Chapter 11
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 11
Chapter Title: Orientation -3-
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Before coming to the academy, what kind of life had the girl been living?
She had naturally grown distant from her father, but the servants weren't about to watch her starve to death.
The best they could do for a girl who never stepped out of her room was to leave meals in front of her door.
Empty time.
She no longer took swordsmanship lessons or studied.
All she did was stare blankly at the ceiling.
Even reading romance novels that once made her chest ache with sorrow brought no feelings now.
She learned this without knowing how much time had passed.
Someone harboring negative emotions can't just sit still.
Locked away alone in her room, those feelings swell wildly until unwanted guests barge in.
A depression like the abyss.
The helplessness of looking back on that day when she accomplished nothing.
The fearful future of living without a mother.
A time arrives when she can't endure without gnawing at her own flesh.
'Whether it's possible or not isn't the point...'
Clutching the bedsheets and sobbing changes nothing.
She couldn't fully know her mother's pain or despair, but thinking of her mother made her feel she had to do something right now.
There was only one thing she could do.
Whether it was a false accusation or her mother truly practiced black magic—it didn't matter.
Her sole conviction: cross the line between good and evil and kill everyone involved.
Shring—
She rose from the bed and drew the sword used for lessons.
In the room shrouded by thick curtains, blocking all sunlight, she moved her body aimlessly.
The so-called important training forms?
She had abandoned them midway.
She didn't know a single one properly.
She just hefted the heavy sword and swung and thrust blindly.
Until no thoughts came to mind and she collapsed into sleep.
Slash left, then upward from below.
Thrust into empty air.
Until blood from her torn palms soaked the carpet and hardened black.
"Rike Skadi..."
She barely spat out her name in a feeble voice.
Rumble—
The moment she drew her sword, a killing intent sharp enough to sting my skin rushed toward me.
She was projecting something onto me.
A dark, viscous emotion oozed from her.
'Vengeance... Seeing it up close, it's pretty pitiful.'
Until now, she'd done her best alone, but she'd never had the chance to throw everything she had at someone.
Clack— clack—
No charge to close the distance like the other cadets.
Rike held her sword and advanced toward me step by step.
Just as she'd practiced in that dark room.
She swung her sword.
How long had it been?
A pure intent to harm a living being emanated from her actions.
Rudimentary body reinforcement she hadn't even mastered.
Simple, honest sword paths.
But overriding it all...
'Incredible focus.'
Her gaze never blinked once, sharp as a needle.
Her swordsmanship was utterly lacking, but I could tell.
Only I could tell.
The time she had accumulated.
Robert stared at Rike swinging her sword while Maxime treated the tear inside his mouth.
Compared to him, her speed wasn't impressive, and her strikes were straightforward.
She stood no chance at that level.
"Tch..."
His molars still felt loose.
'If only I could use my skills...'
It wasn't arrogance—I was special.
If possessors like me weren't special, what in the world was?
He always felt luck was on his side.
He scored top marks without studying, and with one skill, he could beat the knight sent to teach him.
He had no interest in learning from knights who couldn't overcome his skills.
He was chosen.
Ordinary folk could devote their lives to effort and still never surpass him.
But...
Grip.
His fist clenched involuntarily.
Thinking of the women seeing his recent disgrace filled him with irritation.
'Rike...'
When he, an ordinary person in his past life, inexplicably possessed a child's body.
Without his consent, talks of marriage to her proceeded.
He wanted to exploit the cliché of "fate" everyone loved, but held back for now.
Having no memories of women in his previous life, he saw this as fortune.
'If she's a beauty, I'll wait until she's grown.'
He'd been quick to fall since his past life, but he figured he wouldn't fall for a little girl at first sight.
But lo and behold, absolutes didn't exist in the world.
She resembled the world's most exquisite doll.
Delicate like glass on the verge of shattering, yet flawless in beauty.
Though she'd never left her parents' embrace, she strove for noble grace and dignity.
'I want her.'
He could tell just by looking.
She was the jackpot first-prize lottery ticket.
In this world where polygamy was allowed.
He vowed her spot as the first in his harem.
