Zheroa's Weakness and a Playful Laughter
Zheroa had always been weak.
Zheroa was weak.
After finishing a happy group study session, Zheroa stepped out of the classroom with a heart full of excitement.
It had been completely unexpected, but thanks to Rai's joke, he had tasted the feeling of paradise.
In explanation, the march training would last five days. That meant he could be with Aria for a whole five days. Although the members included Cesset, a pure mage with lacking stamina, and Abigail, who was completely uncooperative, Zheroa was not without worries. But with Aria by his side, he felt he could overcome any hardship.
"Zheroa Bandes."
While walking with his head still in the clouds, Zheroa reflexively turned his head. There stood three men in front of him. The one at the front was someone Zheroa knew well.
When he had first entered the academy, the rough-looking person had made him feel a chill. Though he was handsome, his sharp eyes and the small scar on his eyebrow made it difficult to meet his gaze.
The noble-born Asran Scape brushed back the dark green hair that had fallen over his forehead and approached Zheroa. Though not particularly tall, his broad shoulders and well-balanced build alone put pressure on Zheroa.
"U-uh... Asran-ssi?"
"You know my name?"
"Yes, almost everyone in Class B knows each other's names."
"Huh? Then you know mine too?"
The man next to Asran draped an arm over Zheroa's shoulder in a friendly manner and asked.
"Seiban-ssi, Delen-ssi... right?"
"Oho— this kid's not bad."
Seiban grinned and gave Zheroa's shoulder a light slap. The trio of large men surrounded Zheroa, and from the side it felt like they were bullying him.
Zheroa felt the same way. The three were active in class and had a rough side. They hadn't bullied anyone yet, but when the three gathered, crude insults and even kicking one another were common.
"You’re in the same group as the goddess. Lucky bastard. Besides, you’re the vice-captain. Awesome—"
"Haha… it’s just how it turned out…"
While poking Zheroa in the side, Seiban asked. Zheroa thought, *This is bad.*
The entire academy watched Aria, and just meeting her eyes brought jealous stares. Yet a nobody like Zheroa ended up in the same group as her, which was bound to provoke a major outburst.
Somehow, Seiban’s arm resting on his shoulder felt heavier than expected. Zheroa tensed and glanced around, but no one else was there.
"Anyway, let’s skip that. Hey, you busy?"
"U-uh… I have plans with Instructor Rai later."
"Later? Then you have some time?"
"Really just a little… I don’t know if I’ll have time…"
"Will you or won’t you?"
Asran scowled, and Zheroa, startled, answered without thinking that he would.
"Great, then let’s spar."
"Eh?"
"The sparring hall is free. Let’s have a match."
Zheroa didn’t understand why this had happened, but with Seiban’s arm still on his shoulder, he found himself following Asran’s group.
As they moved to a secluded spot, Zheroa worried that the sparring story was a lie and that they might be about to do a group beating. But an academy staff member sitting on a nearby bench looked their way, stood up, and approached.
"Zheroa Bandes and Asran Scape. You requested a spar?"
"Yes, that’s correct."
Asran answered. The staff pointed to the training weapons and instructed them to sign the form, then explained the rules while reading them like a book before returning to his seat.
While Zheroa stared blankly, Asran grabbed his weapon. Seiban and Delen sat casually nearby and cheered.
"Go wild! Break his head!"
"Breaking heads is against the rules."
"That’s what you said."
The staff member spoke, and Seiban shrugged, turning his head.
Asran looked at Zheroa, who hesitated before gripping his sword. It was the one he had swung countless times during training.
Since there was an academy staff member present, it wasn’t a simple bullying spar. Though Seiban’s crude words bothered Zheroa, he tried to think positively and took his stance.
It was the swordsmanship he had been taught by an adventurer he knew from porter days: *You’re going to die if you do that.*
Asran lifted his enormous greatsword with obvious effort. The blade was so thick it might have been usable as a shield.
Though not a common military weapon, Zheroa was actually more familiar with it. Adventurers and mercenaries often used destructive swords suited for taking down large monsters rather than people.
The wide swing meant you had to brace for a serious wound if grazed, but the large motion gave plenty of reaction time. As long as you stayed mentally sharp, you could avoid getting hit.
"Whenever you’re ready, start."
The staff’s disinterested voice pulled Zheroa into action. He took a small breath and charged straight at Asran.
