Is This Even a Training Camp?
"Is this what they call a training camp? 'I deliberately didn't go to the academy with all those elves because they're disgusting.'"
Even reaching out to me, a third-year, just to whine about getting humiliated by a first-year. Questioning what era we're in, where they invoke race and beg a hero for something like this. Not even a real hero, but the "next-gen" hero, asking for a "witch hunt"? Did that failing, airheaded witch called Wiyu Witchcraft, infamous for flunking and being a klutz, cause chaos in school life? From the rumors I'd heard, even just peeking in, she was nothing but diligently studying.
"They probably want me to kill the evil witch that I am."
"I can totally picture what they're saying without even seeing it," snickered the second-year next-gen hero, Virtus Vivi, with a mocking laugh. It was probably because the first-years' training camp was coming up soon that they were making this request—but honestly, it didn't appeal to me much. They must've picked the fight first, then after getting their asses handed to them in an unsightly defeat, they beg an elf from another academy, bringing up kin and all that? Still— I was genuinely interested in that junior, Wiyu Witchcraft. When I entered as a first-year, not a single second- or third-year senior used a sword. It wasn't until I reached second-year that I finally met two promising newbies who caught my eye... As a swordswoman, I had this burning desire to clash blades at least once. If I were already a full hero, it'd be rude, but since I'm just the next-gen hero, essentially a "swordswoman" in practice.
"Still, should I go watch? My promising junior."
"Training camp, of course I'm in charge again."
The Divination professor answered nonchalantly, as if she were used to it by now. Complaints flying in from that snobby academy full of elves? She brushed them off lightly as a senior elf. Despite appearances, she had quite the "experience" under her belt and was even considering a flashy retirement. Being the first academy, it was a bit low-tier, but if she went to an elf academy, she'd land a high position for sure. But she had no desire to go to a place crawling with race-obsessed purists who quibble over blood purity.
She'd rather build a new school and teach young elves herself.
"Our academy demands fights just like the others... but training camps have special options too."
It was a legal chance for seniors to rob juniors of their points. But with second-years participating too, it was an even bigger boon for third-years.
"Third-years face all sorts of annoying restrictions when joining—but you know all about my unchecked authority, right?"
She'd be allowed to take down a few third-years, but that alone might not cut it. For graduation, if a golden opportunity arose to flip scores in one go, a teacher had to suggest it to the student.
"You've become a senior respected by your juniors now."
"When you graduate, don't you want to leave with at least a bouquet from them?"
Wasn't getting chased out without cheers from juniors in that beautiful final moment of youth the most pathetic thing? The Divination professor figured she wouldn't care much. She was always a loner, a problem child with no followers. But if there was a chance to change that...
"That'd be part of my record too!"
"I was almost touched, don't ruin it at the end."
How much do you know about school training camps? If your instructor's yelling "You're not here to play!", my condolences. Skip the tale of that author dragged onstage by "Hey, the quietest kid in class, wanna come up?" with zero human rights, humiliated in front of the whole school. Singing, dancing, then huddling around a bonfire bawling... yeah, events like that. While students suffered, the accompanying teachers (except the one in charge) snuck off for fun—minor detail.
Enough depressing memories...
Typical training camps go like this!!
Innocent first-years, clueless about what professors and seniors might do, were wide open. Beyond defenseless—they had zero motivation or purpose. Who'd imagine getting kidnapped to some random uninhabited island after being told to head outdoors for camp?
"Why's that? Feels like we gotta kill time for an hour like this."
"Uh... is a training camp usually just dump 'em on an island and make 'em survive?"
"What kind of barbaric class is this..."
They should've sensed something off when repeat first-years were excluded. Even if they did, escape was impossible anyway—no choices from the start. Students sitting by a bonfire, surviving without professors, had zero worries. Some races don't die even without water for a week—why panic?
"How's the camp briefing? Hunt naturally spawning beasts for points?"
Magic beasts that spawn naturally unlike monsters, depending on conditions. Easy to create artificially in academy environments, but risky. Still, nobles and commoners alike need to fight them in this world—preventive training, basically.
"Let's all yield to Wiyu."
"Even catching every beast on the island won't get enough points..."
Excluding repeats prevented first-years from failing promotion due to them. Borderline students especially needed to hunt bravely, but Wiyu had no drive. Simple math: even if she soloed everything, she'd flunk.
"Seen Greatsword Klutz?"
