Half the Distance
The classroom was utterly quiet.
With my audience with the Emperor concluded, everything that needed doing before enrollment was now complete. Accepting a being like me would naturally require preparations on the human side as well, so this had been the proper procedure. Had I simply wedged myself in among them unannounced, I might have been remembered as nothing more than a wicked Dragonian who knocked people unconscious and frightened them for sport — but having spoken beforehand with the key figures, the dean and the Emperor among them, any small incident or misunderstanding I caused at the Academy from here on could be met with understanding on all sides.
Now then — time to unwrap the gift the Emperor had prepared. I took out the enchant scroll I had received in the drawing room and laid it on the desk. I had been in need of a mana-control item anyway, and here was a fine gift arriving at precisely the right moment.
How did it activate again? I tried to recall the method of using the item that the Emperor had explained. Pour mana into the enchant scroll, and the item would recognize its master on its own — that was how he'd put it, wasn't it?
I gripped the scroll and fed my mana into it.
Chime.
The inscriptions engraved into the scroll began to glow a luminous grey.
He said I could reshape it into whatever form I wished, didn't he. If I wanted to wear it as clothing, it would become clothing; as armor, then armor. Transforming its shape worked much like ordinary mana control, and I manipulated the item's form with ease.
For a moment I set aside my cloak and shirt, reshaped the item into something like an undergarment, and put it on. Snug — it clung tight to my torso, sheathing it in protection.
...
Honestly, the protective function was of little use to me. A body already assimilated with the Dragon Heart had no chance of being wounded by any external attack — if anything, I was at the point of half wishing I could be hurt just once, so the protection could have been dispensed with entirely. What mattered was how much mana it absorbed, and this item was drinking in a considerable amount. Was that what made it a legendary-grade item? It was siphoning off roughly half the mana leaking out of my body.
I like it. Wearing this would cut the aura I shed by half.
The only problem was its form. Worn as an undergarment, the design was like a set of long johns — oddly stifling. It didn't seem to breathe well, either; if I ever broke a sweat, it would turn clammy against my skin.
I considered what shape would be most comfortable to keep against my body. What if I wore it draped like battle aura? Wrapped around me like protective aura, it would certainly be comfortable — but then it would shove away everything in my vicinity. The mana the item had absorbed carried considerable destructive power; this alone could blow apart a small building. An item that demanded caution.
Something that clings as close to my body as possible to absorb the maximum mana, while remaining inconspicuous and never uncomfortable.
I turned the design over and over in my mind, until at length the right form took shape in my head. I reshaped the item exactly as I had imagined it.
Grey mana began to etch itself densely across my body, centered on my heart. Runic characters linked in steady sequence from my left chest, across my right shoulder, down the back of my arm to my wrist, blooming into being like a tattoo.
Hmm.
Fused completely to my body, it caused no discomfort whatsoever. In exchange, it simply looked as though I had grown a new tattoo.
To see how the item appeared, I went to the full-length mirror in the dressing room. The chiseled, muscular physique of a Dragonian prince, flawless as if carved by a sculptor's blade. The wide mana-suppression bracelet encircled my left arm, and now a fresh tattoo ran from my left chest down to my right wrist. An angry countenance that crushed onlookers even in repose. Jet-black hair, wildly disheveled. An appearance that could make anyone who saw it faint on the spot from sheer fright.
Well, it's not as if anyone will be seeing it.
As long as I went about clothed, a menacing tattoo like this was easily concealed. Satisfied with the item's performance, I nodded once and dressed.
"Wreckar. Have I not changed somewhat?"
I called for Wreckar, my captain of the guard, to test the performance of the item I had just donned.
"Y-yes, Your Highness. Y-you have... changed?"
Watching me smile in satisfaction there in the study, he broke into a cold sweat. He was afraid even to show interest in me. As always, he came dragging legs gone limp as a steer's being led to slaughter — then his face registered astonishment, as though he had noticed something different.
"Your Highness. Th-that reminds me..."
The man who normally could hardly bring himself to come within four meters of me was already inside three.
"Heh heh."
I smiled at the item's performance. This tattoo-like item was absorbing fully half the mana I let slip away. The pressure I spread around me had lessened.
"Gahk."
Stepping as warily as a man first setting foot in an unknown world, Wreckar had been closing the distance one careful, tense step at a time — and stopped dead at two meters. Apparently, from here on, he simply could not withstand my pressure. Even so, it was progress by leaps and bounds. The distance between us had been cut roughly in half.
"What has happened here?"
"It's the effect of an item. The Emperor just gifted me a legendary-grade item — it absorbs the mana I give off."
"I-I see. Th-things went as you wished, so... c-congratulations."
"Wreckar. Am I no longer fearsome to you?"
I gazed at my guard captain with a hopeful expression. And yet —
"Hurk."
Unable, it seemed, to bear meeting my eyes, the man who had struggled his way over promptly collapsed, dropping to his knees on the floor.
I suppose there was no helping a frightening face. People had feared me even as a child, when my aura was far weaker than it was now. There was more than one or two reasons I was terrifying. Even with my aura somewhat concealed, my face, my presence, my bearing, my gaze — every last one of them set people on edge.
Even so, this much would ease my attending classes at the Academy considerably. I chose to take meaning in the fact that, on the eve of my first class, I had obtained an item that lightened my aura.
