A Stronger Team Than Expected

My search for teammates continued. Having failed to find anyone suitable among the second-years, I decided to pay a visit to the first-year wing this time.

Perhaps because they were still fresh-faced rookies, the first-years were a noisy, chattering bunch, a stark contrast to the more subdued second-years.

'The second-years have already survived the Demon Palace once during their first year, after all.'

There was a world of difference between the uninitiated chicks who had yet to experience the Demon Palace and those who had survived its horrors. Yet, even among these green first-years, there existed anomalies—outliers who defied the norm. I was referring to the first-year Special Class.

Possessing combat capabilities that wouldn't look out of place if thrown straight into the second-year curriculum, the students gathered in the Special Class operated on an entirely different dimension from their peers.

"Huh? Look at that short guy coming this way."

"Yeah. He's tiny."

The whispers of the students drifted over as they stared at me. However, their mouths quickly snapped shut the moment they caught sight of my name tag. The blue color symbolizing a second-year, coupled with the Student Council emblem—the dual authority of being an upperclassman and a Student Council member lent a heavy, imposing weight to my presence.

The first-years parted naturally, clearing a path for me. The treatment here was fundamentally different from when I walked down the second-year corridors.

'I've already scouted the members of the Special Class beforehand.'

But before approaching them, there was someone I needed to pick up first.

"You there, junior."

"Y-yes?!"

Singled out, the flustered underclassman answered in a hurry, standing at rigid attention as expected of a fresh first-year.

"Do you know where Aisha Bisbel is?"

The Greatsword Iron Maiden, Aisha Bisbel. She was the junior who joined me for morning training every single day. Since I owed her quite a bit from our sessions, I figured I might as well cash in on that favor and ask for a little more.

Upon hearing my question, the junior easily pointed me in her direction. It wasn't hard to find her, apparently, because she always did extra training during lunch breaks.

'Morning training, followed by more training right after lunch...'

At this rate, I had to wonder if Aisha was actually made of literal steel. She was a true iron woman, far surpassing the passive durability of my own Steel Skin.

Sure enough, when I reached the training hall, Aisha was there. Dressed in gym clothes instead of her school uniform, she was swinging a massive greatsword. Despite its absurd, unwieldy size, the blade traced clean, elegant arcs through the air. Seeing her in action again, her physical strength was truly mind-boggling.

"Aisha."

At my call, Aisha halted her swing. She turned around, her face lighting up with a bright, welcoming smile as she recognized me.

"Oh, Senior! What brings you all the way here?"

Seeing her smile, the junior who had guided me let out a gasp of sheer disbelief.

"T-The Greatsword Iron Maiden... smiled?!"

Observing his reaction, I easily pieced the situation together. Aisha held a rather intimidating, unapproachable status among the first-years. The Margraviate of Bisbel—the Bisbel House. To put it simply, the Bisbels were a warrior clan of the North. Men and women alike were towering figures of immense physical stature and robust constitutions.

In fact, the moment an ordinary man stood before a male of the Bisbel family, they would instantly feel biologically outclassed and utterly cowed. And Aisha was considered exceptionally gifted, even among the direct bloodline of that formidable house.

Furthermore, when she entered Jerion Academy, she did so through a special recommendation rather than the standard entrance exam. She was currently the top student in the Martial Arts department. Because she spent almost every waking hour training, she didn't have much of a social circle.

To put things in perspective, I, a second-year, was probably the person she talked to the most ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in the entire academy. Naturally, she was an intimidating figure to her peers. So, seeing this unapproachable warrior smile so warmly at me left the junior utterly dumbfounded.

He stared at me with a blank expression. His face practically screamed: Who on earth is this guy?

'I guess rumors about me haven't really spread among the first-years yet.'

Then again, they were probably too busy adjusting to academy life and keeping up with their classes to pay attention to school gossip.

"You can go now."

At my dismissal, he snapped out of his daze and quietly excused himself, though his eyes remained glued to me in bewilderment until the very moment he left.

"So, Senior, what brings you here?"

Meanwhile, Aisha wiped her sweat and approached me with a bright smile. I thoughtfully handed her a drink I had brought along, anticipating she would be working up a sweat.

"Ah, thank you so much."

"Aisha, have you decided on a team for the Demon Palace yet?"

Aisha popped the cap, took a sip, and shook her head. Just as I thought, she hadn't joined one yet.

"Forming a team is on my agenda this time. What do you say? Want to join?"

If someone of Aisha's caliber joined, there would be no better vanguard. At my offer, she finished her drink and flashed a healthy, vibrant grin.

"Was this drink a bribe for that?"

"Exactly. Now that you've drunk it, there's no escape. If you try to run, I'll blackmail you with bribery charges."

"How terrifying. I feel like you'd only come up with the strangest threats, Senior."

"Well, for starters, I might threaten to cut down on our morning training sessions."

"I will stop that even if I have to throw my entire body in the way."

The mental image of Aisha executing a full-body tackle sent a shiver of genuine fear down my spine.

"So, about the team?"

"I'll join. I think we make a great team anyway."

