42. The Little Stream Has Grown into a River

The one-on-one tutoring sessions carried on steadily. There were individual differences, of course, but all twenty students I had picked for the Hall of Earth burned with determination.

A few of them were a bit unruly, which gave me some pause, but they had only just begun. There was no rush—we would take it one step at a time.

I was preparing materials in my office and heading out of the dormitory to meet my next student when an ear-grating commotion came storming toward me.

"Hey, hey, hey! Slave Merchant! Hold it right there!"

"Professor of the Hall of Earth! We have a request!"

Two figures came barreling at me with terrifying momentum—a tiny Halfling and a hulking giant.

Phelia and Kulan.

Phelia I could understand, but Kulan and I had never exchanged a single word. What could this possibly be about?

"Slave Merchant! Do you even know how lucky you are? How did a talent like Testia end up in your dormitory? Why in the world didn't a mage like her come to the Hall of Water!"

Phelia rattled off her grievances. I bent slightly at the waist to meet her eyes.

"The reason's simple enough, is it not? Student Testia simply has the most to learn from me."

"Don't spout nonsense! I've already scanned her. A once-in-a-thousand-years—no, once-in-ten-thousand-years genius of magic! Under a Sage like me, she'd grow into a figure who changes history itself!"

"She has no wish to study magic under you, I'm afraid."

"Hah? And you're just going to let that slide? Do you have any idea what a loss that would be for the history of mankind? Hey, how can you call yourself a professor and still say that?"

"Of course I can. Is a professor's role not to help students find the path they themselves desire?"

"You absolute lunatic—! Fine, then trade her right now. You know Jayce Pashpur, the Grand Archmage, yes? The first talent the Magic Tower has produced in a thousand years. I'll hand her over. Take her instead!"

"Professor, Jayce is my comrade. That's hardly something you should be offering!"

Kulan, who had been letting Phelia monopolize the conversation this whole time, finally pushed back.

Kulan the Dragon Knight. The bearer of the Hero's Crest and protagonist of the original story. Jayce was one of the heroines fated to be entangled with him.

Needless to say, my answer had been decided long before he opened his mouth.

"No need. Our values don't align in the first place. My Testia is worth far more. Besides, in all my years as a merchant, I have never once traded in people."

"Hah! Then what would it take for you to trade her?"

"You could hand me the entire Hall of Water and I'd still decline, but if you insist I pick something... let's see."

I drew out the pause, and Phelia's eyes lit up with anticipation.

"If you offered Phelia Alencia, the Sage, in exchange, I might give it consideration."

"What is that supposed to mean? If I'm gone, who's going to teach Student Testia?"

I curled the corners of my mouth upward and tapped my nametag with a finger.

"...Excuse me? You'd take me as a slave? You absolute—!"

Only then realizing she'd been strung along, Phelia's face flushed crimson, and she spun on her heel and stormed off.

I turned to the one who remained.

"And you?"

"I demand a rematch with Lucas the swordswoman."

A rematch, hm. It seemed Luca had thoroughly demolished Kulan during Vande's combat lecture.

I already knew very well how high Luca's level was, even from just a partial look at her skill readout.

"You're not going to win, you know. Why bother with a rematch at all?"

"What did you say? It was never a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠proper duel in the first place! And you weren't even there to witness it!"

"I don't need to see it to know. If you want to cross blades with Lucas, at least match her level before you show up. That scribble on the back of your hand won't make you invincible."

Kulan was not a Hero yet.

The Hero's Crest was, at most, a mark designating its bearer as a Hero candidate.

Only by endlessly tempering and honing oneself, by surmounting every wall, did one finally earn the birthright of a Hero.

Kulan frowned deeply, his brow knotted. A little more prodding and he looked ready to take a swing at me.

The Kulan of this era was arrogant, combative, and frankly insufferable—a brat through and through.

He did gradually mature through various incidents at the Academy, but most of those events had already been erased now that the Demon King's army was gone.

