What an Academy Is (6)

Originally, the freshman welcome party at the academy never took place on the day of the entrance ceremony. It waited until a full week of classes had already passed.

The reason was simple enough.

To weed out the hopeless, the weak-willed, and those who could not pull their own weight. In short, to sift the raw ore. To thoroughly select and cultivate only those talents that could be polished into true gems. Resources and time were limited, and money did not grow on trees.

So why admit them in the first place? The answer lay in the doctrine of the Church of the Radiant Sun that Hong Su-ah had once explained to me. The first opportunity granted to anyone who dared to challenge. That opportunity had already been given at the moment of admission.

Had the principal not said it himself? Take responsibility for your own affairs.

Those who failed to meet the standard? All expelled. Unfair or not, there was nothing to be done. That was the academy’s way. Strangely enough, not a single person ever complained about it.

No matter how loudly the mid-course dropouts howled, the moment a graduate Awakened stepped into society and displayed their power, every mouth shut. A talented individual who had also put in the effort succeeding was only natural. Questioning the academy’s policy was therefore tantamount to branding every successful graduate a fraud—an act of pure folly.

They never needed to boast to anyone. Simply by breathing and moving, they radiated the fact that they were victors. Their very existence was both pride and proof. Killing a single rampaging monster that threatened the nation was far more effective than empty bragging or political games. That proof alone was enough to make the people around them cheer.

Thus the academy was a whetstone, a forge, and a fierce battlefield all at once.

If you had dreamed of a lukewarm school life, pack your bags and get out right now. Live every single day with ferocity—so fiercely that yesterday’s you envies today’s you, and so that tomorrow’s you will never resent the you of today.

The first trial for that purpose was the opening week of classes.

Day one: Proof.

Display your worth without reservation. Flaunt the potential you can still unleash. Show them you are a gem worth polishing.

No time limit. Unconditional support. A stage for proving value.

In plain terms? A marketplace.

What I’m selling is better than that guy’s over there. My worth surpasses theirs. So buy me. If you don’t purchase now, you’re the one who loses. That was the message delivered to the instructors and teachers.

If you do not speak, no one knows. If you do not prove yourself, no one looks your way. The ones who always steal the gaze of others are those who shine on their own.

Day two was originally meant to be Judgment.

If day one had been about gauging how far each person could go and what they could not yet do, day two was the day the surviving raw ores collided to measure who was harder, who was more valuable. A Mohs hardness test, if you will.

A one-on-one duel tournament held by class, fought either to climb the rankings or to defend one’s place.

Or rather, it should have been held—had yesterday’s incident never occurred.

Even if this was a place that forged warriors, you could not pile too heavy a burden on chicks still wet behind the ears. With the chaos, no one could predict what might happen, and under the pretext of the inspection’s investigation the tournament scheduled for that day was postponed until the next.

The afternoon classes that should have begun today were, according to Hong Su-ah, the ones that normally started only after the welcome party. From a cadet’s perspective it meant unexpected extra time to grow stronger. Flip the coin, though, and it became: you were given this chance and still only managed this much? Instant failure.

Is the academy a joke? Do you take the faculty for fools? You think you’re fine? Bad condition? Want another chance? What about the others? Can you take responsibility for those words? And if we give you another chance and you still fail?

Expulsion without mercy, plus the brand of incompetence. Even with a hundred mouths you would have nothing left to say. Results prove everything.

That did not mean the academy ignored process. On the contrary, it valued process even more than the final result. Effort and outcome were weighed carefully to judge the presence or absence of talent. That was why they put everyone through this bothersome assay.

What worried me was the day of the postponed sparring class itself.

The inspection had bought plenty of time. A perfect chance for someone to pull something. More than that, it was an opportunity to sow chaos while legally gauging the students’ strength.

To any villain aiming to cripple the academy’s functions, this was a golden opportunity. They might have spent a long time preparing for exactly this. Events like these never happened overnight like roasting beans with lightning.

Was it pure persecution complex to think all of this had happened because of the protagonist?

I immediately shook my head. The protagonist was a troublesome bastard, but at least he was not a bad one. Everything that had occurred was a boil that would have burst someday anyway—an incident already set in motion. The protagonist’s involvement was merely the trigger; he had simply gotten tangled in the enemy’s plans by chance.

