The Entrance Ceremony

I read over the contents written on the letterhead the Academy had sent me once more.

It described in meticulous detail when and where the entrance ceremony would be held — and appended to it was a postscript addressed to me alone.

Attached was a sketch of the ceremony hall, with my seat marked upon it.

I stared at the drawing for a while, then set the letter down on my desk.

A "special designated seat," was it? What a laughable phrase.

The letter from the dean had been written in a tone of gracious hospitality, as though they wished to wait upon me hand and foot — but its true purpose was to keep me apart from the other new students.

After all, if I were anywhere nearby, everyone would tremble in fear. The freshmen, certainly — but also the parents and assorted dignitaries attending the ceremony.

When something frightens people that badly, the wisest course is to keep it segregated.

And indeed, the seat marked on the diagram was the highest, most isolated spot in the hall — the position farthest ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠from the crowd that the layout allowed.

The dean certainly put some thought into this.

It was a sensible arrangement, all things considered. If one wished to avoid the spectacle of onlookers fainting at the mere sight of me — and to protect the ordinary attendees without provoking my temper — then taking separate measures like this was for the best.

His true intent was plain to see, but it was nothing for me to take offense at. After all, if you mean to slip a tiger into a pen where puppies are playing, you had best section off a spot for it.

"Wreckar. Tomorrow is the entrance ceremony."

"Y-yes, Lord Demesis."

"I shall enter midway through the proceedings, look about briefly, and be on my way. See that the schedule is kept short."

I had no intention of sitting in that special seat for hours, looking down at the crowd below. I would take the measure of the place, have a quick look around, and leave it at that.

The Academy's entrance ceremony hall. As a venue built for grand occasions, its grounds were enormous.

Before the ceremony began, Broa had fetched her brother and was chattering away at him.

"I'm telling you, he was terrifying! When he looked down at me, I honestly thought I was going to die."

"Aigoo, aigoo. Is that right, my dear little sister."

Her brother's name was Silian — her own flesh and blood, five years her senior.

Silian had left home before Broa did and applied to the Magic Tower; these days he served as a teaching assistant at the Imperial Academy. Broa had begged and pleaded for him to come to her entrance ceremony, and so he had been dragged out of his laboratory for the occasion.

"You'll jump out of your skin too when you see him. Ugh, that Dragonian might even be stronger than Dad."

"Heh heh. Broa's completely spooked."

At his little sister's reaction, Silian laughed as though she were something adorable.

This was the little sister he had reunited with here in the Imperial Capital. She had crossed paths with that infamous Dragonian in the examination hall and shown up at his door in tears, and lately she had been trembling like a leaf, leaning on him for support.

This was a girl who had learned the sword directly from their father and strutted about with her chin held high, brimming with confidence. Silian couldn't fathom how she had changed so completely, and all at once.

"Is everyone in the Imperial Capital that scary? Or am I just weak?"

"It's because you're weak, you pushover."

"Hey! Don't tease me!"

At Silian's mischievous answer, Broa squawked in protest.

"Think about it sensibly — how many people in this world are stronger than Father? You'd have to be a Swordmaster or the Demon King himself to even trade blows with him. There are things a child says, and things she'd best not. Coming all this way, frightened half out of her wits."

It was a scolding from Silian with real weight behind it.

Silian and Broa's father was the Hero.

Rumor ran rampant that the second prince of Draikna was some kind of monster, but he was hardly one to be lightly set beside their father. To Silian, their father's authority was sacred ground; to weigh him carelessly against anyone was taboo.

And his little sister had gone and touched that taboo — hence this gentle rebuke.

"I know. I know Dad's the strongest. But this guy was so scary I couldn't even think of Dad, okay?"

"Aigoo. All right, Broa. Dad may not be here, but your big brother is — so don't you worry your head about it."

"Ugh……"

His tone was playful, but at his words Broa felt her tension ebb away, her tightly hunched shoulders loosening little by little.

Truthfully, having Silian there at the ceremony was an enormous psychological help.

Silian studied her for a moment, then turned his head and glanced around.

"Looks like that Dragonian isn't here, though."

If Demesis had come to the ceremony hall, he would have been spotted at once. The ceremony would begin shortly, and he seemed to have no intention of attending.

"Then there's nothing to worry about. Since I'm here anyway, I'll be watching from the audience seats — so you go and have yourself a proper entrance ceremony."

Silian rapped a knuckle lightly on the top of Broa's head.

Everyone was settling into their seats in the hall. He headed for the audience section; Broa split off toward the freshman seating.

"Looks like the Dragonian prince didn't show."

"Everyone says he's so terrifying — I wanted to see him with my own eyes, just once. Kind of a shame, really."

The freshman seating. The students around her were chattering away.

At the mention of Demesis, Broa's ears pricked up.

Ever since she had swung her sword at him in the examination hall and collapsed in sheer terror, Demesis's existence had been a trauma to her. These days he haunted even her nightmares.

The grey cloak and hood. Those dark, murderous eyes. In her dreams, Demesis was always glaring down at her.

"What's there to be disappointed about? You should be saying thank goodness."

"Thank goodness? Why is it a good thing the Dragonian prince didn't come?"

"Guess you haven't heard the rumors."

