Chapter 16
Chapter 16
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>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 16
>Chapter Title: Not You, But Two
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Meanwhile, Aster was at peace.
Whoosh—
A fist charging right at him.
It looked plenty vicious.
The fist, about the size of a decent kid’s head, was covered in calluses, and the power packed into it was beyond what a trained adult could muster.
This was the punch of someone who had mastered Ether.
‘Doranpega, huh?’
A scion of a famed house, indeed.
But that was it.
‘Pretty good, but…’
Not enough.
Fast for his size, each blow lethal in its ferocity—but that was it.
No experience in leveraging his physique, his shoulder movements and stride changes so predictable it was child’s play to read him. Straightforward attacks, nothing more.
Hickster must be losing his mind.
Not that fast, close enough to grab, yet somehow always just out of reach.
‘Time to wrap this up…’
Aster had just thought that when—
“Don’t underestimate me—!”
Whoosh—!
A massive fist came flying.
Twisting his body diagonally, swinging from below upward toward the solar plexus. A direct hit would leave anyone groggy.
You could tell it was the guy’s all-out shot. For the first time, Aster halted his evasion.
Boom!
A thunderous impact unbelievable from a human body.
Aster’s body flew through the air.
“Ooh! Finally!”
“That’s Hickster for you!”
The academy students cheered.
Most had bet on Hickster, but his expression soured.
“Urgh.”
The feedback said it connected clean.
But why? It felt oddly light.
Hit him square, yet the shock didn’t fully transfer. Like punching a springy slime with all your might.
And sure enough—
Tap, tap.
“…”
Landed lightly on his feet.
Balancing didn’t look hard. Just two steps back dispersed the impact, settling into a stable stance.
“Raaagh!”
Hickster bellowed at the sight and charged.
Like a raging bull.
But straight-line predictable.
A dumb move regular Hickster would never pull. This bizarre fight had stripped his reason away.
Crackle—
Spark.
Sparks flew from Aster’s fist right after.
Shoulder pulled back.
Chest naturally opened, back muscles contracting tight. Amid it all, Aster’s gaze caught Damian over there.
‘Let’s see, power control…’
Still grinning, casting recovery magic on Hickster.
To finish him, one strike to knock him out cold.
Not hard. He’d tuned Hickster’s body just for this perfect line.
Mana drawn from the core enveloped his fist, splitting into two layers that cycled in opposite directions.
Circulation heated up, sparks intensifying.
Crackle! Pop!
Core mana fine-tuned for the right power.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Hickster’s bulk closed in.
“W-Wait!”
“D-Dangerous, right?!”
An Ether user’s body was a weapon. And now Hickster charged full throttle to smash his foe.
Academy students gasped at the unexpected turn.
Aster’s fist shot out.
Light flashed right after.
Flash—
A shockwave burst forth.
Not magic.
A technique Aster devised with comrades in his past life. Used mana but fit neither martial arts nor spells…
A pure technique exploiting mana’s properties.
Collision Formula.
Extracting energy from colliding mana particles.
Boom—!
The blast echoed.
“W-What?”
Bewildered students gaped blankly.
Hickster’s bulk halted as if inertia vanished, Aster’s fist an inch away.
Brief silence.
Thud!
Hickster toppled.
Dead quiet.
The packed auditorium fell silent as if doused in ice water.
No one spoke. It was Doranpega’s second son versus some nameless student.
No famed bloodline with that ash-gray hair—side branch at best, or no noble house at all.
“W-What the hell happened?”
“Who is he? Anyone know?”
Students buzzed, curious about Aster’s identity. Then silence fell again.
Why?
Swoosh.
Aster’s fist thrust straight toward the ceiling.
His voice followed.
“Cheers.”
“...?”
“...?”
Unsure of the low murmur, students stared oddly.
“Woooooooo!”
“Awesome!”
“He won! He freaking won! This is the upset! Upset of the century!”
Roars shook the auditorium.
Winners cheered their upset victory; losers hollered anyway at the thrilling fight.
And—
“That was fun!”
“…”
Damian bounced excitedly too.
“We won!”
Aster eyed him briefly.
“Didn’t you lose?”
“Winning side, our side.”
“Fine.”
As cheers rang for the pre-ceremony event—
Commotion stirred from behind.
“Whoa, don’t push!”
“Hey, who is it!”
A hulking figure shoved through the crowd. Students griped at the rude intruder—but
Soon hushed.
Why?
“Outta the way! Move it, you punks! Who the hell starts brawling on orientation day! You?! It’s you! Move or I drag you all in!”
A staffer drawn by the noise.
Academy uniform screamed professor. Students cleared space, fearing getting dragged in.
Aster thought:
‘Hmm.’
Caused a scene.
But fine.
‘I’m a Troubleshooter by nature. Plenty witnesses, but more ways to slip away. Plus they enjoyed it—no one’ll snitch if I vanish now.’
Leading Damian into the crowd with that in mind—
“It’s not them!”
“...?”
A bright shout, hand shooting up beside him. Puzzled, he turned—Damian yelled.
“It’s us! Us… Mmph!”
Aster clamped his mouth shut.
But academy profs were sharp.
Aster and Damian already spotted. Soon an enraged shout rang in their ears.
“It’s you two!”