Classes aren’t bad, but I need more real combat experience.

Having skipped class without meaning to, I asked Hong Su-ah for an entry permit to one of the dungeons the academy managed itself.

“Originally those were meant as rewards ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠for the top five performers at the welcome party… but given the circumstances, I’ll issue you a temporary license.”

The dungeon I arrived at was the E-rank Goblin’s Lair.

If the giant spider I had faced last time was roughly E-rank on its own, a single goblin was closer to F-rank. But with the intelligence of a three-year-old child they could use weapons and traps, and in groups their threat level rose to E-rank.

The same applied to Gray Fang, the base for Growl. Alone it was F-rank, yet forming a pack raised the danger—a common enough pattern.

The dungeon entrance looked like a ripple of gray shot through with pale blue. Exactly the sort of portal you read about in novels.

Some called it a passage to another dimension; others claimed it was a trial sent down by the gods.

Experts said both were right and wrong. A dungeon entrance was a kind of barrier—a temporary measure taken by the world’s will to seal a wound torn open between dimensions.

To fill the gap, another world had been patched over it. That was the consensus among current dungeon specialists.

Interference was difficult, but once you succeeded, all sorts of experiments became possible. Most of the dungeons inside the academy were byproducts of such research. The Goblin’s Lair I was heading into was a quest-type dungeon.

Through the system, arbitrary quests were imposed; fulfill them and you could leave with rewards at any time. It also cleverly exploited the dungeon’s habit of resetting whenever no one remained inside.

In truth, most academy dungeons worked that way.

Those precedents and research results were exactly why the Project Exile I had devised succeeded without major failure. They were also the reason I had been invited to enroll early.

When I had been running around inventing ways to hunt down the brats that smashed dungeons and escaped, the first person to review my ideas positively and back me had been the principal.

In exchange he had demanded I enroll at Sunrise Academy without fail. Figuring I would get tangled with the protagonist anyway, I had agreed without hesitation. That had already been seven years ago.

“…Wait. Is that why they built the research lab?”

Something that had not existed when I visited seven years ago to request materials had appeared because of me? Just how hard were they trying to squeeze every last drop out of me that they even built a lab?

The number of people who could use it was limited, and in practice it sat unused and neglected. For me it was like gaining a secret base for emergencies, so I was thankful—but I still felt a little uneasy about whatever bothersome tasks they planned to dump on me.

“Growl.”

Snap.

“Woof!”

At the now-familiar name and trigger, a wolf appeared at my side in an instant. The crow perched on my shoulder fluttered up onto its back. I ordered them both to stand by and loosened my slightly stiff body.

As for armor, the academy uniform itself outperformed mediocre gear, so I stuck with that. For a weapon I had picked up a steel pipe left abandoned in a scrap heap on the way here.

It looked like a rusted piece that had been replaced; I scraped the rust off the grip with a stone and wrapped it in a scrap of cloth, and it became surprisingly usable. Whether they had mixed mana stones into the casting or not, mana flowed through it beautifully.

Of course it would not be shoddy—it was academy property. A bit crude, but more than enough against goblins.

If it proved awkward I could just snatch a goblin’s weapon mid-fight. No real worry. My main force was not this hunk of metal but the companions at my side.

“Target: level 10.”

I spun the pipe, planning to raise both my job level and Growl’s evolution. This was normally a dungeon you entered in a party, so monopolizing the experience alone should yield a solid haul.

“Let’s burn just one day lightly.”

I led my body, already warmed by a little stretching, straight into the dungeon.

Whoosh!

The sensation of piercing a thin membrane, and the air changed at once. Because they were treated as my skills, neither companion panicked at the sudden shift in environment; they simply waited for my orders. Adorable, really.

My first impression after looking around was simply this:

“A forest, huh.”

More precisely, a mountain. Uneven ground untouched by human hands, a riot of grass and trees thick enough to wall off every direction—it looked like a natural fortress.

Beyond that forest, smoke rose openly. Not one or two plumes. Dozens of them burned at regular intervals like signal fires.

The owners of those fires were none other than the green-skinned fiends.

Height roughly to an adult’s waist, scrawny limbs, potbellies. Important parts barely covered by crude loincloths—pure primitivism. The very embodiment of barbaric wretchedness that had abandoned civilization. That was their first impression.

