Group Projects Are the Worst
Once class began, Hong Su-ah gathered every cadet just as she had before and stepped up onto the platform to speak for the faculty.
By now she no longer needed to spread her mana; the mere fact that she stood on the dais was enough to pull every pair of eyes toward her. Across every age and culture, a beauty who also carried genuine accomplishments had always drawn attention as a matter of course.
“This joint class will be conducted in one-on-one teams of third-years and first-years.”
“From this moment you will receive a sentence fragment on your devices. Proceed to the designated location carrying that fragment, and you will find the cadet who holds the matching half. Scoring begins the instant you join up. There are three major categories.”
The hologram behind Hong Su-ah split into three panels that resolved into the words [Development], [Cooperation], and [Creativity]. The first to appear was [Development].
“Development is exactly what it sounds like. From today, Tuesday, until scoring ends on Friday—roughly four days—you must prove that the two of you have made some form of progress. A third-year teaching a first-year is fine; conversely, there will certainly be things a third-year can learn from a first-year. Keep that in mind.”
Whoosh.
The display shifted to [Cooperation].
“In real combat, cooperation is indispensable. You will frequently be forced to synchronize with complete strangers, so you cannot always fight alongside people whose skill level matches your own. For that reason, the Cooperation segment will take the form of a virtual dungeon designed to be as close to actual combat as possible.”
Real combat. The phrase never failed to surface whenever anyone spoke of Sunrise Academy—and it was also the chief culprit behind the sudden pallor on every cadet’s face.
Never mind the first-years still raw from the uninhabited-island exercise; even the third-years looked either depressed or half-resigned. That alone proved how thoroughly the Academy’s practical training lived up to its reputation. The problem was that the higher the quality of the education, the more miserable the cadets who had to endure it became. And it never happened just once or twice—disaster struck out of nowhere so often that, from the students’ perspective, it was pure nightmare fuel.
I found it pretty goddamn annoying when I was on the receiving end, yet from the teaching side I judged it not half bad. If your head is empty you have to learn with your body, even if it hurts. Drop enough sudden crises on them and the cadets naturally develop the reflex that real combat equals a psychotic situation where a moment’s carelessness gets you killed. They also acquire the composure to react instantly when the unexpected hits. Think of how men who have done their military service automatically snap awake at the sound of the reveille bugle and you’ll get the idea. Two years of ordinary repetition can do that; three years of unforgettable experiences should leave the body reacting even if the mind suffers total amnesia.
Another practical exercise…?
I lost eight kilos last time…
…Lately I’ve been finding a lot of hair in the sink.
Murmur, murmur.
Just as expected, the single word “practical” shattered the silence that had blanketed the arena. Whispers rose one after another until the whole place was buzzing—most of the noise coming from the first-years.
“Silence.”
Hong Su-ah layered mana into her voice and the stadium fell quiet again. She continued without missing a beat.
“Difficulty will be calibrated to the average first-year level. If you have been diligent with Development, you should score without difficulty. There is nothing to fear.”
The third-years’ faces brightened at once—only for the relief to evaporate seconds later. Her words also meant that any failure in the Development stage would drag the subsequent Cooperation stage down with it.
The hologram finally settled on [Creativity].
“Creativity is simple. Until now you have had almost no contact with each other, yet every one of you is a talent certified by Sunrise Academy. We therefore believe that if you fully exercise that talent you should be able to produce at least one respectable technique. Anyone who thinks they possess talent would do well to prove it.”
Her tone was calm, yet a chill ran through the cadets. The sighs they had been about to release were swallowed whole; scattered coughing broke out as people choked on their own breath.
“A simple technique would be too easy… Yes—since you have already been issued sentence fragments, use those as the motif for the technique you create.”
Before the half-formed uproar could settle, Hong Su-ah dropped another bomb.
“Furthermore, the scores earned in this evaluation will affect the final examinations.”
Two consecutive bombs. What everyone had assumed was a simple joint class had become an unholy mess of difficulty—and an extension of the finals to boot. Fire sparked in the eyes of the third-years who had been wearing languid expressions. Overwhelmed by the sudden shift in atmosphere, the first-years clamped their mouths shut of their own accord.
