Chapter 17
I was surprised.
I’d expected her to go after Lydia, but she moved much faster than I’d thought.
Of course, I’d already shown everyone the simplest strategy—go after the support in the back—so they had no trouble responding to it.
I remembered the time I’d run straight past Aila and Laura and body-slammed Lydia.
When she first hit the ground, she’d made dying noises. But humans really were creatures of adaptation; before long, she was popping right back up like a jack-in-the-box.
Laura had complained that it was practically blasphemy, while Aila had just laughed as if she were enjoying herself.
After all that training, Lydia had gotten good at responding, too.
As expected, actions speak louder than words.
“Ahem.”
An old man’s cough interrupted my thoughts.
I raised my head and looked at the ring held out before me.
A copper-colored ring with nothing distinctive about it.
“Our gratitude to the talents who will lead the future.”
The old man handed me the ring as he said this.
Headmaster Gildar.
The academy’s headmaster, and one of the few truly upright people.
Back when <Dark Fantasy Saga> began, he looked about ten years older than he did now.
I guess it’s true what they say: hardship changes a person.
“And our gratitude to all of you.”
[Awe rises!]
[Awe: 99%]
I glanced at the status window.
One percent? Was it mocking me?
Anyway.
I turned my gaze back to Gildar.
Gratitude.
Both the protagonist and I heard that word often.
Perhaps it was because people believed that those who bore Stigmas could save the world. The academy’s students and graduates, as well as those fighting on the front lines, were always thanked.
Of course, that also meant they bore a heavy burden.
Thank you.
“I’ll put it to good use.”
I replied calmly, accepted the ring, and the three behind me received rings as well.
Gildar’s brow furrowed slightly at my words, but he handed me the ring without comment.
“...”
Holding the ring, I gazed at it for a moment, then looked at the others.
The three of them examined their rings, then slipped them onto their fingers.
At the same time, a status window appeared.
[VIT increased by 1.]
I felt a little stronger.
Not full of energy, exactly. How should I put it?
I suppose I just felt a little healthier than before.
Aila and Laura had also put on their rings and were looking at themselves in wonder.
Except Lydia.
“Ah, I’m not allowed to wear one because of Church doctrine...”
So many things were forbidden.
She’d manage.
Anyway, everyone except Lydia had put on a ring.
“In recognition of your hard work.”
Gildar raised his hand.
It looked like things were about to wrap up nicely.
“I’ll be entrusting the future of the continent to you from now on, too.”
Headmaster Gildar said this as he stared intently at me.
What? Why was he staring so hard?
After holding my gaze for a long moment, Gildar looked away.
At least he was the first person I’d met so far who could stare at me without showing any negative feelings.
“Well, you may go.”
He waved his hand as he said it.
And so, the proficiency test ended with our victory.
*
Different.
The woman, who ran the campus shop and also served in the emperor’s intelligence unit, recalled what she had seen.
His gaze had remained steady throughout the battle, and there had been no sign of madness.
A Stigma was ultimately both a blessing and a curse.
Those who wielded its power earned everyone’s gratitude, while those consumed by it were called traitors.
And all such people shared a common trait.
An undeniable madness.
The eyes of a madman, or a dangerous air that made it seem as if they could explode at any moment.
But that man, Aiden Starfive, showed no signs of madness at all.
Calm to the very end, he swung his sword and entrusted his back to his companions.
No matter how she looked at it, he was different somehow.
That composure, that audacity.
The shopkeeper frowned as she sorted through her inventory.
She moved an empty crate of high-grade potions off to the side, wrote <Stolen> in the ledger, and closed it.
This was all being done with imperial funds. One crate of high-grade potions wouldn’t even be noticed.
“…”
Should she set out one more?
He never said thank you, but he never took the potions for granted, either. He drank them.
More than anything, he always tied up the empty bottles to show that he’d used them.
As the woman debated it, she pulled out another crate of potions and attached a note that read <Scheduled for Theft>.
-Tap! Tap!
Something knocked on the shop window.
Without even looking surprised, the shopkeeper opened the window, and a small pigeon flew in with a note tied to its leg.
A message from the intelligence unit.
Thinking it was just the usual report and intelligence briefing, she opened the note without much thought.
“…”
Still holding the note, her eyes widened.
She set down the note, then hurriedly picked up the small crate of high-grade potions marked <Scheduled for Theft> and hurried off.
Before leaving, she glanced at the note again.
<Traitor invasion beginning in the south; personnel to be drafted and support requested from the academy.>
<The team of students with the best result in this proficiency test will be taken.>
*
They say a word without legs can travel a thousand miles.
Within days of the proficiency test, ominous rumors began spreading through the academy.
Rumors that the south of the continent was under attack.
Of course, the continent was invaded practically every day.
What they called a defensive battle event.
Every intelligent being on every other continent had either died or been driven here.
Traitors were constantly invading to seize the last remaining continent.
As a result, the strongest fighters were divided among the east, west, north, and south.