Glanced at Damian.
Innocent as ever.
“Mmph! Mmph!”
Mouth covered, he waved one hand high, hopping to broadcast his presence.
No thoughts left.
“Sigh.”
Shallow breath.
Aster released the hand. Then, like Damian, raised one.
“Here! Right here!”
Damian shouted gleefully…
“Yes. It’s us… us.”
The words felt oddly hollow. Probably just his mood.
* * *
In the end, Damian and I toured Jenion Academy’s guidance office before orientation even started.
“Damian, Aster.”
“Yes.”
“Yes!”
“You turned yourselves in honestly? For that, I’ll let this slide without penalty. Opponent’s not badly hurt, either.”
The guidance prof said sternly, then glared at me.
“I’ll be watching you.”
“…”
I just nodded.
Back to the auditorium.
Luckily, orientation hadn’t begun. Scattered students all seated now.
“Oh.”
“Ooh, that’s him?”
Damian and I drew stares as we found our seats.
Damian waved brightly at everyone like a celeb.
Said:
“Guess they saved our spots.”
“Yeah, looks like.”
Too drained to reply properly, I just humored his chatter.
Orientation finally kicked off.
Boring as hell.
“Blue and radiant~”
Academy anthem—supposedly infused with the founding sage’s wisdom—started it off, followed by the doddering headmaster’s speech.
“Uh, so…”
Once started, he wouldn’t stop.
Endless ‘also,’ ‘so,’ ‘and,’ ‘but,’ ‘however.’
How long?
Half the room already dozing.
Damian no exception.
I wiped his drool off his chin with his uniform sleeve.
Guy wouldn’t wake.
Mercifully, the speech wrapped soon.
“Headmaster, you’re needed urgently…”
“Hmph, what could be more important than orientation…”
An aide whispered; headmaster’s eyes flashed. Mic broadcast it all.
Aide muted it, whispered more.
Headmaster nodded.
“Er, sorry, students. Emergency came up.”
He shuffled off with feigned regret.
That face said something bigger than orientation.
Next, a red-haired prof took the stage.
“Attention!”
Crisp academy uniform, clearly a mage. Her shout sans amplification woke everyone.
Even the frizzy-haired prof who nabbed us earlier jolted awake—kinda funny.
“I’m Jeira. With the headmaster unable to finish, I’ll run orientation.”
Jeira grabbed the amplification artifact.
“First, freshman oath. Magic division rep, Dalia de Dinai.”
“Yes.”
A girl stepped forward. Silver hair stood out.
Students murmured right after.
“Dinai took the entrance exam?”
“Not good enough?”
“Think before you speak. She’s the patriarch’s third. They’d make her test if she wasn’t up to it?”
Famed houses usually got special admission.
Her taking the exam caused a stir. But I eyed Dalia for different reasons.
‘Dalia’s in this class?’
Dalia de Dinai.
If Decullan was the top magic house in the east, Dinai ranked next.
Always grinding to surpass Decullan, eternal runner-up.
Dalia, third daughter, would rise as Dinai’s star mage…
‘Nice to see her here.’
Troubleshooter days: annoying connection. Retirement: owed her some help.
Less benefactor, more mischief buddy.
“Next. Martial division rep, Pola, forward.”
“...Yes.”
A black-haired boy walked from the back.
No family name called—probably not noble.
Anyway, they took oaths from Jeira’s scripts.
Their voices echoed.
“…”
Students finally felt it real, misty-eyed.
“Snore.”
Our Damian slept soundly.
“That concludes.”
“The oath.”
They returned.
Midway, eyes met Dalia’s—probably imagination.
No.
“…”
Descending, she craned to stare me down.
“Oof!”
Tripped on the stairs. Bound to happen.
I glanced, then looked away.
My moment arrived.
“Next, meet your 172nd class professors. Come up one by one.”
Profs introduced: class, specialty, back to seats.
I fixated on the stage, mulling the name I awaited. Near end—
“Parun, handling Basic Principles of Magic Studies.”
Parun’s intro: cool, detached face.
‘Hmm.’
Expected Hazen vibe, but different texture.
Don’t judge by public mask. Hazen wore one too, fine upstanding guy.
I memorized Parun’s face, shook Damian.
Orientation over.
“Huh… wha…?”
“Up.”
“Done?”
“Nah, caught sleeping, expelled. Time to go home.”
“...!”
Sleepy eyes snapped wide at ‘expelled.’
Rubbed ‘em, looked around—wide awake now.
“Kidding.”
“Phew. Close…”
“Dorm assignment next. Late means no bed—hurry up.”
Perfection.
Panic at ‘no spot,’ he fixed his clothes, pale-faced, hustled.
Following dorm managers—
Someone blocked me.
“…”
The bulk I fought: Hickster of Doranpega.
Learned his name from the guidance prof chat. He’d recovered in time for orientation.
“You…”
“Not you, but two.”
“Right, we’re two.”
Hickster’s face ballooned red. Fuming, probably.
Then flinched, shuddered. Eyes on us held faint fear.
‘…Trauma.’
Yeah.
That’s when—
“Don’t think this is over. I’ll crush you both.”
Hickster spat with blazing eyes, turned away. Not scary.
Just hope he overcomes the trauma well.