Chapter 232
Chapter 232
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 232
Chapter Title: Academy (4)
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Penelope Borza's eyes snapped open.
"Wh-where... is this...?"
It wasn't the familiar training ground. She saw the unfamiliar sight of a classroom.
Penelope wasn't the only one in the classroom. The other students—precisely, the students of Class 13—were seated as well.
"Wh-why am I here...?"
Penelope was confused.
She understood she'd passed out and woken up. But she couldn't remember at all what had happened before she fainted.
Even as she racked her brain, nothing came to mind. All that surfaced was the excruciating pain like her head was splitting open.
"That kid's awake now, so we can start class."
At that moment, an unfamiliar yet vaguely heard voice rang out. Penelope looked up toward the front.
A man stood at the lectern in front of the blackboard. The instant she saw his face, Penelope suddenly remembered what had happened to her.
"Demian Haksen!"
Penelope shot up from her seat and shouted.
"What is the meaning of this! Hitting someone over the head with a club! You can't think this will be tolerated..."
Demian Haksen slammed the tip of his club into the floor.
A resounding boom shook the entire building. Dust sifted down from the ceiling.
At that monstrous display, Penelope swallowed dryly.
It suddenly hit her that the man before her was Master Class.
"Quiet down. I'm talking."
Penelope immediately sat back down. Any defiance had already vanished clean away.
Anyone who saw that would have done the same.
"Allow me to introduce myself. You already know, but my name is Demian Haksen. I'm a knight from the Kingdom of Appel."
The nobles of the Empire had a strong tendency to look down on other kingdoms. Compared to the Empire, those kingdoms were far too insignificant.
But not a single student in that room dared mock Demian Haksen. Thanks to the "reformation" he'd given them.
"Due to personal circumstances, I've become the academy's swordsmanship instructor. I won't be here long. It's a temporary contract."
At those words, every face in Class 13 lit up. Some students clenched their fists in silent cheers.
"However, resolving my personal business will take some time. The dean attached a condition. If Class 13 doesn't excel in the swordsmanship portion of the year-end evaluation in a week, I'll be fired on the spot."
The students' faces brightened even more. They might be free of Demian Haksen sooner than expected.
But their expressions darkened in an instant at his next words.
"So I need your cooperation. What I demand from you is simple. Train hard for a week as I instruct, and ace the exam. Understood?"
At the word "train," the students' faces soured.
Until now, every student in Class 13 had lived by their own whims. Naturally, they bristled at the idea of training.
"Wait, if we bomb the exam, that guy gets kicked out in a week, right?"
"Yeah? So why should we play along and train, or even take the test?"
Two male students next to Penelope whispered.
Penelope, eavesdropping, couldn't help but agree.
Why should they obey Demian Haksen's orders?
Refusing might even get him booted from the academy in a week...
"Most of you are probably thinking you could get me fired right away by refusing my training."
Penelope flinched and glanced at Demian Haksen with a guilty face.
"Some might not understand why you have to follow my orders at all."
A few students nodded. Demian glared at them, and they immediately bowed their heads.
"The reason is simple: you're students, and I'm the teacher."
Penelope Borza was greatly disappointed. It was an opener she'd heard a hundred times before.
No doubt next would come the canned lines about training for their futures, a teacher's duty, and all that rote nonsense...
"Students must obey their teacher's commands."
...Or so it should have gone, but something felt off.
"Your own opinions don't matter in the slightest. I'll make you ace that exam by any means necessary."
In that instant, Demian Haksen's eyes blazed. He scanned the students with a fierce glare.
It was as if he were warning that refusal meant death on the spot.
"So shut up and obey my orders."
The students stared at Demian Haksen with uneasy expressions. They all looked like they were wondering if this was for real.
Thud.
Demian Haksen struck the floor with the tip of his club again. The building shook.
"Answer me."
"Y-yes, sir! Students must obey their teacher's commands!"
"Give us any order! We'll follow like loyal dogs!"
