Surviving Knight Academy (2)

The Griffin Knight Academy — the Empire's training ground for magic knights — was, by the standards of my previous life, something like a military academy.

Tactics, martial arts, magic, and more: you studied it all, and you endured army-style drills on top of that.

The problem… was that those drills were brutal beyond reason.

"A magic knight of the Empire must grow stronger without end! How hard have you trained since the entrance exam? Do you possess the makings of a knight…? As announced during orientation — we will put you to the test!"

With that declaration, the instructor sent every first-year cadet — myself ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠included — on a mountain run.

These lunatics…!

Every last one of them was absurdly fast.

The way some streamer from my past life used to film binge-eating mukbangs while running a marathon — for these people, that would have been a casual jog.

Without warning, the instructor pointed toward the mountain peak.

"There's a finish line at the summit! First come, first served! Cadets who place first through third will each receive fifty merit points; fourth through tenth will receive thirty! I trust you all understand how important merit points are!?"

A sudden gleam lit the cadets' eyes.

Their goal was to join the most prestigious magic knight order in the land. The better your grades and the more merit points you racked up at the Academy, the higher your odds of getting in.

"Conversely — starting the moment I shout 'Begin' — anyone who fails to reach the finish line within thirty minutes will be expelled on the spot! If your stamina runs out, use magic, crawl on your hands and knees, do whatever it takes to survive! Figuring out how to stay alive in any situation is a skill every knight needs!"

You have got to be kidding me…!

This damned Academy trained the Empire's finest magic knights, and it was anything but merciful. It periodically weeded out the chaff, filtering out anyone unfit for the role. You couldn't exactly knight every dog and cat that wandered in off the street.

That was the truth of it. Becoming a cadet here only meant you'd earned the bare minimum chance to become a magic knight someday.

Story or no story — if I wash out here, none of it matters.

If I couldn't keep my footing at the Knight Academy, I'd lose access to huge stretches of the plot. It was effectively game over.

Like an idiot, I'd been thinking of the future purely in terms of game progression and completely overlooked this kind of trial. The weeding-out process only ever got described in the story text — the player never actually got expelled.

Ah, Master… back at the training hall, you told me I had no chance of making it at the Knight Academy. Only now do I finally understand the depth of your wisdom…

"You half-baked squires! Did you hear me!?"

"Sir, yes sir!!"

The cadets roared back as if possessed.

"All right — Begin!"

Whoosh!!

Whoa—!

The cadets exploded into a dead sprint, kicking up a gale so fierce it set my hair and clothes flapping. Dirt and dust billowed up in clouds, and I was left coughing and hacking in their wake.

These maniacs — they hadn't even been running at full power until now?

"I—I can't…"

"Ghhhk, aaagh…!"

"Hah… hah… ahh…!"

Of course, there were plenty of cadets in roughly the same shape as me. One by one, they fell away — collapsing, crumpling, pounding their own thighs and fighting back tears. Cadets with weaker wills than mine, or stats about as miserable as my own.

Before long, my body was hitting its limit too.

Good thing I managed to grow a little beforehand…

Days of relentless training had paid off — my stat grades had gone up. Completing the special achievement One Step Toward Mastery had opened a path for growth and accelerated my rate of improvement.

If I hadn't even managed this much, I'd already be sharing the fate of those cadets falling behind.

I clenched my teeth and ran. My lungs burned as if they were being crushed. My legs screamed in protest.

And then I was certain.

Ah… this isn't going to work.

At this rate, I wasn't going to make the finish line in time.

But quitting never once crossed my mind.

Ever since recovering my past-life memories, I'd been saving something for a rainy day. Now was the time to use it.

I scanned my surroundings.

…There he is!

A male cadet with gray-brown hair stood out — bearlike in both height and bulk. Narrow eyes, a rugged face, and thick, eye-catching muscle. He was charging forward on that massive frame without so much as breaking his breathing. Looked like he had energy to spare.

The barbarian.

A half-supporting character from the original story. I couldn't say the same for the other cadets — but with that barbarian, I might just be able to ask for help.

I forced myself closer.

"B-hah… Bar… barian…!"

"What."

The barbarian glanced my way and answered in a deep, wary rumble.

I managed to catch enough breath to get the words out.

"Let's… make a deal…!"

"A deal?"

I reached into my coat.

"This…!"

I pulled out a piece of jerky.

