Ch.87Demian Must Have a Fucking Hard Time

As if time had stopped, the entire world fell into silence.

All the students’ gazes focused on me at once.

Cold sweat trickled down my cheek.

The students, who had been somewhat bewildered, soon nodded with looks of understanding.

…Understanding?

“Ahem…!”

Even Professor Carlain cleared his throat and let out a chuckle.

That ungrateful bastard Demian. After all the care I’ve given him, he puts me through this humiliation.

When they said your greatest fear would appear, why did I have to show up?

“That little…”

“H-Haschal? I-I’m sure Demian didn’t mean any harm. He must have been stressed from the training…!”

Millia tried to defend Demian. Though her voice was trembling.

“Well… let’s just observe for now. It’s a good opportunity to watch a Master in combat.”

At the professor’s words, the students finally turned their attention back to the screen.

Demian, who had been hesitating in surprise at my sudden appearance, raised his greatsword.

My phantom grinned and charged toward him.

—-

Professor Carlain was wrong.

What followed wasn’t a battle at all.

The moment the longsword and greatsword collided, the greatsword was sliced through.

Not with sharpness, but with overwhelming force that crushed through it.

“Ugh…!”

Then the left hand extended, wrapped in ominous crimson energy.

Demian hurriedly tried to block with his half-broken greatsword.

With a boom, the blade shattered.

As if hit by a train, Demian’s body was launched backward.

The speed could only be described as being fired like a projectile.

Demian flew dozens of meters, spitting blood as he tumbled violently across the ground.

Metal fragments scattered and embedded themselves throughout the meadow.

…Even if I hit him directly, it wouldn’t be this severe.

It seems like he’s properly using the power of Karma of Murder.

“Weak! You’re as weak as a worm!”

It’s even talking.

Not something I would say, though.

“Kuhak…! Kuhuk…!”

Demian lay on the ground, coughing up blood.

A pool of blood spilled onto the ground, enough to fill a bucket.

Bits of internal organs were mixed in here and there.

This single blow caused more damage than dozens of monster attacks.

Wiping the blood from his mouth, Demian staggered to his feet.

Though all that remained of his greatsword was the handle.

“Several of your organs must have ruptured, yet you still stand? I like that. Well then, let’s see how long you can remain standing!”

The phantom charged.

Leaving afterimages like gleaming eyes.

What followed was one-sided violence.

Carefully calibrated like a melody, ensuring the opponent wouldn’t die too easily.

When an arm extended, it was met with an equally powerful fist.

Demian’s hand disappeared. Literally, turned to dust.

When a leg swung, it was countered with a kick.

Demian’s leg bone shattered. His right leg dangled like that of a mollusk.

“Well, well! Now you have one arm and one leg left! What will you do?”

My phantom kept grinning.

Like a cat playing with its prey, slowly torturing the opponent for fun.

With sounds of meat being minced, Demian’s body bounced around like a basketball.

Well done, real Haschal…!

No, no, what am I saying? That’s not the real one, it’s a phantom. I’m the real one.

So should I call it the fake real Haschal?

Whatever it is, feel free to beat that ungrateful guy on my behalf.

“Haschal…?”

Perhaps I was enjoying the show too much, as Millia glanced at me.

“Well, that’s Demian for you. His tenacity is quite impressive, don’t you think, Millia?”

“I-is that so…?”

Millia smiled awkwardly and avoided my gaze.

—-

It didn’t take long for Demian to transform into what used to be Demian.

About ten minutes, perhaps.

The nightmare finally ended with the scene of my phantom gleefully looking down at Demian, who had succumbed after struggling to hold on.

Demian, who had been lying down, suddenly sat up and removed his helmet.

His entire body was drenched in cold sweat, but he remained composed, not trembling in fear.

His mental strength is indeed admirable.

As if he were devoid of the emotion called fear.

“…You’ve been through a lot. Can you stand?”

Professor Carlain’s voice was filled with sympathy.

I didn’t know he could speak with such a tone.

“Yes. I’m fine…”

After shaking his head briefly, Demian got up and headed in our direction.

Though he hesitated momentarily when our eyes met.

“Are you okay, Demian…?”

“Yeah… it was tough, honestly, but I’m fine now.”

Demian forced a smile.

Millia took out a handkerchief and wiped Demian’s forehead.

The light yellow cloth became deeply stained.

