The First Lesson
The Demesis Private Seat. It held the same fine chair and desk as every other seat in the room. The only differences were that it stood alone, some two to three meters from anyone else, and that a magic circle had been etched into the floor beneath it.
I sat down, quite openly, in the chair marked as mine. At once the circle flared to life, reining in the mana I gave off so that none of it spread to my surroundings.
So this circle, too, is meant to hold mana in check. Even when I did nothing at all, the people around me could not endure the aura that seeped out of me. This device must have been prepared to prevent exactly that.
From what I could see, the seat I occupied was the only place in the room where mana flowed inward, sealed off from the rest. A seat for locking Demesis down — that description suited it far better. Thanks to which, my seat alone carried a peculiarly heavy, gloomy air. It had been tucked into the back corner to begin with, and now it sat in a stillness so deep that no one dared so much as turn their head to look at it.
There was nothing to say to that. Come to think of it, the arrangement was only fair. Thanks to the tattoos I had taken and the care with which I governed my power, not one student in this class had fainted at the sight of me — a small mercy. This was a mana-suppression device I had no choice but to keep running at all times if I wished to mingle with them at all.
Would this make me look at least a little more ordinary to them? I turned my gaze on the students seated in the classroom with me. Every last one of them sat prim and proper. They say the first day at the Academy is always stiff and awkward, and true to what the books described, these were wary souls who kept to themselves.
Or is it because they're afraid of me? Surely not — I tilted my head.
I was keeping my own mana firmly in hand. On top of that there were the mana-suppressing cloak, hood, and bracelet, and since I'd had the tattoos inscribed, the power leaking from my body had visibly lessened. Sitting here as well, inside the mana-containment space of the Demesis Private Seat, the strain I placed on others had to be far lighter than before. By this point, I'd say my first impression on my classmates was fairly decent.
I looked over the students gazing straight ahead at their desks with model posture, as though only the finest pupils from every corner of the continent had been gathered in one room. And yet — flinch. For some reason, whenever my gaze so much as brushed them, the backs of their necks went rigid. All manner of races and human stock were mixed together here, yet they all trembled at attention in much the same way.
How strange. I was certain I wouldn't be so frightening today. Hadn't I even run an experiment with Wreckar before coming here? My captain of the guard, unlike his usual self, had managed to close the distance to a mere two meters. I considered myself quite thoroughly ordinary now.
In fact, there was even a student sneaking glances back at me. And it happened to be a face I knew. Vivid brown hair, a bright and clear-cut countenance. Broa.
"Eeek!"
The instant her eyes met mine, she jumped clean out of her skin. She must not have realized that no one else had been sneaking looks at me at all. She alone had been staring my way, and the moment our eyes met, she shook like a leaf. Strange, though — she sat farther from me than anyone, and I couldn't fathom how we'd caught each other's eye across that distance.
I looked around to see whether I knew any other faces. Indigo hair, cropped short. Pushing up her glasses with one hand, she was doing her utmost to look anywhere but at me. No matter how I turned it over in my mind, that woman had to be the branch manager of the information guild. I would have to ask her later whether it was really her.
That aside, what a quiet place this was. Weren't classrooms supposed to be bustling with noise? Or was it simply because it was still the first day? Perhaps because the room was full of shy, reserved students, a stifling silence held until the moment the teacher stepped inside.
I watched the teacher open the front door and enter the classroom. Startled by the hush of a room so still it might have stood empty, he glanced my way — and took a half-step back.
"Ah — um. Students of the Academy Special Class. A pleasure to meet you all. I am Trunen, and I have been appointed as this class's homeroom instructor."
From the moment he'd entered, he had glanced my way exactly once — and never turned his head in this direction again. Face rigid, he pressed on with his explanation.
"I trust you were all briefed on our Special Class before entering the Academy. Even so, I will take a moment to review the rules you students are expected to observe."
In the roster of Gloria Imperial Academy professors that Wreckar had investigated, Trunen was rated as highly authoritative and exacting. Among students, his notoriety for coldness and arrogance ran deep. Yet the man I actually faced was impeccably courteous and well-mannered. Were the rumors about him simply mistaken, or was it because he stood before me? Only watching him going forward would tell.
"As you were notified in advance, our Academy prohibits all discriminatory conduct arising from status, race, or the like. Anyone who flaunts their own standing or stirs up conflict between races may be assessed penalty points — or even expelled. I ask that you bear this firmly in mind."
He made a point of stressing that every student admitted to this Academy stood equal — that all of them held the same standing, simply, as students.
"You may speak freely with your classmates, but with professors, instructors, and seniors, honorifics are the rule. This, too, exists to establish proper discipline within the Academy regardless of the standing one holds outside it — so I ask you all to abide by these principles."
The students nodded along at the expected words. It was the same content they had heard at the entrance ceremony or read in the admissions guide. Everyone was in agreement.
