I Just Want to Survive

Roxwell received something unexpected from someone equally unexpected.

It was Circe — the girl who had dueled X.

She showed up carrying two notebooks, of all things, and handed one of them ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠over.

"I delivered it, just like I said I would."

With that, Circe left, as if there was nothing more to say.

Roxwell stared at the notebook in his hand.

The Screaming Herb gave me this?

The disciplinary committee was almost upon them. He'd been barred from attending thanks to the Chairman's heavy-handed orders.

And he's handing this over now, of all times?

There had to be a reason he'd rushed it like this.

What's even in here…

He sat down and flipped it open. The pages were packed with bizarre content — as if someone had been trying to write a novel. Rambling about the Academy this, a status window that. None of it made any sense. He couldn't figure out why he'd been given something like this.

So he was an aspiring novelist. Is that it?

Read as fiction, it was actually pretty gripping. The story had a surprising amount of polish. All that talk about the world ending, though — it sounded like the kind of wild fantasy a kid would cook up.

Then he came to a character list.

…The Imperial Princess. The Pope. The Revolutionary Army's commander… a demon?

The commander's name was exact. Even if the other characters had been inspired by real people, how the hell did he know the Revolutionary Army commander's name?

He flipped back to the beginning and traced how the story unfolded. A reincarnated hero. The Empire fracturing. Demons crawling out of every corner. The Demon King resurrecting in three years.

The world ends?

This isn't something some random student should know…!

Dangerously sensitive information was scattered throughout the notebook. Even if the kid had done a mountain of research, this went way too far. How did the Screaming Herb get his hands on this?

No way.

He tucked the notebook into his coat. He needed to verify this. It wasn't something he could judge on his own.

The decision came fast, and the preparations even faster. Roxwell finished getting ready to leave, gripped his scabbard tight, and started for the door — then stopped.

Why didn't that bastard tell me this himself?

A tiny question. That tiny question exploded, multiplying in an instant, until it arrived at a single conclusion.

…Surveillance.

But by whom? Who would dare keep watch over someone sitting on knowledge this dangerous?

He had no way of knowing. Not enough information. Even ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠running back through the notebook, there wasn't a single clue.

In that case…

He assumed the worst. He mapped out every possible scenario and jotted down what he could do in each one. Time was short. He had to finish this as fast as possible.

You son of a bitch…! Dumping this shit on me!!

His rage, with nowhere else to go, tore across the page at the tip of his quill.

The interrogation chamber was as rigid and unforgiving as it got. X stood on the sunken floor like a condemned man. Everyone else sat in chairs on the raised platform, looking down at him.

Elndoor swept his gaze across the assembly and frowned.

"Hmm? Professor Roxwell isn't here?"

"…Professor Roxwell will not be attending."

"What? Why not? He's the boy's homeroom professor."

"He said he's never taken a problem child as his student."

"Hah… Well, nothing to be done, then."

Elndoor smacked his lips, looking disappointed at the Chairman's words.

X almost laughed out loud at the transparent lie. The Chairman had been the one who barred him from coming in the first place.

Quite the gathering of celebrities.

The Headmaster. The Chairman. Professors of the popular courses. Maria, Lung, even Amanda. Everyone except Maria, Lung, and Amanda had a look in their eyes that was anything but friendly. Open hostility, plain and simple.

"There's nothing more to discuss. Expulsion."

The Chairman, seated in the foremost place of honor, delivered the verdict without hesitation. A man of hard features, indifferent and icy eyes, and a razor-sharp bearing — he stared X down.

"A student who received an F in class conduct for eighty percent of his courses in a single week. First in the Academy's fifty-year history. And that's not even counting the electives — twenty out of twenty-five classes."

The professors nodded in agreement.

The Chairman pressed on.

"As if that weren't enough, he had the gall to start an unauthorized duel right in front of Her Highness the Imperial Princess — in the middle of class! That alone is more than enough for a death sentence. Are you aware of that, Student X?"

"…I am nothing but grateful for Her Highness's mercy."

"Then you have no objections?"

He glanced at the professors, seeking their consent. Every professor who met his eyes affirmed it with silence.

"I do."

Not everyone, however.

"…Professor Maria. Let's hear it."

The Chairman's brow furrowed as he glared at her. Maria just smiled, bright and utterly unbothered.

"First, let's talk about the criteria for class conduct grades. How does everyone actually assign them? Professor Hans?"

"Obvious, isn't it. Do well, you get an A. Don't, you get an F."

Maria nodded as if she'd expected exactly that.

"In Professor Hans's case, I looked at the class conduct grades he gave over the past year. Don't you think you're a little too extreme with the A's and F's? Combined, they make up over ninety percent of all grades issued."

