Ch.1212. Orientation (2)

“Three enemies at 9 o’clock, right now.”

“…”

Elia swung her sword with a deeply furrowed expression.

The wolf-shaped dummy monsters that were attempting to ambush from the darkness were swept away by her strike.

“Two more from the ceiling. Target their necks.”

“…Excuse me, Professor.”

She quickly sliced through the necks of two bat-shaped dummies while trying to say something.

“Oh, and the next tile has a floor trap. Just destroy the paralysis poison dispenser on your right.”

“Professor, I have a request.”

“What is it?”

“Could you please do something besides just giving orders? Maybe actually help me…?”

“No.”

“…”

Elia’s face contorted even more, but I snickered and added:

“You were the one who tried to beat me up the moment you saw me last time.”

“…That’s true.”

“And weren’t you the one who brought up apologizing first? Saying you’d do whatever I asked?”

“…That’s also true.”

“So what are you complaining about?”

“…Yes. I’m sorry.”

It was this girl who eagerly jumped at the chance when I suggested we “get to know each other better.”

She should keep her word.

“…”

Besides, even if I wanted to help, I couldn’t.

Without Absolute Crisis, I’m nothing more than a bug with pathetic stats.

It’s better if I just give directions and let her handle all the fighting.

‘And…’

Something has become clear while running through this simulated dungeon.

Absolute Crisis doesn’t activate unless there’s clear “malice” directed at harming me.

That’s probably why it doesn’t activate against these dummies that are just repeating pre-programmed actions.

So what does this suggest?

Absolute Crisis isn’t omnipotent. It definitely has weaknesses.

I need to quickly abandon the complacency of thinking this skill will save me in every situation.

‘I definitely need to raise my stats too.’

Stats are like basic physical fitness that applies in all situations. Growth is absolutely essential.

Especially considering that item and skill performance are also affected by stats.

While I was thinking about this, Elia grumbled again beside me.

“Still, with your skills, you could probably do better than me. If we worked together, we could clear this much faster—”

[Amazing speed!]

[You’ve broken the record from two years ago!]

“…”

She immediately closed her mouth when the announcement rang out with a fanfare.

“Wait, how? How is this possible? What exactly are you doing?”

Her confused voice suggested she was dumbfounded that we were breaking records despite proceeding in such a ridiculous manner.

“Is that so surprising?”

“It’s not just surprising, it’s absurd!”

She blurted out.

“These simulated battles are designed specifically for two people working together. But somehow we’re setting records with just me moving while you give orders… What is this? Are you using some kind of magic, Professor? Even regular knights couldn’t do this! What’s going on?”

“…”

I secretly smile at her identity crisis.

‘This is sweet.’

At the very least, I’ve accumulated enough experience to be called a veteran of this game.

And now I have a top-tier person who follows my instructions without question?

I could clear these early-stage dungeons with my eyes closed.

‘Hmm.’

And if I keep “speed-running” like this with just one person, there’s bound to be someone who’ll take interest.

While the rewards for clearing this simulated battle are nice, that other matter is quite important too.

I need to establish some connections.

So, in the end…

“The next section will be a bit tougher than this one, but let’s keep going like this. Fighting.”

Keep it up.

Until then, you’ll have to do everything by yourself.

“…”

Elia gritted her teeth.

You’ll ruin your teeth doing that, kid.

●

Evan Craymore, a second-year student in the Monster Research Department, sat pale-faced in front of the control panel.

“The simulated battle stages are quite good these days. Did your department design them?”

“Y-Yes, sir…!”

After barely managing to respond in a strangled voice, he saw the other person smirk while looking at the screen showing the inside of the current stage.

“I might approve a reasonable budget increase for next year.”

The speaker clearly had more than enough authority to make such statements.

After all, he was none other than the Dean of the Knight Faculty.

Conrad Baltador.

Being one of only four deans directly under the Chancellor meant he wielded almost absolute power within the academy.

It was obvious that for a mere student, just being in his presence made it difficult to breathe.

‘Why is someone like him at a booth like this…!’

As he trembled with that thought, another voice cut in.

“My, Conrad. What are you doing here?”

