The Academy's New Security Guard Is Suspicious — Episode 2

"You're truly going to let him go just like this?"

Kelix, the Grand General's aide, asked in an urgent voice. Cassandra answered with a grimace.

"Do you think he's the kind of man we could catch even if we tried?"

"He doesn't listen to you, Grand General."

"Listen, my ass. He only pretends to."

Cassandra was one of only five Grand Generals in the entire Imperial Army. Not even the Emperor himself could treat her carelessly.

But that man was different. He showed no trace of intimidation in her presence whatsoever.

He was the kind of creature you simply could not place beneath you. Try to force him to bend, and he would snap clean in two.

"That man has been rolling without rest straight out of hell. It's long past time he took a vacation."

"A vacation would be fine, but he didn't say vacation, did he? He said discharge. His mere disappearance will break the unit's morale."

"No. He hasn't been discharged."

There was a saying.

War is a brand seared into the soul.

That man was branded from head to toe in it.

For someone like him, the word discharge did not exist.

He had simply—

"Moved his battlefield."

Cassandra flicked the ash from her cigar.

Finally, it's over.

I muttered under my breath, staring at the translucent window.

The tutorial had ended. Ordinarily, completing it let you raise one stat of your choice by a single rank. Pick a B-rank Aura, and it climbed to A—simple as that.

The problem was that I had already maxed every stat to S.

Beyond S+ lay the transcendent realm. To push an S up to S+, I would need stat points equal to everything I had accumulated so far.

Even with a tutorial that had lasted twelve years, there was no way this garbage game would hand over that much without a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠fight.

Just as I'd predicted. Impossible.

So what happens in this case?

At that moment, the translucent window shifted.

Bonus stats?

Beneath the quest window, a list appeared.

Common stats in other games, but nearly unheard of in this one.

They only unlock for the protagonist, after all.

Intuitive choices like Strength, Agility, or Intelligence looked tempting, but this had to be a trap.

I was already blocked by the transcendent wall of S+. Even if my physical abilities improved a notch, it would accomplish nothing. Charisma and Appearance went without saying.

But Luck was another matter entirely.

I can raise my Luck?

I didn't even need to think. I picked Luck on the spot.

The reason was simple.

Luck is one of the only things in the entire game that affects the Rifts.

Rifts were the trap content of the late game. The reason an already punishing game descended into utter madness the further you went.

What made Rifts so brutal was that their contents were completely random.

An ancient knightly order wielding aura. Black mages manifesting demons. Armies of wizards. The Forgotten Priests. Rifts came in every conceivable flavor, and their nature could not be detected from the outside. A guard had to walk in first, blind.

Only two factors in the entire game influenced a Rift's generation—and one of them was Luck.

The other was... there happened to be a character whose entire gimmick was being lucky. A pure comic-relief gag character, blessed with nothing but good fortune. His true worth only revealed itself inside Rifts.

Whenever he entered one, the Rift would generate in a configuration that favored him. Three separate times, no less.

It might sound like nothing, but it was far from trivial.

Luck shapes the Rifts.

Rifts arrived in the late game, sure—but they were coming eventually either way. No, they might show up even sooner.

This was hard mode, after all.

I doubted even this hellish difficulty would pull the late-game content forward, but there was no downside to being prepared.

Ding. A cheerful chime rang out, though I felt nothing in particular.

And at the same moment, the quest window changed.

I focused on the objective.

Evangeline's graduation.

Evangeline was the protagonist of this game. Her graduation looked deceptively easy, but the reality was the exact opposite.

Because the academy was assaulted and terrorized on a daily basis. Demons, the Republic, heretics, barbarians—they hammered on the gates nonstop.

The real problem was that the enemies weren't only outside. Malcontents were mixed in among the students, and even the professors caused their share of incidents. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠The academy's leadership—the Principal, Vice Principal, and Chairwoman—were outright villain bosses.

Guiding the protagonist safely to graduation from a den that was practically a monster's lair was no simple task.

"Glory to the Empire!"

The clamor of salutes snapped me out of my thoughts.

When I lifted my head, the station interior came into view. True to the military, the station held exactly what was necessary and nothing more. Mana stone lamps flickering precariously, a clock that told the time and nothing else. That was the entire ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠inventory.

The officer receiving the soldiers' salutes was a blond man. He had the handsome, chiseled look of a textbook elite—the kind of face made for romance novels.

Captain Leon.

Leon was an elite of elites: born into a military family, gifted with the sword, and recently making a name for himself on the front lines.

But the Leon I remembered was not a soldier. He was a professor at the academy.

One-Armed Leon.

Leon was one of the game's professors, though not a particularly major figure. His single defining trait had been the missing arm.

I checked Leon's arm. Still attached, perfectly intact.

Leon is appointed a professor, and on his way to the academy, he's ambushed and loses an arm.

Even one-armed, Leon had ranked in the upper-middle tier of professors. With both arms intact, he'd be an invaluable asset later.

Of course, my real reason for seeking Leon out was something else entirely.