Asran’s arm tensed as he planted the hilt in the ground. Zheroa quickly pulled back and feinted his attack. In his adventurer life, he had learned that with a large-motion opponent, simply reading the timing gave you an easy opening.
But Asran didn’t swing immediately. He stepped forward, then unleashed a powerful swing. That single step had a longer stride than expected, putting Zheroa right inside the range.
The sound of wind being split accompanied the greatsword’s arc. Zheroa panicked and swung his shield sideways to block, but the difference in strength was overwhelming.
A *clang* rang out as the shield slammed into Asran’s blade and Zheroa himself was sent flying. Dazed by the impact, Zheroa tumbled across the ground.
Not expecting a one-hit kill, Asran blinked. The staff rushed over to check on Zheroa.
"Are you all right?"
"Kuk… y-yeah… kuhek… yeah, yeah… I’m fine…"
"I see."
Confirming Zheroa’s awareness and lack of injury, the staff waved dismissively and announced the spar was over.
"A weapon that needs repair has appeared. We’ll bill Asran Scape later."
"Why? I was the one who swung it."
"Since Asran Scape broke it, he gets the bill."
The staff said it as if it were obvious and walked off with a slight waddle. While he was gone, Seiban approached and punched Asran’s shoulder.
"You little shit. You weren’t going to spar until you saw Zheroa’s group with the goddess. You got pissed off?"
"Shut up. I didn’t know he was that weak."
"Yeah yeah, men’s jealousy is disgusting. Hey, Zheroa. Still alive?"
As Seiban approached, Zheroa, barely catching his breath, pushed himself up.
"Hey, you’re hurt. Don’t force it. Lie down until you’re stable."
Worried, Seiban gently pushed Zheroa back down. Staring at him with a scowl, Seiban muttered, "Sorry, he said he wanted to spar. I didn’t think it’d turn out like this. That guy only knows how to swing his dick. You understand, right?"
Zheroa stared blankly as Seiban apologized earnestly.
The shock had been strong, but Asran hadn’t held back his full strength. In the end, the greater fault lay with Zheroa for failing to read his opponent’s skill before attacking.
"Damn… I’m sorry."
To Zheroa’s surprise, the kind Seiban kept apologizing and even Asran joined in, making him the one who felt more embarrassed for thinking they were dangerous.
* * *
"That happened."
"Hm… so you want revenge?"
"Eh? How did it turn into that?"
Zheroa looked at Rai in confusion. Rai also gave him a strange look, as if asking why Zheroa had answered that way.
No matter how you looked at it, it wasn’t about training him to get revenge after losing a duel.
"So what I’m saying is that Asran and Seiban and Delen are good guys."
Zheroa, who had been doing magic training instead of the scheduled physical training after getting beaten, smiled kindly. Rai stared at him, then turned his head with an *ah* as if he didn’t care.
When Rai showed no interest, Zheroa focused on training again. It was hard, and his mana flowed wildly, causing failed spells.
Approaching the nervous Zheroa, Rai pierced the magic circle he had created and forcibly rewrote it. Changing someone else’s magic circle at will was nearly impossible even for skilled mages, but Rai did it casually.
"Flash is the key to activation speed, so I taught you the spell earlier, but it doesn’t suit you. Use this instead."
"What changed?"
"You can read that much and call it your magic?"
"Hm… the activation’s slow but detection’s bad?"
"Yeah, Flash is for ambushes, so it needs to be fast or undetectable. This has a stealth enchantment that looks like a strengthening spell."
Since warriors began using magic, Flash spells for blinding enemies had been popular. Even a split-second loss of vision made it essential in close combat. Now it was one of the basic spells anyone could learn.
Repeated use, however, trained opponents to watch for it, and defensive methods improved accordingly. By now even third-rate mercenaries carried countermeasures, though Flash remained devastating against warriors if it landed.
"That said, you should never use this casually. Especially on strong opponents—it’s just flashy lights. It only gives them chances to counter. But for irritating weaklings who swarm you, it’s perfect."
"I doubt we’ll need it at the academy."
"Anything’s useful. You have to pour everything into whatever situation you’re in if you want to survive."
Nodding, Zheroa focused on memorizing the new spell. Rai stared at him.
He knew Zheroa had a good personality, but he lacked fighting spirit. After getting beaten, he didn’t even feel wronged.
