Chapter 87 – Deciding Match During Field Practice (5)

The field training had begun.

Over a hundred students surged into the forest, a wave of rustling leaves and snapping twigs in their wake. A few clueless nobles, eager to showcase their magical prowess, lit up the twilight with Light spells.

Their bravado quickly faded as they ventured deeper, the oppressive darkness swallowing their luminescence, replacing it with a primal fear of the unknown.

“Extinguish that light, you imbecile! Who knows what lurks in these shadows!”

“But I need to see the map! Let me just…there’s supposed to be a rocky outcrop near…huh?”

Screech!

A Wombat, a bat-like monster, swooped down from the canopy, its leathery wings a blur against the darkening sky, and latched onto a cluster of three terrified students. Panic erupted. Spells flew wildly, illuminating the forest in a chaotic strobe of magical light and exploding vegetation.

Boom! Crack! The forest, roused from its slumber, unleashed its fury. The night, once tranquil, now pulsed with the sounds of unseen predators, their hunts ignited by the careless display of magic.

Roar!

“Run! Run for your lives!”

“Wait! Don’t leave me!”

***

“What’s the protocol, Headmaster? Dawson, Meiny, and Fallon appear to be out of commission.”

“Hmm? Let’s observe. Rescuing them prematurely would impede their learning process, wouldn’t it?”

Inside the small cabin that served as the operation’s base—the same one Darling and I had occupied for the past few days—the professors huddled around a multitude of crystal orbs, their surfaces shimmering with live feeds of the forest and the dungeons where the second-years lay in wait.

“We rely on your continued cooperation, my Lord.”

“Indeed. Clearing the western forest is a customary undertaking. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Of course. We’ll be diligently monitoring the students’ safety. Feel free to retire if you find yourself fatigued.”

“My steward has expressed an interest in observing. I’ll remain for the time being.”

Despite being a mere third-year, Darling, as the Lord of Farencia, commanded the professors’ deference.

I, on the other hand, was largely ignored. Except by Lehel, whose gaze held a distinct undercurrent of suspicion.

Subtly, she slipped the crystal orb broadcasting the Battle of the Monsters beneath her robes. Then, with a theatrical cough, she adopted the persona of a magnanimous overseer, her attention fixed on the remaining orbs—her gladiatorial arena.

At least she wasn’t wagering on the students’ lives.

“Bloodhounds pose minimal threat to first-years unless they encounter a pack. Keep an aerial support team on standby as a precaution.”

“Understood.”

“Status report on the second-years stationed within the dungeons?”

“Ample provisions of food and water. Safe rooms are also prepared to ensure their security within the dungeon confines.”

“Excellent. I trust their competence.”

Despite the ongoing battle royale unfolding within the forest, a surprisingly jovial atmosphere permeated the operations base.

The western forest, after all, was relatively close to Farencia, well-patrolled, and largely devoid of high-risk monsters. The assembled professors were seasoned mages, and the forest had been pre-cleared of hazardous flora and fauna by a contingent of soldiers.

As long as the dungeons are managed effectively, there shouldn’t be any major incidents.

True to Lehel’s prediction, the students who had initially caused such a ruckus had regrouped and were systematically dispatching monsters, their earlier panic replaced by a semblance of tactical coordination.

I searched for Adela’s distinctive blue hair among the clusters of students, but to no avail.

The more astute teams would have prioritized concealment. Survival, after all, was paramount.

***

“Yawn…It’s late. Time for a shift change. Who’s off duty?”

“Professors Roilen and Antonio, Headmaster.”

“Very well. The rest of you are dismissed. Utilize the communication magic if any issues arise.”

With a sleepy flick of her wrist, Lehel conjured a Warp Gate and vanished. The professors, gathering their belongings, followed suit, leaving Darling and me alone in the cabin.

Darling nudged me. “Shall we remain?”

“Let’s return tomorrow.”

My attention was fixed on a group of three figures huddled near a stream, their actions obscured by the grainy resolution of the crystal orb. They appeared to be eating.

Finding a dungeon on the first night was a near impossibility.

***

“Tweet.”

Erzebert awoke to the cheerful chirping of birds, the sound oddly jarring against the oppressive silence of the forest. She bolted upright, her gaze sweeping over their makeshift camp nestled beside the gently flowing stream.

And then she saw it. Or rather, didn’t see it.

“No! The backpack!”

Their supplies, carelessly left unguarded during their slumber, had vanished. Stolen from right inside their tent.

A wave of icy fear washed over her, but the tracks imprinted in the soft earth told the story—not a monster, but a beast.

A rookie mistake. They’d been so unnerved by the incessant night sounds, the oppressive darkness, that exhaustion had claimed them without warning. They’d failed to establish a night watch.

“Pii! Why didn’t you wake us?” she snapped, directing her frustration at her familiar.

“Pii…” came the apathetic reply, a clear ‘and what exactly was I supposed to do?’

With a sigh of resignation, Erzebert began dismantling their meager camp, her gaze meeting Carl’s equally dismayed expression. He held their remaining backpack, the bottom ripped open, its contents scattered.

“Your Highness, what in the…”

“Pii…”

“Thief Weasels,” Erzebert explained through gritted teeth. “Little fiends notorious for pilfering adventurers’ supplies to build their nests.”

“Pii…”

“They’re drawn to streams, so we should’ve taken precautions…wait a minute, Pii! Why didn’t you warn us?”

“Pii!” the familiar chirped indignantly, as if to say, ‘my job description does not include pest control.’

This was a disaster. The survival kit, carefully procured from the academy store, was now rendered almost useless. Even without the enchanted water canteens, drinking directly from the stream was a risky proposition.