"Level, you say. You seem to know a great deal about Lucas, Professor."

"Of course I do. She's my student. Come back with at least Dragon Mage Knight or better. Until then, you'd only be wasting your time, so leave Lucas alone."

"Hah! You think I can't reach 4-Star? Fine. I'll climb as high as it takes. And when I do, I'll make you kneel."

Kulan stomped his foot with a thud and stalked away, snorting steam from his nostrils.

"Th-that was intense.... Professor, are you sure it's wise to be feuding with the Hall of Water?"

Sersi poked her head out anxiously, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠worrying on my behalf. I answered lightly.

"Perfectly fine. Student Testia and Student Lucas are both seeking callings outside of magic and the sword. People like that are nothing but a nuisance to them."

"They didn't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠exactly look like they were ready to give up, though."

"Then I'll simply have to block them again. Isn't that what I'm here for, after all? It's time for my next student—I'll be off."

And I moved on.

"Ah!"

Tia, who had been eavesdropping on Wicker from the corridor of the Hall of Earth, clutched her chest and sagged against the wall.

"Luca, could you check if my heart's all right? I think it's bursting from happiness."

"Can't. Mine already burst."

Luca, standing beside her, was likewise savoring the words Wicker had left behind, eyes closed.

"Is it really all right for us to be this happy? Our master cares about us and only us, this much..."

"I'm getting static shocks."

While Tia and Luca were wrapped up in their bliss like a pair cocooned in fluffy blankets, Yuri pulled her chin down and went quiet.

Should I have done something too?

But the mere fact of causing their master any trouble was already a burden on him, wasn't it?

It had been her who stepped forward first when Xuehua was being treated unfairly, after all.

And Tia hadn't even meant anything by it—she had simply happened to catch another Chair Professor's eye.

Why do Tia and Luca get his attention more than I do?

Yuri's mind churned with a tangle of thoughts, and at the end of that circling spiral, a small crack formed alongside her conclusion.

Master still thinks of us as little children.

So it's only natural that his attention goes to the ones who can look after others, rather than the ones who just behave sweetly...

...But I want him to notice me more, too.

If asked whether the attention Wicker gave her now was insufficient, it honestly wasn't.

Just as in the old days, he was always there for them, always considerate. It felt, at last, like she was being repaid for all those lonely hours spent apart from him.

The problem was that it was for all of them.

Every time she spent time with Wicker, the desire to have him look at her alone—not Luca, not Tia—was sinking its roots deeper and deeper.

Right, we were in the middle of a contest.

Yuri reminded herself, anew.

Back when they were slaves as children, and even now, as Heroes.

With Luca and Tia, who were like sisters to her, sharing everything and staying together had always felt like the most natural thing in the world, and so it had always been.

But somehow, for the very first time, the thought came to her: this can't go on.

...What does Master need most right now?

An outstanding student.

A student dependable enough to shield even the rest of them all.

...I have to show him that I'm no longer a child who needs looking after.

Yuri resolved that on the day of the practical dungeon expedition, she would show him her true worth without fail.

A week later, the second lecture of Dungeon Studies arrived.

Having gone around once already, the routine was starting to settle. That said, I was always ready to handle whatever variables might arise.

When I stepped into the lecture hall, the atmosphere had shifted considerably from that first class the week before.

The murmuring took noticeably longer to die down this time. Countless eyes fixed themselves on me.

I walked to the lectern, activated the whiteboard, and swept my gaze across the students.

One hundred and twenty.

The hall was filled to its absolute capacity.

"Well, I shan't be taking attendance, it seems."

I opened with a light joke. The students who had gotten in through course adjustments shouted back at me.

"I came after hearing the rumors!"

"They say the paper you published is going into the Kingdom's Royal Library!"

"I heard if we take this ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠course, we get to go into a dungeon with Lucas the Hero Slayer!"