We had spent countless hours training together. At the very least, no one in the academy coordinated better with Aisha than I did. With this, I had secured two vanguards. All that was left was...

'A healer.' A student from the Divinity department.

Time marched on. Before long, the gentle warmth of early summer began to settle in. Jerion Academy was gripped by a level of tension higher than ever before.

The birth of an Apostle created by Akjon was predicted through the astrology of the four seasons. The finest day of spring. The day summer commenced. The day autumn's night stretched longer than its day. The coldest day of winter. When a season reached its absolute zenith, an Apostle would be born.

A newly born Apostle possessed only a fraction of its potential power. To capitalize on this vulnerability, academies across the globe deployed their students into the Demon Palace during these precise windows.

And today was that day—the onset of summer, when the heat began to intensify in earnest. At the entrance of the western sector of the Demon Palace, which fell under Jerion Academy's jurisdiction, a massive crowd of students gathered under the strict supervision of professors and assistant instructors.

Naturally, such a vast number of students wouldn't swarm into the labyrinth all at once. They would be deployed in waves, starting with the top-ranking third-years.

'The Demon Palace has an incredibly bizarre structure.'

An Apostle's ultimate objective was to escape the Demon Palace, ravage the surface world, and facilitate Akjon's awakening. Consequently, all Apostles were born in the hatchery on the very first floor.

However, to escape, they first had to journey to Akjon's side. A newborn Apostle was weak; if it tried to emerge immediately, it would easily be hunted down by the knights guarding the final defensive line outside the entrance. Thus, they chose to descend deeper into the labyrinth instead, absorbing Akjon's power to grow stronger.

As a result, the deeper an Apostle managed to descend, the more terrifyingly powerful it became. Once they achieved their complete form, they would begin their reverse ascent toward the surface.

The fundamental purpose of academies worldwide was to intercept and eliminate these Apostles before they could begin their march to the surface. To achieve this, students were sent down four times a year.

'No matter how I look at it, it's a bizarre setup.'

At the entrance of the Demon Palace, the third-years were the first to step through. I quietly stared at the gateway. It was a grotesque, gaping maw that looked like the very gates of hell, ready to swallow everything on the surface whole. That was the entrance to the Demon Palace.

'If I were Akjon, I would have just spawned the Apostles right next to me from the start.'

Why go through the trouble of spawning them at the entrance? Even as a veteran player who had spent years on the game, I never understood why the labyrinth was structured this way.

'In the first place...' The very existence of Akjon was shrouded in mystery. Even in the ending of the Flame Butterfly Chapter, it was left incredibly ambiguous whether Akjon had truly been defeated or not.

'Deus ex machina.' A god from the machine. A plot device inserted purely to keep the story moving. That was how the players referred to Akjon.

'Some speculated that the developers left Akjon's fate ambiguous to serve as the final boss in a sequel to Demon Palace Slayer.'

Unfortunately, the developers of Demon Palace Slayer had vanished without a trace, offering no updates for over five years. In the end, player theories ran wild, but there was never any official lore regarding Akjon.

"Hey, burnt sweet potato! Are you going to keep ignoring me?"

As I stood staring at the entrance, a shrill, nagging voice pierced my ears. Standing beside me was a red-haired girl with her hair tied in a high ponytail, her prominent forehead practically gleaming.

"When are our teammates getting here? Be honest, you tricked me, didn't you? It was all a lie!"

Seron Parmia. She had approached me around dinnertime yesterday, just a day before the final team registration deadline.

"Then again, there's no way kids like Poara or Aisha would ever team up with a burnt sweet potato like you. I was tricked! Totally tricked!"

...Is this girl a complete airhead?

Despite being utterly humiliated by me just yesterday, she was already back to her usual cocky self. At this rate, I had to wonder if she possessed a mental eraser that wiped her memory clean overnight.

I reached out and firmly pinched her lips shut. Seron's eyes widened in shock, and just as she was about to squawk in protest, I physically turned her face to redirect her gaze.

"Open your eyes and look. They're right there."

Aisha and Poara were walking toward us. When our eyes met, Poara bowed politely, while Aisha gave a brief, warm smile.

"...I'th true."

With her lips still pinched, Seron mumbled in a slurred voice. I finally let go of her mouth and wiped my fingers on her uniform.

"Th-then... what about the last member?"

Come to think of it, I hadn't told her who the final member was. As I turned my head, a figure walked toward us right on cue. One by one, the surrounding students began to turn their heads, their attention drawn to the newcomer.

While expressions of awe and reverence washed over the crowd, Seron's face did ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the exact opposite—her jaw dropped, and her eyes threatened to pop out of her skull.

"Wh-wha... Huh?!"

Seron had officially short-circuited.

"Let me introduce you."

I gestured toward the person approaching us. He possessed brilliant, pure-white blonde hair and wore a white robe adorned with intricate gold embroidery—the only non-standard uniform permitted within Jerion Academy.

"He's the Saint."

The final piece of our puzzle, our healer. The Saint, Sirmiyel Saint Eden.