“The south means necromancers, right?”
“Yeah. My family escaped from the continent below, too.”
I listened to the conversations around me and sorted through the information.
Necromancer.
A traitor who also appeared in <Dark Fantasy Saga>.
It was the first defensive battle boss beginners faced.
Even a year before the main story, that guy was causing a ruckus.
<To save the one he loved, he accepted madness.>
<In the end, he succeeded in saving everyone except the one he loved.>
I recalled the necromancer’s flavor text.
According to the lore, he was a mage whose negative trait had gone berserk, turning him into a monster who commanded the dead.
The problem was that he grew stronger the longer you fought him.
The longer the battle went on, the more corpses he had to command. The usual outcome was that you’d try to overwhelm him with numbers, only to get overwhelmed yourself and flee.
That was why, even in the game, people said you had to take him down with a small elite team, and the protagonist’s party was sent in.
By this point, probably...
Before I could finish the thought, the classroom door opened.
A man in a military uniform walked toward us with stiff steps.
And standing behind him were Laura and Aila.
"Aiden Starfive, Lydia Straw."
I raised my head at the voice calling my name, and Lydia jumped up in surprise as well.
"I need to speak with you for a moment."
The uniformed man managed to say what he needed to, despite breaking into a cold sweat the instant he saw me.
Here it comes.
I followed him.
We entered a room soon after, where several other students were already waiting.
Let’s see. About ten of them?
One of the people who’d made it to the finals of the proficiency test was there, too.
When our eyes met, the man looked away.
"The matter is, we’d like to deploy some students to the defense of the southern front."
That’s right.
The reason academy students were trained, and why everyone revered them.
It was because they were the ones who would protect the continent.
And sometimes, students were drafted like this.
Tension spread across the students’ faces.
Some were afraid, some excited, and some hopeful.
There was only one thing they all had in common.
A sense of duty.
"Of course, since you’re students, we don’t expect too much of you, nor do we ask much of you."
The uniformed man continued.
"I saw last time that the students gathered here all showed excellent teamwork. Thank you for your hard work, and I hope you’ll continue to do your best."
After a slight bow, the man looked around.
"This is only to observe how the battlefield operates and, if possible, help deal with the remaining stragglers, so I hope you won’t be too nervous."
"..."
"Even if something goes wrong and you have to retreat, we have no intention of abandoning those who will become the future of the continent. We will save you, even if it costs us all our lives."
Despite his authoritative tone, his words were quite considerate.
In truth, those who bore Stigmas did receive special treatment.
Defensive battle.
Even in the game, you could only participate in this defensive battle event if your grades were good.
A safe event available only in the first year.
Depending on how you handled it, the rewards were good, and most importantly, your Affinity with your teammates...
Wait. Excellent teamwork?
"Since everyone showed excellent teamwork during the proficiency test, we’ll keep the teams as they are rather than changing them."
As I listened to the man, I fell into thought.
I’m screwed.
*
Southern Front.
-Boom!
"Shields up! Block!"
"Yes, sir!"
Arrows rained down, and the mercenaries raised their shields at the command.
If this defensive line broke, they’d have to fall back one more time.
They couldn’t do that.
Gert felt the same way.
Arrows slammed into their shields, and a few even embedded themselves in them.
"..."
He raised his head and looked ahead.
"Everyone, fall back—gah!"
A soldier who had been holding his shield just moments ago was struck in the neck by an arrow and died. A purple aura immediately ensnared him.
"Grrrgh...!"
The soldier’s body twisted as if in a seizure,
and before long, the corpse charged forward with its shield raised.
"...!"
The necromancer.
The most dangerous traitor threatening the southern front.
They would certainly lose if the battle turned into a war of attrition, so they had to hold the line while minimizing casualties.
Gert gritted his teeth,
"Graaah...!"
The corpse lunged straight at him.
His hand frantically searched for the mace at his waist, but...
"Damn it...!"
The corpse moved faster than he did.
Gert closed his eyes as he watched the corpse lunge straight at him.
I don’t want to die.
At that moment.
-SHING!
With the sound of something being cut, the corpse fell in two.
"...Huh...?"
Gert stared ahead, dazed,
while a student in an academy uniform looked down at the corpse, sliced in half, sword drawn.
Black hair, and red eyes like a demon.
And an ominous aura impossible to put into words.
His gaze turned toward Gert.
"Get that lunatic over here, now! Students aren’t allowed on the battlefield!"
In the distance, a blonde woman was shouting furiously, while a pink-haired woman, Aila, held her by both shoulders and laughed as she tried to calm her down.
Gert turned his gaze back and met the man’s eyes,
and one corner of the man’s mouth curled upward.
"How delightful to meet you in a place like this. I thought I’d never see you here."
As Gert looked at that cruel face, its smile seeming less like happiness and more like a promise to kill him,
he rolled his eyes back and fainted on the spot.
At least this time, he didn’t piss himself.