The Academy Came Alive (2)

The principal's office could not take in the whole of the academy, but from its windows the street running up to the main building lay in full view.

There, as on any other day, Ermia Belfast sat beneath a mountain of paperwork, working her way through it. The only difference was the thick document she was reading so intently. It was not an academy approval form. It was an incident report.

The papers had flown in from Silbaerin, the ducal territory in the Empire's far north, passed through the hands of prodigy after prodigy, and at last reached a genius. Ermia read what was written there and sank into thought.

The beasts of the Monster Wave have grown stronger. This is going to need watching.

According to observations from Silbaerin's magic tower, an ominous mana had been detected in the Kalian Mountain Range when this Monster Wave broke—a dark crimson mana, thick with a sticky, damp chill. That, they guessed, was why the beasts had grown stronger than the year before. And Ermia could infer what that mana truly was.

The signs of the Great War my master never tired of talking about. This is exactly the same story.

Grendel, Ermia's master, had already left the world to old age. In the last stretch of his life dementia had often left him drifting, and yet even in that state there was one thing he stressed every single time.

Ermia recalled that counsel—her master's own experience, drummed into her until her ears grew calluses. The Great War that had begun in Grendel's youth had ended by the time he reached middle age. Even when a sweet peace settled over the continent, he never loosened his guard. That he had still been saying such things right up until his last breath said everything about how horrific and brutal that history had been.

Which was why she could not simply set the report aside. Right after the dark crimson demonic mana was observed, the beasts of the Monster Wave had grown stronger. They had not managed to quantify it precisely, but each beast's combat power was said to have risen by roughly twenty percent. Someone dull with numbers might not have felt much alarm. To Ermia's eyes, the gravity of it was immediate. Watch a military command strain itself to raise its troops' fighting strength by even a fraction, and twenty percent stopped looking like a reasonable figure at all.

A beast that ought to have died in a single stroke would refuse to fall, swinging its hideous claws twice more before it went down. On a battlefield where the smallest action could become a decisive variable, that kind of death throes was more threatening than anything. And if every enemy fought back with that kind of strength? Honestly, she could not fathom how Silbaerin had held this Monster Wave at all.

She scoured the pages until her eyes ached, and still they said nothing about how the strengthened wave had been answered. If she had to name a factor in the victory, there was Arthur, the Silbaerin knight said to have reached the realm of Sword Expert through this battle. That was about it.

One knight growing stronger isn't the kind of power that turns a fight like this around...

There was a limit to the merit a single body could earn in a war. In the end, a hundred people grown slightly stronger were more efficient, and more powerful, than one outstanding individual. So what—someone on the Silbaerin knight order's side had strengthened every last one of them? And granted a buff the magic tower could not even observe?

That's the sort of nonsense you'd get from an elf chewing on the World Tree.

Dark crimson demonic mana did not give off an ill omen for nothing. A living thing that received it merely borrowed against its own lifespan and traded that for power in the moment. Maria, the goddess of creation—whether she even still existed was no longer certain. The filthy powers called black magic, or demonic mana, were nothing but imitations of the creator goddess: an incomplete, half-made force that twisted, at its own whim, the authority of creation only a god had ever wielded.

And yet the Silbaerin knights had not even used that filthy power. They had still successfully held off a strengthened Monster Wave, which left her half-suspecting that a saintess really had laid a buff on them.

Impossible. Why would a saintess be in the north?

Lost in an interesting incident for the first time in ages, she had not noticed the time passing. Only when her stomach let out a long, traitorous growl did Ermia lift her eyes from the report. She glanced out the window to rest them for a moment, and found a strange line stretching all the way from the academy's main building.

Hm? That's...

Her gaze traveled up the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠line until it reached the end. There stood a red stall she had never seen before, and a head of black hair she was only just growing used to. Kang Jinwoo was doing business. Right—she had granted that stall a permit. She was mildly startled that he had moved even faster than she expected.

I'm hungry anyway. Let's see what he can do.

Hardtack: plain, savory, quietly filling the hollow whenever her mouth grew bored. Was he not the very person behind the hardtack that had, by now, completely seized the market? Was that skill the real thing, or had some ordinary man simply stumbled into luck? Ermia threw on a light coat and left the principal's office.

I had finished a roaring first day of business and was just starting to catch my breath when Ermia showed up. When we drew up the contract she had said she would come by once, and that had not been empty talk. I could not tell whether the timing was good or bad. I still had not worked out how I was going to explain the Mana Market, so in a sense she had bought me time. Looked at that way, it was not a bad entrance.

"That ham-and-cheese toast the students ahead of me ordered? It looked good. I'll take one."

"Ah, that one's..."

"Hm? You don't have to worry about a bad review. I'm not expecting imperial-chef quality."

"No, that's not—"

"Honestly, the imperial chefs' cooking never quite suited me. A bit much, if you know what I mean. Who knows? Yours might taste better."

Oh, come on. Why does she keep cutting me off?

Tiny as she was, young enough that I could have believed she was a student here, and yet—maybe because her calling card read greatest mage in the Empire—she lived entirely in her own world. Ermia chattered on about her gourmet experiences without leaving me a single gap to speak. If I kept listening, the sun was going to set, so I cut her off.

"Forgive me for interrupting, but the ham-and-cheese toast is sold out."

"Ah. Is it? What a shame. French toast, then."

"That one's sold out too..."

"W-wait? Really?"