My plan was to join the guard, but I had no intention of limiting myself to guard duty. I needed a means of getting close to the students.

Save Leon, then win Leon over.

That was why I'd moved so early.

Just then, the train roared into the station. It slowed to a gentle stop, and a soldier checking tickets climbed down.

I glanced over my uniform. Second Lieutenant James—a name and rank designed to be forgotten the moment you heard them.

"Glory to the Empire!"

"Good work out there."

Leon boarded the officers' car first. I followed a beat behind.

Leon sat at the very center of the officers' car, bolt upright, reading a book. To my eye, he looked like a greenhorn trying far too hard to carry weight he hadn't earned.

Well, he is that age.

I took a seat in a corner, away from Leon.

Objective: Evangeline's graduation. Reward: Wish Coupon. On failure: death.

I was reviewing my plans over the quest window when someone sat down across from me. It was Leon.

"Ahem."

Leon cleared his throat pointedly at my rank insignia. He was hinting that I should salute. My cover identity was a second lieutenant, so I complied.

"Glory to the Empire."

"Glory to the Empire. Second Lieutenant James?"

"Yes, sir."

"Your unit?"

"4th Corps, sir."

At the mention of the 4th Corps, Leon flinched visibly. The infamy of Cassandra will do that.

I let out a small sigh.

"R-right, of course. I'm 3rd Corps. Heading to the capital, I take it?"

"Yes."

"Business there?"

"I have a friend there."

"...I see. I'm on my way to Elysium Academy."

Leon tilted his chin up ever so slightly. He was all but begging me to ask him more.

Unbelievable. This is why greenhorns—

"Why are you going to Elysium, sir?"

"Haha, well, I've been recommended for a professorship. Can't be helped. War is a long classroom of living history, after all. Cultivating the next generation matters just as much as the front lines do."

Leon leapt at the opening as if he'd been waiting for it, excitement blazing across his face.

Elysium Academy was the finest institution on the continent. Becoming one of its professors at his age was plenty worth bragging about.

"That's impressive, sir."

"Impressive, nothing. It's only natural. Unlike the lot lounging around the peaceful capital, we've actually crawled through the mud on the front lines."

Leon said it with grave, serious eyes, shoulders squared with pride—classic greenhorn, just back from a single taste of the front.

Hooooo. The train gave a great rumble and began to move, but alas, Leon showed no sign of shutting up.

"At the academy, I intend to make the dangers of war known. I'll expose the reality of the front lines that everyone turns away from, and wake them up to it."

Leon puffed himself up and droned on. I nodded along absently, but his mouth showed no signs of stopping.

"Did you hear? This year's incoming class is going to be absolutely spectacular. The Crown Prince himself, and even the Magic Tower Coalition's heir—hah! It's all because of that prophecy issued last year, the one that a hero who will save the continent will emerge from this year's incoming class."

The prophecy that a continent-saving hero would rise from this year's enrollment was one of the game's central plot devices. It explained why the protagonist's class alone was stuffed to bursting with prodigies.

The trouble was that a prophecy that explicit made for an excellent thing to break.

If a hero was destined to come from the incoming class, then killing every last enrollee meant no hero would ever save the continent.

That was exactly why every ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠nasty piece of work with something to hide threw everything they had at raiding Elysium Academy.

Leon kept talking without pause. My ears were starting to ache.

When the hell are they getting here?

I was beginning to get genuinely angry at the bastards for being late.

Then my blood ran backward, and my head whipped around.

Finally.

Brushing off my hands, I rose from my seat.

"What? What is it?"

Leon looked up at me, bewildered. Instead of answering, I quietly took stock of the situation.

Black magic.

A moment later, black mist swallowed the train. A noxious stench laced with thick brimstone stung my nose. A clinging curse fastened itself to my skin like ten thousand crawling insects.

"Black mages! Report to command at once—!"

Leon sprang up belatedly and shouted. An aura bloomed from his blade and wrapped around him. Decent reflexes, honestly.

The problem was the matchup.

Just as steel armor cannot stop fire, aura cannot stop a curse. It was simple affinity.

Leon swayed and dropped to one knee.

They say black mages are a knight's natural predator, but to think the man destined to be a professor couldn't stop a single spell.

"Pathetic."

I clicked my tongue at Leon, loudly enough for him to hear. His gaze snapped to me. Then his eyes went wide.

"...How? How are you standing?"

"You wrap yourself in aura. All of it, at once."

"That's the most asinine—never mind! Report to command, now! Black mages have ambushed us! Request backup—!"

Leon bit his lip bloody and yelled.

"Can't do that."

"W-what do you mean, can't?"

"I don't do business with the army anymore."

"...What?"

At that moment, the curses came pouring in like wolves scenting blood. Dense enough to pack the entire train solid.

Not bad.

But that was all they were. Not bad.

"O God."

I sketched a lazy cross over my chest.

Light bloomed pure white, spilling from my fingertips.

Fire that burns away the profane.

Holy power.