This Is What an Academy Is

Morning broke.

The dense, eventful week of academy life had finally passed, and proper classes were about to begin in earnest. The central entrance hall of the academy was packed with students for one reason alone: to check the newly reorganized classes decided by the exams.

In the end, only 1,021 first-years had survived to stand here. The entire student body, which had started near eight thousand, had been slashed down to 5,145. The first-year numbers in particular were historically low—no exaggeration. Incidents had piled up one after another, and plenty had simply failed to endure and dropped out. Flip that around, though, and the thousand who remained were high-quality raw gems who had weathered it all.

Whether that would prove poison or medicine depended on the academy’s educational policy going forward. And the first step of that policy was unfolding right before my eyes.

“...Huh? Wait, are my eyes broken? I’m in Class A?”

“What the fuck. Why the hell did I get demoted to C?!”

“Woooooo!!! I got promoted! I got promoted!!!”

“Yahoo!”

Joy and despair rang out from every direction. Some had climbed; others had fallen. The academy’s massive class reshuffle happened every semester alongside the finals, so it had become something of a local specialty.

“Pfft...”

“Must be nice~.”

A few nasty upperclassmen had even shown up early just to watch the green first-years laugh and cry over every single rank. They themselves had already been through it, so they knew perfectly well how pointless fretting over such things was—but from the perspective of those still ignorant, the sight of them watching could easily be mistaken for mockery.

“What did you just say?”

“Ah, sorry. You heard that?”

“Grrk...!”

But that, too, was an upperclassman trick. Needling someone like that to provoke a duel challenge was a quick way to claw back the campus ranking points that had slipped thanks to the new blood. Possible? Of course it was. This was the academy, after all.

Geniuses and prodigies from every corner of the world—right at the age when they could barely contain their hot blood—had been dumped into one place. Constant fighting was the natural state of affairs. Better to formalize the brawls as “duels” with built-in restrictions than to ban them and end up breeding would-be criminals who settled things in secret. In the process they would clash, grind each other down, and slowly get socialized.

Teachers didn’t have infinite time either. No need for complicated one-on-one polishing; just throw similar types together and shake hard. That was the most convenient method from an educator’s standpoint. Then you simply plucked out the ones who sparkled or stuck out and focused on them—that alone was enough to produce excellent students.

Too harsh? Too merciless? You still want to say that with enemies waiting out there? Better to learn the world’s bitterness early, in a place where mistakes were still allowed and even systematized. You ought to be grateful for the chance to absorb such an important life lesson. The other faculty might feel differently, but the academy’s principal sincerely believed it.

It was a common ideology in a pure meritocracy, and the truth was nothing else worked better for surviving this insane world. It might be hard and grueling right now, but if you could endure it, growth was guaranteed.

“Hey! There’s a duel over there!!”

“...Whoa, already? Even after everything that happened, some things never change.”

“Who versus who?”

“One of them looks like a first-year? And the other?”

“Whoa... isn’t that [Mad Dog] Kazu?”

“Kazu? The third-year brawler?”

Murmurs rose. A circle of people formed in the middle of the plaza around two figures. Something dropped from the sky, landing squarely between the pair who had been exchanging mana, splitting them apart.

Clank, whirr...

What had descended so swiftly was no living being but a machine. A form that mixed human and mechanical elements in just the right proportions, gender impossible to guess, folded its wings behind it. A mechanical angel, if you had to put a name to it. Eyes closed like a sword, arms crossed over its chest like a mummy, it began to stir and activate.

As it took on a more complete human shape, the first-year assumed it was some upperclassman ploy and drew his weapon. The senior, thoroughly familiar with the sight, merely smirked and loosened up.

Ziiing!

At the same moment the mechanical angel’s eyes snapped fully open, light poured from its pupils and rapidly scanned the surroundings. Situation assessed, it opened its mouth.

Not so much emotionless as a patchwork of recorded voices stitched together for the occasion—an alien tone with a faint mechanical undercurrent that seemed to whisper right beside every ear present.

“This is...”

“A Guardian. Another of the academy’s specialties.”

The third-year pulled out his device, held it up for the Guardian to scan, and spoke.

“Third-year Class B, Binboji Kazu. I’ve been challenged to a duel on this spot.”

Ting-ting-ting, clank!

The Guardian’s wings disassembled and arranged themselves around the area like a circular arena. The fragments linked their mana and began generating a massive barrier. The first-year, startled by the sudden development, finally cooled his head enough to realize he’d walked into a trap—but the barrier was already up and the escape route sealed. No backing out now.