“Kerrrk!”

“Ke, keke!”

Whatever had them so excited, they chattered noisily before the fire, lifting their catch high, then twisting and tearing its throat with sharp claws. They did not even dodge the blood spraying from the corpse.

No—they actively thrust their bodies into it, bathing themselves, drinking with ecstatic expressions while howling.

“Keeeek~!”

Yellowed teeth showed between a mouth split wide. And that was not the end of their antics.

Crunch, crack, grind.

As if this were only the beginning, they smashed bones and tore muscle. Despite having the intelligence to use fire, they ignored it, howling like beasts as they greedily devoured what had already become a corpse.

“Ugh.”

Disgusting. Not so much that it turned my stomach as that it was simply filthy and unclean. At that moment a system notification floated before my eyes.

The instant I confirmed it I ordered Hive to survey the surroundings and stand ready to attack at any moment, while positioning Growl on the enemy’s flank to split their attention.

Right now, while they were absorbed in their grotesque ritual, was the perfect moment for an ambush. Nothing stings quite like a blow to the back of the head when you let your guard down.

Through the link with Growl I felt the will that preparations were complete, and I immediately sprinted forward.

“We’re going to beat them all to death anyway, so let’s hurry it up. Growl!!”

“Awooooo!!!”

“Keek…?”

“Kek! Kekerrk!!”

A sensation like blood boiling rose, and a smile formed on its own. Strength flooded the hand gripping the pipe; the force driving my feet into the ground climbed another notch. Even as they flustered at the sudden uproar, one of them spotted me and turned its head. Our eyes met. You’re first.

“Keek?!”

I charged the one that had recognized me. Its frantic cry made the others notice me late—but it was already too late.

I gripped the steel pipe in both hands like a baseball bat and swung hard at the head of the first one that had seen me.

Clang!!

“Kuruk…?!”

At the same moment as the heavy blow, residual mana scattered roughly. Its body spun like it had been hit by a truck. Even as it whirled, my dynamic vision captured its form clearly.

Crunch.

Its temple caved in. Unable to withstand the pressure, its eyeball popped out into the air like a scene from a horror movie.

Thud!

The fallen creature twitched and convulsed, but showed no further sign of rising. Finished? I even tried reciting a resurrection chant, but it did not get back up. Instead the convulsions stopped and it went limp.

Conveniently, the mission window floating at the edge of my vision counted the number 1. No need for a separate confirmation kill.

“Ah, shit.”

The hand-feel was electric. Not a metaphor—the recoil was no joke, buzzing up the inside of my arm as if electricity had run through it. Muscle pain was a given, and by tomorrow I would have a fine crop of blisters. Would the infirmary heal something like that if I stopped by?

“Growl!”

“Kung!!”

At my call, Growl, who had been lurking in the brush waiting for an opening, charged out powerfully. Its target was the one frantically trying to grab a weapon. Compared to the scrawny goblin’s frame, Growl’s bulk was simply enormous.

Chomp.

When it opened its jaws wide the goblin screamed and tried to flee. That only helped Growl. By offering its own neck the creature had its throat bitten clean through, shoulder and all.

Crunch!

“…!”

Under bite force beyond imagination the goblin’s neck was completely torn out, bone and all; it collapsed without even a death cry. Instant kill. I did not stay idle either. I smashed the campfire with the steel pipe, scattering flames in every direction.

“Kiiik?!”

“Kerrk!! Kaaaaaak!!!”

That alone made the ones trying to surround me flinch and back away. Perhaps because of their middling intelligence, they seemed to fear fire. A few had greasy bodies; sparks stuck to them and they thrashed about in solitary frenzy.

“One! Two!!”

“Guek…!”

“…Kahak!”

I seized the opening and cracked two more goblin skulls.

Their skeletons were softer than expected; every time I brought the mana-charged pipe down, their craniums caved and something inside shattered and mashed, the gruesome sensation traveling straight up the pipe into my hand.

It felt exactly like a game of whack-a-mole. Only the score was not points but monster brats collapsing with brain matter dribbling from their noses.

“…Hive.”

“Kaaaaak!!”

“Kieeeek…!”

The eyes of a goblin about to hurl a stone at Growl were instantly pecked out by Hive’s beak as it dove. The thrown stone flew off course, and Growl used the opening to shred the one-eyed goblin with its claws.

