First Class (3): The War Demon's Lesson
"Haa."
After calming the chirping freshmen, Elaheem let out a deep sigh in her heart. On the surface she was twisting the thick scar on her cheek into a menacing scowl and radiating an aura that reeked of the battlefield, but inside she was burning pitch black with frustration.
In truth, Elaheem had never been scheduled to serve as homeroom teacher for these pitiful first-years. From the start, the position of first-year homeroom teacher at Stella Academy wasn’t a coveted role; it was the number one duty everyone avoided—a poisoned chalice in every sense of the word.
The freshly enrolled first-years still had the outside world’s stink on them. They refused to listen, and because they’d grown up hearing nothing but praise about their genius, their egos and stubbornness pierced the heavens. In short, they were a nightmare to manage.
That was why the role usually fell to the lowest-ranked, most junior professors who had no choice, or to the twisted perverts who derived warped pleasure from trampling and tormenting arrogant brats.
Naturally, Elaheem belonged to neither category, so she had never dreamed she would end up saddled with the first-year homeroom position.
Consequently, she hadn’t even bothered attending the entrance ceremony for the troublesome new students. Instead, she had scraped together every last scrap of vacation time she’d saved and traveled to her heart’s content. It had been an incredibly sweet and cozy break.
…Right up until she returned and found the first-year homeroom assignment letter sitting squarely on her lectern.
Damn that petty principal.
The reason was obvious.
It was the entrance ceremony script she had written right before leaving on vacation. Blinded by the promise of time off, she had half-assed it and tossed it to an assistant. That sloppy script had clearly offended the senile old hag.
So, as revenge, the moment Elaheem left her post, the principal had dumped this horrific first-year homeroom duty onto her in return.
This was the way of Stella Academy. The naïve did not survive.
Damn it. I let my guard down because I was too excited about the vacation.
Even while cursing herself inwardly, Elaheem kept her expression tightly controlled and pressed down on the bloodthirsty pups before her with a heavy gaze.
As she stood at the lectern observing the students seated in the tiered rows, her brows slowly drew together. Every time her beast-like eyes swept over another face, she couldn’t help clicking her tongue inside.
…This year’s batch is going to be especially annoying.
She had already heard the rumors. This first-year class was already famous within the academy as the so-called Golden Generation—a once-in-a-lifetime gathering of monstrous talents. The crown prince Edward, hailed as the empire’s next sun.
The witch of the Dranaris ducal house, who had drawn attention yesterday by single-handedly slaughtering a number of monsters equal to the rest of the students combined. And even the saintess who had appeared for the first time in a millennium.
Controlling ordinary brats was already exhausting. The thought of dealing with a whole crowd of geniuses made her head throb and her temples ache.
But Elaheem was the War Demon of Libertan, a battle ghost who had survived countless bloody fields. Handling disobedient chicks was well within her expertise. She had no intention of running away just because her head hurt.
On the contrary, she would much rather thoroughly crush the arrogant heads of this Golden Generation in true Stella Academy fashion.
Elaheem lightly rapped the lectern. Though the sound was small, the mana-infused wave reverberated through the classroom walls and instantly seized every new student’s attention.
Looking down at them with cold eyes, Elaheem spoke.
“Nice to meet you. My name is Elaheem. I will be your homeroom teacher in charge of you lot for the next year.”
Reactions rippled through the students at her introduction. It was only natural. The name Elaheem was far from light. She was the War Demon of Libertan, the one who had built her fame through countless battle achievements.
The students who knew her identity were all stunned to learn that the woman who had vanished from the battlefields at some point had reappeared as a professor at Stella Academy—and as their homeroom teacher, no less.
Paying no mind to their shock, Elaheem continued.
“Whether you were called geniuses outside these walls or not is none of my concern. This is Stella Academy, and there is only one principle you need to remember while you’re here.”
She raised a single finger.
“Infinite competition.”
The razor-sharp words sliced into the students’ ears.
“The law here is simple. Only those who survive the competition may rise higher and monopolize all rights and glory. Those who fall behind will be discarded regardless of how impressive their bloodline may be.”
Elaheem’s fierce gaze bore down on the students.
“Today, I will make you experience exactly what that means. Change into your training uniforms and assemble at the training grounds. You have five minutes.”
The corner of Elaheem’s mouth curled up in a savage grin. Leaving that bloodthirsty smile behind, she turned her massive frame and strode out of the classroom without hesitation.