“Duel format is one-on-one! Retirement conditions are either forcing the opponent’s surrender or the attending Guardian judging combat continuation impossible. Winner takes 500 ranking points. How’s that sound?”

The Guardian turned its head toward the first-year. So he really had to fight. The first-year gulped. The third-year spoke again.

“I don’t particularly want to hand out too harsh a punishment to a freshly enrolled chick. I’ll leave you just enough ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to scrape by and survive, so why not take it quick? My time isn’t infinite either.”

A bit of a punk, but the relatively kind-looking face helped. The first-year steeled himself and nodded.

“...I accept.”

Whoosh!

“Puhah! Idiot! There’s actually a guy who takes this for real! This is why I can’t quit doing this shit!!!”

At the Guardian’s words the third-year’s smile turned vicious; he clutched his stomach and roared with laughter. The first-year’s face went visibly pale. Looking around, he saw every possible reaction: some frowning and turning away, others openly laughing along with the third-year at the stupid first-year. Not a single person moved to help him.

This place was a cradle of growth and, at the same time, an arena of competition.

“The RP (Rank Points) given out at the start of first year is only 500! The fact you challenged without even checking properly already makes you a fucking moron!! Kuhiihihihik!!”

“Th-this is a scam...”

“Aigoo~ you’re genuinely dumb. How the hell did you even survive that mess?”

Shiiing!

Third-year Binboji Kazu drew the katana at his hip, twisted smile in place, and settled into stance.

“You started the fight. I accepted. No scam about it, you dumbass.”

“Ugh, aaaaaaargh!!!!”

The moment the holographic countdown floating in the air hit zero, the two men’s mana collided.

Tiiiiiing!!!

“Ghhk...!”

“Kahaha!!”

Both specialized in close combat, so there was no flashy spectacle—just raw, unfiltered fighting.

Kang! Kagagagak!!

Sword and blade clashed; sparks from the mana collision scattered in every direction. It didn’t end there. The katana’s edge slid along the sword’s blade, then snapped upward like a rebound, aiming sharply for the first-year’s throat.

Shweeek!

“...?!”

He hadn’t entered the academy for show; he jerked his head far back and dodged—but the sword aura coiled around the blade was another matter. Blood sprayed.

Kang!

He belatedly smacked the katana’s edge aside with his sword, but as if Kazu had expected exactly that, the blade flowed backward with almost no resistance. Sensing an opening, the first-year started to swing—

Paak!

“Ghk...?!”

A knee slammed into his solar plexus with perfect timing; mana punched straight through and lifted the first-year’s body slightly into the air. He must have poured a fair amount of mana into the strike, because the first-year even dropped his sword. Unable to breathe properly, he coughed and collapsed face-first onto the ground.

“Ah, what? You charged in so boldly I thought you had something, but you’re just a prideful husk! What a letdown!”

Binboji Kazu raised a foot heavy with mana. The first-year slowly shook his head. His mouth worked as if trying to speak, but with no air left it was nearly impossible.

“...Scared? That’s why you pick your opponents carefully, yeah?”

Puk!

The full-force kick to the face sent blood flying and something white arcing through the air.

A tooth. What followed was pure one-sided abuse. Even those who had been cheering at first began to stiffen or frown in open discomfort.

Puk! Puk-puk!

“Get up!! Fight!!! Entertain me more!!”

Whether anyone liked it or not, Binboji Kazu kept kicking and stomping, thoroughly grinding the first-year into the dirt as if to flaunt the overwhelming gap between first and third year. The brand-new uniform that should have been crisp was now filthy with dirt and soaked blood.

Kwaduk! Puk!!

“That’s it!! Burn that will! Squeeze out your mana!! Get a little angrier!!! Turn it into power and fight!!!”

A few times the first-year raised his arms to block, but as the attacks grew fiercer even that became impossible.

This was no longer a duel. Simple violence. One-sided lynching. If this wasn’t bullying, what the hell was?

Thud.

At last the first-year’s hand went limp against the ground, all will to resist gone. Whether he had blacked out or simply broken, the angel raised a hand to the sky, judging combat continuation impossible.

Tiiing!!!

Halt!

The merciless beating that had seemed unstoppable froze as if time itself had stopped. He slowly withdrew his leg and lifted his head.

“...Haa.”

The deep sigh came out as white breath in the heat and scattered into the sky. That was the end. He flicked the blood from his katana, sheathed it, and turned toward the Guardian as if the whole thing had lost its flavor.

“Gimme the reward.”

Beep-beep!

A hologram appeared before him at once.

“Gotta love the academy. Fast processing.”

Watching the hologram update in real time, the third-year wore the same competitive smile as before.

