-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 15
Chapter Title: That's Not It
-----------------------------------------------------------------
A few days passed.
We arrived in Hazen, in the southern part of the empire where Jenion Academy was located.
During that time, I pored over the magic tomes in the subspatial storage and realized there was a hidden intent behind the 132 volumes of Henji's curriculum.
'Indeed...'
Henji was an exceptional scholar of magic.
'The basic principles of magic are simple.'
However, their interpretations vary wildly.
Just as the simple number '1' can hold hundreds of meanings depending on the unit it's attached to.
For example, water is just water. But depending on the observer, it takes on different meanings—that's the difference in perspective.
To a parched man lost in the desert, water is life itself. To a farmer tilling his fields, it's the foundation of his harvest.
The secret arts of noble houses diverged in the same way.
The same principles, developed differently based on each perspective.
And the 132 magic tomes Henji passed down to me...
'Decullan Family's Heavenly Origin Art.'
They connected to it.
I could tell because I had mastered the Heavenly Origin Art myself.
Rustle, flip.
I sat on the windowsill of my inn room, basking in the sunlight as I turned the pages.
It was early morning, so it wasn't hot yet. Only clear, crisp air brushed against my skin.
Then, out of nowhere, a commotion erupted outside the door.
Bang!
The door flew open.
"Friend!"
It was Damian.
"The entrance ceremony's starting soon! We have to hurry! They said if we're late, there might not be seats!"
I tilted my head at the bewildering outburst.
What did he mean, no seats? This wasn't some neighborhood theater. Even theaters guaranteed seats with a ticket.
Just in case, I glanced over.
'Shh.'
The blunt, oblivious servant giving a cautious signal with his eyes.
He'd probably said it to Damian to hurry him along because he was dawdling with preparations.
"..."
For a brief, very brief moment, I considered ignoring the oblivious servant's signal, but I let it go.
If I gave in once today, that oblivious servant would give in to me someday too.
Or so I thought.
'He's oblivious, but not shameless.'
I'd already finished preparing, so I stored Henji's magic tome in the subspatial storage and left the room.
As we stepped out of the inn, Damian let out an awed "Whoa!"
"There's so many people! They're all wearing uniforms. Friend, look over there! Those must be all the new students!"
Sure enough, as Damian said, the streets were packed.
Where had they all been hiding until now?
New students in uniforms and their attendants filled the wide avenue to the brim.
We'd stayed close to the academy, but surprisingly, no one seemed to have come directly by carriage.
Puzzled, I listened as the blunt servant spoke up unusually at length.
"This is the true spectacle of Jenion Academy. On enrollment day, following the teachings of the founding chancellor—the Sage—no one rides in, regardless of status. Everyone walks."
I glanced at his face, and he looked nostalgic, which was unexpectedly sentimental.
Noticing my gaze, the servant added,
"I was a new student once too. Didn't graduate, though. Seeing the academy again brings back old memories."
"Oh. I see."
That was it.
I wanted to say something in response, but he'd already reverted to his usual stoic expression.
Anyway, we hurried along and joined the chaotic throng of new students, attendants, and overseers heading to the academy.
The blunt servant bid farewell right after we reached the gates.
"This is as far as I go. Please have a successful ceremony and gain valuable teachings."
Damian waved cheerfully, and I nodded once.
Per the founding chancellor—the Sage's—teachings that status doesn't matter during studies at the academy, attendants weren't allowed inside.
Leaving the Blandoga entourage behind, we entered the grand hall for the entrance ceremony, where students already filled half the seats.
Damian said,
"Friend."
"Yeah."
"Ransi was right. He said if we were late, there wouldn't be seats, and we almost were!"
I glanced sideways.
'That's not it.'
But I didn't say it.
I believed the blunt servant wasn't shameless, just oblivious.
* * *
I unfolded the paper the blunt servant had given me, listing our academy classes.
"Let's see. M3 Class, seats 11 and 12..."
Damian and I were assigned to M3 Class.
For reference, the initial before "Class" wasn't a grade ranking. It was just a convenient grouping.
"Friend, can't we just sit over there? If we don't hurry, there might not be seats."
"No, wait a bit."
Ignoring the impatient Damian, I headed to our assigned seats.
But why were there so many people?
Groups of students chattering in clusters made it hard to move forward even a step. We pushed through somehow toward our seats when—
Damian let out a yelp beside me.
"Eek!"
He'd bumped into something and fallen on his butt.
"...What."
The one he'd collided with was a male student two heads taller than Damian.
It wasn't just his head. His arms, thighs—his build was nearly that of an adult.
Even in a mutual collision, the size difference meant he stood unscathed.
"You okay?"
"Yeah! I'm not hurt!"
I helped Damian up, his nose red. He didn't seem injured.
"Sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going!"
Damian apologized with his usual bright face.
In a crowded marketplace like this, who's at fault hardly mattered, and since he'd apologized, it should've been fine.
I took Damian's hand and started walking again.
Or tried to.
If the giant hadn't stopped us.
"Wait."
The giant stared down at his arm with a stoic expression. No, not stoic.
A faint but clear displeasure crossed his face.
I quickly pieced it together.
On the giant's arm—at about Damian's height—something glistened slickly.
No need to guess what.
'Spit.'
Spit.
Confirming my hunch, the giant glared irritably at Damian and said,
"You."
"Me?"