Whether she had engineered the situation on purpose or not, Hong Su-ah nodded with unmistakable satisfaction and deactivated the hologram behind her.
“A heavy penalty deserves a matching advantage. If the technique devised under Creativity demonstrates outstanding originality and practicality, we will recommend it for immediate registration in the Grand Library. In addition, the top ten teams by overall score will each receive a Red Ticket usable at the upcoming Solar Culture Festival.”
““Oooooooh!!!!””
The cheers erupted from the third-years. Until moments ago their eyes had held only annoyance and obligatory duty; now they glittered with the confidence that they could add one more line to their résumés before graduation—and with the pure fighting spirit of people determined to seize the prize. Honestly, the latter burned brighter. The ones left blinking in confusion were the first-years.
Write “Grand Library,” read “Akashic Record.” No Awakened could fail to know the name. The public usually called it “the Association’s Archive,” and for good reason: every magic and technique that existed in the world, every academic treatise, every scrap of history, even the day’s news—everything was recorded there. Originally founded to track Awakened criminals, the sheer volume of accumulated data had gradually transformed it into something closer to a public library where anyone could consult necessary knowledge—provided they first entered the building itself. Security remained ironclad, and even once inside, the level of records one could access was strictly tiered. Magic and technique entries offered only rough outlines; detailed analyses or countermeasures stayed locked.
That was why the first-years were so bewildered. The only way to raise one’s information-access rank was by contributing to the library. In other words, to read higher-tier material you first had to register your own name and then have the resulting gains meticulously calculated into a contribution score. Even a modest entry would compound over time, so leaving a record under your name was essentially investing in a safe asset. Yet the third-years were cheering louder for the ticket that came after the library opportunity. To first-years still floating on vanity and dreams, the seniors’ priorities made no sense at all.
The thoroughly worn-down third-years would probably answer like this: “You think the Grand Library is a joke?”
Two mere cadets could rack their brains all they liked; the ceiling was obvious. Human ideas tended to circle the same ground, and the world was packed with graduate students thrashing about trying to farm contribution points. Everything those people had ever “developed” through endless experiments was already sitting inside the Grand Library. The despair of hearing that the brilliant technique you finally perfected already existed in the archives—those kids had no idea what that felt like.
In truth, the place held every bizarre thing imaginable. One of the most infuriating volumes I had ever opened was a treatise on the most ideal mating practices of orcs. Why did I open it? Because the title sounded ridiculously prestigious. I still wanted to crack open the author’s skull and see how “the ergonomic mysteries of the cosmos” had anything to do with orc copulation. That was only one example; most entries boasted lofty names while the contents were nothing more than cow dung dressed up in elegant language. That was roughly when I realized that even the smart people of this world were missing a few screws.
In that sense, neither reward particularly tempted me. I had no idea what a “Red Ticket” was even for, so pass. As for the library, I could stroll through it like my own backyard; the privilege held zero novelty. My clearance already punched straight through top-secret, effectively a free pass—Lee Se-rin had been too lazy to issue a new one and simply registered my biometric data on her own. A convenient loophole only possible because she swapped bodies on a whim. Besides, for all the grand name “Akashic Record,” the real secrets were stored elsewhere; the public archive was basically a Namuwiki with a finicky search engine.
Looks like she’s wrapping up.
Anyone who has ever managed people recognizes the atmosphere that says “we’re done here.” I felt it from Hong Su-ah. Ignoring the third-years who had suddenly begun buzzing with excited preparations, I quietly summarized everything so far.
Joint class: one-on-one teams of third-years and first-years. Spend the time sizing each other up, pointing out weaknesses or learning from them. Since Development surely included self-improvement, mutual agreement could convert every ambiguous class hour into free time for me. Along the way, create at least one joint technique—even a one-off was fine. Finish with a virtual-dungeon exploration on Friday and receive the total score.