"However, there is an exception. Kindly listen closely from this point on."
Trunen set the booklet he had brought down on the lectern, sharpening the room's attention. Then he glanced my way, warily gauging me.
An exception? Bewilderment settled over every face.
"While discrimination of every kind is forbidden, Lord Demesis will be granted, by special provision, a private seat and a private lounge. This measure exists to contain Lord Demesis's power, and it is equally a safeguard for all of you who will share these classes with him — so I ask for your kind understanding."
At those words, every head turned briefly toward the corner where I sat. The Demesis Private Seat. A space where mana churned in real time, the magic circle straining to keep that thick, heavy power from reaching outward. The students nodded. Seeing it with their own eyes was understanding enough. Since the arrangement existed to protect them, not one of them voiced a complaint.
"Furthermore, we will always address Lord Demesis with honorifics. This, as well, is meant to foster a smooth atmosphere at the Academy, and I would appreciate everyone's cooperation."
Honorifics? Now that I thought of it, Trunen had been steadfastly formal with me this entire time — though by principle, a professor had no reason whatsoever to raise his speech to students.
"I won't belabor the reasons honorifics are required. It is simply more comfortable this way. We, too, had to retrain our speech in order to teach in Lord Demesis's presence."
Every student looked back and forth between Trunen and me. Trunen, who was afraid of me. They understood his words completely — and sympathized from the bottom of their hearts. Being ordered to speak casually to me would be torture, after all.
The exceptions concerning me spread through the student body in no time. There was nothing here worth raising a rebellion over. I was far too terrifying for anyone to lift a hand and argue the point.
"Then let us begin the first lesson. The course I teach is 'Countermeasures against Demons/Monsters and Understanding of the Field.' Its purpose is to build your capacity to respond, on the assumption that you will one day face dangerous enemies."
By common reckoning, the shared enemy of every race dwelling across the continent was demons and monsters. The demons of the demonic realms, and the monsters that lay coiled in every corner of the land, menacing all who lived nearby. All alike suffered from their savagery and malice. So the first subject taught at the Academy was, fittingly, the means of standing against them.
"You who have gathered here each possess, at base, a talent for mana, together with special abilities suited to confronting powerful foes. The Academy Special Class admits only such talent — so I will not be covering the fundamentals of combat."
Having said this much, Trunen unwrapped the mana stones and artifacts he had carried in and laid them out. Using mana stones brimming with power, he brought the artifacts to life.
"We will proceed directly to the practical exercise. What you are about to see is an illusion; even should you be injured within it, you will suffer no real harm. So engage in battle without fear. Monster-response training will now begin."
With Trunen's stern voice, the artifact kindled beneath his hand flared with light and wove its illusion magic. In moments, the students of the classroom were drawn into the vision.
A dark, dreary demonic realm. Beneath an ashen sky stretched a sodden forest. A space saturated with pressure and tension.
Trunen surveyed the students who had entered the illusion.
"Join forces and bring the monster down. Even if you are hurt within the illusion, I accept no responsibility. To face an extreme enemy and survive — that is the object of this lesson."
Within the demonic realm's gloom, Trunen's eyes gleamed, dangerous and bright. This was the traditional first lesson of the Imperial Academy: to set a hopeless adversary before the students and force them to recognize their own limits. Taste despair and terror on the very first day, and thereafter students fall meekly in line, training hard for the sake of survival.
And before them stood a monster prepared to deliver a waking nightmare. The Great Grizzly Bear. A monster of Grade 4.
Now that both the being called Demesis and the students of this Academy Special Class had proven themselves exceptionally skilled, he had summoned an opponent one would not ordinarily meet until the latter half of the second-year curriculum. A beast that appeared only in demonic realms of S-rank danger — and among such creatures, the Great Grizzly Bear ranked as a field boss, making it especially formidable.
"Ah — of course, Lord Demesis need not join the battle. Set against the renown of having subjugated the Western Demonic Realm, a Grade 4 monster might well be laughable."
Even as he said it, Trunen privately believed the Great Grizzly surely would not fall to Demesis so easily. That was simple common sense. This was a beast that knights and mages had to hunt in full unit-strength raids.
"Professor? But... I don't see Lord Demesis anywhere?"
A student raised a hand, wearing a puzzled look. The professor was addressing Demesis — yet Demesis himself had never appeared in the demonic realm at all.
"What?"
Trunen, who had been speaking while looking only at the spot where Demesis ought to be, hastily scanned his surroundings. Of everyone present, Demesis alone had vanished.
"It doesn't look like the illusion magic took on him?" said another student, one unusually sensitive to mana.
Since no one had dared so much as glance in Demesis's direction, the realization came late. No wonder, once they arrived in the demonic realm, everyone had felt oddly lighter at heart.
Trunen's brow furrowed.
Demesis does not fall prey to magic of his own casting.