So This Is the Main Story?
So this is the main story…?
"…So we're in the same group."
"Unfortunately, so it seems."
Fully healed in both shoulders after receiving treatment, Ian blinked hard.
He had been stuck in the infirmary the whole time, and the moment his body returned to normal and he came back, he was hit with a group assignment.
Anyone in his place would have been stunned enough to wonder what kind of situation this even was.
If I'd known it would turn out like this, I should have crushed them completely.
He had only cracked them halfway, and Ian had recovered in less than a week. If Kyle had smashed them outright, he wouldn't have had to look at that face for a good two weeks.
Considering this world had the broken cheat known as holy power, even pulverizing a shoulder would only have taken time to heal. Looking back, that would have been the smarter play.
"So it's me, you, and Tisha. …It says five people on the list. Why are there only three of us?"
"The other two still have class. They'll be here in about ten minutes."
"That so? Hmm. Elga… Leto… Who are these people? Same year as us?"
"Ian. The lecture we're taking right now? It's for first-years only. Not every year."
"Ah. Is that so?"
Is that so, my ass! What do you mean, "is that so," you bastard.
It had been nearly a month since the semester started, and he still didn't know that?
If somewhere in the distance something went pop, it was probably the sound of Kyle's insides exploding.
"Elga. Leto. Elga. Elga…? Strange. I feel like I've heard that name somewhere."
…What the hell is this guy saying right now? Is he being serious?
At Ian's words, Kyle found himself calling on a god he didn't even believe in. Oh, for the love of— Lord above.
Leto was one thing, but Elga was already a celebrity known to nearly everyone at the Academy.
She was the young lady of the Litorio Grand Duchy. The youngest daughter, no less—the one every parent supposedly doted on most. On top of that, her beauty already had a reputation in high society.
And yet Ian was sitting there saying her name only "sounded familiar." He had even run into her a few times. It wasn't as if he had never seen her at all.
"Ian."
"What."
"Lady Elga. Young lady of the Litorio Grand Duchy."
"Grand Duchy? Grand Duchy… that's supposed to be pretty high up, right?"
"Yes. The kind of place where, if you run your mouth carelessly, your tongue and your neck can get cut off as a matching set. Ian."
Kyle had already shifted into a full screw the main-story plot, I'm done babysitting mindset.
Support the original protagonist? Not happening. Help with his love life? Figure it out yourself.
He had already nearly ruined his own life fretting over that much. Help? Help with what?
Still, having the original male lead get his head cleanly separated from his shoulders would leave a bad taste. As a bare minimum of conscience—and basic human decency—he at least had to point out the way to stay alive.
Only then could he hang out with Tisha in peace without looking over his shoulder.
So he gave Ian a moderate warning: for the love of everything, stop pulling aggro.
Kyle was a John Nassen, so people hesitated to touch him. Ian was a commoner with no backing whatsoever. The Grand Duchy could erase him without blinking.
At that level of threat, even Ian ought to rein himself in.
"Don't worry. Even I don't always cross the line that badly."
"…"
Kyle wanted to set fire to the professor who had put this group together. Failing that, he wanted to sew Ian's permanently open mouth shut.
He kept trying to take it in good faith, to let it slide—and Ian kept answering that goodwill by being unbearable.
So every line he had crossed until now hadn't counted as a line?
Insults about people's parents, open contempt for everyone around him, and in front of a John Nassen he still called himself weak.
Romance fantasy male lead or not, this wasn't a cool, distant heartthrob—this was a rock for a brain.
I'm going to lose my mind. Aigoo, my head.
Was this really the best option? No matter how he turned it over, it felt wrong.
Wouldn't it be better to leave Ian's name on the roster and just run the project as a four-person team?
That seemed like the outcome that would benefit everyone most.
At least Elga and Leto might actually do what they were told. As members of a great noble house, they would feel the quiet pressure of grades.
Tisha was already dead serious about her studies, so she would be fine.
Everyone except Ian.
Even thinking back over the free chapters he had read, Ian had never looked particularly close with studying. He stared out the window during class, his grades weren't anything special—and so on.
No matter how he sliced it, this guy was the absolute opposite of specialized for group work.
Worse, the moment he opened his mouth, the odds of the whole group catching a wide-area status ailment skyrocketed.
Tisha would explode. Elga would rage. Leto would go feral. Probability: roughly ninety percent or higher.
And the topic itself is already a skull-splitting dead end. What am I supposed to do with this.
Apparently each group had been given a slightly different presentation topic.
