This Is What They Call an Academy (4)

Crunch!

“Sssssssss...!”

A sharp beak tore open the soft underbelly of the spider. The creature sprayed silk in every direction, desperately trying to shield itself from the pain, but the crow slipped through the gaps with lazy ease. At the same moment, the waiting flock raked their talons across the joints of its legs like they were wringing out a wet rag, then scattered just as quickly.

“Ss... ssss....”

That had been the last leg keeping the spider upright. Off-balance, the broken limb collapsed and snapped, spraying milky-white fluid in a thick spray.

I seized the opening, drove my dagger into the thin seam along the spider’s back, and twisted hard until it severed.

Thud!

With that final ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠cut, the body that had been hanging on by a thread came completely apart. I watched the red light in its compound eyes flicker and die, then yanked the dagger free and flicked the sticky fluid off the blade.

“Cawwwww!!!”

““Caw!! Caw!!!””

The flock of crows filled the sky with triumphant cries. I let out a ragged breath and simply flopped onto my back. Spider silk and body fluid had mixed on the ground into something like lotion, clinging stickily to my spine.

I wanted nothing more than to get up and take a shower right that second—the filth was that disgusting—but my body had zero strength left.

“Fuck... goddamn it... this is so fucking hard.”

It had already been an hour since I first laid eyes on that spider I never wanted to see again.

One hour. Just to kill a single one. And this was supposed to be the absolute bottom of E-rank? Are you kidding me? The gap between F and E was way too big. Honestly, I’d been underestimating it.

No—after what I’d seen, it was fair to look down on it a little. While I rested I’d watched the others. That bastard Ban Taewung just swung his sword a few times—whoosh whoosh—and it was dead. His harem members finished theirs without any real trouble either.

Even the kids whose names I barely knew traded a few skills and took theirs down. I figured I could do the same.

Then I actually tried it and learned the hard way. This was hopeless. If I kept repeating this, I’d be dead long before I ever got to enjoy a peaceful future. Part of me almost thought that might be better, but then I remembered the nanny who’d raised me all this time and the sigh only got deeper.

You bastard of a god, just you wait.

Why reincarnate me into a world I don’t even remember and put me through this crap? You could’ve just let me die comfortably. I don’t even have a memory of meeting you. This is pure, unreasonable tyranny. I will absolutely pay it back someday.

Gritting my teeth, I forced my barely-moving arm up and dragged the glittering thing that had been insisting on attention at the edge of my vision into full view.

“All of you shut the fuck up.”

I smashed every system message that had flooded my vision until they all vanished.

How many times had this happened? I think it was around the time I’d finished off about thirty F-rank beasts and gotten the skill called Observation. After that the constant pop-ups got so annoying I just started swiping them aside.

I kept telling myself I’d check them later, kept half-assing it, and ended up like this.

Why bother checking them one by one when I can just look at the status window at the end and see everything? It’s not like I’m speedrunning a game. Obsessing over every little notification leaves you with zero time.

Still can’t help being curious? Then grind work just isn’t for you—give up early and find something else. One of the three great secrets of grinding is to turn your brain off and just repeat.

Only after everything’s done do you look at the results and think, “Oh, nice efficiency.” That’s the hardcore gamer mindset.

Of course the gap between game and reality is so goddamn brutal that it’s a problem.

I was pissed off enough right now that I was desperately trying to invent some way around this method. After hunting this much, I should at least have enough to fill the gaps.

The teacher had said this was the last beast she could give me, so even if I wanted more, I couldn’t have it.

“Status window.”

Ding.

Everything else was secondary. The important thing was the Book of Summoning. I flipped it open at once and checked whether anything new could be summoned.

“Nice!!”

At the last check it had still been [1]. Now it was [2]. At first I’d wondered if it was tied to Summoner job level, but even after hitting the classic RPG five-level milestone it hadn’t budged, which had been disappointing.

And now that number had finally become [2]!! The tension that had been free-falling all the way to Hades and becoming best friends with him suddenly bounced right back.

“Unlock condition... is it the summon’s level after all?”

Or maybe both.

Job level in fives, summon level in tens—something like that. Looking at the experience ratios they seemed pretty similar. Made sense. Yeah, the five-level rule couldn’t just change.

