58. Please. Do. Not. Try. This. at Academy
58. Please. Do. Not. Try. This. at Academy
Back in the office with Nikolai after his long absence, I grumbled.
"Damn this uncivilized medieval world."
"Boss. Did you maybe incinerate your conscience along with everything else at the Duke's residence last time?"
Nikolai's gaze shifted toward my arm.
Still covered in burn scars, my arm was decorated all over with bandages.
After airing the Dina episode, Duke Karamzin had roasted me thoroughly. In exchange for not healing the burn scars with magic, he'd let me off at about this level.
Originally he'd nearly made me choose from medium to well-done, but for some reason the imperial household shielded me, so it ended at just this.
When I told Nikolai that fact—
"I also received a message and commendation from the imperial family. They said, ‘We enjoyed the feature film. Would you permit us to use it in imperial propaganda? We also hope you will maintain a good partnership with Allen.’ Something like that."
On the surface, a commendation packed with ordinary praise for Nikolai's hard work.
But Nikolai, whose literary acumen exceeded mine, had found additional hidden meaning there.
The conspicuous emphasis on their partnership likely meant they hoped the latest trouble hadn’t damaged it enough to disrupt Magical Mari’s production...
Even when he said that, Nikolai didn't seem particularly bothered.
"Your overstepping did bother me a little. But the storyline is fine, direction was always your responsibility, and our financial backers were you and His Highness the Prince. It is not enough to reprimand you over."
According to Nikolai, incidents of this nature were actually more than welcome.
With other films, it was routine to face pressure from merchant guilds to insert advertisements, demands from royal courts or the nobles to slip in political messages, or coercion to push racial supremacy agendas no one cared about.
In an industry where out-of-control nobles routinely tried to use films as career springboards by pressuring productions to cast their children, thereby trashing artistic merit, a director running wild was apparently a passing amusement Nikolai could just laugh off.
"Besides, you barely accept sponsors because you hate outside interference. Far from embezzling film profits, you reinvest everything. And you toss us blank-check budgets with instructions to spend as much as we want. You won't find a priest like you anywhere else, Boss."
"All right, all right. I get it. Stop flattering me. I was wrong."
...Still, that didn't mean I hadn't screwed up.
So, as compensation, I suppose.
Sometime soon, I decided I'd shoot a single short film of Nikolai's choosing—with a virtually unlimited budget at that.
*
Nikolai watched Allen heave a sigh of relief at being forgiven.
By any measure, Allen was unequivocally Nikolai's superior.
Objectively, the two were far from equals.
Money, status, fame.
In all of those respects, Nikolai could not begin to compare with Allen.
If Allen’s personality had been even slightly worse, he could’ve simply dismissed Nikolai with, “I want to do it, so who the hell are you to interfere?”
But he genuinely regarded Nikolai as a partner.
That was surely why he seemed so sincerely sorry about this mess.
One question remained, however.
If he knew it was wrong, why not avoid doing it in the first place instead of acting first and apologizing afterward?
Nor was this the only incident.
He always caused trouble and then begged forgiveness, even knowing it was the kind of thing that deserved a beating.
Nikolai seized the opportunity to speculate about Allen's inner world.
Zombies and war.
He had lived through two nightmares, either one of which would have been horrific on its own.
One way or another, his psyche would be in tatters.
He was extremely afraid of war, yet simultaneously, his mind still hadn't escaped it.
His abnormal obsession with film might not simply stem from a last will, but rather...
'Maybe that’s because this was a battlefield where no one died.'
If so, both his excessive direction and his willingness to stop at nothing for a film made sense.
To a man still mentally on the battlefield, halfhearted direction might make him fear he was failing to give the battle his all.
Those around him likely couldn't fully grasp this without knowledge of his past life, but they were probably dimly aware.
The one person who remained clueless, naturally, was the man himself.
With sympathy for the poor soldier, Nikolai handed him the character notes for the villain appearing in the next shoot.
"Huh? What's this for?"
"Directing. Handle it like always, please."
"Me? Setting aside forgiveness, isn't there a disciplinary suspension or something?"
"What are we, the army? If you’re suspended, the show goes off air. If you’re that sorry, handle cleanup alone for a while."
"...Thank you."
Having received Nikolai's consideration, Allen diligently wrote out the directing notes.
Yes.