"…And what of it. You planning to lecture me on how I teach?"

"This isn't just Professor Hans's problem."

Maria flicked her hand, and the materials she'd brought settled in front of each professor. Average class conduct grades by instructor. Academy-wide averages for how those grades were determined. Everything clustered overwhelmingly around A and F.

"None of you seem interested in giving anything other than an F. I believe that's the root of this entire mess."

Maria had put her finger on the fundamental issue. The professors kept silent.

X had never imagined Maria would go this far to defend him. When he looked at her, she met his eyes, hers glittering. Greed lived in that gaze.

…She still hasn't given up.

While everyone was chewing over Maria's words, someone broke the silence first.

"Professor Maria has a point. But that's a separate discussion from the matter at hand."

"…Professor Michel. Meaning?"

A woman in provocative attire, her eyes curved into smiling crescents. Maria's smile collided with Michel's.

Michel waved the materials Maria had distributed and answered.

"That's something we can improve later. Right now, this is a disciplinary hearing for that student. We're here to decide whether he gets expelled. I think we've wandered off the actual topic."

"This is the fundamental problem that caused this hearing to be convened in the first place. We can't just ignore it and move on."

"You're right. It's a terribly unfortunate problem. But that student has already received twenty F's, hasn't he?"

Maria's smile was the first to crack. She realized Michel was going to sink her teeth into that point and not let go.

"Now, now. Let's all settle down."

Elndoor cut through the overheating atmosphere. He looked at Maria.

"Professor Maria, your argument has merit. We can all sit down and discuss it later. As Headmaster, I thank you for the excellent observation."

"I'm glad it was helpful."

"But Professor Michel also has a point. This is a hearing to determine a student's discipline according to the regulations as they currently stand. Until those regulations change, this committee's decision is binding."

"…"

Elndoor sided with Michel. Maria let out a faint sigh and took a step back.

"Then I believe I'll have my say."

This time, Lung stepped forward.

"Professor Maria's words are hardly irrelevant. A problem has arisen, and you want to skip right past the cause. That kind of approach only breeds bigger problems. And this is a hearing to decide a student's fate — is this really something we can afford to dismiss?"

"…What exactly are you trying to say?"

Michel moved to defend. Lung pressed the attack, calm and measured.

"Was it even reasonable in the first place that this student received twenty F's in class conduct? Were those grades not given by unfair standards?"

At that, several professors let their displeasure show plainly on their faces. Most of them taught the popular courses. They rose up at once.

"Are you accusing us of giving F's out of personal spite?!"

"That's as good as questioning our qualifications as professors!"

"I assessed the student's ability accurately, nothing more!"

Lung locked eyes with the professor who'd spoken last. Even through his clothes, the man was a wall of muscle — Georg Schweier, professor of Martial Body Analysis.

"And by what standard did you judge that student's ability?"

"Isn't it obvious? Strength! Technique! Capability!"

"You hold those standards up to a child who came here to learn them? Are you saying you only consider fully formed warriors to be students?"

"Th-that's not what I—"

Lung looked around at the assembled professors and continued.

"I'm well aware that our students grow stronger by the day, and that the bar keeps rising. But as professors, applying that same yardstick to every student is unjust. And if you've been turning a blind eye to that kind of malpractice…"

Lung's gaze settled on the Chairman.

"Then you're sitting in the wrong seats. The ones who belong down there aren't that student. It's the professors."

"Professor Lung…"

"Or shall I start talking about the professors who quietly sell class seats under the table? For instance…"

"Professor Lung!"

An extremely sensitive remark. The Chairman barked at him. Several professors' faces went rigid with tension.

The interrogation chamber, which had been ice-cold, began to heat up.

"Heh heh heh. This hearing is getting particularly heated."

"A fever's what you need if you want the sickness to break."

"Well said. Does anyone take issue with Professor Lung's remarks?"

Silence. The professors who'd been trading seats with nobles all averted their eyes, terrified their sins would be laid bare. The Chairman's gaze remained glacial.

And then—

"May I say something as well?"

Amanda stepped forward. She looked at ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Lung and went on.

"Even if they came here to learn, a minimum standard still exists. If we had to teach everyone with no standards at all, the Academy would have descended into chaos long ago."

A textbook argument, perfectly in character for someone as strict as she was.

"Since class conduct is the main issue, let me speak to that. The way we determine class conduct is, admittedly, highly subjective. There's no official definition of what 'proper class conduct' even is. Each professor simply has their own criteria."

Amanda looked down at X as she continued.

"Mine is common sense. The attitude of wanting to learn. The attitude of trying to take something away from the lesson. The attitude of respecting your fellow students and your professor. Keep those, and I have no reason to give an F. That's just common sense."

