A Beating Has Always Been Medicine - 3
"Haa…!"
The back mountain of Felix Academy.
A place you could reach just by hopping the wall — a hot spot for delinquent students.
Today, as usual, two male students had settled in on the mountain and were smoking.
"I heard Class A got a new part-time instructor?"
"Don't even mention him. Makes the cigarette taste like blood."
"Showing up right when midterms are in full swing — he's in for a rough time."
"Ha! As if. Some no-name punk rolled in on pure skill and started raising hell."
"But his skill's the real deal, right?"
Rick of Class A spat a thick wad of spit and stuck another cigarette between his lips. He exhaled smoke in silence for a while before finally speaking.
"Doesn't change the fact he's a commoner. Sooner or later, he'll be groveling in front of nobles like us."
"True enough. Being strong doesn't mean you can do whatever you want in this world."
"We're laying low for now, but after graduation I'm hunting him down and making him kneel. I'll show him power isn't everything…!"
"I agree with you guys. But if you've got the power, burying one person is pretty simple, isn't it?"
"Huh?"
Bern suddenly popped out from the tree Rick had been leaning against. Hanging upside down from a thick branch, he seized Rick's jaw and head in both hands — then casually twisted Rick's neck a full hundred and eighty degrees, killing him on the spot.
Of course, that too was an illusion.
"Ghk—!!"
"Don't smoke just because you think nobody's watching. Your lungs will rot and you'll die young."
Bern dropped down from the tree and brushed the leaves stuck to his hair. He left them with that short piece of advice and strolled leisurely down the mountain.
"Th-that psycho…!!"
He'd warned them their lungs would rot and kill them — then casually murdered Rick anyway. Even knowing it was an illusion, the sensation of being killed had been overwhelmingly vivid. Rick had no choice but to regard Bern as a psychopath.
"Hey, what's wrong with you? Did the teacher popping out of nowhere freak you out?"
"……Fuck."
And that was the real problem. The killing process was purely an illusion, so to a third party it looked like nothing had happened at all. Whether he killed someone or tortured them, no clear evidence ever surfaced. Meaning no matter how many times Bern tormented you, you couldn't complain to anyone.
"What? You're breaking out in a cold sweat. If you're feeling sick, the nurse's office—"
"Shut up!"
"Uh…?"
Rick crushed the cigarette bare-handed, snuffing out the flame. He flung the butt to the ground in a fit of temper, shoved both hands into his pockets, stood up, and walked down the mountain with the same leisurely air Bern had used. The other student could only watch, baffled as to why Rick was acting that way.
Like the back mountain, the athletic storage shed at Felix Academy was a place few people ever visited.
A hulking male student sat on a mattress, a wanton female student clinging stickily to him from above. Lined up in front of them were students from the lower classes.
"I'm seriously disappointed today. I told you to bring the tribute money by today, and this is all you showed up with?"
"Th-that's… my family said expenses have been high lately, so they cut my allowance—"
Crack!
The sound of a slap rang through the warehouse. The skin of the boy mid-excuse flushed red, split slightly, and began to bleed. Jimmy of Class A, the one who'd raised his hand, twisted his face in disgust and spat on the floor.
"Fuck, I'm talking right now. Who the hell do you think you are, talking back? You think I'm a joke?"
"I-I'm sorry…!!"
"As if my mood wasn't already shit because some asshole instructor decided he was going to teach us today — and now you're pissing me off even more?"
"Ugh!"
Jimmy drove a hard kick into the abdomen of the boy still clutching his cheek. The boy was shoved nearly into the wall, dropped to his knees, and clutched his stomach.
"This isn't working. I've been too soft lately and you've all gotten sloppy. Every last one of you — bring double the tribute by tomorrow."
"Wha…?!"
"Got a problem with that?"
Crunch—!
Watching Jimmy clench his fist and smash a piece of gym equipment to pieces, the students could only bow their heads and submit.
Jimmy was a problem child who dominated and extorted his fellow students through raw strength. He was stuffing the gold coins he'd shaken down from his classmates into a leather pouch under the name of "tribute" when—
"If it's not too much trouble, could you buy me a tomahawk steak with that money?"
"Haaah?"
At the voice from behind him, Jimmy turned his head. Bern was standing there as if he'd always been. The moment their eyes met, space itself began to warp.
"If not, a cube steak works too!"
Countless lines scored across Jimmy — and the girl sitting on his lap. The lines became perforated edges, and blood erupted in torrents.
The Spatial Slash Bern had once demonstrated when he cut down Chaos's clone. He had just used his secret finishing move on a mere student.
"Gyaaaaaah!!"
Sliced to ribbons along with the space around him, his vocal cords should have been severed. And yet Jimmy was screaming at the top of his lungs — proof it was an illusion. In Jimmy's case, though, he genuinely felt the agony of his body being torn to shreds. His entire body locked up as if rigor mortis had set in, and bloody tears streamed from his eyes. His girlfriend had already collapsed, foaming at the mouth.
Bern paid them no mind. He walked slowly over to Jimmy and casually snatched the pouch of gold coins from his hand.