The first day of classes for the Academy Special Class.
Broa found a suitably out-of-the-way seat and planted herself in it. Ordinarily she would have taken the front row without a moment's hesitation, but ever since meeting Demesis her nerve had shriveled to the size of a pea. These days, everything looked frightening. Even the mere sound of a leaf brushing past in the wind brought a chill — as if Demesis might be watching from somewhere at any moment.
Cowering in fear, she cradled the protective item Silian had passed along to her. If Broa were ever in danger, this necklace-like item would activate first and strike the opponent — so she'd been told. She couldn't defeat an enemy as strong as Demesis, but it would at least buy her one round of time. Fingering the necklace, she was slowly piecing her shattered confidence back together.
Classmates she was meeting for the first time today — and somehow, every one of them looked dangerous. From her corner, Broa turned only her head, warily taking the measure of the other students.
"Whoa, what's this? The Demesis Private Seat?"
"Is something like this even necessary?"
On the far side of the room from Broa, a few students had discovered the curiosity and were chattering about it.
"Demesis? You mean that terrifying Dragonian? Why does he get a chair set apart for him?"
A towering Barbarian, who looked a head or two taller than anyone else, tilted his head at the Demesis Private Seat.
"It's not just the chair that's been set apart. Look closely here — there's a magic circle drawn around it as well."
"A magic circle, you say?"
A student from the south examined the area around the chair, then spoke. At the mention of a magic circle, the students who had already been eyeing the seat with puzzlement all had their eyes light up. The third prince, a candidate for sainthood, a dwarf, a beastman — students of every race drifted toward the private seat.
"Isn't this discrimination? Why does that fellow Demesis alone get special treatment? I heard this Academy's principle was to treat every student equally, regardless of race or rank?"
The southerner spoke with his head cocked at an insolent angle. He had the polish of a man raised in a rather noble house, but a rough, savage air dominated it. He might have been a mercenary hardened by countless fights, or a knight who worshipped the sword. His brows were set at an angle that promised he would bite and tear at anyone who touched him carelessly.
"Discrimination? Discrimination is bad! Barbarians hate discrimination!"
The Barbarian caught the word and sprang up. With that enormous frame bellowing it over and over at full volume, the students' expressions froze.
Just who was this Demesis, anyway? Even a prince of the Draikna Kingdom had no grounds for treatment this special. Where would any of the other students here fall short, in status or in skill? The Academy Special Class could be called an assembly of elites representing every race — proud geniuses, every last one. Blatant discrimination like this was something they could never accept.
But that was the reaction of students who had never seen Demesis at the entrance ceremony. Every student who had laid eyes on him up close, even briefly, accepted it without complaint. There had to be a reason, they figured. A seat like that wasn't nearly enough for Demesis. He was a man you would fear even if he were sealed away in a space of his own.
"Weren't you at the entrance ceremony? In my view, this private seat is the proper way to treat that Dragonian."
"What nonsense are you spouting, prince?"
"He is on a different level from us. I heard it from my father, the Sun of the Empire. Every measure the Academy takes for Demesis will, from now on, protect not him but us. This private seat, too, is likely for our sake."
"That's exactly what I'm asking — what in the world is that supposed to mean?"
The man looked at the prince and demanded an explanation. Having enrolled as fellow students, he cared nothing for rank — or perhaps he was simply an insolent man who had never cared for such things to begin with.
"Protect us? What's Demesis got to do with protecting us? I am already a warrior in my own right. I don't take anyone's protection."
The Barbarian declared it, squaring his shoulders proudly. A fierce aura settled over his frame. The Barbarian — symbol of unyielding will and struggle. Protection was, to him, a disgrace.
"Why did you not attend the entrance ceremony, forcing me to explain all this? You fools. When I say it cannot be allowed, take that as explanation enough."
"Hah, listen to our noble prince's tone. Are you looking down on us for being from the south?"
"Looking down? The prince looked down on us?"
At the prince's testy reply, the southern man and the Barbarian bristled. The classroom's atmosphere was turning hostile on the very first day. With figures gathered from every corner of the continent, the smallest slip of the tongue could spark a serious clash. The prince glared with a sour face; the southerner and the Barbarian glared back, tempers flaring.
Ba-dump.
That was when it happened. From the students most sensitive to mana to those gifted with animal instinct, every one of them sensed something and went rigid.
Step. Step.
Something was approaching from outside the classroom. A shadow flickered past the window. It did not enter by the front door — it made for the back.
"A t-teacher? No... it isn't..."
Someone voiced the doubt aloud. With a presence that intense, they had assumed a high-level instructor — but that guess was overturned in an instant. This was an aura that could not be explained by mere skill.
Grrrk.
Without a hand touching it, the back door slid open. A man in a grey cloak and hood peered into the classroom.
...
Everyone fell silent. Unable to meet his gaze, they turned their heads away. The students who had instinctively sensed the danger were, at some point, already seated in their places, holding their breath. The southern student who had been glaring savagely, the Barbarian whose uniform strained as if to burst, the prince who had held his chin high in refinement — all hid like folding screens, desperate not to catch his eye.
"Demesis Private Seat..."
In a listless tone, the man read the nameplate of the desk positioned back and to the left, at the highest and most secluded spot in the room. With unhurried steps, he made his way to his place and sat down.
The classroom was so quiet that only his footsteps could be heard.