Ch.32After the Sparring

“You’re being too heavy-handed. While I appreciate special admission students, don’t assume the academy will tolerate all misconduct.”

After resolving the situation, Carlain left just that brief warning, seemingly unconcerned.

For someone who had just sent five freshmen to the infirmary, it was a surprisingly lenient statement.

Was he suggesting that this level of incident would be treated as mere mischief?

Well, injuries like those would heal in two days anyway, and in real combat, people often suffer far worse.

“That concludes this morning’s lecture. Everyone, fall in!”

At Carlain’s declaration, the students reassembled in front of the review stand.

Perhaps because they had witnessed bloodshed, everyone’s discipline had visibly tightened.

Their expressions were rigid as stone statues, and they maintained perfectly straight attention postures without the slightest wavering.

In the aftermath of the sparring, their once-pristine uniforms were now stained with dirt and sweat.

So that’s why they provided two sets of uniforms—to alternate while washing them daily.

After confirming that everyone was in formation, Carlain continued.

“Good work, everyone. Despite some incidents, I believe you’ve gained a realistic understanding of your peers’ abilities, their combat styles, and the dangers of battle.”

When he mentioned the dangers of battle, several freshmen glanced furtively in my direction.

The contempt had vanished from their eyes.

Now there was only the revulsion and fear of seeing something completely alien to them.

…My blood-soaked shirt felt unpleasantly damp and lukewarm.

“Since we’ve had quite a few injuries, we’ll conduct analysis and evaluation of today’s sparring in our next lecture. Go have lunch and then attend your afternoon faculty lectures. Dismissed!”

At Carlain’s command, the freshmen dispersed, heading toward the regular dormitories with their respective friend groups.

It was almost amusing how they deliberately avoided coming within four meters of me.

If they ever faced werebeasts or monsters directly, they’d realize what I showed them was nothing.

I returned to the Special Dormitory, washed up briefly, and changed clothes.

“…The Imperial House won’t appreciate excessive disturbances.”

Nigel hesitated a moment upon seeing my blood-soaked clothes, then offered this brief advice as he placed the garments in the laundry basket.

Left there, the Special Dormitory attendants would eventually take care of the washing.

“It was necessary.”

Yes. It was something I needed to do sooner or later.

Building a good reputation is something I can do later.

For now, revealing my strength and potential danger was the priority.

Once they’ve seen firsthand what I’m capable of, they won’t underestimate me or carelessly pick fights.

With my position still unstable, I can’t afford to directly confront every provocation.

So preventing provocations altogether was the best approach.

In that sense, the sparring class provided the perfect opportunity.

Under the pretext of sparring, I could legitimately thrash my opponents.

…Though what I did to Kenneth was a bit excessive.

When excited by combat, if I let my guard down even slightly, the urge to tear apart and kill my enemies surges forward.

It must be Haschal’s instinct, his hunger.

Since my possession, I’ve barely had any proper fights.

Indeed, this is a vicious body.

—-

The afternoon lecture was on weapon utilization and martial arts integration.

The professor was a female knight with a gentle demeanor. Theresia, I believe her name was.

Since it was the first lecture, we only had a light orientation indoors.

…It seems Professor Carlain was the unusual one, throwing us into practical combat on the first day.

As the faculty students kept flinching and avoiding me, I sat at the very back of the lecture hall and smoked.

This course was designed to help knight faculty students thoroughly understand their weapons’ characteristics and develop systematic weapon techniques.

Indeed, most freshmen merely swing their weapons based on physical ability and experience rather than technique.

Students would be classified according to their weapons, then receive customized lectures from designated instructors, including theoretical education and sparring practice.

For longswords, the first semester would teach the Blazing Board swordsmanship, which forms the foundation of Imperial swordsmanship.

…So this is basically a downgraded version of the Imperial swordsmanship special lectures Nigel gave me.

Another lecture I don’t particularly need.

I’ll have quite a bit of free time.

Well, what I need right now isn’t basic combat techniques but knowledge.

At least the lectures on hostile entities should be worth attending.

The Empire’s enemies. Content about monsters and non-humans, wasn’t it?

In particular, I need to learn about werebeasts in detail.

I’ll need that knowledge soon.

=======[Demian]=======

In the infirmary of the Academy’s main building.

Among the twenty or so beds, six held patients wrapped in bandages, lying with their eyes closed as if dead.

The casualties created by the special admission students.

The white patient gowns were stained red in places with seeping blood.

Academy healing priests moved busily about, performing healing miracles and administering potion injections.