One group had the Empire's cultural industries. Another had the Empire's climate and agricultural output.
And Group Seven—Kyle's group—had been stuck with A Consideration of the Empire's Future Growth in National Capability.
If the topic had a fixed answer, it would at least have been easy. Cultural industries? Research, slap something together, present. Climate and agricultural yield? Check the numbers, wrap it up.
In other words, the other groups didn't even need to argue with each other. Dig up what was required and you were done.
Group Seven, on the other hand, had to tackle the Empire's future growth in capability. That made it inevitable: every member would have to put their opinions on the table.
Even among people who knew each other well and got along, that kind of topic would turn into a heated debate.
"Move over."
"This is my seat."
"I don't care whose seat it is—just move. Don't sit that close."
"No, but… this is my seat. What am I supposed to do?"
Watching Tisha, who had the misfortune of ending up next to Ian, Kyle thought it through.
Tisha would almost certainly argue that shamanism could influence the Empire's future growth in capability. She would list the positives and say magic was already saturated, so something new was needed.
She wouldn't even be wrong. Nearly every practical application of mana had already been researched to death. Of course, no one could say what new uses mana might still reveal, and magic itself kept changing shape, so claiming it was finished might be an overstatement.
But if you remembered that magic itself had once been treated about as dismissively as shamanism was now, Tisha's position wasn't baseless either.
Ian will say swordsmanship, obviously. Train outstanding swordsmen and use them to finish cleaning up the west and the east. The Empire itself was founded by the sword, after all.
Whatever else he was, Ian was genuine when it came to the blade. He would slam head-on into Tisha's talk of shamanism and insist that focusing on swordsmanship—not those parlor tricks—would do far more for the Empire's strength.
And Elga? What would the young lady of Litorio put forward?
"An interesting topic."
A short while later, Elga walked in after finishing her lecture and murmured it with a faint smile.
The group assignment was far from welcome, yet she didn't seem to spare that fact much thought. After briefly touching her chin, she began, "As for me, I would say…"
"The Empire is already vast enough. Using force to completely settle the remaining west and east wouldn't be a terrible idea. But those who hold much also stand to lose much. Driving too hard rarely ends well. With diplomacy and politics alone, this Empire can endure forever."
In short: the growth of politics and diplomacy was what mattered most for the Empire's future capability.
Kyle nodded as if he had seen that coming. Of course he had—the Litorio Grand Duchy was responsible for foreign affairs. He had even heard the current Minister of Foreign Affairs was from Litorio.
Then does Leto think the same?
Leto wasn't of Litorio blood, but he was still a member of their vassal household. Since Elga's answer suited Litorio best, it would have been natural for him to agree.
"…I don't really know. For now, I would like to hear everyone's opinions first."
They had come all this way, and he was still falling back on I don't know.
Thanks to that, Kyle got to experience the novel sensation of a thousand-yard sheet of flame erupting in his gut.
Who asked you who should become the Grand Duke of Litorio?! Group project! Give your opinion on the topic—your opinion! What kind of nonsense is this all of a sudden!
At this rate, Elga would be justified in cutting ties out of sheer exhaustion. In the original story, one plot beat or another was supposed to make Leto finally wake up. Now it looked like his entire role had collapsed into fretting that Elga might overwork herself and get hurt.
Anyway, that left them with a full circus of opinions. One said shamanism. One said swordsmanship. One said politics and diplomacy. And one said he didn't know.
Saintess. I miss you.
The closest thing they had to a normal person, the Saintess, was unfortunately not a student. She oversaw the chapel and only appeared in the infirmary now and then—more guest of the Holy Order than anything else.
"Kyle?"
After a long back-and-forth of sniping with Ian, Tisha had finally succeeded in driving him off. She turned to Kyle.
"What do you think, Kyle?"
"Huh?"
"Your opinion on the group project's topic. What do you think is most important for improving the Empire's capability?"
"Well, that would obviously be…"
Constant training. Only the training that keeps you in peak condition truly matters.
He almost said it out loud, proud and certain, before catching himself.
Have I lost my mind for real.
Lately, with all the unexpected force he had been using, the John Nassen will had been growing stronger. It crept in quietly, like a curse that could never be washed away.
"Kyle?"
"Ah—yes. Tisha. So, uh… the most important thing is probably… still…"
Still. Still, still…
"The kind of strength that can endure any trial this world throws at you… and the training that builds it…"
No matter how hard he tried to escape it, no matter how desperately he tried to ignore it—
the John Nassen will was already flowing through his veins, flooding every corner of him.