After a few conversations, even dull topics made her chirp like a canary, stealing his heart completely.
When he heard soon after that the Skadi marquisate and her future in-laws had collapsed, his surprise was brief—he inwardly cheered.
'...This is absolutely not a bad thing.'
Noble marriages were mostly dictated by family prestige and atmosphere.
The lower she fell, the stronger his position grew.
A chance to legally mold everything to his taste through proper procedures.
For the first time, he threw a tantrum to non-parents and pushed through the engagement.
No chances arose after, but fate reunited them at the academy.
How had she been until now?
If she went to the Church, he could erase those hideous scars.
He wanted to approach, ask if she was okay, and comfort her, but circumstances prevented it.
Too many watching eyes to get close.
He'd worked tirelessly to protect his image until now.
One misstep, and it could all crumble.
'Just a bit more... until everyone takes my words as gospel...'
Fortunately, no one else showed interest in her.
So he could approach slowly.
For now, though, how to deal with the scum who dared violence against him.
'That lowly adventurer bastard...'
Clang—!
The sword rang out clearly as it flew and embedded in the wall.
Even after dropping it, she didn't stop her assault.
Her slender fingers stiffened straight, aiming for my eyes.
'Spearing! Not bad.'
One way to overcome a vast skill gap.
An unexpected attack.
Aiming for vitals.
Crack—
Her fingers, caught in my palm, bent in an unnatural direction.
Num to pain, she just stared at them blankly.
"Your patterns are monotonous when you hold a sword. Your mana circulation is a mess. Poor distribution throws off your balance entirely."
"..."
I used the bare minimum mana, crafting a barrier so sounds shattered outward.
From outside, they wouldn't make out my words.
"But... impressive."
"...?"
She listened blankly to my critique until the final words, finally looking at me properly.
Her gaze had been on me but distant before; now it was clear.
"Slashes and thrusts. I know how hard it is to handle the basics so cleanly."
"...Thank you."
"Wasn't easy getting this far. You're not wrong, so keep at it."
"..."
"Don't just stand there. Go get treated."
Only then did she glance at her fully broken fingers as if realizing, then head to Maxime.
Rike, the last patient, finished treatment.
The cadets dispersed in a group, like when they first arrived.
"First day of class today, so we'll end here. Object if you want, send assassins my way—your choice."
Some eyes glaring at me burned with hostility.
They dreamed of standing above all, but getting beaten like this was a first for some.
"Next class will be tougher. Intensity ramps up each day. If you hate it or it's annoying, you have options."
"First: quit and go home. Second: accept your place, endure, adapt. Third: kill the instructor under the guise of sparring."
"I'll do my best to control my strength in spars. I can't promise cadets won't die."
"But cadets don't need restraint. If a promising talent emerges who can kill me, His Majesty the Emperor would rejoice. Truly the empire's blessing."
No arrogance or jest.
Having met the emperor on commissions, he knew.
That old man would laugh heartily and back anyone who killed him fully.
"Dismissed. No need for greetings—scatter!"
The cadets, eyeing each other awkwardly, quickly dispersed.
I approached Maxime resting in the back.
"You worked hard, Priest."
"Hoho—you had the hard job, Instructor. Watching brought back old memories for me."
"Heard the old days were like this."
These days, pushy parents made academy classes dull and networking-focused.
According to Roland and Dean Doran, it used to be as harsh or harsher.
That's why the dean and old knight, remembering those times, included rough methods in the curriculum draft.
This incident was a chance for the academy to reassert discipline.
"Right. Church academies run similarly."
"Oh?"
With priests everywhere, it was feasible.
Most Church members were war orphans or chosen by divine revelation.
Few outsiders to complain.
If the academy had run unchanged after incidents.
Generational shifts might have happened, and Church holy knights could have become the empire's best.
"Well, I'll be off."
"See you next class, Priest!"
After a brief farewell, I left the gymnasium last.
Before heading home.
Like opening day, I headed to the bulletin board in the central entrance before leaving the academy.
I'd wondered when the news would come—it finally did.
Library Interior Construction Complete
The first episode begins.