Or maybe none of that mattered and the max number of summons simply rose with the level of the Book of Summoning itself.

Either explanation works.

Creating a familiar was basically allocating a portion of your soul’s capacity.

If the pain I’d felt when I first summoned Hive was the burden on my soul, then it all lined up. Leveling up meant I’d gotten stronger, which meant my capacity to handle that burden had increased.

Level rose, capacity rose, and the number of summons I could hold unlocked naturally. That had to be it.

Since it wasn’t a contract, as long as I wasn’t afraid of mana drain or level-down I could revive them almost infinitely—an immortal legion. A restriction of this size was only fair.

If you knew how badly I’d wanted to make those wolf pups into summons while I was personally beating them to death, you’d be shocked.

“...But what’s that at the end?”

Spider. Yeah, the thing I’d just been fighting for my life against was an E-rank “Giant Spider,” so that made sense. The problem was—when exactly had I obtained information on it? I hadn’t even dissected the body yet.

The only possibility was that I’d been desperately analyzing its weak points during the fight... but that alone was enough? Then what the hell had all the blood on my hands been for—skinning, cutting muscle, smashing joints? Just a tearful ass-show? For real?

“Ah, for fuck’s sake.”

Seriously, can’t some other transmigrator who knows this world inside and out just drop in already? I’d ask that bastard and get a full TMI lecture with every detail. And while we’re at it, dump the protagonist role on him too.

...That actually sounds amazing.

If the god bastard has any conscience and is watching me ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠right now, immediately possess some extra with a veteran player! Wait—if that god bastard had a conscience he wouldn’t have sent me here in the first place. So this is a pointless protest. Calm down, Jang Sinwoo. Don’t waste emotion on something this small.

“Hss... ugh!”

A deep breath only brought the sour stench unique to insect blood, and a dry heave rose. Goddamn it!

“First, the summon is definitely a wolf.”

After hunting for so long I’d felt it keenly. A Summoner only shows proper one-person performance when they form a party by themselves. Right now my party composition was basically one squishy beginner plus five skittering thieves.

Among the crows, the only one that could actually deal damage was Hive, who was born with mana. In practice I had nothing but ambiguous trash that couldn’t tank, DPS, or anything properly.

Even someone who didn’t know the first letter of “game” would see this was an extremely deformed composition.

In soccer terms it was a team that had abandoned defense and goalkeeper and fielded only midfielders and forwards.

It might work in neighborhood pickup games, but the moment you step into anything with a real tournament structure you get wrecked and the team disbands. Pure entertainment-squad nonsense.

This wasn’t a comedy show. A surplus gathering like that could never function properly.

Even if I seriously took the DPS role myself, I absolutely needed a solid sub-DPS or tank beside me. No matter how flashy the thieves’ disruption was, if I—the only one who could land real hits—got hurt, it was all for nothing.

“Book of Summoning.”

I re-chanted the name of the book already in my hand. Skills moved and took shape according to the user’s will and thoughts.

Flutter-flutter.

Pages flipped wildly on their own in a burst of light, then stopped with a sharp snap on a particular page.

“Wolf.”

What appeared above the book was a classic wolf. Its eyes were sharper and more slanted than a husky’s, honed like a keen blade. I pushed the hologram straight down into the book and poured mana into it.

“Summon.”

Snap!

The moment I closed the cover I felt a huge chunk of mana get carved out of my body and soak into the book. Letters began to form and move, and just like when I’d first summoned Hive I felt the byproduct hum and resonate.

The inevitable system message. I dumped the entire pouch of small magic stones I’d collected with Hive’s skill Collect onto the surface of the book. The overflowing stones didn’t fall; they floated around the book like satellites orbiting a planet.

Even though each one was small, the sheer quantity made the mana-woven floating display rather beautiful.

Once every stone had turned to powder and been absorbed, I charged the tip of my finger with mana and flicked it.

Snap!

“Growl.”

BOOM!

Light exploded, and what appeared was a beast roughly the size of a large dog, a little taller than my waist. Its coat was a sharp mix of brown and gray, so keen it looked like it would cut you if you touched it wrong.