Stella Academy Central Training Grounds.
The students, now changed out of their uniforms into comfortable training clothes, stood in neat lines across the wide marble floor. The fact that they were all panting suggested they had sprinted desperately to meet the five-minute cutoff.
Of course, I was still wearing my maid uniform. Our young lady had shown up in the very same dress she liked to wear every day. Since we were only heading to the training grounds, I could already guess what kind of nonsense was coming, so I didn’t see any point in changing.
In the center of the training grounds stood a single human-sized scarecrow all by itself. The moment every student’s eyes locked onto the lone figure standing in the middle of the vast, open space, Professor Elaheem—who had been waiting—spoke up.
“Looks like everyone’s here.”
After leisurely scanning the freshmen, Elaheem rested her arm on the scarecrow beside her and continued.
“Now, this isn’t an ordinary scarecrow. It’s a training magic item personally crafted by the principal. Its function is extremely simple. It receives your attacks, converts them into a numerical score, and displays the result.”
Having finished her explanation, Elaheem lifted her arm from the scarecrow and stepped forward.
“Seeing is believing, so I’ll give you a demonstration.”
With those words, she quietly began drawing up her mana. In an instant, the temperature inside the training grounds shot up so sharply it felt as though the surrounding air was boiling. The heat touching their skin grew from warm to stinging.
Soon, a fist-sized ball of flame popped into existence at her fingertips.
It was a spell I knew all too well. Three years ago, on the day I first met our young lady, it was the same 1-Circle fire magic—Fireball—used by the mage among the three trash brothers I had cut down in that back alley.
The shape itself was no different from what that back-alley thug had used. But the density of mana packed inside was on an entirely different level.
Goosebumps raced from the hand gripping my cane across my entire body. I didn’t need to draw my sword to see it. My super senses, sharpened to the extreme by Mind’s Eye, were screaming nonstop that taking a direct hit from that thing would be genuinely dangerous.
In the darkness before my eyes, I could vividly read the flow of mana clumps writhing and violently repelling one another before exploding into devastating firepower, accompanied by a faint piercing noise.
Within the chilling heat that threatened to scorch every inch of skin, the savage movements of the rampaging mana projected themselves so clearly it felt as if they were hammering directly into my brain through my tightly shut eyelids.
Kuuuung—!
When Elaheem lightly flicked her finger, the fist-sized fireball hovering at her fingertip tore through the air toward the scarecrow.
The instant it made contact—
Hwarururuk—!
A colossal pillar of flame erupted as if a bomb had detonated, completely engulfing the scarecrow and roaring violently into the sky.
The enormous flame pillar looked ready to pierce straight through the training grounds’ ceiling as it spewed incredible heat in every direction. Students in the front row screamed and stumbled backward from the scorching wave that threatened to sear their faces.
Eventually the flame pillar that had dyed the entire grounds red slowly died down.
Beyond the acrid smoke, the sight that emerged caused the students to swallow dryly in unison.
The floor around the scarecrow was charred pitch black and still smoking, yet the scarecrow standing at the very center of the inferno remained completely untouched—not a single scorch mark on it.
The students couldn’t help gasping in admiration at the absurd defensive power that had taken the full brunt of those ferocious flames without so much as a smudge.
It was then.
100 Points
The scarecrow’s face began to move with an eerie mechanical twitch in the silent training grounds. Its mouth tore open with a ripping sound, spilling coarse straw, and then it spat out a magically modulated mechanical voice.
Elaheem spun around, twisting the scar on her cheek as she looked down at the students.
“Did you see that? When you attack, the scarecrow will score it just like this. As you can see, it’s built incredibly tough, so don’t worry about breaking it. Attack with everything you’ve got.”
Elaheem tapped the blackened floor with her foot a couple of times and continued.
“Starting now, I’ll call your names in order. Come forward and attack that thing. You only get one chance, so don’t hold back—pour out every last drop of power you have.”
Having said that, Elaheem tilted her head as if it were nothing important. But the voice that followed was so icy it instantly dropped the temperature of the entire training grounds below freezing.
“However.”
Her savage eyes leisurely scanned the students’ faces.
“It wouldn’t be any fun without a penalty, now would it?”
Seeing the students’ faces turn deathly pale in real time seemed to amuse her greatly; an irrepressible note of delight leaked into Elaheem’s voice.
“The student with the lowest final score will pack their bags and go home immediately. You will be expelled.”