Chapter 225 : Chapter 225
Chapter 225
Sihan had been reborn into this world in a past so distant he could barely remember it.
His earliest memory began inside his mother's womb.
He'd heard people's voices filtering through skin and muscle, and felt the agony of the moment of birth alongside her.
He'd known the cold and wretchedness of this savage world, tasted its awful food.
He'd lived his life over again from infancy, and eventually became the Sihan of today.
The implication was simple.
Sihan had a life before entering the artificial island of Lefteria.
And in that life, Sihan had met Merea.
"Well, if it isn't Sihan! Wow, I can't believe it! I've gone and gotten old—how come you look exactly the same?"
"Well, I did reach 6th-circle...... but is it really you, Merea?"
"Of course it's me, you idiot! Who else would I be? Ha ha ha! What a coincidence. Running into you here of all places."
Abrahal and I exchanged blank stares, completely lost.
Merea was beaming as she looked Sihan up and down.
Sihan—small-framed, his shaggy hair covering everything below his nose, giving him a disheveled appearance.
And Merea, tall for a woman.
Standing side by side, they were oddly mismatched yet somehow suited each other.
"Mother......?"
"Oh, right. I forgot to explain to my son. Here! This is Sihan."
"Yes, I know."
"He's the man who almost became your father!"
"......That I didn't know."
Abrahal's jaw hung open at Merea's revelation.
I'm sorry, what?
"Ha ha ha! I had a huge crush on him back in the day and chased him everywhere, but he up and vanished! So I never got to see him again."
"Obviously. When you were chasing me around, you were still only ten. I told you—I'm a man with a past."
"Oh, please. You were only twelve yourself, talking about having a past."
No, ma'am—the "past" Sihan meant wasn't that kind of past.
It was literally the past. More specifically, a previous life......
But seeing them together like this, it hit me anew that Sihan really was old.
Ulf had been the same way.
High-circle mages truly didn't age.
'What about Sword Masters?'
Pan hadn't lived long after becoming a Sword Master.
Not because of lifespan issues—Baphomet had appeared.
What would happen in this world?
Judging by Kantaros, it seemed that awakening mana in old age did gradually restore one's physical health.
While I was lost in my own musings, Merea let out a hearty laugh.
"Wonderful! I'm staying here from now on! That's more than enough compensation. Absolutely."
"Are you really sure about that? You're giving up your son's location......"
"Please. I've got six children. If need be, I can always make another one!"
"Mother?!"
Abrahal stood agape at his mother's outrageous declaration.
If my own mother had said something like that......
The thought was horrifying.
"Understood. I look forward to working with you."
"Listen, Cassian?"
"Don't worry. I'll have the intel organized and sent over by tomorrow. Avril's bound to be somewhere in there!"
"Mom?! Please!"
I left Merea with Sihan and Abrahal and made a swift escape.
Staying any longer would only entangle me in their bizarre dynamics and give me a headache.
Abrahal.
Please take good care of your mother.
And Sihan.
Be happy.
"That's not what this is!"
***
A strange undercurrent was running through the Academy's student body.
Two things were driving it.
The first was preparation for the upcoming Academic Exchange Conference.
Students of Imperial origin were scrambling to contact their families.
This is our chance.
Make whatever excuse you need—liquidate your assets, leave the Empire, and come to Akarind Academy.
That way, you'll be safe from future demon invasions.
But the response from those outside Akarind was frigid.
"Are you really only going to ask your siblings to come?"
"My parents won't listen. They keep saying, the Empire is the Empire for a reason......"
"That Empire was the Empire back in the day. Right now it looks like it's about to get downgraded to a kingdom."
"I told them all that, but they don't believe me. Apparently studying in the countryside has filled my head with nothing but fantasies about being good with a sword......"
"That's awful...... those are really your parents?"
"The vassals around them keep talking them out of it. Saying they can't bankrupt the estate on the word of one second son."
Akarind Academy wasn't somewhere just anyone could enroll.
Hundreds were admitted, but tens of thousands applied.
There was no shortage of applicants from academically driven households, or from wealthy, high-born families.
The students here, with their grasp of world affairs gained from being in Akarind, insisted that not just their parents but their entire families needed to relocate.
Very few listened.
Even among those few, none trusted the students' word completely.
"You're telling me there's a 6th-circle mage and a 5th-circle mage there? The Duchy of Crownhardt relocated? What are you talking about?"
"No matter how impressive it is, it's not even the capital of the Belmein Kingdom—just some third-rate rural territory. Places like that have limits."
"There's a queen there? Tch. That tells you everything. With a territorial lord, an academy chairman, and a queen all crammed together, they'll be too busy fighting over their shares to get anything done."
"Cassian? Sure, the man teaches a good sword. But what can swinging a sword really accomplish?"
"Our family has built this land over more than a century! Land is everything! Who abandons their land?!"
With their families so unstable, the students' hearts couldn't help but drift.
Some were seriously contemplating skipping classes to cross into the Empire and personally bring people back.
"If they just lived here for one day...... they'd never say that."