This was how people grew.
.
.
.
"If I pack explosives in here, think the mushroom cloud'll bloom real pretty?"
"..."
Thus spoke Nikolai:
Allen was so relentlessly consistent that Nikolai wanted to rap him on the head.
*
A few days passed after that somewhat major incident.
"The academy's been noisy lately."
"It's all because of you, Boss."
"What are you talking about. How is this my fault."
"How about you read this first and then talk."
Massaging his brow, Nikolai thrust a letter of complaint at me.
This time it came from the Student Council, not the Disciplinary Committee. Summarizing the contents:
- Magical girl show was fun. Enjoying it.
- That aside, however, it's too extreme. Either exercise some restraint, or add a "Do Not Attempt" disclaimer to the opening.
- Also, the island's in chaos thanks to your broadcast, so you lot should clean it up.
- We won't issue a separate broadcast ban, but the academy is a place where we all live together, so we request your cooperation.
- P.S. When's the next episode coming out? (Important, starred)
Roughly that.
If they'd threatened to consider a broadcast ban like the Disciplinary Committee did last time, I would've turned the Student Council President into a magical girl. A bit of a shame, that. (For reference, the Student Council President is male.)
"Seriously, Boss. This is exactly why I kept saying to exercise restraint normally. Power inflation's certainly been managed well, so there's no major problem with the work itself, but your directing is way too provocative, you know?"
"But medieval entertainment's sorely lacking in dopamine."
"Which is exactly why you should be raising it gradually, step by step. Dumping it all at once in a lethal dose is what's causing this mess."
Was the double-track drift following Dina's awakening simply too intense?
Fortunately, the double-track drift had no practical application, so it wasn't much of a problem (though Duke Karamzin would not agree with this statement). But the students had become utterly absorbed in Dina's hextech weapon and were actively trying to imitate it.
When I first heard about it, I couldn't fathom what kind of enlightenment anyone could possibly glean from that, but a few days later, a professor explained it during a practical lecture, so I finally understood.
Dina's hextech weapon, abbreviated as Dihex, was a piece of equipment that loaded cartridges containing spells into a weapon, instead of bullets.
It resembled a magic staff that assisted with spell calculations, but pulling a trigger activated it effortlessly, making it far more convenient.
One point in particular captured the public's attention: it could shorten incantation time or even enable dual incantation.
'So that's what the Golden Magic Tower was fussing about as a major discovery last time.'
Since my goal was the transformation belt, I had zero interest in its byproducts, and even when it was explained I couldn't understand it, so I'd glossed over it.
Of course, even Diane had needed a full month to grow accustomed to the device, and the spells usable as cartridges were limited to the caster's own magic. But the overwhelming convenience outweighed every drawback.
Wizards in particular, compared to other professions, fixated on the Dihex.
As one could tell when I fought the Disciplinary Committee before, wizard-types became severely helpless without a vanguard.
But by combining the Dihex with John-style combat, that weakness could be compensated for.
Thanks to this, magic majors who had previously lived in despair grew infatuated with this weapon and finally took pride in their profession.
Whether the classification "wizard" was still correct when spells were activated by pulling a trigger, I wasn't sure. But in any case, the news that wizards had reclaimed their confidence was a good thing.
The problem was what came next.
Somehow, the Department of Magic students—whom the Dihex happened to suit remarkably well—couldn't control their newfound power and were going around challenging everyone to duels.
Worse, they were on a winning streak while doing so, so naturally their pride was soaring sky-high.
How high, you ask? Ever since the Disciplinary Committee incident, the student body had adopted an atmosphere of avoiding challenging me to duels. Yet recently, no fewer than ten duel requests arrived addressed to me alone.
One of them was from Ailey, at that.
"So. How are we handling this?"
"Ah. Don't worry about that. I can handle it."
"How?"
"Who cleaned things up when John-style combat was trending?"
"Now that I think about it, you've already done this before. Leaving it to you."
"Leave it to me."
*
The next day.
At Allen's request, ten challengers assembled in the arena.
One versus ten.
Despite a numbers disadvantage practically reminiscent of a raid boss encounter, Allen was brimming with confidence.
And so began the impromptu Allen raid.
The wizards sat in the competitor waiting room, anticipating the start of the match.
Before long, the host's voice rang out from outside.
