The Road Back to Our Master

The announcement boomed across the grounds through amplified magic, and the applicants began streaming into the Academy—people who had been waiting for this moment for a few hours at the least, and more than a week at the most.

"The largest applicant pool in Academy history. What a madhouse."

Chancellor Bert Mustang, gazing down through the window of the reception room in the Tower's upper levels, tipped back his coffee and drained the lukewarm dregs.

"Well, the war with the Demon Realm just ended, you see. *Ahem.* In peaceful times, people start thinking about their futures, *hoo*, so demand for self-improvement naturally rises. That's all this is."

So spoke the tiny halfling woman seated at the antique round table, licking crushed pepper off her palm. Whether it was the weight of the enormous wizard's hat beneath the nametag reading Sage Pelia Alencia, or simply her tongue burning from the pepper, she wobbled on her seat again and again.

"Khah! Let's hope this year's crop has some real backbone in it. A big number's worthless when the rest are just a motley rabble anyway!"

the lion beastman Weapon Master Vande bellowed, hoisting a mithril dumbbell with a voice like a war drum.

"But Chancellooor, why aren't the new students here yet? I'm about to pass out. Just gonna sleep right here, I mean it."

Saint Sovereign Mullan Sitanta, robed in white, administered an injection to her own arm, rolled her bleary eyes back, and flopped over sideways.

The Chancellor looked at his three Chair Professors and shook his head. It had long since stopped being a surprise—they were entirely beyond his control, and he had given up expecting anything of them ages ago.

If only these three had been even remotely cooperative, running the Academy would have been three times easier.

Shall we say that "genius" had always been a synonym for "lunatic"? Every Chair Professor ever put in charge of a dormitory had been unhinged in some way or another, and these three were no exception.

They were, after all, professors so overwhelmingly talented that they had gone and picked up additional 4-Star and 5-Star titles on top of their positions. There was never a chance they would sit still and obey the Chancellor.

And on top of that, this year is full of variables.

With the war against the Demon Realm over, more than ten nations across the continent were dissolving their alliance and stepping into a new era.

What worried the Chancellor most, of course, was the Second Imperial Princess of the Empire—that superpower next door. He had managed to set a board in place for that particular game, but the succession was tangled up with far too many interested parties, and it gave him a permanent headache.

And now, three recommendation students the Goddess herself personally enrolled? What in the world am I supposed to do with that?

On rare occasions, when the Goddess had something to tell him, she delivered it through an oracle passed along by a church priest.

Utterly unpredictable, every last bit of it. "Peace" has always been the two hardest words in the world. Still, if there's one thing worth ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠looking forward to right now...

Creeeak—

At the sound of the door opening, the Chancellor turned his head. A man in a crisp, well-tailored suit walked in.

"...Who's this? Don't tell me he's a new Chair Professor?"

"Spare me your tasteless jokes!"

The man proudly bearing the nametag Slave Merchant—Wicker Phedia—straightened his back and stood before the three Chair Professors.

"A pleasure to meet you, Chair Professors. Since we're all newly acquainted, how about a little wager to break the ice?"

"Chancellor, what is the meaning of this? His nametag says Slave Merchant."

"I was quite certain the Goddess announced she had selected a new Chair Professor? He is hardly a criminal, surely!"

The moment I stepped into the reception room, the other Chair Professors made their open hostility toward me plain. The Chancellor merely shrugged.

"You all were never short on... colorful personalities to begin with, were you? Allow me to introduce you. This is Chair Professor Wicker Phedia, who will be taking charge of the Earth House."

At my introduction, the professors' expressions curdled on the spot. I had no intention of getting chummy with them anyway, so I got straight to the point.

"There are students I'd like to bring into the Earth House. I'd like you to yield them to me in the individual interviews."

"Why? Planning to pick them out and sell them off as slaves?"

The halfling sneered at me. CRACK! The lion beastman hurled his dumbbell to the floor and split the marble.

"Selling students into slavery?! Have you lost your mind! Injustice will not be tolerated, I say!"

"Eek! You startled me. What was that for? I told you already, didn't I—no joking around in front of the lion beastman, since he can't tell it from a real threat?"

The mature, eastern-featured human woman who had been sprawled across her seat staggered upright, groggily blinking herself awake. The prominent fangs poking out of her mouth were proof that other blood ran in her veins.

The Chair Professors of the Water House, the Fire House, and the Wind House respectively.

They were characters from the original story, so I already had a working grasp of their specialties and personalities.

Right then. Time to get to work.

"Isn't it only natural for a professor to want the finest seeds? As I understand it, the interview order has been set according to last year's graduation rankings. I'm newly appointed this year—isn't that unfair to me?"

The halfling gave a derisive snort and traced out a magic circle in the blink of an eye. The next instant, she teleported right up to my face and glared up at me, eyes blazing.

A distance she could easily have walked—and she insisted on showing off her teleportation.

"I don't care if you were some Hero's teacher or what, but don't you dare think you're the equal of me, a true Sage, without a single piece of research or achievement to your name. A slave merchant, of all things—damn that blasted Goddess. Who on earth sits someone like this in a Chair Professor's seat?"

"You little brat! Did you just insult the Goddess herself?!"

"Little brat? And are you making species-discriminating remarks at me, you overgrown beast? Oh, right—beasts have tiny scrap-brains, so you probably don't even know what that means."

