Chapter 53
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 53
Chapter Title: Eve of the Storm
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(1)
1.
The next morning.
Early as it was, someone had already come knocking at Ullan’s door. A man in a black coat—the inspector from the Military Faculty’s Audit Division.
“Your punishment has been decided.”
He was the one who had pulled Ullan out of the Student Affairs Office the day before, and without preamble, he handed over a single sheet of paper.
It was a punishment notice.
Perpetrator Student:[Ullan Bator]
Victim Student:[Himmel Deorg]
Summary: The perpetrator violated the rules during the mock battle qualifiers, inflicting injury on the victim.
The committee deems the violence in this incident extremely severe and imposes the following punishment under Article 38 of School Rule 5:
1) Expulsion warning (1 instance)
2) Suspension (30 days)
3) Disqualification from all competitions
Too many words.
For a moment, Ullan’s mind nearly blanked out, but he barely clung to his senses. The silver lining was that the inspector provided a detailed explanation.
“First, an expulsion warning is essentially a deferred expulsion. If you receive another one while under this warning, it’s automatic expulsion.”
The fact that expulsion was deferred meant the committee had at least discussed it once. The inspector continued in a curt tone.
“Next, suspension means you can’t attend lectures. And starting today, for the next 30 days, you cannot leave the designated area.”
Suspension at Arsen Academy was the second-heaviest penalty after expulsion. If caught leaving the area, the suspension could be extended or additional warnings issued.
“Finally, the committee has deemed you a high-risk element and stripped you of eligibility for all upcoming competitions and matches.”
This wasn’t limited to the mock battles.
It covered every kind of competition or match against other students. Finishing his explanation, the inspector glanced at Ullan.
“Do you understand up to here?”
“I get about half of it.”
Was the explanation so complex that Ullan only grasped half? The inspector felt baffled but didn’t show it.
“At least you understand something. Now, we’ll secure your statement.”
“My statement?”
“Yes. You didn’t turn Himmel Deorg into a bloody rag for no reason.”
The inspector sat in a suitable spot and pulled out a notepad and pen. He also placed a glowing green orb on the table.
It was a magic tool for recording voices.
“And this is for your benefit too. If your statement proves justifiable cause, the punishment could be reduced.”
This was true.
The Audit Division’s superior, Dean Berge, aimed to lighten Ullan’s sentence however possible.
It was also the Imperial military’s goal.
When Ullan’s expulsion had first been debated, it was the military’s influence that turned it into a deferral.
The military has already done the math.
From the moment they received the report on the incident.
They weighed House Deorg against Ullan Bator’s value—and found Ullan far superior.
A seventeen-year-old Master.
That alone was immense value.
Above all, successfully recruiting Ullan would bring the northern snowfields and plains—home to over ten thousand barbarians—into the Empire’s fold.
An enormous expanse comprising nearly twenty percent of imperial territory, all without spilling a drop of blood.
That’s why...
The military planned to aid in this incident, creating a debt of gratitude with Ullan.
To do that, they needed his statement—and they intended to cherry-pick the most favorable parts to defend him.
Snapping out of his thoughts,
the inspector stared intently at Ullan.
“We want to help you.”
From the military’s perspective, Ullan was a juicy prize. They had no desire to see it vanish before their eyes.
“So tell us the full truth of what happened yesterday, without holding back. That way, we can help you more effectively.”
Even if it wasn’t the truth, that was fine.
Favorable statements would be leveraged; unfavorable ones discarded.
As the inspector’s eyes gleamed,
“Got it. I’ll tell you.”
Ullan nodded.
It wasn’t something to brag about, but neither was it dirty enough to hide.
So Ullan began his account.
From his conversation with Himmel yesterday to the proposal Himmel had made—everything.
2.
Meanwhile, at that very hour.
As Ullan gave his statement,
eight young men and women had gathered in a Military Faculty lecture hall. They were the freshmen who had advanced in the qualifiers.
“Yaaawn!”
Summoned early in the morning, the students yawned one after another.
Noa was among them. Swallowing her yawn, she quickly scanned the room. Then she realized what the summoned students had in common.
Students who passed the qualifiers?
Not quite named characters, but top contenders—first or second in their respective classes.
And one more thing.
Concrete proof for her guess.
The blonde girl seated at the very back.
Ivela Elead herself.
Does that mean...!
Did I pass too?
Noa’s eyes sparkled for a moment.
As strong anticipation swelled in her chest,
Creaaak!
The door slid open.
Following was a silver-haired girl with a dark blue cloak fluttering from her arm.
The instant Noa spotted her,
her hopes came crashing down.
...Dilia Arpen.
The girl she had fought, yanking each other’s hair.