"Yeah, you, the dimwit. What're you gonna do about it? You got your filth on my clothes."
"Hmm."
I crossed my arms and looked at Damian.
'Some noble house bloodline punk.'
Even if not, from a decently prominent family. It was obvious from his demeanor.
Now, depending on Damian's response, this could end in a fight or fizzle out...
'Oh boy.'
I rubbed my forehead.
This was a fight. Definitely a fight.
"Then I'll wipe it off for you!"
Damian beamed and rushed over, swiping at the spit on the giant's arm.
The problem? Just one.
It was the hand he'd been sucking on moments ago.
"You..."
The more he wiped, the stickier and messier the uniform got.
The giant's face flushed red, on the verge of exploding.
And right after.
Pow—!
A bursting sound echoed through the hall.
The giant's fist slammed toward Damian's face.
No, precisely, Damian's face was fine. It had nearly not been.
Sizzle—
I grabbed the giant's fist inches from Damian's nose and stared him down.
"Hey, classmate. You seem to be making a mistake here. How about we call it quits?"
"And who're you?"
"I'm..."
Before I could answer, Damian's cheerful voice cut in brightly.
"My friend!"
The giant shot me a glare.
"Is that so? Good friend you've got."
"Yeah!"
Damian beamed. The giant did not.
"Few would take a punch for a friend. But you'll regret that choice today."
Before I could speak.
Whoosh!
A fist the size of my face hurtled toward me. I dodged and gave a wry smile.
'Ah.'
Originally, my goal at the academy was to befriend all my... no, classmates.
And on day one, that resolve was already wavering.
Well, when do things ever go as planned?
'Whatever.'
For now...
"You'd rather not talk it out?"
"Correct."
"Fine, then."
I'd have to give him what he wanted.
* * *
In Jenion Academy's grand hall, where the entrance ceremony was underway, a sudden commotion erupted in the center.
Due to the abrupt fight.
As students' eyes turned to the entertaining spectacle, more noise followed.
"What's going on? Who're they?"
"Dunno. That big guy looks like Doranpega bloodline. Maybe the second son?"
"And the one fighting?"
"No idea. First time seeing him."
Who was fighting whom?
Then came this.
"Who'll win?"
"Doranpega, obviously? I hear the second son's pretty impressive."
Not all students were like that, of course.
"Hey! You guys messing around?!"
The sudden shout startled those speculating on the fight.
"W-Why?"
"There's a fight! What're you doing?!"
"Sh-Should we stop it?"
A bespectacled student said sternly,
"Are you nuts?"
"...?"
"Look at the matchup. They won't fight freely like that. Tell the kids to clear some space."
"Ah!"
Different houses, different statuses, but united in spectatorship, the students moved as one.
A wide circle formed around the fight in no time.
Then another student yelled at the bespectacled one.
"Hey!"
"What!"
"You joking?!"
"What? They're fighting. Might as well all watch..."
"No, not that. That gray-haired one's a mage! You gotta put up a barrier around them!"
"Ah!"
No need to say more—the students sprang into action.
Leading the way, they stepped forward and erected barriers. The brawl turned into a coliseum in seconds.
All in under five minutes.
"Hickster! Go for it! I bet on you!"
"Two meal tickets from me!"
"Three!"
The betting pool on meal tickets ran 9-to-1.
But contrary to the academy students' expectations, Hickster—the participant—was in utter hell.
'What the...'
At first, he thought he'd crush them easily.
The book-shaped badge on his chest marked him as a magic track student. A new enrollee, so he had some skill, but...
Still just a mage. Close in, don't give openings, smash him down. That was the plan.
Or so he thought—
Thud! Thump!
"Guh!"
How could a fist hit so hard?
His build didn't scream physical training under the uniform. So it had to be the mana shimmering around the fist doing something.
But no matter the trick, losing a fistfight to a mage was a disgrace to a martial house. A stain on Doranpega's name.
"How dare...! A mere mage...!"
Hickster spat in fury, drawing up his resolve.
That's when he sensed something off.
"...?"
Sizzle—
A sudden surge of vitality coursed through him.
Something was wrong.
His arms, numb from blocking attacks; his legs, stiff from constant motion; his skin, torn by wind pressure... they were healing.
Healing magic.
'What the...?'
High-level healing magic at that.
Glancing over suspiciously, there was the dimwitted kid beaming at him innocently.
Arms outstretched like warming by a hearth, he looked like he was playing a fun game.
'Why the hell...?'
That's as far as he got.
"Wow, you're tough."
The voice came from the gray-haired boy trading blows with him.
"What bullshit..."
He wasn't tough. The crazy kid was just healing him. But Hickster couldn't finish.
Boom! Thud!
Insane impacts hammered his arms.
Like his bones were vibrating.
In his shaking vision, Hickster took in the two boys.
One heals, one beats him down.
Oblivious to it all, cheers erupted outside the barrier.
"Hickster! What're you doing! Don't go easy!"
"Doranpega's prodigy! Star of the eastern continent! Hope of the martial artists! Dragging it out too much?! Haha!"
Assuming the martial artist was showboating by prolonging against a mage.
'That's not... Guh!'
Chaos inside and out.
His heart pounded.
The endless fight. Better to get knocked out cold by that fist, but this ridiculous recovery prevented it.
For the first time in his life—
'These crazy... bastards...'
Hickster felt fear.