Amanda let out a faint sigh, as if recalling something unpleasant.

"That student broke from my control during class and started a duel. He showed respect to no one. As a result, the class fell apart."

"I heard the other student was coming down far too hard on Student X's friend, and that Student X stepped in to stop it."

Maria cut in with the correction. Amanda answered as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

"Yes. That attitude was just and right. As a person, I think it was admirable. But it was not an attitude to display in the middle of class."

Maria had no reply. She fell silent.

"So you're saying we should pick and choose the time and place to look the other way at injustice? That's the 'common sense' you speak of?"

Lung challenged her this time. Amanda answered that just as evenly.

"That's common sense in the world at large. It is not the common sense we keep inside the Academy. If a problem had arisen, I was right there. I was going to intervene."

"But you didn't."

"That's correct. I failed to stop it because my own ability was lacking. I've been reflecting on that."

"Then isn't giving him an F in class conduct an unfair punishment?"

"That's a separate matter. My own evaluation will take a hit because of this incident. That doesn't mean Student X's class conduct was good."

A question of common sense. A difficult one to approach. Lung had no choice but to hold his tongue.

Amanda continued.

"The truth is, no 'standard' can ever be absolute. It's a fact that we've never had official guidelines for class conduct grades. That's a significant blind spot. Improvement is needed — I agree."

A few professors made uncomfortable noises in their throats.

"But conversely, we have used this method to train and cultivate a great many talented people. If this method is wrong, then the people we've produced are wrong as well."

Amanda's sharp gaze found X again.

"Judged by the individual standards professors have built up over fifty years, the fact that Student X received twenty F's in class conduct is an undeniable reality. If that's wrong, then we would need to reconsider the Academy's very existence."

Amanda finished her long remarks. She let out a faint sigh, adjusted her rimless spectacles, and addressed the Headmaster.

"Therefore, I believe this disciplinary hearing must proceed."

The interrogation chamber went quiet again. Not cold, not hot. Just a dry, flavorless stillness. Everyone had simply accepted her words. Maria. Lung. All of them.

I didn't expect Amanda to come out like that…

Or maybe this was the right call. Amanda was strict and fair by nature. She wasn't the type to defend someone who'd caused a problem of common sense.

Elndoor made the final declaration.

"Then it appears there are no further objections. We will now determine Student X's discipline."

A faint hope had taken root, and now a quiet disappointment circled in his chest.

Well. I should just be grateful that Maria and Lung spoke up for me…

"Student X is hereby expelled…"

"Screaming Herb!!!!"

BOOM—!!

Someone smashed through the interrogation chamber door. Everyone startled and stared at the intruder.

It was Roxwell — looking somewhere between furious and completely unhinged.

The Chairman, still in the seat of honor, went red in the face and jabbed a finger at him.

"I ordered you to wait in your private quarters! How dare you barge into this sacred place where we administer the regulations…!"

"Shut up!!!"

Roxwell, his face twisted with rage, ignored him completely. He just strode forward, drawing the blade from his scabbard. He was walking straight toward X.

In an instant he was right there. Roxwell raised his sword and brought it down at X's neck.

He's lost it…! He read the notebook! That's good, but—!

X had expected a pretty intense reaction. He hadn't expected the man to start swinging a sword.

Shiiing—

Fortunately, the blade stopped just short of his ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠throat.

Their eyes met. Roxwell's were full of chaos. That chaos had taken over his body; his breathing was ragged with fury. He clenched his teeth and forced the words out.

"What the hell are you?"

"…"

"What are you trying to do?"

"…"

"What do you even want?"

"…"

The answer was already prepared. X looked Roxwell straight in both eyes and replied.

"…What?"

"I just want to live."

"…From what."

"You saw it yourself."

"…"

A killing intent that wanted to punch through skin. That intent slowly receded. Roxwell's breathing eased, bit by bit. He lowered his sword and asked,

"…Is it true. All of it?"

"It is."

"…We're properly fucked, then. This whole world."

"It hasn't ended yet."

"…Is there a way?"

"I don't have one anymore."

"You son of a bitch…. So you're telling me to do it."

"I'm sorry."

"Haa…"

Roxwell clicked his tongue. He sighed like a man who'd just been handed a headache he never asked for, then slid his sword back into its scabbard. The rage and confusion had settled; what remained in his eyes was deadly serious.

"It's impossible. This isn't something I can handle alone."

"But you know. You can't tell anyone."

"That's why I'm taking you with me."

"What?"

Roxwell grabbed X by the shoulder. Resolve had settled in his eyes. A hard, unshakable will.

That will was this: he would not permit X to leave.