assaulted the camp became clear. The Arcane School’s first-years had failed to properly subdue them, inadvertently driving the creatures toward the Sword School’s encampment. The wounds on Emeric’s body were undoubtedly sustained during those skirmishes, explaining the mingled stench of blood and beast.
“Professor Emeric Kent. What brings you here? This is the campsite for the Sword School first-years.”
“T-That is…”
Emeric looked around anxiously, terrified that someone else might witness this, before letting his head droop low.
“……”
“If you have nothing to say, I will take my leave.”
“W-Wait, I…”
“Have you lost the capacity for speech?”
It was a blunt, scathing inquiry delivered entirely without malice. From Xiel’s perspective, it was a question born of pure, clinical curiosity.
C-Capacity for speech?
“Encountering a high-tier magic beast or suffering severe concussive physical trauma can occasionally result in temporary aphasia,” Xiel explained deadpan.
“N-No, that’s not it…”
Emeric stammered even more, utterly bewildered by the assessment.
“Do you require assistance?”
“Pardon?”
“I asked if you require assistance.”
Emeric blinked blankly, but the prompt allowed him to finally force the words past his dry throat.
“…P-Please, Instructor Xiel. Please help us.”
“Understood. This may sting a bit.”
Emeric gasped in sheer horror.
From inside his coat, Xiel had drawn a long, slender acupuncture needle, its metallic gleam sharp beneath the moonlight.
“Agh!”
Emeric stumbled backward in pure terror.
“It will only hurt momentarily. To resolve speech impairment, one must stimulate the central nerve cluster at the base of the skull—”
“T-That’s not what I meant! We are in a dire situation, and I came to ask for your aid with that!”
Emeric squeezed his eyes shut and yelled the truth. Only then did the long silver needle vanish back into Xiel’s coat.
Damn it, I finally said it.
They were words he had sworn never to utter. Just yesterday, he had been acting under Professor Titus’s directives, scheming to sabotage the Sword School’s first-years—tampering with their supply lines or perhaps even targeting Xiel directly. But circumstances had rendered all of that impossible.
The magic puppets meant to deliver their supplies had never arrived. Subjected to relentless monster attacks since the previous evening, his students had been forced to abandon their practical tasks and retreat blindly toward the designated rally grounds. And when they attempted to trace their steps back, they had spotted a monstrously massive beast blocking the trail, forcing them to turn back in sheer panic.
It was a catastrophe that even Emeric, a 5th-Tier Mage, could not resolve alone.
“Right now, the students are… shivering in the cold, starving. I know I have no right to ask this after everything, but I beg of you.”
Rations. Tents. Blankets. And clean water. They were utterly bereft of everything. Though barely two days had passed, the students were on the verge of physical and mental collapse.
“On top of that, an impossibly massive magic beast appeared right along our withdrawal route…”
“If you are referring to that beast, it has been slain.”
“What?”
“It is dead. My students and I eliminated it. I severed its neck myself.”
“……”
Emeric froze, his mind grinding to a complete halt.
This instructor… killed the Ruinbark?
“You will not find it along the path back,” Xiel continued evenly. “Though other beasts may still roam the area.”
“I… I see…”
Emeric could not tell whether this man was speaking the absolute truth or spinning an outrageous lie.
Is he messing with me?
Yet even if the path was clear, their immediate survival remained in jeopardy.
“T-To get back to the point… we are currently facing a critical shortage of food and drinking water, and we don’t even have adequate firewood to keep our camp warm…”
“Are you asking us to share our provisions?”
“T-That is… correct.”
“I refuse.”
The rejection came swift and merciless.
Emeric had anticipated it, but facing the flat refusal head-on left him hollow.
“I… see.”
He couldn’t help the crushing disappointment weighing on his chest. He had lowered himself solely out of a professor’s duty toward his suffering students. Crawling to the Sword School—the very department they had so openly scorned—was humiliating beyond measure, but pride was a luxury he could not afford. Surrender? The moment he declared a forfeit for the practical exam, there was no telling what political fallout awaited him back at the academy.
Must we truly endure the night like this?
Should they risk the exam penalties and chop down fresh trees for fire? But they possessed neither the tools to fell timber nor the remaining stamina to drag the heavy logs.
“I-Instructor…”
Celia, too, looked taken aback by the absolute immediacy of Xiel’s rejection.
Xiel, however, was not finished speaking.
“I cannot give them away for nothing.”
“Pardon?”
“We possess surplus materials, but I cannot provide them free of charge.”
In the quiet of the night forest, Xiel posed a remarkably difficult question in a calm, uninflected voice.
“What can you offer us in return, Professor Emeric Kent?”
“What… can I offer…?”
“Exchanging equivalent value between two parties—that is what we call a transaction, Professor.”
Lately, the Arcane School seemed to find itself backed into corners with alarming regularity. And every single time, it was because of one man: Xiel Steelheart.