Infiltrating the Academy
The voice was blurred. The vision hazy. Someone was sobbing.
"────! ──── No…!"
"Worried…───, ──────…."
His lips moved on their own, forcing out words. It was cold. Agonizing pain tore through every inch of his body. His heart hammered violently, pumping blood, but the holes punched through him refused to hold it. It spilled across the floor.
"You… must live……."
The screen went black. The flickering black-and-white vision shattered. A weightless sensation, like falling into a bottomless abyss.
…And then, soon after—
"What a fucking nightmare."
Zeron sat up. The room was dark, but light leaking between the curtains told him it wasn’t night.
"Huu…"
He flopped back onto the sofa and reached for one of the liquor bottles scattered across the floor. He shook it over his mouth. A couple of leftover drops fell onto his tongue. Oak. Vanilla. A hint of sweet sherry. The faint trace of alcohol made him click his tongue at the dry, bitter aftertaste.
"Up we go."
Zeron hurled the empty bottle without hesitation. It bounced perfectly off the windowsill with a solid thunk, nudged the curtain aside, and landed safely in the corner.
"Much better."
The sun hung high overhead, flooding the room with bright light. The unpleasant residue of that awful dream finally began to fade.
"…Why don’t you just stand up and walk like a normal person?"
The man who had just walked in saw the whole thing and frowned.
"Too much work."
"Calculating the throw must be even more work."
"What calculating? Just toss it roughly and it works fine."
Zeron lazily turned his head. Blonde hair, blue eyes. A slick, handsome bastard, if you were into that sort of thing.
"Hey, David."
"What."
"Can I flick you in the forehead?"
"…No."
"You should’ve given up by now."
"Why the hell do you keep trying to flick me?!"
"Looking at your face makes me itch to do it."
Zeron chuckled and swept his hand across the floor. Another bottle rolled into his grip. He checked the label. Laphroaig 40.
"Peat… not bad."
He rummaged again and came up with a nosing glass. He stripped the bottle’s seal, popped the cork, and poured. Sunlight streaming through the window turned the whiskey a glowing amber.
"So what’s the occasion? You even brought the little one."
He had barely buried his nose in the glass to savor the peat when a sharp voice shattered the moment.
"I told you I’m not little!"
A red-haired girl peeked out from behind David. If she hated being called little, maybe she should stop wearing the twin-tails Zeron had once called cute.
He brushed it off and took a sip. Mm. Not bad at all. He found himself wondering what kind of man made forty-year-old peated whiskey.
"Come on, our princess. Calm down a little…"
"Dad! But…!"
"What do you want me to do about him? I can’t lay a finger on the guy."
"Tch…"
The girl spun away, sulking. David smiled awkwardly and continued.
"Anyway… You know my daughter’s enrolling at the academy this time, right?"
"Yeah, I know. You threw that ridiculous celebration party. Hard to miss."
"Here’s the thing… I’m really uneasy sending Medeia alone. I tried assigning some guards, but none of them feel reliable."
"True. The kids do seem pretty weak."
"Right?"
David’s face lit up. Zeron could already guess what would come next. This was going to be a pain in the ass…
Just as he was debating how to dodge it—
"Boss!"
Bang! The door flew open. A familiar face burst in. Zeron couldn’t remember the man’s name, but he was pretty sure he was one of David’s subordinates.
"What’s with the lack of manners?"
The easygoing fool from moments ago vanished. David’s presence cooled and sharpened. The subordinate trembled under that gaze and shouted.
"I-it’s an attack! The Scavengers are—!"
"Those bastards? Heh… which idiot is it this time?"
David scowled and turned. His black coat flared dramatically. Show-off. Posing in front of your daughter.
He stroked Medeia’s head once and started walking.
"We’ll finish this talk when I get back."
"Hm? Nah. It’s been a while. Let me earn my meals for once."
Zeron stood. He downed the rest of the whiskey in one swallow, then casually scooped up the sword rolling under the sofa. He looked exactly like the unemployed bum he was.
"Khh… That’s strong stuff."
"You really don’t have to come…"
"Who’s the one feeding me? I’d feel too guilty sitting this out."
Zeron smirked and flicked Medeia hard on the forehead.
Flick!
"Eek!?"
Medeia flinched, face turning scarlet. "What the hell are you doing, you perverted uncle?!"
"Calling a handsome man in his twenties ‘uncle’? Come on."