“Grrrrr…”

“Ki, kiee…”

Having tasted blood, its bright yellow pupils gleamed even more savagely. Emotion flowed through the link. A little more. I want to fight. The raw wildness of a wolf that had only just begun its hunt was enough to straighten my spine with a chill.

When Growl glared at the remaining goblins and growled low, some among them lost the will to fight and tried to flee. I ordered Growl to pursue.

“…Don’t go easy just because they’re weak. Be thorough. Okay?”

“Kung!!!”

As if the wild aura had never existed, it answered with a suddenly docile look and wagged its tail. I could not help a bitter smile.

Come to think of it, this was Growl’s first hunt. The moment I handed over full authority with a “handle it yourself,” it bared its fangs again and began to utterly ravage the fleeing goblins.

Did it only look like a cat toying with a caught mouse because of my mood?

“…Hive, scatter and harass the rest.”

“Kaak!”

““Kaaaaak!!””

Through the trait Crow Flock, two shadow crows burst from Hive’s shadow and wheeled through the air. Without further orders from me they followed Hive’s command, herding the runaways toward Growl and me or pecking at the faces of any that tried to attack, fraying their nerves.

As a result, every goblin that had packed the clearing became a former goblin.

“Haa… this is hard labor too, damn it.”

One of them had managed to slip away midway and call reinforcements, so the fight had dragged on considerably. The steel pipe that had been fine except for the rust was now dented and gouged in places, and neither Growl nor Hive had been able to dodge every attack; both carried minor wounds.

Only natural. Compared to me, who kept distance with a weapon and received support from the shadow crows, Hive and Growl were charging in body-to-body. If the battle had lasted much longer, mere exhaustion would not have been the end of it for me either.

Catching my breath and checking the mission, I saw the counted goblins totaled thirty-two. The original target of twenty had long been filled. Even so the mission did not auto-complete; it asked for my decision. Since my goal was to pack in as ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠much experience as possible, I naturally did not declare a clear.

Once the counter was exceeded the mission had changed to Additional Goblins Exterminated, so the “performance-based” note under the original mission must have meant exactly this.

If I shouted a clear declaration now the mission would finish and I would be flung outside the dungeon in a flash.

I’ll go as far as I can.

They looked injured at the moment, but both were summons composed of my mana. As long as I had mana, wounds ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠or missing parts could be restored. Even if they died they would reappear at my side and swear loyalty again.

“…Haa.”

Once more I felt how different this world was from the one I had lived in. Power like this could never be ordinary. Thanks to it the high was building until it felt ready to burst. I could barely tell whether it was the effect of Howling or not.

Calm down.

This is a battlefield. If you thrash around with the light heart of someone enjoying a game, one wrong move and you go straight to the grave—an outland where that can happen.

You always have to remember that your position and that of the goblins lying scattered over there can switch at any time.

A moderate lift helps in combat, but excessive excitement narrows your vision into poison. I am not a racehorse that only stares straight ahead and runs; I must thoroughly be the hunter who ravages and hunts the enemy.

I slapped my cheeks a few times to settle the excitement, then sat down and projected mana into Growl and Hive, who had finished the hunt and were licking their wounds beside me, healing them.

Yeah, we ran hard, so let’s rest even for thirty minutes. Points first, though.

With every ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠single stat point precious right now, it was better to allocate the points gained from leveling immediately.

Growl had been built as a damage-tank from the start, so Strength and Dexterity first. Since both needed investment anyway, no deep fretting—just alternate them one by one.

Hive and I would keep ours for now. The main focus of this hunt was Growl alone. Better to concentrate only on him.

“…Oh.”

After finishing the point distribution I called Growl over and lay back against him; a cozy comfort settled through my body. Contrary to the prejudice that a wolf’s fur would be rough, it was fluffy. After enjoying the feel of Growl’s fur for a good while I let the strength drain from my body and quietly closed my eyes.

Just ten minutes. Let’s rest ten minutes and then move again.

Thirst made me reflexively pull out a water bottle; the throbbing pain in my hand—blisters had finally formed—made my brow furrow on its own.

“Aigoo.”

Forget it, just forget it. Quietly taking a mouthful of water from the bottle, I stacked one more curse toward the god who had stolen my peace.