"Earn your money by sweating for it yourselves. You kids are growing up on your parents' support, so you don't get it — making money is fucking hard."
Of course, Bern himself spent the money Hades brought in as if it were his own. But since he'd subjugated Hades and turned her into a revenue stream, it was fair to call that Bern's own effort.
"Take it and split it among yourselves."
Bern tossed the gold pouch to the students who'd been extorted.
"Ah…! Th-thank you!"
"Skip the thanks. If this bastard tries to shake you down again, report it to me. Next time, I'm cutting off the hands and feet he uses to steal with!"
He said something terrifying with a bright, sunny smile, and every student present flinched in pure dread. Until now, Jimmy had been the scariest person they knew — but that ranking had just been thoroughly rewritten. Whatever method Bern had used, Jimmy had frozen solid mid-death-scream. The thought that Bern might actually chop off his hands and feet no longer seemed far-fetched.
"If you've got nothing else, get going. I still have to drag this idiot back to the classroom."
"Y-yes, sir!"
And so, rumors of the newly appointed part-time instructor began to spread through the academy.
One by one, Bern rounded up Class A's problem children for their misconduct — and killed them in the process.
No one picked a fight with him after that. Class A's average class attendance rate had been under fifty percent, yet every single student showed up for Bern's lessons. Skip class, and you'd almost certainly be dragged back to the classroom with piss in your pants.
"Oh-ho~! Full attendance, huh? Look at you all."
"Kh…!"
If we don't show up, he'll just kill us again.
The words rose to the students' throats and sank back down. Bern might look easygoing, but his senses were razor-sharp to a terrifying degree. Even if you were standing perfectly composed when you passed him in the hallway, mutter a quiet curse after he walked by and you'd get beheaded. Mouth the insult silently with no sound at all, and the punishment still came without mercy. As a result, every student in Class A resolved not to give him a single scrap of leverage.
"Busy day for incidents, wasn't it?"
"Yes……"
"So let's all behave from now on, yeah? Unless you want me to kill you."
The students who'd already died extra times outside morning assembly bowed their heads. It was the natural order of things — the weak could not defy the strong. Until now, no professor had been able to rein them in, but Bern was different. Even calling on their noble parents for help wouldn't work in the slightest. All they could do was pray that the two weeks would pass as quickly as possible.
"Alright then — first lesson of the day is about the sword! Everyone's got their own blade, right?"
Rather than answer aloud, the students drew their swords. Bern nodded and drew Frach from her scabbard. Being a magic sword, the runic characters had been polymorphed away, so no one suspected her true nature.
"Simple question to start. What's the most important thing for becoming an excellent swordsman?"
"Consistent training."
"Research and development of swordsmanship."
"Enlightenment into the deeper principles."
"None of those are wrong. But none of them are the answer I wanted."
Bern drove Frach into the floor.
"The most important thing is the heart you hold toward the sword."
"……?"
"Ahaha! You have no idea what I'm talking about right now. That's why I prepared a demonstration."
Bern spread his right hand wide and swept it to the side. It looked like he was simply cutting empty air — yet a clear sword scar carved itself into the wall. The watching students couldn't close their mouths.
"As you can see, a swordsman who reaches a certain level can wield their own body like a blade. So even if your sword breaks or you drop it for unavoidable reasons, you can keep fighting the enemy."
"Then isn't training the body the important part?"
"Tsk tsk. The point is a swordsman can fight without a sword — not that you shouldn't use one. And what I was getting at is that there's a difference between bare hands and a blade."
Bern pulled Frach free from the floor and swung her through the air the same way. The scratch on the wall was nothing compared to the massive crack that now split the surface.
"You can feel the difference, right? One way or another, the most important thing for a swordsman is the sword. You've all heard it a thousand times — a swordsman's blade is like their own limbs, right?"
"Yes."
"But you can't just think of it as a limb. To a swordsman, the sword is a beloved partner — no different from our own heart."
Snap—!
Bern flicked his fingers. A magic circle bloomed, and the crack in the wall sealed itself, restoring the surface to normal. Not an illusion — actual restoration magic. This time the magic-oriented students reacted violently. They'd been zoning out through the sword theory lecture, only to be stunned by Bern's unconventional application of magic.
"And so, today we're going to study a sword's favorite erogenous zones!"
"……Excuse me?"
Without exception, every student doubted their own ears. Bern, undeterred, pressed on with the lesson.
"You lot wouldn't know this, but swords have their own personally sensitive spots! For example, the area between the grip and the cross guard."
"C-Contractor?! If you suddenly stimulate that place…!"
"They also love being stroked along the blade like you're tickling it."
"Hyaaah! W-wait! Doing this in front of everyone is mortifying even for this body!"
"And lastly, they love having the pommel squeezed."
"N-not there! Anywhere but there… Hnnngh!!"
Right in front of the students, Bern and Frach were putting on an open exhibition of public fondling. To everyone else, though, it just looked like a man fiddling with a sword. A single thought formed in every student's mind, perfectly consistent:
What the hell is that, you damn otaku!
It was a world only a sword freak could understand.