Unfortunately for Evan, the owner of this new voice was no help in easing the atmosphere.

Evan nearly suffered respiratory distress when he saw the person who entered the booth accompanied by several haggard-looking assistant professors from the Magic Faculty.

“I could ask you the same, Percy. You rarely go out.”

“I just came out to see the freshmen for a change. Looking at fresh young faces always puts me in a good mood.”

“…”

Conrad silently looked at the half-dead assistant professors standing behind the woman called Percy.

“…You’re not looking for new tools—I mean, graduate students, are you?”

“Well, I wouldn’t stop anyone who volunteered themselves.”

Percy Syston Levantin, Dean of the Magic Faculty, answered with a grin.

“You still haven’t answered my question. What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been keeping an eye on someone lately.”

Conrad replied, turning his gaze back to the screen.

Percy’s eyes naturally followed in the same direction.

“Ah, if it’s that child, I know about them too. The next Hero candidate, right?”

After saying this, Percy’s gaze naturally settled on the stage clearance records displayed on the side panel.

As expected, the speed at which each section was being cleared was significantly faster than that of an ordinary student.

As expected of a Hero candidate, it’s noteworthy…

“No. Not that one.”

“…?”

Percy tilted her head and shifted her gaze to the other student.

“Who is this?”

“Darwood Campbell.”

“Ah, the one they call a cheater?”

Even though she rarely left her laboratory and wasn’t well-informed about worldly matters, she had heard rumors about this freshman.

Something about winning against a Hero candidate through manipulated combat.

“…But why is he together with the person who was supposedly cheated?”

“That one seems to know too.”

Conrad snorted and replied.

“That this guy’s skills are the real deal.”

“Skills?”

Percy frowned slightly as she stared at the screen.

Skills… does he have any?

No matter how you look at it, he just seems to be freeloading off the Hero candidate.

“This is why spellcasters who only push pens don’t get it.”

“Why the sudden hostility?”

“This record right now—the Hero candidate could never achieve it alone. If anything, he’s the main player.”

“…Excuse me?”

Percy tilted her head questioningly, but instead of explaining further, Conrad turned his attention back to the screen.

From this distance, it seemed even clearer.

How utterly absurd what this man was doing.

‘…Interesting.’

There are occasionally freshmen who achieve good records.

But those are ultimately just flukes layered over inexperience. They can hardly be considered a reflection of true skill.

In that respect.

How does this man overcome obstacles?

‘He’s calculating everything.’

The positioning of the Hero candidate, as if knowing in advance where monsters will appear.

The strikes delivered according to instructions given with meticulously calculated timing.

The follow-up movements that seem to see through the next pattern completely.

Every judgment he makes at every moment is close to perfect.

Though he’s just standing there giving orders, he’s playing with this complex and elaborately designed artificial dungeon as if it were in the palm of his hand.

I guarantee.

Among all students who have ever attended Elphante, this ‘freshman’ is the only one who has cleared a dungeon in this manner.

It’s as if…

‘He’s been through thousands of battlefields.’

That’s the only way to explain such seasoned expertise.

It’s nonsensical to possess such ability without any practical experience.

And the fact that he survived in actual combat until acquiring such skills undoubtedly suggests that this guy is hiding something beyond his easily underestimated appearance.

“…”

That’s why it becomes even more intriguing.

If this guy were to ‘directly’ participate in dungeon conquest alongside the Hero, what kind of record would they achieve?

These are already half-records with just one person standing up, but if he participated directly…

“No, I still don’t see what you mean, no matter how I look at it.”

But this idiot mage beside me keeps saying frustrating things.

“Then let’s make a bet.”

“A bet?”

“Do you remember the record you and I set in the simulated battle when we were freshmen?”

“Of course I do.”

Conrad and Percy—the duo remembered as the most legendary combination of academy freshmen in history.

The simulated battle record they set still remains the unshakeable number one of all time.

“I bet that guy will break it.”

Percy’s eyes widened.

“…You think that highly of him?”

“I do.”

“Fine. Since you’re so confident, I have no choice but to accept. I bet he won’t break it.”

“Good.”

With that, he picked up the microphone attached to the control panel.