“Guess the first-year ranking was decent for a newbie. Fight was a bit disappointing, but free RP’s free RP... Satisfied, satisfied~”

He stretched and started walking; the crowd parted like the Red Sea. Looking thoroughly pleased, Binboji Kazu chuckled and left.

The fallen first-year was immediately carted off by arriving medics. The cracked, blood-stained floor was restored to pristine condition with a few gestures from the Guardian, as if nothing had ever happened. Its work done, it returned to its original form and shot off into the distant sky.

“...That guy’s crazy strong, right, Sinwoo?”

Ban Taewung, who had watched the entire spectacle from the beginning, suddenly spoke to me. I nodded without hesitation.

“Think I could beat him?”

“Yeah.”

“...Aren’t you saying that a little too easily?”

My instant declaration left Ban Taewung looking blank; he tilted his head and asked. The guy’s attempt at some half-assed male charm made me scrunch my brow, but he didn’t care and shoved his face even closer, demanding a reason.

Because you’re the protagonist, dumbass.

I wanted to say it outright, but if I did he’d just cling ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠until I gave him a “proper” answer. Even if I told him the truth he wouldn’t get it, so I had to feed him something he’d accept. That was the image I’d carefully cultivated beside him all this time.

If you’re curious, ask. Not knowing isn’t shameful. Leaving ignorance alone is the real stupidity. I’m knowledgeable, so ask me almost anything and I’ll answer. After one year, two years, ten years of that, he’d naturally started treating me as a walking encyclopedia—no, a living scouter.

Getting him to rely on me was going smoothly enough, but if I told him everything it would stop being advice and turn into something else. Keeping that balance on my end was a constant pain in the ass.

I crossed my arms, replaying the fight, and organized my thoughts.

“How’d the enemy look to you?”

“Rough. Crude, but solidly grounded?”

Accurate. He hadn’t displayed polished swordsmanship, but within the category of “fighting,” the man named Binboji Kazu was extremely skilled.

“Overwhelming combat sense. He sharpened that and made it his weapon. He’ll prefer messy brawls over formal, structured matches. His actual style was specialized that way too.”

The katana he’d used was shorter than most blades. He wasn’t centering the fight around the sword so much as using the sword as one tool among many in a brawl.

“The trajectories were too clean and the mana flow too stable to call the attacks purely improvised. The fact he could even control the power down to the level of incapacitation means he trains bare-handed combat regularly.”

“Ahh, so the sword is just a means of combat, and the main thing is full-body attacks?”

I nodded at Ban Taewung’s summary.

People like that don’t care what weapon they pick up. They’re confident in their base physique, so they can handle whatever’s in their hands. Not the absolute peak of any single field, but solidly mid-to-upper tier at least.

Flip it around and their limits and counters are crystal clear. Simplicity can be a strength, but more often it’s a weakness. That guy was covering the simplicity with pure combat sense.

“Bad matchup for him. You might get pushed at first, but once you get used to him, you’ll be the one overwhelming him.”

“Because my main skills lean toward endurance and counters?”

“Yeah. The more attacks come from the body, the fewer options he has for the next one.”

And exploiting the openings that created was Ban Taewung’s specialty—or rather, his non-specialty specialty.

“Out of ten fights, you’d win maybe two.”

“...Huh? Only two?”

I bonked him on the head for that reply.

“Ow.”

“Aah, shit...”

Leave it to a tank-slash-DPS hybrid—my hand hurt more than his head. He rubbed the spot and blinked at me like he couldn’t believe what he’d heard.

“You having the edge in the numbers game is purely theoretical. You think a guy like that just leaves his weaknesses lying around? He made it to third year because he’s patched them up and has ways to cover them.”

“...Ahh!”

Ahh my ass. He’d finally cracked the top thirty and gotten a little confidence; he needed a proper thrashing to snap him out of it. For real.

On top of that, most of the dungeons inside the academy were heavily skewed toward growth. Clear them and the advantages you walked away with were beyond imagination. That third-year had definitely scooped up a few. The difference between having those and not, the proficiency of the skills earned by conquering dungeons—that would decide the match.

After factoring all of that in, my answer was still two wins out of ten.

“More importantly, that guy never once used a job-related skill. He fought pure. One or two variables can flip a battle; who knows how many more he’s packing. You get it now, you idiot?”

“...I see.”

I was too lazy to walk him through it piece by piece, so I just dumped the explanation. He nodded like he understood.

Did he actually get it? Or was he just saying that? Sometimes this bastard seemed smart enough that he deliberately played dumb just to hear my explanations.

“Taewung-ssi!!”

“Haaawn...”