But the students had long since had fear of Demian Haksen etched into their very bones. Not one voiced refusal.
"Um... Teacher?"
Then, the male student in the front row raised his hand. It was Oliver Fortina, who'd stuck by Demian all day.
"What happens if we don't get excellent scores on the exam?"
"You're asking the obvious."
Demian Haksen gripped the corner of the lectern and applied light pressure.
Crack.
The wooden corner crumbled with a gruesome sound.
Demian rubbed his fingers, and fine powder trickled down.
"I'll make you beg for death instead. And keep in mind, that's not a metaphor."
The students' faces turned ashen. Instinctively, they knew it wasn't a lie.
"Fine. You have ten minutes. Go to your dorms, change into workout clothes, and get back here."
Ten minutes was barely enough time to reach the dorms.
But no one complained. They just bolted from the classroom like arrows.
* * *
Exactly ten minutes later, the quick-footed students gathered at the training ground as Demian Haksen had ordered, catching their breath.
But not everyone was there. The headcount was a bit short.
Demian Haksen was missing too.
"What the heck, where'd he go?"
"He calls us here and doesn't show?"
The students were murmuring when—
"Agh! Aaagh!"
"Gaaah! Aaaagh!"
Terrifying screams echoed from outside the training ground. Five or six students were being dragged in by Demian Haksen, getting beaten all the way.
"T-Teacher! W-we're sorry!"
"We've committed a grave sin!"
Even after entering the training ground, Demian's thrashing didn't stop. He relentlessly clubbed their bodies.
It was such merciless beating that the watching students grew numb.
Curiously, despite the severity, not a single welt appeared on the students' skin.
"These fools dared skip training and try to run."
Only after a long while did Demian stop and speak.
"Daring to flee from a Master Class? Listen up. There's no escaping my grasp. Obey and train—it's best for your health."
Demian Haksen addressed the students sprawled on the ground.
"I'll count to three. Get up."
At that chilling warning, the students sprang to their feet and hurried to join the others.
"Looks like everyone's here. Time to begin training."
Demian Haksen tapped his palm with the club and said.
"Let's start with running, shall we?"
* * *
Evening drew near.
Over twenty students ran laps along the training ground wall.
"Huff... huff... huff..."
"I... I'm dying..."
The students all wore deathly pallor. Every face was ghostly pale.
"What are you doing! Run faster! You there! I said double time if you're practicing mana cultivation!"
Demian Haksen bellowed from the center of the training ground.
"Ugh, uwaaa... C-can't... run anymore..."
"I said run till you collapse."
"Agh! Aaagh!"
He swung the club at any student who whined weakly.
Watching them run, Demian thought to himself.
'Rolling them like this for a week should get us through the stamina portion.'
From his prior investigation, the year-end exam's swordsmanship test had three scored components.
Stamina, Imperial Standard Swordsmanship, and sparring.
Stamina and standard swordsmanship each accounted for 25% of the score. Sparring was a whopping 50%.
They divided it this way because academy students varied wildly in skill.
Not all academy students aspired to knighthood. There were scholars, mages, and more.
It was natural for knight-aspirants to dominate swordsmanship over others.
'If you're not confident in skill, focus on stamina and standard swordsmanship—or pour everything into sparring.'
Of course, Demian had decided to scrap sparring entirely.
Not that there were no knight-aspirants in Class 13.
Oliver Fortina, Penelope Borza, and a few others had learned their family swordsmanship and mana cultivation.
But aside from Penelope Borza, they'd all neglected training for ages.
'No way those slackers could beat other students after a week's training.'
While rounding up Class 13, Demian had checked out the other academy students too.
As befitting Empire nobles, they were all highly skilled. Beating them was impossible for the idle Class 13.
'Fortunately, the other two can score well with hard effort.'
It wasn't easy, which was why Demian planned to grind them like dogs for the week.
"You there, too slow! Can't you move faster!"
At Demian's roar, the students scurried faster.