The stock was gone. I wanted to make it for her and couldn't. I had even prepared the ingredients generously, and they had still sold out, which left my mana hanging by a thread. I could feel, instinctively, that if I used the Mana Market even once more I would bottom out completely. Truth be told, even the mana to control fire with Beginner Spirit Arts was running razor-thin. One bad split and I might go down in a blaze of glory.

Ermia clearly had not expected a sellout. She was flustered enough to forget every bit of the charisma she had walked in with.

"Ah. I-I'm hungry... is there really nothing you can make right now?"

"Street toast is still possible. Shall I make you that?"

"Fine. I hate that it has vegetables, but it can't be helped."

"Just a moment, please. It ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠won't take long."

The words climbed all the way to my throat—So that's why you're short. You won't eat properly, and you pick the vegetables out, so of course you stayed that small—and I barely swallowed them back. I was not bored enough to want to die, and there was no need to mouth off at a walking nuclear bomb.

All I had to grill was a single portion of bread and cabbage-egg batter, so I did not need to summon many fire spirits. I called exactly as many as the job required.

Eee, eee—

They had been working without a moment for the fire to die down, and already they were delighted to have a new toy. I had thought of myself as something of a workaholic, making jobs for myself everywhere I went, contrary to every resolution I had ever made... but the true workaholic was the fire spirit. As expected, you cannot beat someone who enjoys it. I would have to try harder.

A wave of dizziness washed over me. I was clearly nearing today's limit, so I hurried and grilled the bread and the cabbage-egg batter. One portion did not take long. Ketchup and sugar, heaped on in the order the recipe demanded...

"What's that bright red sauce? I've never seen it."

"A special sauce made from tomatoes. It's called ketchup."

"Ugh, tomatoes? You made it out of that ornamental plant?"

"Haa... culinary philistine."

"Hm? What did ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you say? I didn't catch that."

"Ah, it's nothing."

The jab had slipped out on reflex. Lucky she had not heard it... though this was less a failure of patience than a case for extenuating circumstances. Tomato, the ultimate umami cheat code of the vegetable world, the all-purpose ingredient—how was a chef supposed to endure someone who could not even recognize it?

"Well... judging by the students, it should be fine. I'll trust you."

"Of course. Don't ask for seconds. I'm out of ingredients, so I can't make any more."

"You got snippy because I dismissed the sauce. Sorry. Hehe."

Mood had turned straight into attitude, it seemed. Even so, unlike the woman I had braced for, Ermia took the sulk quite meekly. Maybe ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠she was not as frightening as I had thought. I kept my hands moving through the light back-and-forth and finished the toast, then held the completed street toast out to her.

"Your street toast. Enjoy."

"It's nice and hot. Thanks."

Ermia swept her long snow-white hair back behind her ear and opened her dainty mouth. Then, with all her heart and soul, she bit into the toast. She worked her mouth for a remarkably long time, like a squirrel shelling an acorn. A faint swallow followed, and her eyes—blue as the deep sea—sparkled. A moment later she was waving her hands and shouting.

"Mmmngh! I've never tasted anything like this in my life! This sauce, ketchup—the sweet and sour is so good!"

"Aigoo, is that so?"

"Yeah! Honestly, I didn't expect much. It's just bread fried in butter with egg and seasoning on it... but it's a new flavor! I usually hate vegetables, and I think I could eat three of these!"

"Mm-hm, and then?"

"And, and... the sugar on the ketchup is perfect! It ties the bread and the egg and the ketchup together, or something... ah."

She stopped short. Ah. Reason had returned. One bite, and she had been so unable to contain how good it was that she expressed it with her whole body... it was cute, so I had spoken to her the way you speak to a child. My rudeness was rude enough, but she seemed more ashamed of the scene she had just made than inclined to call me on it. Her snow-white face flushed red all the way to her ears, a sharp contrast against her white hair.

"Ahem... ahem! It's good. It's good. All right, you can cook. I'll acknowledge it."

"Aigoo, thank you kindly."

"Y-you—!! Will you fix that tone?!"

"Ah, sorry."

At my teasing tone, Ermia properly grew horns. Principal or not, and reputation aside, she was far too satisfying to poke. Looked like I would be teasing her more from here on. She glared at me, pouty, and then suddenly tilted her head.

"Huh? What? The mana..."

"What's wrong? Is there a problem with the taste?"

"No. Not that. It feels like my mana filled up a little more... that can't be right."

Ermia muttered mana, the mana... like someone bewitched. She flicked her gaze over her hands and her body, and at last turned that gaze on me. Mm. She was staring pretty hard. It got a little embarrassing, being looked at like that. Uh... wait. What was this? Had she used some kind of giant form? All of a sudden the Ermia in my eyes started looking rather large. My head drawing closer to the sky, my body, conversely, closer to the ground...

I went down with a crash. Oh. Ermia was not growing. I was the one falling.

"Kyaaah!! Jinwoo! What's wrong?!"

"Oh no, Kang Jinwoo!! What suddenly— huh?"

The world warped like a videotape stupidly stretched out of shape. My vision spun as if I had been pickled in hard liquor, and I could not even think of holding myself upright.

"It's mana exhaustion! You, elf—help me. We have to get him to the infirmary!"

"Ah, yes!"

Eilenna and Ermia, stammering in panic, moved in perfect lockstep. Their movements were the last thing my eyes took in. And just like that, I lost consciousness.