[Greetings, everyone! It's been a while! Allen Price's Duel Show returns after several months! Upon hearing there'd be duels, I, your host Atreus, couldn't sleep a wink—]
Along with the thought that the match would soon begin, reality abruptly crashed down upon them.
Drunk on their winning streak, they'd thought Allen was someone they might somehow handle, but now that the moment was upon them, they swallowed dryly and fidgeted with their custom Dihex devices.
As the raid party's atmosphere sank even before the start, their party leader—Ailey—sprang up from her seat.
"What's with this mood? We've beaten students from other departments solo all along. Are people like that going to cower before just one guy?! Have some confidence!"
Hearing Ailey's encouragement, they pulled themselves together.
They'd beaten students from other departments solo.
With ten such people gathered together, victory wasn't impossible.
They even had the youngest Golden Magic Tower Elder among them.
At this level, it was worth a shot.
Seeing the raid party's morale recover to some extent, Ailey finally activated her own Dihex.
Clank—
It was a massive golem wearing Dina's suit.
She herself lacked the athletic reflexes to wear a power suit like Dina, but as the one who'd built it, modifying it for golem use was hardly a difficult task.
With the thought that this golem might at least let her contend with Allen, she led the raid party toward the arena.
[Yes! The wizards have emerged into the arena! Their bearing is as imposing as befits their unbroken winning streak! Now then, allow me to introduce their opponent. The man you've all been waiting so very long for—]
[Allen— Price!]
At the host's call, Allen made his entrance.
Unlike the wizards armed with their Dihex devices, he dragged an unidentifiable case with him onto the arena floor, scraping it along.
Watching this, the wizards tensed up.
Come to think of it, Allen was Ailey’s senior at the Magic Tower.
Which meant, in some sense, he too was a wizard.
In other words, he too could use a Dihex.
"Damn..."
One of the wizards muttered.
Without yet removing his own (presumed) Dihex from its case, Allen surveyed the faces of the wizards.
Then he opened the case, revealing its contents.
"Huh?"
The instant she saw the objects, Ailey let out a stupid noise.
"Allen, what are those?"
"Say hello. This one's Dreams, and this one's Hope."
With one in each hand and Rictus’s magic wands mounted on both shoulders, Allen took aim at them.
"The basic necessities of any magical girl."
KA-BOOM!
*
The cleanup was finished within a single day.
If the wizards' pride was soaring sky-high, wouldn't the simple solution be to grab it by the neck and snap it down to the ground?
So I dealt with the wizards all at once.
From the very start, their whole notion of getting cocky before me just because they'd gotten a Dihex was fundamentally wrong.
The only reason the wizards had been on a winning streak was that they'd overcome their weakness of being forced into close combat when lacking a vanguard.
Objectively speaking, it wasn't because their magic itself had grown stronger.
And now just because their close combat had gotten a little stronger, they thought they could jump me?
'Then you're getting your asses kicked.'
Ailey didn’t seem to have told them, but my nickname was the Golden Devourer.
Once I got my hands on a magic item, no matter how complex, I could go beyond breaking it and dismantle it completely. Before me, a Dihex was no more than a flashy magic wand.
Naturally, these guys couldn't last even 1.1 seconds against me before they had Dihexes. So picking up meaningless Dihexes hadn't changed a thing.
At the start, I used the Magic Wands to disrupt their incantations, closed in fast, and folded their Dihexes neatly in half. The looks on their faces were truly something to behold.
Ailey, for her part, was happy that she'd held out for a whole minute this time, golem included. But the wizards whose entire pride rested on their Dihexes had their pride shattered right along with them.
- Uughh... I'm a maggot...
The shock must've been too great; combined with the rebound from their inflated confidence, they'd reached the point of likening themselves to insects.
Well, that wasn’t my problem.
As long as Ailey was fine, that settled it.
In any case, a single day after that fight, the Department of Magic's competitive fervor had been cut in half.
I heard those nine were supposedly pretty strong, but not only had I beaten them solo—I'd also publicly revealed how to counter them. So now they were apparently steering clear too.
Slouching sideways in my office chair, I celebrated the mission's success with a solemn murmur.
"Giving fitting despair to a fool who doesn’t know his place—that is truth itself."
"Boss, I don’t think that line fits the situation."
"Who cares. It sounds cool. Cheers."