What They Call an Academy (3)

Whoosh!

“Caw!”

At the sound of a mana-infused whistle, the crow that had been circling high overhead folded its wings like an acrobat and plummeted toward the ground in a steep dive. To any onlooker it looked for all the world as if the bird had lost control and was about to crash.

A moment later I issued the next command without the whistle, simply by shifting my mana.

Flap-flap.

Just before impact the crow spread its wings wide, banked smoothly, and settled onto the arm I had raised for it.

“Good job.”

Click-click!

It scraped its beak in reply. Yeah, I know, buddy. I placed a torn scrap of bread on my other hand; the crow tilted its head sideways so the tip of its beak wouldn’t jab me and neatly snatched the morsel, then rested its wings.

When I gently stroked from its chest up toward the beak, following the grain of the feathers, it closed its eyes and leaned into my touch as if it felt good.

Clap-clap-clap-clap.

…Eyes.

I’d come all the way out here to avoid people, yet with this many of them around it was impossible to escape every stare. Watching the idiots applaud in open admiration, I thought, Must be nice to have nothing better to do. Seriously—don’t these guys have their own training? Why are they clapping and making a scene over someone else’s practice?

“Tch.”

I couldn’t look at them kindly even if I tried. My tongue clicked of its own accord; I let out a short sigh, and the crow on my arm tilted its head ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠curiously.

“…So that’s level three, huh.”

Taming the first one had pushed the skill to level two, which meant—by simple math—this had taken roughly four times the experience.

I set the crow into the cage hanging from a nearby wooden pole so it could rest properly. It hopped over to the four other crows already lounging inside and flopped down completely.

Took forever.

Even with the Summoner class bonus and the help of the Taming skill, it had still taken me four full hours to tame five ordinary crows that weren’t even monsters. That settled it: I had zero talent for taming monsters.

They’d only followed this well because they were clever and lived in flocks. If I’d started with any other animal, even one would have been pure hell.

The real problem was that after all that back-breaking work, all I’d gained was a single level in Taming and one point of Dexterity.

I’d secretly hoped that finishing this would raise my Summoner class level. That pure little expectation of mine had just been tossed into the gutter.

Should I just use the Book of Summoning after all?

Through the Research Record skill I’d steadily gathered data on the crows’ appearance, patterns, and habits. Still, the information I actually needed was oddly lacking. Combat data most of all.

Whenever I tried to make them fight each other their sense of camaraderie was so strong they flat-out refused my orders. Forcing it would never give me the data I wanted, so I’d quietly stuck to Taming—but the efficiency was abysmal.

…Maybe try an illusion?

I could ask the faculty to create a monster that the crows could fight on equal footing. That way I’d get some combat data. While I was at it I could request a few rats for hunting data too.

Not bad.

The idea had come on pure instinct, yet the more I thought about it the better it looked. I’d heard that if the person creating the illusion was skilled enough, the mana could even carry a bit of physical force. If a crow got hurt in the process, that would be data as well.

Strike while the iron’s hot—I made the request on the spot. The reply came back that they would even set up a proper barrier environment for me.

“We don’t have animals, but we do have practice monsters.”

“I’ll take those, then.”

Conveniently, a few practice monsters had just arrived, so they offered to put those in instead of illusions. That was even better for me, so I accepted immediately.

Monsters were harmful creatures that craved mana and attacked humans on sight; unlike the crows, I could legally kill and dissect them. There was no better subject for gathering information.

Damn, great welfare, great follow-up support. So this was why everyone kept going on about the Academy.

In the blink of an eye the space around me became a forest. Being invited here with professor-level privileges clearly meant something; the barrier formed far faster than anything the mid-tier research staff could manage.

It wasn’t that I had been moved somewhere—rather, the very place I was standing had simply turned into a forest. The bizarre sensation left me feeling oddly unsettled. Yeah, this world was completely insane.

“Looks more real than I expected.”

It wasn’t densely wooded, but it still wasn’t ideal for birds. Hit-and-run tactics that relied on wing mobility worked best in wide-open empty space. Still, data from a harsh environment would be useful enough, so I didn’t mind.

Whee-ee!!

“Caw!”

“Caw!!”

I opened the cage and blew the whistle; the crows all took flight at once. They circled in the open air above the trees, watching me. Through Taming I could feel their confusion at the sudden change of scenery.

To keep them from panicking further I guided them with hand signals toward the area where the instructors and I had already agreed to place the opponent.

The enemy they were putting in with us was an F-rank magical beast.

Experience points were nice, but for me the real prize was expanding the roster of things I could summon. I already had a short dagger as a makeshift weapon, so I wasn’t worried.