As Erzebert contemplated the necessity of hunting down and roasting her familiar for dinner, Adela emerged from the tent, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Yawn…What’s all the commotion?”

“Adela! It’s terrible! Our backpacks…!”

“This one?” Adela held up a frost-covered backpack, its contents perfectly preserved within a block of ice.

Carl and Erzebert stared, mouths agape.

“It was too hot last night,” Adela explained matter-of-factly. “So I froze it before going to sleep.”

“…!”

Thanks to Adela’s unorthodox preservation method, they had just enough supplies to continue their trek.

***

By the second day, the forest teemed with students, all frantically searching for dungeon entrances.

Conflicts erupted frequently, usually sparked by the discovery of some cramped hole in the ground—a potential dungeon entrance, or perhaps just a badger’s den.

Out of boredom, I focused on one such squabble unfolding within a crystal orb. The very same duel challenge Ansen had issued me was now being replicated among the first-years, their childish posturing a pale imitation of true combat.

Apparently, these impromptu duels determined which team gained access to the contested dungeon.

“A tad underwhelming, wouldn’t you agree?” Lehel chirped beside me, offering a bunch of grapes with a disturbingly cheerful smile. She sported a grotesque animal mask, its origins a mystery.

“Perhaps we should escalate the challenge. Set the forest ablaze!”

“…”

“Just a small, controlled burn along the perimeter?”

“Are you experiencing withdrawal symptoms again? Focus on the task at hand. Zoom in on the dungeon interior.”

For a fleeting moment, I felt a twinge of sadistic amusement, the thrill of orchestrating this elaborate game of survival. Part of me itched to unleash venomous snakes, to scatter the forest floor with hidden traps.

But it wasn’t necessary. The students were already succumbing to the elements. The summer sun beat down mercilessly, even beneath the forest canopy. Insects swarmed relentlessly. Occasional monster ambushes further depleted their dwindling resources. Food was scarce.

Locating a dungeon entrance proved more challenging than anticipated. Some were blocked. Others were fiercely contested.

“What exactly are these markers?” I asked Lehel, a niggling suspicion forming in the back of my mind—the possibility of another Demonic Idol.

She twirled a rosary between her fingers, popping a grape into her mouth.

“Hmm…a time-honored tradition of Farencia Academy. The markers are chosen by the second-year guardians stationed within each dungeon.”

Right. The academy’s obsession with ‘tradition.’

“And what do they choose?”

“Anything they wish. A personal belonging. A spellbook, a valuable magic stone—the choice is theirs.”

The second-years, acting as guardians, would either evade or engage their challengers. The victor, the one who successfully navigated the dungeon’s depths and retrieved the marker, would then gift it to a deserving junior.

It sounded almost noble.

Let’s see…where’s Liv…

I located her within a vast cavern, meticulously arranging her belongings.

The image was blurry, but it appeared she’d chosen a handmade doll, its features—dark hair, a worn t-shirt—eerily familiar.

Who would want such a thing?

“Hold on.”

“What is it?”

“Identify any second-years who’ve chosen dolls as their markers.”

A doll. If this was another Demonic Idol incident, it was best to address it preemptively.

Lehel manipulated the crystal orbs, directing the familiars within the dungeons to focus on the markers.

“Three…”

Not many.

I stood abruptly.

“Where are you going, Boss?”

“The coordinates of those three orbs. Now.”

“But…we prioritize fairness and impartiality in all academy exercises…”

“Do you want to die?”

“Eek! Right away!”

The dungeons were dispersed throughout the forest. Reaching them would take time. I grabbed the orb displaying Liv’s location, just in case, and issued a final instruction to Lehel. “Contact me immediately if anything happens.”

Then, I turned and strode into the forest.

***

“You two are utterly hopeless-nya.”

“…”
“…”

“Being on your team is a detriment-nya.”

Erzebert’s humiliation was complete.

Carl shared her sentiment.

No one could have predicted it, but Adela was proving to be a surprisingly adept survivalist.

Her experience with nectar gathering translated into an uncanny ability to distinguish edible plants from poisonous ones. Her ice magic kept them cool and refreshed despite the sweltering heat. She even skillfully deployed traps using the tools from the survival kit, a skill honed through her…misadventures at Louis’s store.

Fear of insects or monsters? Nonexistent.

Perhaps, just perhaps, Adela’s ditzy persona was an elaborate ruse.

The nagging question resurfaced.

“Nya . Nyanya. Nyanyanya~.”

But even her unexpected competence was overshadowed by her irritating sing-song speech, each sentence punctuated with an infuriating “-nya.”

Resigned to their fate, Erzebert and Carl trailed behind Adela like silent disciples, until they reached a fork in the path. They consulted the map, a useless gesture considering they had no idea of their current location.

“Which way, Adela?” Carl asked, his voice tinged with desperation.

Adela considered the question for a moment, then produced a small ice pick. She planted it upright in the ground and closed her eyes.

Releasing it, the pick toppled over with a sharp click.

“Left-nya.”

“Seriously? You’re basing our direction on that?”

“This way-nya.”

“Adela, are you certain? What’s your reasoning?” Erzebert pressed, clinging to a sliver of hope.

Adela’s gaze remained fixed on the path ahead, as if she could see through the dense foliage, her vision extending beyond the limitations of their mortal eyes. The fallen ice pick quivered faintly, as if frustrated by its inability to pinpoint their destination.

“Intuition-nya.”

Her tone, cold and absolute, brooked no argument. Even Pii shivered involuntarily.

Two nights into the field exercise, Erzebert found herself longing for the familiar comforts of the royal palace.