Surprisingly solid. Far better structured than anything I would have expected from this dumpster-fire Academy. In the end, no matter how high you flew inside these walls, once you stepped into society you were just another adult, just another Awakened. Connections mattered in this line of work. By forcing upperclassmen to teach underclassmen, the Academy naturally built faces and networks. Anyone who discovered a talent or satisfaction in teaching might later return as faculty. Even if not, the same system could pass knowledge to late-bloomers or those who had missed enrollment for whatever reason, uncovering new talent and lowering the mortality rate. In short, the Academy was looking past immediate education toward the longer future.
Moments like this reminded me that what looked thoughtless on the surface often hid deeper calculation—which only made it more irritating. If they could plan this well, why not do it properly from the start instead of inventing half-assed excuses about “growth of skill and character” so they could dump everyone into free-range education? Thanks to that policy I had to watch swaggering brats whose self-esteem and arrogance had punched through the stratosphere and into outer space. Even the most original brand of bullshit got old when it never stopped.
Look at those thoroughly ground-down third-years. Didn’t they look exactly like graduate students kidnapped into a research lab? The thought that I might end up like them someday sent a genuine chill down my spine. If anyone was going to do the exploiting around here, it would be me—never the other way around. I was already on bad terms with that bastard god over exactly this issue; no way was I getting tangled up in more of it.
“…That concludes the precautions. It seems some of you are already itching to start coordinating, so we will dismiss here. One final reminder: do not overdo it. That is all.”
Rumble-rumble-rumble!!!
The instant Hong Su-ah finished, a human tide surged in every direction, each person moving in their own fashion.
“Mine is… a rune character.”
Split cleanly in half, so incomplete that I couldn’t even tell what letter it was supposed to be. There were limits to geometric shapes; more importantly, they had deliberately made the motif abstract for the extra Creativity assignment.
“Location is Station 1.”
Conveniently, the designated spot lay inside Arena 1 itself. I waited until most of the crowd had drained away and only a few stragglers remained before rising from my seat. Annoying as it was, I would be temporarily teamed with someone; basic introductions were unavoidable. Better to get it over with quickly so both of us could use the remaining time productively.
I strolled at a leisurely pace toward Station 1. Because I had taken my time, someone was already waiting when I arrived.
“Ah.”
Her sensory stats must have been high; the moment she spotted me approaching from a distance she put two and two together.
“Hi there. We’ve met before, right?”
As the distance closed she flashed a bright smile and projected the hologram from her device. Without a word I shaped a shadow beside it so the two fragments could be compared. The completed rune character locked together perfectly. She nodded, then kept staring at my shadow with open admiration.
“Wow, your mana control is ridiculously clean. Are you really a first-year? Anyone watching would think you were a returning student.”
She swept her white hair back and laughed with a soft nishishi, dismissed the hologram, and extended a polite hand.
“I introduced myself last time, but let’s do it again. My name is—”
“I remember. Senior Shirogane Rui.”
Third-year, student-council member, head of the Discipline Committee, and older sister of Shirogane Tohru, who still remained in Class S.
“Ooooh~ This unnie might be a little moved… No, I’m definitely moved!”
Her eyes went round, then immediately settled into that signature playful, open-hearted expression of hers. Anyone serving as Discipline Committee chair would have solid skills; I roughly gauged her level, nodded, and took the hand she still held out.
“I’ll take the lead.”
“Hmm~ You sure? Unnie’s actually pretty strict, you know?”
Didn’t matter. In fact, the stricter she was, the less room she would have to refuse. I gave her hand a perfunctory shake and let the corner of my mouth curl upward.
“Woooow~ Just like my little brother said, you really do smile like a demon king! Unnie just got goosebumps! Look!!”
She cackled and rolled up her sleeve to show me. I wiped the smile off my face.
…Looks like once I get back to the classroom I’ll have someone to have a long, thorough talk with. Possibly more than one someone.
With Shirogane Rui bouncing along behind me and chattering without a single pause for breath, I decided to head for a café where we could at least sit down. “Escorting” was a generous term; in reality she was simply trailing after me while I ignored her and walked. If this short stretch had already taught me anything about the woman, it was that she was going to be exhausting in every possible way. Facing an already difficult class, I let out a long sigh.
Group projects really are the worst.