“Well, you fought well. Though I still don’t understand why I appeared at the end.”

“Haha…”

Demian laughed awkwardly, trying to brush it off.

What are you laughing about, you jerk?

“Successfully defeating the undead species through a war of attrition was an impressive achievement. In a real situation, retreat would be recommended… but sometimes there are battles from which one cannot withdraw. However, it’s regrettable that you let your guard down after beheading it. Remember this: undead species have no physical weak points.”

Carlain calmly evaluated the battle.

“As for the fourth battle… there’s not much to say. It was natural that you couldn’t win that one.”

Some students quietly giggled.

Yes… I suppose it is funny.

When they said your greatest fear would appear, it turned out to be a friend you often hang out with.

I rested my chin on my hand and glared at Demian.

Demian subtly avoided my gaze.

I’m not angry, Demian. Look at me. I’m really not angry.

…He still wouldn’t meet my eyes.

Only Millia laughed awkwardly.

—-

The rest of the practical sessions were unremarkable.

Edgar performed relatively well.

As an aspiring Paladin, he could prevent the undead species from regenerating.

His sword, tinged with faint holy light, repeatedly slashed through the monster’s body.

In the end, his fundamental lack of skill held him back.

Unlike Demian, Edgar still lacked the ability to dodge or block the monster’s attacks.

Edgar, whose face was pierced by tentacles, trembled before going limp.

Millia, unfortunately, had a terrible matchup.

Had her first opponent been an ogre, she would have won without difficulty. But a troll was too much.

Weapons that pierce, like arrows or rapiers, create small wounds and don’t cause much bleeding.

Especially with arrows. Unless the arrow is forcibly pulled out, hardly any blood flows.

With my bow, I could incapacitate it instantly… but Millia’s bow wasn’t that powerful.

“GRAAAAH!”

The troll, turned into a porcupine with hundreds of arrows stuck in it, was still rampaging, causing Millia to groan.

Arrows that had been pushed out by regenerated flesh fell to the ground.

That’s not to say Millia was at a disadvantage.

She wasn’t slow enough to be caught by a troll’s attacks.

Being in a dream, she didn’t seem to run out of arrows either.

One who doesn’t get wounded versus one whose wounds don’t matter.

In the end, the difference in stamina determined the outcome.

“Ah…!”

The troll’s club flew toward Millia, who had stumbled from exhaustion.

What followed was…

Well, honestly, it wasn’t a pretty sight.

It was fortunate that she was hit in the waist rather than the head.

“I lost…”

“The matchup was terrible, so it couldn’t be helped. You did well, Millia.”

“Fighting a troll with a bow requires some strategy. You lacked a finishing blow.”

Demian and I consoled the dejected Millia.

Using an enchanted bow… or firing a massive arrow that could blow off its head entirely would work.

Though neither option was currently available to her.

Next was Ophelia’s turn.

Ophelia dispatched the troll and ogre with wind blades, but as soon as the monster appeared, she pointed her finger at her own chest.

With a small sound, blood spurted from her pierced heart.

Her body collapsed lifelessly.

I see, she didn’t want to engage in a messy fight or show an ugly death.

Professor Carlain frowned.

“…Don’t think you can meet a dignified end on the battlefield.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Ophelia returned to her seat after giving a perfunctory response.

While casting a glance in my direction.

…Does she have something to say to me?

Perhaps related to her sister.

—-

“With this, I conclude the lecture. Judging by your expressions, the MT-V practical session has proven its efficiency. I should express my gratitude to the Magic Department.”

It seems this teaching method, which I’m not fond of, might become part of the regular curriculum.

The effectiveness is undeniable.

Training where you fight until death, yet emerge without a scratch except for mental trauma.

There’s probably no better method for rehearsal.

As Professor Carlain left the classroom, students began to gather and head out.

“See you later, Haschal.”

“Sure. Enjoy your meal, Millia. And Demian, you’re getting special training from now on. You know why, right?”

“Uh…”

Demian responded weakly and left with Millia.

I remained seated in the classroom. Someone would be coming to find me.

“Do you have a moment to talk?”

See?

Ophelia approached me.

Her tone had become somewhat more cautious than before.

“No reason why not. As long as it doesn’t take too long.”

“It won’t be long. But this isn’t the place for our conversation, so I’d like you to follow me.”

“Sure.”

Ophelia left the classroom.

I took out a cigarette and followed her.