The beastman and the halfling snarled at each other, hackles raised. I turned to the Chancellor.

"Is it always like ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠this?"

"Ha ha! Unless it's a special day like today, they don't even bother to gather in one room."

Seeing with my own eyes how easily these simple-minded creatures could be provoked, I had a feeling things would go smoothly.

"Item Box."

"What—?! Ugh, *ahem.*"

Ignoring the halfling's failed attempt to hide her shock at my magic, I drew a ledger from within and tossed it onto the table.

"That is a list of the students I want. I propose that none of them be claimed for your dormitories in the interviews."

"Pffhah! Idiot. Why on earth should I do that?"

Unlike the halfling, who kept radiating disgust, the human woman showed a flicker of interest.

"Hee hee, that does sound like fun. But Mr. Slave Merchant, there's no guarantee your list applicants even make it past the third trial, is there?"

'Mr.'? What's with the 'Mr.'? She looks a good ten years older than me. Creepy.

I lifted my chin and looked down at them.

"That's precisely why I called it a wager. The list holds twenty names. If every one of them clears the third trial, I win, and you honor my proposal."

"You're betting that twenty specific applicants out of thousands all survive to the third trial? Pffhah! Are you an idiot? Can you not do basic probability?"

The halfling doubled over, clutching ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠her belly and cackling.

"And what will YOU be putting up if YOU lose?!"

The beastman's booming question hung in the air, and I answered.

"If even a single one of them falls short, I will resign my post as Chair Professor on the spot."

"What?! Wait—Professor Phedia!"

The Chancellor's face went ashen at my words. The three Chair Professors, on the other hand, looked thoroughly entertained.

A wager is, put another way, a gift transaction.

It was my field of absolute expertise.

Except—

"Well then, shall we?"

This time, I hadn't come to trade. I'd come to fleece them.

"All done! Dig in, everyone!"

Tia, apron tied on, gave her fingers a light snap and put out the fire. The pleasant sizzle of cooking meat faded from the frying pans she'd been floating midair.

"Meat Tia makes is the best."

"Aw, thank you! Eat up!"

Luca and Yuri settled onto rocks near Tia and each took a pan. Yuri tore into the meat with her bare hands; Luca skewered hers with her sword and started ripping off chunks.

"You two are hopeless. Hold on—I'll cut it for you now."

Tia, unable to watch them smear meat juice all over their faces any longer, cast a cutting spell and diced the meat into cube-steak pieces. Yuri popped a cube in whole and beamed.

"Your cooking's gotten even better, Tia."

"Hee hee, you think? I spent a lot of time alone at the Magic Tower, so I had plenty of chances to practice."

"I was alone too, but I was too lazy. Mostly just ate things raw."

"Meat."

"Luca, you're going to wreck your health like that?"

"I've got Aura, so it's fine? See—my skin's already super good, look."

At that, Tia reached over to wipe Luca's mouth, stroking her cheek while she was at it.

"Soft as a baby's. Aura really does wonders, huh. Maybe I should learn the sword too."

Yuri, who had been watching the two of them with a fond smile, turned her head.

"Aisha, aren't you eating?"

A little way off from the group, Aisha sat with her head sunk low, looking utterly spent.

"You think food stays down around you three lunatics? ...No, wait, you're eating perfectly well. Honestly, putting everything around you through hell and still having the appetite. Unbelievable."

Aisha sighed. Yuri shrugged.

The four of them sat inside an enormous cavern—which until moments ago had been a nest. All around them lay the carcasses of giant black dragons.

"Those dragons were so mean. We were just passing through, and they attacked us first!"

"No, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you're not supposed to enter a dragon's territory in the first place... Never mind. What's the point of arguing. I'm going to go dig through their hoard."

"Meat, though. So it's fine."

Luca carved through her dragon steak with gusto.

"I'd say she likes it. The black dragons did collapse in the blink of an eye, after all—Luca was just that hungry."

"Luca's sword is suuuper fast. The second it goes click! out of the sheath, any monster drops!"

"The Master taught me that move."

"Really? That's our Master for you! So he already had techniques like that back then."

Luca found herself remembering a certain day from her childhood—the day Wicker taught her the sword.

Surfacing from the old memory, Luca found the corners of her mouth curling up before she knew it.

Now that she herself had reached the rank of Sword Saint, she understood. Back then, Wicker had pulled that little trick just to make a small kid laugh.

All those memories that used to be painted only in darkness had been overlaid with his kindness, and now nothing remained but a soft sponge cake.

I was so painfully serious back then.

When we meet again, I want to lie around on the couch together and mess around a little, too—so thinking, the words slipped out of Luca before she realized it.

"I miss the Master. Want to see him already."

"Eek, same. Me too."

"Me too."

The three of them shared the same feeling, staring blankly up at the cavern ceiling—and then, in perfect unison, broke into the same stupid grin.

"That stalactite over there on the ceiling... doesn't it kind of look like the Master?"

"Oh my gosh, I was thinking the exact same thing!"

"Agreed."

Just as peace had settled over the three of them, a scraping clatter suddenly rang through the cavern.

"Hey, hey, hey! Look at this! These black dragons were hiding all sorts of good stuff in their treasure hoard!"

"Whoa!"

It was Tia who leapt to her feet first, recognizing what the absurdly oversized thing Aisha came dragging back was—far too large to be a mere artifact.

Before them stood an airship.