Demian sat by Millia’s bedside, looking down at her expressionlessly.

Her face was pale and sickly.

Her entire right arm was wrapped in bandages, and she was moaning in pain, sweating profusely.

Eventually, Millia groaned and slowly opened her eyes.

Demian immediately composed his face into an expression of concern befitting a young man worried about his childhood friend.

“Demian…?”

“Are you alright, Millia? Does your head hurt?”

“Mm…I’m fine. Sorry for worrying you.”

Was it the throbbing pain in her shoulder, or the humiliation of her quick defeat?

Millia’s voice was noticeably dejected.

With her green hair stuck to her forehead with cold sweat, she presented a truly pitiful sight.

“I’m glad you’re okay. But why did you push yourself like that? It’s not like you.”

Demian asked for the reason.

He needed to know to prevent similar situations in the future.

The Haschal woman seemed interested in befriending him, so allowing his two friends to remain hostile toward each other wouldn’t be right.

The Millia that Demian knew wouldn’t normally act so aggressively toward someone she’d just met.

Nor would she recklessly challenge an opponent she couldn’t defeat.

Even at a glance, Demian could tell that woman was a formidable fighter.

She carried a terrifying aura, as if violence and cruelty had been molded into human form.

How many people had she killed?

Her bloodlust was so thick it seemed almost visible, and those blue glowing eyes resembled a monster’s more than a human’s.

Though her build was slender, the muscle fibers beneath her skin were compressed with tremendous density, as if ready to burst forth at any moment.

Perhaps this was what they called a Master’s body?

Those who had trained their bodies to human limits.

No, even a Master wouldn’t possess such a physique.

Their strength came not just from muscle power but from the Karma they had accumulated.

Heroic Karma, Good Karma, Evil Karma, Murder Karma.

The blessing that transforms humans into superhumans.

In terms of pure physical ability, Haschal probably had the advantage.

Though why she revealed only half her strength remained a mystery.

Demian recalled Haschal’s appearance from earlier.

Her exotic features, mixing Western and Eastern characteristics, were surprisingly beautiful—she was undeniably gorgeous.

But few would be brave enough to notice her appearance while facing that hideous bloodlust and those eerie eyes.

He’d heard that when people see something terrifying, they become paralyzed with fear, and once consumed by fear, they lose the rationality to perceive beauty.

“…I was scared.”

Millia finally spoke with difficulty. Her body was trembling slightly.

Demian gently patted her left shoulder in consolation.

Millia leaned slightly against him.

“I couldn’t understand why that monster was approaching you… the way she spoke so familiarly gave me chills.”

I see. Demian recalled what he had thought at that time.

‘Despite the rumors and atmosphere, she speaks rather normally.’ Something like that.

Meanwhile, Millia had felt fear. That’s why she lost her composure.

‘Were those strange comments about marriage by abduction also the result of her losing judgment?’

Demian looked down at Millia leaning against him and pondered.

As long as Millia harbored fear toward Haschal, friction between the two would continue.

Haschal seemed unconcerned about this, so Millia would be the only one suffering.

‘So, what should I do?’

Should he soothe Millia’s fear?

Fear, he recalled, stems from the sense that someone might harm you.

“Still, after talking with her, I think she’s not as bad as the rumors suggest, despite her rough personality. She seemed quite sorry about what happened to you.”

“Demian?”

Millia looked at Demian with suspicious eyes as he defended Haschal.

Demian continued calmly, careful to maintain a gentle tone.

“Perhaps people view her with prejudice because she’s Ka’har. You can’t really know someone until you talk to them. You’ll probably realize she’s not such a bad person once you speak with her.”

Unconvinced, Millia gestured toward the other patients lying in nearby beds.

Four men wrapped in bandages were groaning in pain.

One young man from the magic faculty looked particularly serious.

“Then what about them? Didn’t she do all that?”

“…Maybe it’s a cultural difference? You know, I’ve heard Ka’har people fight seriously even in sparring matches.”

Demian recalled something he’d read in a book to make excuses. He needed to convince Millia somehow to improve their relationship.

“I don’t know…”

“Let’s talk again, the three of us. If we have a calm conversation, you’ll probably clear up your misunderstandings. You must be tired, so rest for now.”

Demian gently eased Millia back onto the bed as she tried to object.

‘…This should be enough for now. It’ll be hard to erase her negative feelings while she’s still in pain.’

Still, with continued persuasion, Millia would probably accept his opinion.

As she always had.

====================

Two days later, the first lecture of Hostile Entity Research began.