"If it were her, she'd charge yelling 'If I catch 'em all, I promote!'"
"Friendship's so fragile."
"No need to tank life together even if friends."
Call it survival skills—noble house head Ephemera had caught fish somewhere, grilling them over the fire.
"Knights are used to this training. Gotta camp anywhere."
"I'm used to forest life too."
"Hm, Chocolate? Think farmer and knight camping's different, probably."
Unsure what lurks in Witchcraft's rural woods, Ephemera figured it'd differ. Wiyu surely didn't camp where bears or tyrannos popped out, she mused, rubbing her chin.
"...Tyranno?"
What forest spits out a T-rex? Eyes averted from Wiyu drooling "Fry dino legs, delicious!" Classmates dodged her gaze.
"Guys, if she's hungry, she gonna eat us?"
"Zard, thanks till now."
"Ditching me so casually... orc plus octopus, can't be helped."
"Orc alone debatable, but octopus? No hope."
"Next my goat self?"
Not kidding—our Wiyu, with jaws that crunch bones, eats tons. Zeke Giratina recoiled at becoming centipede fry.
"Well, only us slacking anyway."
──Only if extremes hit. Greatsword Klutz went beast-hunting, while Yamucha led commoners into woods for food and water.
"No choice... practiced for survival classes!! Time to show 'Grown Wiyu''s power!!"
"Yeah!"
"One all-purpose witch handles everything anyway."
Beatus roused Wiyu to try hard now. Ephemera plopped down to watch Chocolate's growth efforts.
Beatus expected too, hearing Wiyu'd changed.
"Bueee!"
"Why's it coming from her mouth..."
"Cola from a beauty's mouth into yours?"
"When else to drink if not now?"
Ephemera shook her head at the orc chugging a bucket whole. On an island—not fish, but burgers and fries... Beatus looked unprepared for this too.
"What the hell."
Yamucha, back from woods with water and fruit, was baffled. Greatsword Klutz bathing in a drum barrel? Fine. But a concrete building smack on the beach? Absurd.
"Paint it too?"
"Spit?"
"Needs waterproofing...?"
"We doing island survival or what?"
Professors watching? Kids lounged inside, fires lit, hot meals, soaking in outdoor hot springs. Proper vacation—blissful "this is camp!" Ephemera admired inwardly how they'd transcended nuisance to joy-bringers, grilling more fish. Hygiene-wise, beauty-mouth water's iffy...
"Back to beast-hunting!!"
"Ooh!!"
Belly full, clean—Greatsword Klutz dashed out pumped. Multrenung, leashed as priest, dragged along. Healer noble? No rights—noble slave vibes.
Greatsword Klutz slashed every beast-form magic beast in woods. Multrenung just buffed from side, scooping points.
"...Huh? Dark magic?"
Suddenly, priest(?) sensed dark magic. Professors prepped something? Felt off. Called Greatsword Klutz, cautiously headed to source—cool cave, no sun.
Suspicious jar stored there.
"Smells like salt..."
Salt bad matchup for dark magic? Multrenung approached stinky thing first as priest. His holy power reacted—seal talisman burned, grotesque monster burst out.
Cabbage-like blue veggie body, worm-segmented grotesque form.
"Worm? But veggie?"
Even Greatsword Klutz, guardian house monster expert, first time. Then—"Chimera." She gripped greatsword tight.
"These days, first-years fight fun stuff like this?"
Blonde elf appeared, slicing Chimera Cabbage Worm. Didn't notice till head's eyeballs spasmed, scanning. Head strained to eat human, but chopped body rolled, yellow innards out.
"...Virtus Vivi senior...!"
To collector guardian Greatsword Klutz, next-gen hero was idol. Basically entered academy to meet her.
Response? Ice-cold bordering arctic.
"Who were you again?"
Still stung from "no talent." Not even worth remembering to next-gen hero. Shock brief.
"Ah, right. The pet of my talented junior?"
Virtus senior dropped elf-signature infuriating line, raised hand. Multrenung halved, vanished.
Multrenung has been hunted!
Alert blared overhead—hunt start signal. But then,
"Don't worry, other second-years too."
Hunted second-year names called next.
"I sliced all the third-years myself."
Proving next-gen hero title earned, she aimed hand.
"Still, you seem to use a sword—show me your skills?"
Too casual—Greatsword Klutz gritted teeth, swung greatsword.