Students who'd been sharing their frustrations stole a glance sideways.
At the non-Imperial students.
The students from the Kingdom of Namress, in particular.
"Must be nice for them. Their kingdom collapsed, so they just came here. Simple."
"Maybe it's actually lucky their kingdom fell early? They got special admission here even with lower qualifications."
A thin vein of contempt flickered through their gazes.
Their voices dropped to whispers, their postures lowered.
"Those little shits......"
Of course, the Namress students heard every word.
This was Akarind Academy.
Students at the Aura Walker or Runner level were a dime a dozen.
"Rich talk from people whose kingdom's about to fall next."
"If you're so jealous, sit around and wait till your own parents and relatives get massacred. Then you'll get in easy too."
"What did you just say?"
Friction flared between the students several times a day.
The strict code of conduct meant it never escalated to actual fistfights.
But the gap between students was quietly widening.
"Hmm...... fighting over pointless things."
"Can't they see that bickering among themselves accomplishes nothing?"
"That's exactly why they flunked the midterm."
"......? Are you saying that to me?"
"No? Why are you being so touchy?"
"Because you damn well passed the midterm and I didn't, that's why!"
The second undercurrent was the rift between the teams that had passed the midterms and those that hadn't.
The passing teams had been brimming with the satisfaction of completing a difficult challenge.
Right up until the final assignment.
The demon hunt—before which everything had been fine.
"Big deal—you didn't even see a demon! You just ran around in circles for nothing!"
"That's because—! There was no demon there, you asshole!"
And while they'd been away.
Cassian had refined his foundational theory and produced staggering results.
In just two weeks, he'd awakened the Aura of roughly a hundred students.
That left students in Zelta's position particularly awkward.
"No matter how great you think you are, you're just a mob! Zelta can't even use Aura—he's dead weight!"
"Then why don't you mob up and try beating the Spear God yourselves!"
Insecurity, jealousy, and animosity began to intertwine.
In truth, it was remarkable that no emotional problems had surfaced among the students until now.
Any academy of significant size inevitably had student factions.
Factions between nobles and commoners.
Factions by region.
Factions by wealth.
Or the envy between elite students and ordinary ones.
And ranking wars among the elites themselves.
Akarind Academy's rapid expansion had largely prevented such conflicts.
There was also one other reason.
"Honestly...... fighting over nothing."
"They should know that squabbling among themselves is meaningless."
Pan sighed and shook his head.
Beside him, Bridget clicked his tongue.
It was precisely these people—the Special Class students—whose existence kept inter-student conflicts from growing too large.
No matter how much the general students argued and fought, their skills ultimately fell below the Special Class.
And the Special Class was composed of a diverse mix.
Ban, an orphan. Jacy, a runaway knight from a third-rate territory. Shasha, a mercenary from the Goldline Guild. Bridget, an Imperial noble. Eleveth, also from an orphanage......
Anyone who tried to target a specific group, faction, or background for scorn would trip over too many landmines.
But there was one crack.
"I want to go on a demon hunt too."
"Yeah?"
"You've been on plenty with the teacher, but I haven't. I should've gone out more when Avril was still around."
"Come on, Avril's a bit......"
"I'm not saying Avril was good. I'm just saying that when he was here, he gave me and Eleveth a lot of real combat experience."
"Combat experience isn't all it's cracked up to be. When you actually swing a sword, the opponents are weak anyway......"
"That's something only you can say."
"No, it's not."
"I'm telling you it is. That's something only you can say. I haven't even had that much experience, and I'm stuck here doing nothing but swinging a sword."
Bridget's tone sharpened.
It was a subtle shift, but Pan caught it immediately.
How could he not?
Just a few years ago, he'd been nothing more than a boy bullied by Bridget.
He'd scrutinized every nuance of that person's voice, watched for every mood shift, and tried his best to take the least painful hits.
Remembering those days, a surge of emotion welled up.
"Killing a few monsters is no big deal. The teacher and the rest of us train for the sake of humanity."
"So humanity just sits around playing territory games and that's it? You're the hero who saves humanity, so the rest of us just watch you fight and clap? Wow, a Sword Expert's applause! Aura's radiating from the clapping! Something like that?"
Their tones were escalating.
Their expressions hardened, and their volume steadily rose.
The students who'd been whispering and eyeing each other all fell silent, watching the two.
"Why are you talking like that?"
"Like what? Like what exactly? Everything I say is garbage but you only ever say the right thing?"
"Fuck."
For the first time, a curse slipped from Bridget's lips.
The air in the classroom went taut.
That was when—
"Hm? Why's the mood so serious in here?"
The front door slid open and Teaching Assistant Jacy walked in.
"Everyone~! There's an announcement. The final exam format is going to change a bit. The teacher says he'll be taking a selected group on an expedition to Aislard. Like the midterms, selection will be based on merit......"
An arena had just opened—one perfectly primed to detonate every simmering conflict.
"One hundred slots. Cutoff will be based on rankings from the interim evaluation one week from now! Everyone, make sure you're ready!"