The chattering students lowered their voices. Broa, sensing that something important ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was coming, turned her head toward them.

"The reason the Dragonian prince is so strong and so terrifying — some say it's because he received his power from the Progenitor Dragon. And the one that Progenitor Dragon despised above all others? The very goddess we worship. Reinatis."

"Oh, is that so?"

Little was known outside about what had happened on the day the Progenitor Dragon appeared in the Draikna Kingdom. It had lingered in the palace only briefly before vanishing, and the legendary dragon's sudden appearance had thrown even the truth of the event into dispute.

And so, about Demesis — said to have some manner of connection to the Progenitor Dragon — only wild rumors circulated, and nearly ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠all of them were grim and terrifying beyond measure.

The Progenitor Dragon had chosen a successor. Demesis would inherit its will and tear the goddess's children apart, limb from limb. Even the monsters of the Western Demonic Realm had fled in terror at his appearance — for he was a demon starved for blood, one who had devoured even the monsters themselves. A Dragonian whom even Dragonians feared. He would become calamity and terror incarnate for all humanity.

"Why would someone like that apply to the Academy? To swallow the students down whole and fill his belly, obviously."

"Eek! No way!"

"They say dragons used to devour humans to replenish their mana, way back when. You never know. Maybe the Progenitor Dragon's successor eats people too."

Most of it was baseless nonsense. Still, people traded stories about Demesis half for the fun of it, and half out of fear.

Devour people?

Broa, who had been eavesdropping on the conversation, found herself recalling the Demesis she had seen with her own eyes.

A towering figure, standing close to six foot three, with a rugged frame and shoulders spread broad. The grey cloak and hood that had enveloped him. A crushing aura that poured off his body and overwhelmed everything in its reach.

Still, he didn't seem like the type to actually eat people.

Frightening, yes. But it had been a different kind of frightening.

The Demesis Broa had experienced wasn't cruel and horrifying the way monsters were — he was simply, overwhelmingly powerful, and calm. That was why she had flattened herself to the ground like a frog. In the presence of a life-form so far beyond reach, everyone bows their head. It was only natural.

Ugh...

One thought of Demesis and those murderous eyes floated up before her all over again. Trembling instinctively, Broa looked toward the audience seats.

Silian sat there blankly, watching the hall with an expression of pure boredom.

The lazy genius mage. Silian had always had more talent for magic than for the sword.

Watching her brother's languid indifference, Broa felt her mood lift. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠He was an older brother hard to understand — different in temperament, years apart in age — but his mere presence was, without question, a source of strength to her.

Broa sat up straight and turned her gaze back to the hall.

She couldn't go on trembling in fear forever. She was the Hero's daughter, after all. Her father was the very emblem of courage — the man who had stood against the Demon King's army without yielding a single step.

Broa revered that father and longed to be like him; she could never simply surrender to her fear.

She would find her courage and overcome it all. Wasn't that exactly why she had applied to the Academy Special Class — the very class Demesis would be joining?

She swallowed hard, folded both hands neatly in her lap, and fixed her attention on the ceremony.

As it happened, the freshman representative — the Empire's third prince — and his second, a saint candidate, were in the midst of delivering their greetings on behalf of the entering class.

The entrance ceremony was proceeding according to protocol. The announcements rolled on — solemn and exacting at times, lighthearted at others.

Just then, the dean was droning through a tedious address—

"Gahk!"

"Urk!"

"Th-that man is……"

A stir swept through the ceremony hall, and Broa turned her head to follow everyone else's gazes.

Second-floor audience seating. At the very highest point, a man wrapped in a grey cloak and hood was making his entrance.

Thoom.

The dean's voice, which had been filling the hall through mana amplification, cut off mid-word.

Every murmur in the space simply vanished.

Demesis stood in aloof grandeur before the high seat, gazing down over the ceremony hall.

"Hahk—"

"Huk—!"

Everyone within reach of his gaze dropped their eyes and bowed their heads.

He was merely looking down at them, yet all of them froze, gripped by a dread beyond words.

Broa's chest tightened at the nightmare of a scene — and then, by chance, her eyes met Demesis's as he glanced down toward her side of the hall.

"Hwaah."

Before she knew it, a whimper had escaped her and her head was bowing low. She didn't even feel embarrassed about it.

Everyone around her had their heads bowed and their bodies trembling too.

Was that the Academy Special Class seating, if I remember right?

There was a familiar face. The woman I had seen at the entrance examination was seated there — the one who had swung her sword at me, so naturally I remembered her.

So she'll be in my class, then.

My mood lifted.

I had heard that the Academy Special Class admitted only those students who had consented to attend lessons alongside me. That she was sitting there meant she had experienced me firsthand and still had not refused to share a classroom with me.

I had sensed it the moment we first met: she truly was a courageous woman.

Braver, even, than the assassins who had come for me, or the chief of the bandit gang.

True, she was currently hiding with her head bowed — but in sheer strength of spirit, she surpassed them all.

Elves, dwarves, beastfolk too, I see.

I continued surveying the Academy Special Class. A variety of races were mingled together. Humans made up the majority, but the other races were hardly few in number.

Hm?

Among them, a head of navy-blue hair caught my eye.

Somehow familiar — as though I had seen it quite recently—