Before enrolling at the Academy, I'd made a huge batch to save money — and after recovering my past-life memories, I'd deliberately held on to it.

The barbarian stared at the jerky with a puzzled look.

As I recalled, this guy loved jerky. Sure, who didn't like jerky — but by this point in the story he was broke, surviving on free cafeteria meals and unable to buy snacks like this.

"It's… all I've got on me right now…! Hah… Could you… help me out…!?"

"I do like jerky… but I'm not so soft that one strip would make me help a complete stranger."

The barbarian's head turned back toward the trail ahead.

"It's made from… horned deer meat…!"

His head twitched.

That's your favorite, isn't it. You don't have any friends who'd go get this for you. And I'm offering it to you?

"…I have already spoken my mind. A warrior does not take back his words."

This principled bastard. He wasn't going to make it easy.

No choice, then.

Biting back tears, I pulled out the small pouch stuffed with the rest of the jerky.

"I'll give you… all of it…!"

"……!"

The barbarian's eyes went wide. It was clearly more jerky than he could casually refuse.

"Let me try just one…"

Got him.

The moment I managed a nod, the barbarian fished a piece from the pouch and popped it into his mouth.

He chewed slowly, savoring every bit of the flavor — then whirled on me with eyes blazing with resolve.

"Hear me well…. I, Turak, warrior of the Blue Mane Tribe, do not abandon a comrade."

Well, well…

What a beautifully materialistic brand of camaraderie…

"How shall I assist you?"

"Push me…!"

"Understood."

Turak planted one enormous hand against my back and shoved me along at a pace I could match. Running became considerably easier.

There was nothing wrong with it, either. The instructor had told us to survive by any means necessary.

Even so — extra force or not — it was still agony.

"Hah… hah…! Ghk…! I'm dying…!"

"Hold on a little longer. Jerky… no — comrade."

Then — a light touch.

Another hand settled against my back. Far smaller than the barbarian's massive palm.

"Um…"

"Hm?"

A female cadet had quietly drawn up on my left.

Long, wavy dark-purple hair cascading down. Her left bangs covered one eye. The other eye, the one that was visible, refused to meet mine.

"I'll help too…"

A timid voice slipped out between her small teeth — a voice utterly devoid of confidence.

I was startled. I knew that face.

The necromancer…?

A dark mage and necromancer. Young lady of a renowned magical house — Violet Blackgarden. The only person who'd sensed Magi during the train incident.

Wariness flared instantly.

Had she figured out my identity and come looking? Had she found some scrap of evidence that made her suspicious of me? I had no desire to have my secrets spilled to someone I hadn't even built trust with yet.

"Hang in there…! You've been running so hard — you can't get expelled…!"

…It was a timid little cry.

Then, as if mortified by her own words, the necromancer abruptly looked away and muttered under her breath.

"SorryforsayingsomethinglikethatI'msorryforbuttingin…"

She seemed to have plunged straight into self-loathing.

Maybe she'd seen Turak helping me and decided to pitch in. Or maybe, unlike the cadets who'd already dropped out, watching me keep running even as I hit ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my limit had made her want to help.

She was a dark mage, so people had a bad impression of her — but her personality was genuinely kind.

Suspicion or goodwill… either way, does it matter?

Whatever her reasons, the result might actually work in my favor. Through the point of contact, the necromancer would be sensing my mana right now — and confirming that I was not the one who'd taken down the demon on the train.

"Hah — n-no, thank… you…. Hah… hah…"

"You lot… at this rate you're all going to be late, you know?"

The instructor matched our pace with a wicked grin.

"Hah… hah…!"

Like wringing the last scrap from a spent tube of toothpaste — like squeezing one more drop of water from a dry rag — I poured out every last ounce of strength I had and ran alongside the barbarian and the necromancer.

Before long, the finish line came into view, another instructor waiting there.

"Ten, nine, eight…!"

As the instructor deliberately counted down loud and clear, eyes on his wristwatch, applying the pressure —

"We made it!!!"

We finally crossed the finish line.

I collapsed. The strength drained from my legs in an instant, and I went sprawling face-first into the dirt. Clean mountain air flooded my lungs. Ah — my ribs hurt…

"Hwaaah, we did it…!"

"Well done."

"We did it! Ehehe!"

Turak's expression had been solemn from start to finish. The necromancer was grinning from ear to ear.