The moment its yellow pupils met mine it drew a deep breath, then threw its head back and let loose.

“Awooooooo!!!”

Howling. Commonly known as the cry wolves use to call companions or communicate, but in this world howling carried a rather different meaning.

Just loading it with mana easily twisted its purpose and use. For wolf-type beasts, howling therefore held two meanings.

One was a buff.

Mana tangled into the howling pattern and, if the listener was an ally, granted power like this.

The opposite was a declaration of war.

Anyone who had ever heard this howling as an enemy would have received the status ailment Fear and a system message saying Intelligence had dropped by 2.

Best of all, if pack members howled back and forth from a distance and successfully resonated, the effect grew even stronger.

“Nice.”

Feeling my body lighten a notch, I gestured Growl over and ruffled its head and scruff.

“Whine, whine, whine.”

Despite its fierce looks it flattened its ears sideways and rubbed its head into my hand, acting spoiled. A wry smile came unbidden.

“Guess you’ve gotten used to it already.”

Having done it once before, this time I didn’t feel nearly as dizzy. My mana had been completely drained, but in exchange I’d gained this reliable ally. The solid muscle I could feel even through the fur made me smile in satisfaction.

“You’re next, Hive.”

“Caw?”

The crow that had already flown over and settled on Growl’s back. I opened the Book of Summoning again. While checking Growl’s stats earlier I’d noticed that this one, like me, received free stat points when it leveled up.

These were Hive’s current stats. Thanks to all its hard work the level had hit 10 and each stat had risen quite a bit with skill growth. But what interested me wasn’t that—it was the “Evolution Available” mark floating next to the level.

“Evolve.”

A unique growth method only monsters could enjoy.

When they hit their limit they reconstructed their bodies to become higher-tier individuals. It was also a chance to further grow existing skills or gain new ones.

I tapped the Evolution Available section with a fingertip. A new window appeared, listing various options like a game’s class change, along with the resulting crow names.

The top option, Guild Raven, was the evolution direction I’d wanted. The other four felt more like “there’s also this path.” Probably the basic evolution routes that maximized each individual stat.

High Crow could use magic, so it would be heavily influenced by Intelligence—same logic for the rest.

I offered sincere thanks to my past self who hadn’t even bothered to check whether free stat points existed. Leaving them alone out of pure laziness had come back like this. Really, nobody knows where life will take you.

“Hmm...”

It would be a lie to say the other evolutions didn’t tempt me. Any of them looked like they could fill the gaps I had right now, which only made the choice harder.

Looking far ahead, Guild Raven was correct. But discarding the magical attack option of High Crow also felt wasteful. In simple calculation it was like gaining one extra ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠attack.

Blade Crow, if raised well, looked like it could become a terrifying all-rounder of offense and defense. Scraper and Dark Crow each had clear strengths that felt extremely attractive.

“Haa... this is tough.”

Having choices had only made my head more complicated. In times like this the right move was to check the hand I currently held and pick the one that fit best.

Thanks to Growl, physical attackers are covered now...

Honestly, I felt a little regret. If I’d known this many evolutions would appear, I would have tried a more varied approach. I felt a bit guilty for forcing the leadership role on it.

It was like becoming the parent who arbitrarily decided a child’s career path, and that made me uncomfortable. At the same time, nothing wasted more time than making it repeat specific actions until another option appeared.

“Hmm.”

...Decision made.

A man needs backbone. Going back on something once decided didn’t sit right. Now that I knew rearing experience affected evolution results, I’d treat this as a lesson and do better next time.

I pressed the button for the top option, Guild Raven.

A video began playing before my eyes.

The crow’s body, feathers raised like a reverse collar as if wearing a coat, had indigo light layered over the green, dropping the black’s brightness even further. Overall it grew larger and sleeker, and above all its wings moved with a smoothness that no longer looked like a real bird’s motion.

In other words—

“It instantly became anime...”

Yeah. The hyper-realistic crow that had been so real it was almost too real was gone without a trace. In its place stood a crow overflowing with cartoonish license and human-like charm.

Behind it, similar but smaller crows with distinct personalities struck poses that looked exactly like something out of a comedy-action series. I couldn’t decide how I was supposed to react.