Luicia and Riri approached from the other side. More precisely, Luicia was carrying Riri under one arm like luggage.

The sight reminded me uncomfortably of the times she’d come all the way to my room and dragged me out. The difference was that I’d walked out on my own because the noisy bastard was too loud, while Riri was just taking the luggage treatment without a care.

I’d assumed girls just took longer to get ready, but apparently not.

“Haa, sorry we’re late. Riri fell back asleep...”

“Ahaha, it’s fine. Thanks to that we got to see something special.”

“...I thought the atmosphere felt weird. So something did happen?”

Even as she said it she was glaring at me, as if asking whether this time it was my fault. Ah, for fuck’s sake, I didn’t do it. She still hadn’t learned.

“Yeah, so basically...”

Ban Taewung launched into the story of what had just happened. I sighed and closed one ear. People really don’t change easily.

No matter how much the stage shifted, this fucked-up world kept running on schedule. No—now that I was tangled up with even more weirdos, it was only going to get worse. That wasn’t a prediction; it was half-confirmed.

Chatting as we walked, we reached the board listing class assignments and the area went quiet in an instant. Everyone was focused on finding their names.

Even a string of characters counted as a document, so my skill Speed Reading kicked in and I spotted my name immediately. Seeing it sitting in S as if it were the most natural thing in the world, I clicked my tongue inwardly.

Well, no way it would’ve changed just because I looked again.

I’d already confirmed I was in Class S that morning via a device notification. Everyone else had gotten the same notice, so why bother waking up this early to check it here in person? Some event the gods prepared? Just a vibe? Maybe there was some superstition I didn’t know about.

You know the type: “If you check it yourself your rank goes up,” or “The semester will go well.” That kind of jinx. The world was so crazy that some superstitions had stopped being mere rumors and crossed into the realm of actual curses or spells.

I guarantee that the moment this guy got wind of any “academy mysteries,” he’d start running around trying to find them that very day. Why so sure? Because events like that were major staples in the novels and games I’d always enjoyed.

“...Ah, I’m still in S. How about you, Sinwoo, Luicia?”

“I’m S too.”

“Mee too~”

Of course. I’d hoped this time I’d finally be free of the protagonist bastard, but there their names sat, bold as brass in Class S. I sighed even deeper inside.

If you can’t avoid it, enjoy it—except I couldn’t even begin to enjoy this. Fuck, how the hell do you enjoy work? Work is work. Even if it suits your aptitude, progresses smoothly, and earns recognition, it’s still tiring and shitty.

“...A lot of classmates changed.”

“Right? Looking at the ratio, it’s about half and half.”

As Luicia said, Class S’s roster had been heavily overhauled. Some who’d been in A or B had miraculously climbed all the way to S; others had dropped from S down to B or C. Exactly half. With so many first-years expelled for falling short or choosing to drop out after the string of incidents, the adjustments had been dramatic.

“Ah, Jang-mi’s here too.”

“...Hmm.”

Among them was Cheon Jang-mi, who’d originally been in Class A. Come to think of it, I knew nothing about how she fought. More accurately, I’d never cared.

As the daughter of the underworld, she was probably specialized in assassination? The priestess slot felt like it would be filled by the girl Ban Taewung had protected last time, so the remaining position was naturally scout.

I’m exhausted.

Maybe it was the rebound from waking up early, or maybe yesterday’s pain still lingered. Right now I just wanted to get to class and rest as soon as possible.

“...Let’s hurry to class.”

“Yeah! I want to get to class quick and talk with the new friends! I wonder what kind of kids they’ll be?”

Same destination, completely different reasons. At least our goals aligned, so that was something. I could dump all the annoying ones on this guy. I planned to sleep in a corner a little longer.

My thoughts must have shown plainly on my face, because Ban Taewung’s dry smile and Luicia’s short sigh of pure exasperation overlapped perfectly.

“Haa~awn...”

Riri’s drawn-out yawn finished it off; the two of them looked at each other and snorted as if there was nothing to be done.

I left the pair who had started flirting and creating their own little world—plus one piece of luggage—and headed straight into the classroom. Please, I hoped, let some relatively normal bastards come in this time.

Looking back, that was far too naive a hope. Every new arrival was from Class A or B. And almost none of them had escaped the agitation Cheon Jang-mi had leaked.

Even if they had no personal interest in me, the rumors themselves had sunk in deep enough that they’d heard them secondhand. Looking at it that way, she was shaping up to be a capable next leader of the underworld. Agitation was a pretty solid tool in the scheming department.

“Hey, you Jang Sinwoo?”

“???”

Apparently she’d been a little too capable.