Besides, it was only F-rank, right?

An F-rank beast was something even an unawakened civilian could handle. The instructors had clearly judged that even I could take it down, which was why they’d suggested it.

There was probably another reason too—getting us used to the feeling of taking a life. Better to start small and build up gradually than to throw someone into the deep end; it lessened the mental burden.

I’d heard stories of knights who developed trauma of this exact sort and became unqualified Awakened who couldn’t perform their duties properly. This was no doubt a preventive measure.

I wanted to call it pure meddling, yet looking at the cadets here I had to wonder how many of them could really cut down a monster without blinking from the very first try.

Finish this quick and ask for more.

I planned to request as many F-rank beasts as possible while I had the chance. The more information I had, the better for me. Even if I couldn’t create them right now because of cost, saving the data for later would still be worthwhile.

“Found it.”

The barrier wasn’t large, and I was motivated, so I spotted the enemy quickly.

“Kyuu-kyuu…”

A squirrel clung to a tree, gnawing on a nut. What stood out was that its tail was twice the size of its body, and its fur was a mysterious gradient of white and yellow.

Definitely not an ordinary animal.

That was a magical beast—or monster, as some called them. Just as humans gained a class upon Awakening, animals absorbed mana and evolved. After enough evolution they developed a mana stone inside their bodies; those individuals were called magical beasts.

That was exactly why I could be sure this one was a magical beast.

“Kyuiik?!”

After gnawing for a while the squirrel watched the nut in its paws crumble and vanish. Enraged, it began thumping its tail against the tree.

Tick! Ti-tick!

The moment the tail struck, blue sparks burst forth. Faint scorch marks remained on the bark—proof that it had used an ability through mana.

Click!

The instant I confirmed it, something clicked into place in my mind. Instinctively I raised my mana, stretched a hand into the empty air, and spoke.

“Book of Summoning.”

Rustle.

Without any warning a shabby black book appeared in midair and settled into my hand as if it had always belonged there. I hadn’t even turned a page, yet the book flipped open on its own and stopped at a certain section, beginning to glow.

Scratch-scratch.

As though someone were writing with a quill, the page filled with the image of the squirrel I had just been watching.

Even the finely drawn illustration made the entry look exactly like a Pokédex from a certain pocket-monster game.

The ??? section would probably fill in once I successfully raised or contracted the creature—or simply witnessed more of it myself.

So the Book of Summoning had this function too. Because I had clearly seen and recognized the creature, the entry had been filled. The condition was probably gathering a certain amount of information.

After watching its movements, habits, and behavioral patterns for a little longer, I stood up.

Let’s go.

Whee-ee!!

““Caw!!””

At the attack whistle the crows dove in a V-formation and began swarming furiously around the Plarim.

“Kyuit, kyut!!”

The Plarim thrashed its tail wildly to drive them off, but only managed to strike the tree and scatter electricity everywhere.

“They’re doing well.”

Rather than meaningful attacks they focused on mental disruption; I felt a little proud of how well I’d trained them. Surrounded and unable to flee or counterattack, the Plarim curled its tail around its body and bristled its fur.

From the darkness formed by the tail its eyes began to glow fiercely, and the ominous surge of mana made me pull the crows back.

“Kyuiiiik!!!”

Sure enough, the moment the crows retreated the Plarim swung its tail hard and sent thicker blue currents crackling in every direction. For all the flashy effects, the range and number of bolts were pitifully short.

“Tch.”

Then one crow ignored my retreat order and closed the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠distance again. It was the very first one I had tamed. Time must have weakened the effect of Taming. Its eyes burned with the absolute will to hunt the Plarim.

“Caaaaaw!!!”

The enemy’s attack had failed. Instinct told the crow this was its chance. It punched through the now-thinned lightning and dove straight into the empty space inside the Plarim’s guard—exactly the steep dive I had taught it.

“Kyut!!”

But it was a trap. At the creature’s cry the residual currents collided and burst outward like a sparkler, scattering in every direction.

Boom!! Crack-crack!!

“Caw-awk…!”

The exploding current covered a surprisingly wide area; the crow couldn’t dodge and was electrocuted mid-flight. It flapped desperately, trying to climb, then simply dropped to the ground.

It didn’t feel like a fatal wound so much as shock locking up its body so it couldn’t stay airborne. I didn’t move right away. I ordered the other crows to hold position and simply watched.

“Kyuu, kyuuuu…”

The Plarim’s bristled tail went limp as if all its strength had drained away, and it panted heavily. Once I confirmed the surrounding current had vanished, I ordered the remaining crows to pin it so it couldn’t escape, then checked on the fallen one.