To grow stronger regardless of good or evil, one needed proper fighting spirit. It provided fuel for improvement and built the will to never give up at critical moments. Zheroa had entered the academy but lacked the desire to become strong, so his training efficiency was poor.
He was earnest, but earnestness was something anyone could manage. Simply working hard on the task in front of you wasn’t true focus. Zheroa answered every question Zheroa asked to deliberately distract him, and Zheroa kept responding while letting his attention drift to other things around him.
Strong mental strength could become an advantage by reading the entire battlefield, but for now it was simply a drawback—something that might take a lifetime to master.
When training against Philia, he had managed to concentrate enough despite being weak, but now there was no sign of it. His mind seemed to have wandered somewhere else.
*The choice is my own.*
There was no need to force him awake or punish him harshly. After all, Rai was just a slave and instructor; he was not Zheroa’s teacher. If Zheroa was content with the present and didn’t wish for more, Rai would simply let him drift as he pleased.
"Speaking of which, there’s a new shop in the city. Their specialty is smoked meat sandwiches with special sauce. Want me to get some?"
"Sure. You stole all my gambling money because of you."
"E-Eh, that was unavoidable."
Zheroa brought up an irrelevant topic during what should have been focused time. Rai answered casually and smiled.
After training, Zheroa bought Rai the promised sandwich and left. Though he had invited Zheroa to eat together, Zheroa had an appointment and hurried away with the sandwich in hand. Rai watched his retreating back, then stepped outside.
Sandwich in mouth, Rai walked along the academy’s boundary line. The narrow prison had become a wide one. Of course, he could enjoy delicious food and freely roam, but the fact that he was still imprisoned hadn’t changed.
He had originally planned to end his life inside the prison, so he had no complaints.
Meeting people, eating good food, and comparing to the battlefield days made the time much more relaxed and peaceful. He even considered burying his bones here at the academy, but the thought seemed ridiculous, and he shook his head.
*There’s no way.*
The academy instructor was just a disguise. In the empire, if they wanted something from him, they had pulled him out. With unstable politics, approval from Edelian or the Emperor Julius was probably needed.
Having survived the end of the War Era together, he knew both men well. Neither did anything pointless.
When he had looked around the prison earlier, he had seen Leila’s reaction. It was one person’s plan, but he couldn’t tell exactly what they wanted.
"Oh, taking a stroll?"
The academy headmistress Celenas approached with her large chest proudly displayed.
The real-time location Rai sent to her made it easy for her to find him, and she approached as if by chance while he was walking.
"Yes, the weather’s nice. Would you like one, Headmistress?"
Rai laughed lightly and offered a sandwich. Celenas accepted it with both hands, thanking him. Eating while walking was considered unrefined, but Celenas bit into the sandwich.
While eating while walking, one place where she showed elegance, Rai felt her every action was refined.
"Though it won’t fill your stomach, how about the academy’s garden? Is it good for a stroll?"
"Yes, it’s a place that calms the mind."
"It’s small, isn’t it?"
Celenas smiled softly. To someone from the luxurious and indulgent nation of the Keilen Kingdom, such a garden must seem pitifully small. Rai answered with a laugh.
"But… there are a lot of bugs. Does the academy usually attract many bugs from outside?"
Since the season for flower pollination wasn’t here, the garden should have almost no insects thanks to continuous insect-repelling magic. Rai looked at the academy and city walls and said there were many bugs.
"The academy’s internal defenses are decent. The outer walls look like ordinary mansion walls, but multiple layers of magic protect against bugs."
"Then those bugs that can’t enter are probably eyeing you from the shadows."
Though Celenas had heard the unpleasant remark, as a scholar she felt no aura from the direction Rai was looking.
There were a few soldiers protecting the academy, but she had heard no reports of strange movements. Celenas looked in the same direction as Rai and said, "Then there’s another task added to my list."
"Shall I kill them?"
"N-No—! You can’t talk so ruthlessly as an academy instructor. After all, it’s just defensive against intruders."
"Most of them win with a preemptive strike anyway."
"A preemptive… anyway, no. Rai’s job is to protect the academy. No unnecessary killing."
Celenas spoke firmly, and Rai nodded.
"Then, please take care of it. Patrol dog."
"Woof woof—"
"Hmm… sounds good. If you work hard, I’ll give you a collar as a gift."
"I don’t need that."
Rai knew exactly what kind of collar Celenas was referring to and immediately rejected the idea.