Should I at least give a hollow laugh? No—if I did that and it became a habit, what then? Stuck between options, I simply kept a blank face.

“...Let’s just think of it as them getting smart enough to pull gags like this.”

The scary thing about comedy series is that when they get serious they suddenly explode with coolness. Expecting that high, I confirmed the evolution into Guild Raven.

“Cawww!!!”

““Caw! Caw!!””

Hive’s body glittered as it cried out, and light burst from the bodies of the crows that joined the chorus.

Snap!

“Caww!”

“...Caw.”

“Caw-caw?”

“Caw-caw-caw!”

The previously personality-less flock instantly became overflowing with individuality. One of them even seemed determined to flaunt that it was female—pale pink light glowed at the tips of its wings as it spread them like a fan and demurely covered its beak.

That elegant bearing somehow emphasized femininity even though it didn’t look that different from the others.

The rest? The rest were just idiots.

One had its tongue half hanging out. Another’s eyes had gone cross-eyed like a chameleon. The last one struck a pose dripping with bravado and let out a low cackle. Pure middle-school syndrome no matter how you looked at it.

Why was there only one normal one? At this point I seriously had to consider whether even that female crow was weird. Truly impressive. Impressive.

A trait that hadn’t existed before appeared, and every existing skill had completely transformed. At this point it was basically a different species that just happened to keep the crow shape.

“...Huh.”

After scanning the contents I nodded.

Whatever else, one thing was clear. The bas—no, the person who designed this was, in many ways, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a regrettable human being. I knew the type well from my previous life.

They’d spout a bunch of nonsense about romance and dreams, dump out bizarre things one after another without thinking ahead, then later pretend innocence. Once the people around them cleaned up the mess, they’d already be making new garbage.

And every so often something that could be called a masterpiece would pop out, which only made them worse.

The type where getting involved just made the other party tired. Ah—exactly like a protagonist. Causing problems as problems and making everyone involved exhausted. Identical, seriously.

“...I want to rest.”

Sudden emptiness made the fatigue crash down all at once. I’d wanted to rest earlier, but now the desire to rest burned even more fiercely. Let’s just raise the stats quickly and finish.

“Let’s see.”

Since the stats rose evenly on evolution, it was a balanced type. First I put one each into Strength and Dexterity to make them pretty. That left 7 points.

Raising each stat by one would still leave 3. Dexterity was already the highest, so I’d leave it and raise the others. Goal: every stat at 20. Dexterity is 21? Skill levels will keep giving small bumps anyway, so hitting exactly 20 is hard. Just clearing the 20 cutoff is fine.

The final status window for Hive looked roughly like this. Next, my own points.

I put 2 each into Dexterity and Intelligence, making them 25 and 30, then dumped the last point into Strength. Even with the Endurance skill I still felt short on stamina. I’d steadily raise Strength to 10 as well.

Once the staring contest with the status window ended, the weakness from mana drain had calmed somewhat.

Now it was truly time to rest. Looking up, the sky was already half dyed with the colors of sunset. I’d been here quite a while. Today felt like a genuinely productive day.

I knocked three times on the edge of the barrier and stepped out. Immediately I felt gazes gathering on me. Ah—I hadn’t dismissed Hive and Growl.

What a pain.

From now on they’d be seeing beasts every day, so what was so fascinating about staring this way? Since I still had to get the final inspection from Hong Su-ah before I could return to the dorm, I headed straight for the check.

I just wanted to get home, wash, and sleep.

“...Pass.”

Hong Su-ah looked a little worn out. She glanced once at my face, my appearance, and the companions at my side, then nodded and stamped the free-pass seal right away. Yeah—after all this, if she rejected me she wouldn’t even be human.

She looked tired herself from dealing with the kids, so inspecting every single well-behaved student one by one was way too by-the-book. As expected, the world is better lived with some flexibility.

If this world were a dating sim, a system alarm would have popped up saying my affection with Hong Su-ah had skyrocketed.

I reverse-summoned the kids on the way, walked into the house, and without even taking off my clothes I showered and did laundry at the same time, then collapsed naked into sleep. I didn’t even feel like eating.