Convulsing and unable to control its body, it had landed head-first; its neck was bent at a ninety-degree angle. The tips of the feathers that had taken the direct hit were scorched, and the skin beneath was lightly torn, blood ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠seeping into the plumage.

“Keh…”

“Hmm.”

For all the flashy appearance, the electrical damage itself wasn’t severe. The fall had done most of the real harm; it was already on the verge of death. Leaving it alive would only mean more suffering, so I drew my dagger and finished it.

“Grrk.”

“In the next life, don’t get cocky.”

I offered a brief prayer for the crow, then glanced at the Book of Summoning. The blank ??? had filled in with [Spark Burst]. The effect was the ability to collide currents and create a chain of small explosions. The technique I’d just witnessed had been its trait after all.

F-rank really was F-rank. Still, I’d seen enough potential. Once I dissected the crow I would dissect this one too.

“Time to wrap this up.”

I approached the exhausted creature that was still weakly spitting current to keep the crows at bay. At my sudden appearance it froze, flinched, then charged me in pure rage.

“Kyuiiiik!!”

It must have instinctively realized I was the source of this whole mess. Not some noble decision to die fighting me rather than be bled dry by the crows—just pure instinct choosing the highest-probability option.

The spirit was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠admirable, but it had picked the wrong opponent. I swatted the charging beast out of the air like a fly with a swatter and slammed it into the ground. Pinning it under my foot, I cleanly sliced its throat with the dagger. I was going to dissect it later; better to keep the body neat, right?

It twitched a few times, then went completely limp.

“That’s that.”

The process had been almost laughably simple. No matter how quick a squirrel it was, it was already exhausted, and charging me head-on without a second thought had been its biggest mistake.

From the moment it faced the flock of crows it should have focused on escaping rather than trying to tough it out.

Whee-ee!

I whistled the remaining crows back, praised them for their hard work, and returned them to the cage. I’d left bread and water inside, so they would eat on their own. While I was at it I roughly filled my own stomach, rolled my sleeves up to the elbows, and finished preparing.

“Now the real work begins.”

Time to achieve the original goal.

I carefully laid the Plarim’s corpse and the crow’s corpse on a rock and began the dissection with my dagger. I separated hide from skin, examined how it stored electricity, whether there were special organs, how the muscles and joints moved—analyzing everything thoroughly.

“…Hoo.”

By the time both the crow and the Plarim were fully dissected, my entire arms were soaked in blood. I lifted my head and drew in a lungful of fresh air; it helped a little. I’d gotten somewhat used to it while concentrating, but the constant smell of blood was still nauseating.

I shook the droplets of blood from my fingertips and tossed the remaining meat to the crows as feed. City-raised or not, their appetites hadn’t changed—they tore into it greedily.

All that remained were the huge pile of crow feathers I’d pulled out because they got in the way of the dissection, the Plarim’s hide, and the millet-sized mana stone that had been embedded near its heart.

“Pretty ordinary, but pretty.”

When I held the mana stone up to the sunlight its pale watery surface sparkled. Too rough to be called a gem, too refined to be called a rock, yet to my eyes it was beautiful enough. After all, it was the first trophy I had ever obtained.

“They said knocking on the outer wall three times would release the barrier, right?”

I’d gathered plenty of information, but this was still my first summon, so I felt a little uneasy.

“Hmm…”

After a brief moment of thought I decided to just go ahead. Time was plentiful; if I failed I could figure out what was missing and correct it for the next attempt.

“Book of Summoning.”

Flutter!

At my will the book appeared in midair. When I opened it, a list of currently summonable creatures began to display.

The only creatures I could summon as familiars were exactly those for which I had obtained information.

“Hmm… so only the basic prototype forms are available, huh.”

The first summoned individual always started at Lv 1, so of course it would be the raw, unaltered version. That was only for the first time, though. After that I could raise the familiar’s level however I liked and decide which stats to prioritize—all up to me.

As a test I selected the crow. The book flipped rapidly and projected a holographic image of a crow above its pages.

Suddenly high-tech? Then why bother with a book at all?

I examined the book further but found almost nothing I could interact with. At most I could assign a unique individual name. If I left it blank, would it stay empty, or would the system decide? When I pushed the hologram back down into the book a system window appeared.

“Oh.”

Honestly the only names that had come to mind were the usual suspects—Raven, Crow, Blackie, or just “Crow” again—so having the system pick one for me was a relief.

Hive. For a crow that lived in a flock, it felt pretty fitting.