“This is Conrad Baltador, Dean of the Knight Faculty. Can you hear me?”

The voice was probably being broadcast into the dungeon like an announcement.

Elia’s startled reaction, looking up at the ceiling, confirmed as much.

‘Amusing.’

In contrast, Conrad smiled as he observed Darwood, who stood calmly without showing any surprise.

“I’ve been watching your progress and find it quite interesting. May I make a proposal?”

“Please do.”

His attitude, as if he had been waiting for just this, was telling.

“Percy, the Dean of the Magic Faculty, and I just made a bet outside.”

“A bet?”

“About whether you can break the record we set when we were freshmen. If you actually do it… well. I’ll give you the right to ask Percy for one favor.”

Across from him, Percy slightly furrowed her eyebrows with an expression that seemed to question why he was going so far, but she didn’t strongly object.

She seemed confident that the record, which had remained untouched as the highest of all time, wouldn’t be broken so easily.

“You don’t have to do it if it’s too much pressure. The record you’ve set so far is already impressive, and this is almost an unreasonable request.”

“Oh, that’s fine.”

Therefore.

“I’ll definitely break it.”

When Darwood Campbell answered like this.

The expression that appeared on Percy’s face was truly worth seeing.

●

“Wow…”

As soon as she entered the student council’s private training room and felt the rising heat, Beatrix let out a voice of disbelief.

The sight of Elnore sprawled in the middle of the floor, drenched in sweat, certainly contributed to that reaction.

“What is all this?”

She laughed dryly as she tossed a water bottle to Elnore.

“I needed to sort out my thoughts.”

“Right. I know you come here alone to sweat it out when you need to. But what’s the issue this time?”

“The usual. It’s been worse lately.”

Beatrix’s expression immediately turned serious upon hearing those words.

There’s a dark rumor circulating in the Empire’s social circles:

A demon lives in the bloodline of the Tristan Dukedom.

A sentence used with two meanings.

One is praise for the inhuman genius that anyone belonging to this dukedom displays in every field.

The second is a metaphorical expression for the “madness” that commonly manifests in all members of the dukedom, perhaps as a reaction to that genius.

The explosive outbursts of extreme violence, the degeneration of reason.

Because it worsens over time, the people of the Tristan Dukedom are known for having miserable later years despite their achievements.

Elnore is not free from this phenomenon either.

No, she might be especially severe.

Even Beatrix had memories of Elnore’s behavior that she could never share with others.

“…Is it very serious?”

“Not enough to worry about. And it’s not entirely because of that.”

Elnore smiled faintly as she wiped away her sweat with a towel.

“There was something I wanted to recall.”

“Something you wanted to recall?”

“A movement my mother taught me when I was young. A technique I learned when I first studied swordsmanship… I can’t remember it well. So I’ve been reviewing my swordsmanship from the beginning.”

For someone who usually doesn’t show even a speck of emotion, her voice was tinged with melancholy, but Beatrix chose not to point it out and instead smiled wryly.

The emotions Elnore holds for her father and mother are so contrasting they could be called extreme.

Especially since she lost her mother at a young age.

“Well, don’t overdo it.”

“I’m fine. Moving until I’m this exhausted makes me not care about most things.”

“Really? Then I guess it’s okay to just tell you.”

Elnore’s gaze sluggishly turned to Beatrix.

“…What. What are you trying to say.”

“I’m only telling you because you asked me to let you know any information about him as soon as I hear it. A junior just told me.”

“Just say it. What is it?”

“Darwood Campbell is with the next Hero candidate right now. They’re in a simulated battle. And he apparently half-challenged the deans—”

Sparks flew from Elnore’s eyes.

“So, they’re together right now?”

“…”

Apparently that’s more important than challenging the deans.

“Well, simulated battles are basically done in pairs of two, so they’d be together, right?”

Elnore immediately jumped to her feet. Sweat droplets scattered everywhere, but she didn’t seem to care.

“Wait, didn’t you just say you were too exhausted to care about most things?”

“Shut up. Where is this place?”

This crazy person, seriously.

Beatrix’s temples, which had been overworked lately, began to throb again.