These two don't look tired at all…

Turak, thanks to his racial traits, was born with exceptional physical ability. The necromancer had vast mana reserves and had long since mastered body-enhancement magic.

…Somehow that just made me feel pathetic.

"That's the guy, right? The one who couldn't even break the target at the entrance exam."

"He survived, though. With help. I mean, that takes something, I guess…"

"A barbarian and a dark mage…. What kind of combo even is that…?"

Maybe it was because we'd staggered in dead last in such a conspicuous fashion. Whispers about us drifted over from the other cadets. I was too drained to muster a retort, and too exhausted to care, so I just ignored them.

"Hhk, ugh…!"

"Hah… hah…!"

The remaining cadets arrived belatedly as well. But the instructor showed no mercy.

"The cadets whose numbers I call will all be processed for expulsion in short order. Numbers ten, twelve, twenty-two, forty-five, sixty-one, seventy-nine…"

Ten cadets were cut.

The failed students begged for one more chance, pleaded for clemency — but the instructor was ice-cold.

"Do not diminish the Empire's prestige. Know your place and leave."

The expelled cadets wept quietly, bit their lips to hold back fury, or tried to protest. The instructor ignored them all.

"Hey. Number Seventeen."

"Cadet Number Seventeen, Ron Hazley…!"

The instructor looked down at me with a broad grin. I forced out my name and number.

Damn it. Still hard to breathe.

"You somehow dodged expulsion. Congratulations! What a tear-jerking finish that was! Such moving camaraderie!"

"Sir! Th-thank you…!"

I knew perfectly well he didn't mean a word of it kindly.

Then a touch of gravity settled over the instructor's previously hearty face.

"…You may have survived this time by leaning on your classmates' abilities — but if you stay like this going forward, I can't guarantee you'll have a future here."

He broke back into a grin and bellowed,

"So train harder! ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Understood, Number Seventeen!?"

"Sir…! Understood…!"

I already knew that better than anyone… but hearing it out loud still cut deep.

Violet was painfully shy around people.

She hadn't always been that way by nature. After she set foot on the path of dark magic, the finger-pointing and the snide whispers behind her back had gradually worn her spirit down.

So under ordinary circumstances, she never would have chosen to help some random cadet during a long-distance run with expulsion on the line.

Night. The women's dormitory.

Violet sat twisting a lock of dark-purple hair around her finger, lost in thought. Atop her desk, a tiny skeleton puppy — its body formed of cherry-blossom-pink mana — trotted back and forth.

I thought it might have been him…

She had been searching for the powerful figure who'd slain the demon during the train incident. At the time, she'd quietly deployed a small familiar and her magic to comb the train thoroughly — and she'd found a section of window frame where the dust had been partially wiped away, leaving a faint handprint. Marks that suggested someone had gripped the frame and gone outside.

Among the cadets seated in that area had been her classmate, Ron. She couldn't say for certain, but he was someone worth suspecting.

So during the run, she'd deliberately approached him, used helping as a pretext to rest her hand on his back, and felt his mana.

"It wasn't him."

The way Ron had struggled to run could have been written off as inspired acting. But the mana he carried was unmistakably meager and frail. He was simply a weak cadet. What she'd seen from him during the run had been no performance.

It's not as if you can just hide your mana because you want to…

Had she missed something? Maybe she'd drawn the wrong conclusion from fragmentary clues alone. And why wouldn't she have? Her quarry was an extraordinary powerhouse. Trying to judge how he'd killed the demon and vanished based solely on her own lazy assumptions and reasoning was the truly ridiculous approach.

So she would withhold judgment for now. Violet decided to remain at the stage of suspicion.

The skeleton puppy tilted its head. Instead of a bark, its bone joints clacked together with a dry rattle. Violet stroked the little skull.

Suddenly the memory of running alongside the weakest cadet, Ron, and the barbarian, Turak, filled her mind.

But somehow… it was fun.

Even if her original intent had been to track down a mysterious powerhouse, she'd ended up stumbling into a genuinely enjoyable experience. For Violet — who, thanks to the stigma of being a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠dark mage, had never had a single friend — working together with others toward a shared goal had been the stuff of dreams.

It was nothing less than the romantic youth she'd only ever been able to imagine.

At the very least, those two cadets might look at her kindly.

Violet smiled softly.

"Maybe even I could make some friends…. Ehehe…"

"Huh?"

As if it had witnessed something it would rather unsee, the skeleton puppy scolded its master in all seriousness.