The crow looked more combat-oriented than the squirrel, so I went with it.

Thud!

The moment I closed the book to confirm the summon, strength drained from my entire body and my vision spun. It felt exactly like the anemia I’d experienced in my previous life. I staggered, clutched my head with one hand, and scowled hard. It wasn’t enough to drop me, but it felt absolutely awful.

At the same time a vivid image of a black crow slammed into my mind, and something inside my body throbbed with a sharp, aching pain.

Wooong!

The book, now saturated with mana, rose into the air on its own. Characters appeared around it and began weaving together. That wasn’t all. As if resonating, the feathers, hide, and mana stone I had set aside began to tremble and drift toward the book.

“…You should’ve fucking told me this in advance.”

Helpful and unhelpful at the same time, as always. I could have stopped it if I wanted, but I deliberately didn’t. I didn’t know why—it just felt like not stopping it would be better for me. If something this crude was enough of a sacrifice, that was fine by me.

“Take it and get lost.”

As if gladly answering my muttered words, the materials sped up. Once they reached the book they blatantly ignored the laws of physics, crumbled into shards of light, and were absorbed.

Sparkle!

As if its work were finished, the book flashed once and returned to my hand.

When I checked it again the shabby old appearance was gone; it now looked like a fairly ordinary—no, slightly more luxurious—book. A pure black leather cover with platinum edge decorations had been added.

The change was tiny, but a change was a change. I tossed the book into the air and watched it vanish like a mirage, then slapped my cheeks a few times to clear the twisted feeling in my gut.

Alright, pull yourself together. Might as well take a look at the familiar I just got. Following my senses I projected mana. What rose in my mind was the image of a single crow.

“…Hive.”

The moment I spoke its name I flicked my mana-charged fingers.

Snap!

Whoosh!

A heavy sound like something echoing inside a cave rang out, light burst forth, and from that light a living creature soared high into the sky.

“Caaaaaw!!!”

Unlike ordinary individuals, this one had been born already filled with mana; its voice was impressively powerful. I gave no further orders—just raised my hand toward the sky. The summoned crow perfectly understood my intent, descended carefully, and settled on my arm.

Up close the difference was unmistakable. This was nothing like the crows I had only handled with the Taming skill. A strange sensation of something connected deep inside tickled at me.

“It’s bigger too.”

Its body was nearly twice the size of the others. The sheen of its feathers was on a completely different level from the city-scavenging ones—soft and glossy—and the color wasn’t a dull plain black but a beautiful black shot through with purple and green, like the reflection in a camera lens.

“Caw caw.”

“Yeah, I know.”

I gently stroked the excited crow’s neck to calm it down; it looked ready to take off again at any second.

We didn’t share a language, yet I could roughly sense what it wanted. It was hungry. Not for food—though it wore the form of a living creature, this was a proper familiar, a magical beast and a summoned beast at the same time.

To it, eating was merely one way to recover mana quickly; the concept of taking in nutrients didn’t really apply.

What it wanted was a fight. Newly born, it wanted to prove its worth to me. The sight reminded me so much of a little kid eager to show off that I couldn’t help a small laugh.

Just like that I’d suddenly become a parent to a kid I never planned for. Since we were going to be stuck with each other for a long time, I wanted to give it whatever I could. Besides, I was just as eager to raise its level quickly.

“Think you can command those guys?”

I had no intention of using the ordinary crows forever, but for this session I planned to keep them. Specifically, I wanted Hive to practice leading and commanding a flock.

The earlier crow’s sudden disobedience had made up my mind for good.

Nothing was more troublesome than an ally you couldn’t control. We’d gotten lucky this time, but if it happened again later it would be a real problem. If I couldn’t control them completely I either had to cut them loose or find a perfect means of control.

As my level rose the number of summons I handled would only increase. That meant incidents could easily occur outside my direct line of sight.

The role of a control tower that quickly grasped those problems, sorted them out, and kept everything in line—I intended to give that role to this one.

“Caw.”

It nodded confidently at my question, then flew over and landed among the four remaining crows. The ones that had been busily tearing into the corpses tensed up the moment Hive appeared.

It had only just been born, yet the sheer presence it gave off was enough to rival a flock leader; I couldn’t blame them. I left them to sort it out among themselves and, the moment my spent mana recovered, requested the next magical beast.

This time I would move together with Hive, focusing on raising its level as high as possible by facing as many different creatures as I could.

Please, just let me freeload and do nothing for once.

With the mindset of wringing out every possible benefit, I quietly closed my eyes and wished for it with all my heart.