"I want to go with Testia!"

"Is it true what they say, that we get Fruits of Experience if we pay attention?"

I even caught Sion sitting in the very front row, gnawing on her nails.

"I'm supposed to be the only one in on this... who leaked everything... it's over, it's all over!"

I chuckled and began flowing mana into the whiteboard, writing out my notes.

"Let us begin. Today, we'll first cover how to structure a party depending on the type of dungeon."

Every student in the room hung on my words and my writing.

Now and then I glanced back at Luca, Tia, and Yuri. All three were diligently taking notes, faces brimming with smiles—as if something had them utterly delighted.

Partway through, I held up my sack of candy.

"Up to here—is there anyone with questions?"

Every single hand in the lecture hall shot up.

"Something's wrong."

Aisha the Sword Saint could feel it in her bones—things were going badly.

More than a month had already passed since she took up her post at the Academy. In that time she had taught swordsmanship to a great many students as an instructor.

"Why isn't anything happening?"

Reality had diverged wildly from the fantasy she'd nursed: that the moment she arrived at the Academy, she'd be flanked by handsome young male students on both arms.

Wake, lecture, train, sleep.

She was living the healthiest of healthy days.

"This is exactly like being back in the army! How did it come to this?!"

And to be fair, it was obvious why.

Relationships between men and women begin with conversation, as the saying goes.

No matter how long two people share the same space, without exchanging words you won't even know their name.

Well, technically you could read it off their nametag.

But what student in their right mind would dare approach her first—a war hero, one of only three Sword Saints on the continent, and a General of the Empire?

Not just the students—even the faculty regarded her the way one regards a proud, untouchable work of art, too awed to strike up casual conversation.

Even when she pretended to correct a stance and let her hands brush a handsome male student's body...

'Ugh, my apologies, General! I will correct it at once!'

All that came back was a stiff, discipline-soaked shout. Nothing ever drifted into anything remotely suggestive.

"And now they've all gone and gotten girlfriends within a week, every last one of them! That Borian brat is already juggling three!"

Spring, a season of new beginnings; dormitory life where everyone lived together; healthy young adults. Considering all of that, it was only to be expected.

"This cannot stand."

The Silver-Blue Festival was fast approaching, and the season for pairing up with someone to stroll through it together was upon them. If she dawdled any longer, the outcome was obvious: she'd be drinking alone at the Academy's grandest festival.

"Who... who could I even talk to about this?"

It was then that Aisha realized how very narrow her circle of friends was.

The only people at the Academy she could talk to were Lucas, Testia, and Yuri.

"Though they haven't been much fun to deal with lately either..."

Ugh, whatever. She'd just go see them.

Aisha set off, without any particular plan, toward the Hall of Earth dormitory.

Stepping inside, she found it strangely quiet.

Barely anyone here, hm?

During daytime lecture hours it was normal for a dormitory to be empty save for the housekeeper.

In particular, all the first-years of the Hall of Earth had already headed off to prepare for the Dungeon Studies lectures about to begin.

Now, which one was Lucas's room...

Aisha used a light resonance pulse. It was a skill by which aura users could search for one another. She quickly located Luca's trace, walked down the left corridor on the first floor, and slipped into a room.

"Ooh, now this is a nice room."

Better quarters than mine? Is this any way to treat a Sword Saint? As Aisha grumbled and rummaged through Luca's bed, where faint traces of her aura still lingered—

The door burst open and someone walked in. Aisha, who had been about to greet Luca, instinctively dove under the bed—the habit of a lifetime spent hunting assassins.

Because the person entering was not Lucas.

Who—? A man? What business does he have in Lucas's room? Should I kill him?

Aisha checked his nametag.

Huh?

She knew him. But before she could think another word, Aisha found herself clapping both hands over her mouth.

Because the Slave Merchant, acting as though this room were his own, had begun pulling off his shirt with the easy comfort of a man changing clothes.