"You turn thirty next year!"
"Still in my twenties right now, aren’t I?"
Zeron chuckled and jerked his chin at the nervous subordinate.
"Let’s go."
"Y-yes, sir!"
A dark alley that never saw sunlight. Blades glinted coldly in stray shafts of light. Hot blood soaked the ground. Amid the chaos of shouts and screams, the figure strolling in at a leisurely pace was utterly out of place.
"Tsk. So damn weak. Anyone who gets so much as a scratch from these losers should quit this life and go farm instead."
The voice drew every eye at once. In the middle of a life-or-death brawl, looking away was suicidal, but the heavy presence rolling toward them made it impossible to ignore.
"B-Boss!"
"Who the hell are you calling Boss?"
Zeron smirked and stuck a cigarette between his lips. The subordinate beside him fumbled out a lighter and lit it with shaking hands.
Huu— Thick smoke curled upward in the suddenly silent alley.
Zeron walked through the battlefield like he was taking a casual stroll.
"…So you’re that Sword Demon."
He turned toward the voice. A massive man covered in scars stood there.
"Wow, you really are ugly as sin."
"I asked if you’re the Sword Demon."
"And why the hell are you talking down to me?"
Something flashed. A head hit the ground with a wet thump and rolled, spilling more meaningless blood.
"Oops. My bad. That’s going to be a pain to clean up later."
Zeron clicked his tongue and flicked the blood off his blade.
"Well then. Shall we clean up the rest?"
What followed was a massacre.
"So."
Zeron sat atop a pile of corpses, head tilted lazily.
"You want me to guard that little kid?"
"Yeah. Well, it’s a little different, but close enough."
David stood before him, cigarette dangling from his lips. A quick glance revealed a field of bizarrely pristine corpses. They had been friends since childhood, but the sight still sent a chill down his spine every single time.
"Hmm…"
Zeron barely spared David a look before tossing the burnt-out cigarette. It hissed as it landed in the blood and went out.
"Sure. Why not."
"If you really don’t want to… wait, what?"
David’s eyes widened in genuine shock. That was fair. Zeron usually put up a fight and complained about how annoying it would be.
Zeron leaned his head back. Between the tall buildings, the sky was a clear, indifferent blue. No matter how many people died down here, the sky never changed.
"I had a fucking nightmare. For some reason, it feels like I should go this time."
"I’d really appreciate it."
"Between us? Don’t mention it."
Zeron smirked and stood up.
"Besides, the kid did seem a little uneasy. You raised her way too preciously. She’s got a nasty attitude, but she looks like she couldn’t even kill a single rabbit."
"Nasty attitude? No way. Our Medeia is such a kind, beautiful girl."
"Ugh, more bullshit. She’s seventeen this year, right? She’s older than she was when you knocked her mother up. Wait, no—you weren’t the one who got pregnant, were you?"
Zeron laughed. One of the subordinates cleaning corpses let out a snort before quickly covering his mouth.
"S-sorry, Boss!"
"Laugh, you idiot. Why are you so scared?"
Zeron smacked the man on the back. The subordinate smiled awkwardly and went back to work.
"Anyway. When are we leaving?"
"Medeia leaves in about a month."
"Medeia does? Then when do I go?"
"You leave in two days."
"What?"
Zeron’s head tilted sharply. David grinned, pulled a pistol from his waist, and fired without looking.
Bang! The head of a Scavenger who had been staggering to his feet exploded.
"She leaves in a month, so why the hell am I going in two days?"
David blew on the barrel and holstered the gun.
"Simple. She’s a student. You’re an instructor."
"If I’m guarding her, shouldn’t we—wait. Instructor?"
Zeron’s eyes flew wide open. David smiled like a fox.
He chuckled, pulled a document from his coat, and handed it over.
"That’s right. Instructor. Congratulations, you lazy bastard. You finally got a job."
"What the…"
Zeron snatched the paper. Name: Zeron. Age: 29. Affiliation: David Merchant Group. And a photo of a man with a thoroughly annoyed expression that clearly said the world could go to hell.
It was definitely him.
"No, seriously?"
"Yep. Serious."
"This is total bullshit."
"Right? You, a teacher."
"Stop fucking with me."
"But it’s real."
"Fuck… It’s real?"
"It’s real."
"Goddamn it…"
Somehow, it looked like he had gotten himself employed at the academy.