The moment I stepped into the classroom, openly hostile stares slammed into me. A guy with a sour expression stood at the front; various guys and girls lined up behind him. The only common point was that I didn’t know a single face.

Well, the ones who’d stayed in Class S already knew I was a complete bastard whose personality made comparing me to mere rumors feel like an insult, and that I had more than enough skill to back it up. Unless they’d reset their memories with a concussion, they wouldn’t pull this kind of shit.

But the ones who’d just climbed into S didn’t know that.

When I scanned the inside of the class, the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sharper original Class S kids quickly averted their eyes. They’d caught how ugly my expression was. With that level of danger-avoidance instinct, why was their empathy so trash? Did they not realize that after I finished these bastards I’d roast them all together?

Getting burned by stray sparks was always the most unfair and painful part.

“...Haa.”

I sighed openly. The representative guy, as if he’d just been handed a perfect opening, scrunched his brow and spoke.

“You, aren’t you getting a little too full of yourself just because Taewung’s nice to you?”

That seemed to be the spark; the ones behind him, emboldened by the group, started chiming in one after another.

“Seriously, what a sight. Did you see earlier? He smacked Taewung on the head at the entrance.”

That bastard had it coming, so I hit him.

“Whoa~ for real? That’s way over the line.”

You’re the ones over the line. Crossing it so hard you’re using it as a jump rope—do you even realize what I’m thinking right now?

“Is being childhood friends some kind of rank? Are you crazy?”

If you’re jealous, go get yourself reincarnated into this shitty world without consent too, you fucker. Why the hell are you taking it out on me?

“Ha, this won’t do. Not a single sign of reflection.”

While I stayed silent and just let my face rot, the representative guy seemed to decide he had the upper hand and puffed his shoulders out even more.

“Follow me to the rooftop. I’ll teach you a lesson.”

What is this, the fucking 80s? Not a single quiet day, I swear.

...Fuck, what a pain.

“Haa...”

I hung my head. These were the Class S bastards I’d be spending time with from now on. Nothing but sighs. How the hell did every last one of them turn out to be a complete moron? Was there some kind of corruption going on?

Given that I’d parachuted in myself, the suspicion felt plenty justified.

But that was that, and this was this.

“...Hey.”

The voice that left my mouth was so cold and sharp that even I was startled.

Was this really something to get this angry about? Then I remembered: I had low blood pressure. Getting reincarnated into this shitty world was already bad enough; on top of that I’d been stuck with this goddamn constitution.

Thanks to it, if someone tried to force me awake while I was sleeping, or poked at my mood right after I woke up, I could genuinely radiate killing intent like the pettiest bastard alive.

Right now all three conditions were stacked. No wonder Subjugator had decided I’d subjugated something and boosted my stats.

And these bastards had prepared this little surprise to “cure” my low blood pressure. They’d even staked their own lives on something I never asked for, so the least I could do was repay them properly, right?

You receive, you give back. I’m a kind guy, so I won’t just return it as-is—I’ll double it.

“...Huh?”

“This is a duel challenge, right?”

I wasn’t actually asking for an answer. My hand was already on my device, and the Summon Guardian button inside the academy app was already pressed.

The Guardian arrived in an instant. I smiled brightly. In contrast, the faces of the morons in front of me grew steadily paler.

“Yeah. Let’s do it. Duel.”

Clank clank!

As the field unfolded with mechanical noise, their faces went past pale into pure ashen. My smile only deepened.

“Unlimited combat. Victory is decided solely by rendering the target combat-incapable. Loser will absolutely obey the winner.”

The only command I planned to give was one, so it didn’t matter. I nodded in agreement.

The goal was to hammer into these morons’ bones exactly what kind of existence I was.

“Accept.”

“...W-why would I...”

I stared straight into the face of the guy who was suddenly trying to back out. Killing intent—more condensed killing intent—mixed into my mana and amplified the skill Charisma.

Overwhelming presence alone had the power to make others follow. Whether forced or voluntary didn’t matter.

And the trash in front of me was the kind of garbage that got swept up by that presence and couldn’t handle it.

“Accept. Now.”

“I-I accept...”

He shook his head wildly a moment later, trying to refuse, but the Guardian’s recognition stayed locked on affirmative.

With the Guardian’s confirmation I put the device away. Then I closed the distance and wrapped my entire body in shadow in an instant.

“Haa...”

I sighed and wiped the smile away. The only thought left was to clear the enemies in front of me.

Everything for my peace.

I’ll kill every last one of you. You fucking bastards.

.

.

.

According to what Luicia later told me while she was busy cleaning up the class, the bright smile I’d worn at that moment had been no different from that of the most wicked demon in the world.