Her appearance meant one of two things.
Either both Noa and Dilia had passed the qualifiers—or they would face a rematch.
Ugh, please let it be the former.
A rematch like this? She’d lose for sure.
The same tactic wouldn’t work twice. And her talismans infused with spirit beasts were nearly depleted.
So she prayed fervently in her mind.
Anything but a rematch.
Meanwhile, Dilia scanned the room with her small face, as if searching for someone.
Then her expression hardened.
For one reason only. She had spotted Noa.
“Uh, hi?”
“...”
Noa tried an awkward greeting, but no reply came.
Just cold indifference.
Dilia whipped her head away and took a seat near the door—the farthest spot from Noa.
Well, can’t blame her.
She had every right to be mad.
How often had a princess like her been grabbed by the hair by an outsider?
Of course, Noa had her side too. Dilia had yanked first.
Reconciliation might take time.
Maybe forever.
As gloom settled over the budding camaraderie shattered before it began, voices from nearby students suddenly reached her.
“That barbarian didn’t show, huh.”
“Of course not.”
“Yeah. After causing that mess.”
The moment “barbarian”—Ullan—was mentioned,
three girls’ expressions shifted.
Ivela looked conflicted, Dilia tilted her head, and Noa sighed with a darkened face.
Haa, Ullan.
Right after her battle with Dilia,
Noa had passed out cold for half a day.
Mana depletion. So she hadn’t witnessed Ullan’s match firsthand, but Professor Miel had filled her in later.
Ullan had caused an incident.
A massive one.
Beat Himmel half to death.
No exaggeration.
Himmel had teetered on the brink of death.
Lost a ton of blood, organs failing—barely clinging to life.
I don’t know why, but...
This wasn’t in the original story.
Though Ullan enrolling was already off-script. Still, she hadn’t expected Himmel to end up a bloody pulp.
Feels like things are tangling more and more.
Ever since missing the Hero’s Trial.
The story veered further from the original path. Chest tightening, she sighed again.
But only for a moment.
Noa quickly regained her composure.
...Let’s think this through.
Sighing wouldn’t change anything.
Better to predict what’s coming and prepare. Far more productive.
This incident is a big deal.
Not just any student—the sole heir of House Deorg turned into mincemeat.
Expulsion was possible.
No, practically certain.
Ullan has no backing.
Dermore Count wrote his recommendation, sure—but he wasn’t close enough to challenge House Deorg.
Noa’s face darkened.
If he gets expelled...
He’d return to the plains.
No, that was optimistic.
He might get dragged to House Deorg. For pulping their only heir.
The story drifting ever further from canon.
As Noa’s expression grew grim,
Creaaak!
The door suddenly burst open.
“Everyone here?”
A man entered with a dry tone.
Ethan Arnov, Military Faculty professor—and overseer of these qualifiers.
“I called you here early because there are announcements about the qualifiers. I’ll start with the result you’re most curious about.”
Exchanging glances with the students,
Ethan cut straight to it.
“Seven participants confirmed for the mock battles so far. The reason it’s just this few? Incidents in Match 3 and Match 8.”
Match 3: Ullan versus Himmel.
Match 8: A battle between mages, much like Noa and Dilia’s—until a mana surge caused an explosion mid-fight.
Both nearby students were gravely injured in the blast.
As a result,
Match 8 was voided outright.
Excluding the draw in Match 2 as well, seven finalists made sense.
“As for Match 2’s draw, protocol calls for a rematch, but...”
No! Not that, please!
Noa squeezed her eyes shut, praying desperately. And surprisingly, it worked.
“...Dean Chernio recommended including both in the finals. We’re short on numbers anyway.”
God exists.
Noa let out a relieved sigh.
Final count: Nine, including Noa and Dilia.
“The last spot will come from the losers’ bracket.”
“Pardon? You mean...”
“Himmel won’t be competing?”
“It’s not that he won’t—it’s that he can’t.”
Ethan’s face hardened.
Meaning the injuries were that severe.
Catching on, the students fell silent. They’d heard the rumors too.
“Additionally, Ullan’s participation is restricted. Along with suspension, he’s banned from all competitions.”
“...!”
“S-Suspension?”
Only two were shocked.
Ivela and Dilia.
Dilia especially looked like she was hearing this for the first time, eyes wide.
“The decision will be posted today, but as involved parties, I’m telling you early.”
Expulsion warning, 30-day suspension, and disqualification from all future competitions.
That was Ullan’s punishment.
Once announced, a few students muttered in surprise.
“Lighter than expected.”
“Yeah. For what he did, expulsion wouldn’t have been odd...”
At that instant, sharp glares from Ivela and Dilia pierced the expulsion mentioner.
Fearsome eyes. A chill ran through the student, who shivered.
Ethan continued.
“This is the dean’s call. Objections? Go straight to the Military Faculty dean’s office. I’ll notify them.”
“...”
The room went deathly quiet.
Of course. No student had the guts to confront the dean. Their doubts were understandable, though.
Normally, it’d be instant expulsion.
Details aside,
Ullan had broken arena rules and brutally assaulted Himmel—nearly to death.
A grave violation.
Arsen tolerated no violence, regardless of reason.
If Ullan were an ordinary barbarian...
Expulsion, and shipped off to Deorg lands on the spot. Grill him or eat him, their choice.
But Ullan wasn’t ordinary.
A once-in-a-generation powerhouse: Master at seventeen, heir to the northern barbarians’ Great Chieftain.
So the military stepped in.
To block his expulsion.
And lighten his sentence however possible. But military involvement didn’t solve everything.
...Istan El Deorg.
Commonly, Count Deorg.
One of the Empire’s five Masters—his reaction was the real wildcard.
Ethan recalled briefly crossing paths with Count Deorg during frontline service.
Ice block of a man.
Utterly rational, cold.
Devoid of emotion.
But even an ice block has a son involved this time. Impossible to predict.
Eh, the military’ll handle it.
Ethan would stick to teaching.
He let it slide.
“That’s all the announcements. Questions? Speak now.”
He’d covered nearly everything.
No one would have anything to say.
So Ethan thought. But then, a hand shot up.
Dilia.
“Professor.”
“What?”
“Um, I forfeit.”
“...What?”
What did she just say?
Ethan blinked with round eyes.
As if failing to process. Nor were the others. Noa and the rest stared at Dilia in shock.
“Wait, forfeit? Why all of a sudden...?”
“Because Ullan’s out.”
What did that have to do with anything?
Ethan looked baffled.
Having delivered her notice, Dilia stood immediately. As if no further business.
“Then, excuse me.”
“W-Wait! Hey! Dilia!”
He tried to stop her desperately, but to no avail.
She left the hall far quicker than his protests.
Creaaak! Slam!
The door shut.
Silence blanketed the room.
An unforeseen turn. Neither Ethan nor the students could speak rashly—until,
“I forfeit too.”
Another bombshell.
Ivela, expressionless. With the second dropout after Dilia, Ethan swallowed a groan and asked,
“Ivela, why you too...?”
“Ullan’s punishment is indirectly my fault. So I’ll take responsibility and forfeit.”
With that baffling statement,
Ivela strode out.
Creaaak! Slam!
In under a minute, two students had declared forfeiture. As Ethan floundered in the abrupt chaos,
Noa furrowed her brow.
Wait, this is a problem.
Noa wanted in the mock battles for the hidden pieces there.
Specifically, the subjugation event.
Slay a powerful magic beast freed from its seal, claim hidden rewards.
But it’s brutally hard.
Even fatal for some students.
To clear it, at least two named characters were essential—the strategy guide recommended three.
And now...
Dilia and Ivela out.
No Ullan support either.
Only named left: Noa herself. Realizing this, she decided instantly.
“Sorry, I forfeit too.”
“...Reason?”
“Ullan.”
A vague reply done,
Noa bolted from her seat.
Hidden pieces and rewards mattered, but not more than her life.
As she headed for the door,
Bang! Creaaak!
It flew open violently.
“S-Senior!”
The visitor: Professor Stella.
Pale-faced, as if disaster had struck. Meanwhile, Ethan frowned.
“Stella, knock first at least...”
“Who cares about knocking! It’s a huge problem!”
“What happened?”
“Well, uh...”
Stella stamped her feet.
Leaning to Ethan’s ear, she whispered urgently. Moments later, his face turned to stone.
“...That true?”
“Yes! That’s why the emergency summons!”
Ethan scowled.
Headache incoming. After a sigh, he addressed the students.
“Sorry, urgent matter—gotta go. Remaining announcements via class advisors. Dismissed.”
Words done,
both professors rushed out.
“What was that? What happened?”
“Dunno. What now?”
“With Dilia Arpen out...”
Students discussed futures.
But Noa didn’t hear. Something more shocking had reached her ears.
...For real?
Eyes trembling faintly.
Near the door, she’d overheard Stella’s whisper.
The content:
Count Deorg to visit the Academy shortly.
One of Ruben Empire’s Five Swords.
Istan El Deorg’s visit.
An unprecedented event never in the original story—Noa laughed, half-resigned.
Haha, we’re screwed.
Ah, whatever now.
Let it fall as it may.
With self-abandonment, Noa left the room. The sky reflected in her eyes was thick with black storm clouds.
As if a tempest loomed.