Alric Stormvale massaged the bridge of his nose roughly until the scar on his forehead twitched. As the Head Instructor of the Second Academy Post, he was accustomed to seeing reports of cadets breaking bones, being bitten by wild boars, or crying to go home.
However, the report paper lying on his wooden desk this morning truly made him want to swallow his own sword.
"This is crazy! This is absolutely illogical!" growled a curly-haired instructor pacing in front of Alric's desk. "Cadet Vane from the Blood Sword Faction died torn apart by Dire Wolves? While three outcast cadets survived an Emerald Root Wyrm?! A Wyrm is a tier-five monster, by the Gods! How did they do it?!"
"They must be lying!" chimed in another thin-built instructor. "We must conduct a full investigation! If Young Master Orvelis Nightbane finds out his favorite subordinate died he will demand our heads!"
"And provoke the wrath of the Student Senate?!" interrupted a female instructor in the corner of the room, her face pale. "This report is signed and legally validated directly by Selena Lune! She is a direct envoy from Duke Morcant's faction! Do you want to accuse Morcant of forging documents?"
BANG!
Alric slammed his desk until his coffee cup jumped. The room fell instantly silent.
"Are you knights or a bunch of housewives at the market?!" snapped Alric with his trademark raspy voice. He glared sharply at his subordinates one by one. "You think this is about wolves or dragons? You are blind to the politics happening right under your own noses!"
The instructors looked at each other in confusion. "What do you mean, Sir Alric?"
Alric snorted, feeling surrounded by fools. "Let us use our brains. A few weeks ago, Kael Draven humiliated Nightbane by taking Darius hostage in public. Then, who suddenly intervened to save Draven from execution? Lady Lysandra Morcant!"
Alric pointed to the report on the desk. "This was not an expedition! This is a Proxy War! Nightbane surely sent Vane to execute Draven secretly in the forest. But Morcant was one step ahead; they sent Selena Lune as a guard dog to turn the tables!"
The instructors' eyes widened. Alric's theory sounded so logical and perfect. Of course, three new kids could not possibly survive an ancient dragon; there must have been the intervention of a secret artifact or shadow guards from the Morcant Faction who cleaned everything up!
Ironically, Alric did not know that Kael acted entirely alone and Selena helped him purely out of feeling entertained.
"So... what should we do, Sir?"
"We close this case," decided Alric firmly. "We stamp Selena Lune's report. Cadet Vane died due to carelessness. Period. Our duty is to maintain academy stability, not to interfere in a war between Dukes."
Alric narrowed his eyes, staring out the window. "But double the guards at the main gate. Nightbane will not swallow this defeat easily. Blood will spill again, and I do not want this academy's floor to be dirty."
At the same time, at the Academy's First Post Gate.
After a few days of treatment in the medical ward, the three of us were finally allowed back into the academy's safe zone. My body still felt stiff and achy in every joint, moving like rusted gears, but I could walk without assistance.
Ragnar walked in front of me, shouldering a giant canvas sack whose contents clinked and emitted a fishy smell. Suddenly, the giant's steps halted.
Ragnar turned around. He did not look into my eyes, but looked toward the trees beside the road with an awkward face highly unsuited for a muscular thug. He scratched the back of his bandaged neck.
"Listen, Kael," grumbled Ragnar with a rough tone clearly feigned to cover his pride. "I am going to the black market in the lower district tonight. I will sell these fangs, along with that ancient lizard's eyeball."
"Good luck. Make sure you are not cheated by the brokers there," I replied casually, preparing to resume walking.
"That is not what I mean, fool!" snapped Ragnar, his ears turning slightly red. "I mean... after deducting this and that expense... well, I will give you half of the total gold coins. Fifty, fifty."
My steps stopped. I raised one eyebrow, staring at him with amusement. "I thought our initial agreement was very clear. All the hunting yield is yours, Old Bear. I helped you harvest gold, you helped me slaughter people. Forgotten?"
Ragnar snorted loudly, shifting the sack on his shoulder in annoyance. "I am a street thug, Kael, not a loan shark! I do not accept charity from a person who nearly blew up his own blood just so the dragon's jaws wouldn't chew me!"
The large fighter pointed at my chest with his rough index finger. "My pride is worth more than mere gold coins. Half is yours. Refuse, and I will crush your head with the remaining fangs in this sack."
I chuckled softly. A truly unrestrained laugh.
This stubborn, rough attitude, yet holding so firmly to the honor of brotherhood... ah, how I missed those times. In my past life, Ragnar never changed. He was a man who would curse you when you fell, yet would be the first to slaughter anyone who pushed you.
"Alright, alright. I accept my share," I said while smiling a crooked smile. "But do not complain if I use that share to buy items that will most likely kill us both in the future."
Ragnar laughed hoarsely. "As long as it destroys the nobles' noses, I am in."
Beside us, Selena who had been listening while smoothing her uniform sleeves, finally cleared her throat softly.
"A very touching masculine reunion," teased Selena with her signature sweet smile. "But unfortunately, I must ruin this mood. I have to go to the Student Senate building to hand over my 'fairy tale' report and handle the bureaucracy of Cadet Vane's death. They will surely need a lot of paper for fake tears."
I turned to Selena. My veteran instincts still screamed danger signs every time I saw this girl. However, my logic also noted one absolute fact; without her silver light, Ragnar and I would be dragon dung right now.
As Selena turned to leave, I called her.
"Miss Lune."
Selena turned gracefully. "Yes, Cadet Draven? Is there a lie detail left behind?"
I suppressed all my ego. Casting aside my vigilance for a moment, I looked straight into her crystal blue eyes, ensuring no tone of sarcasm or falsehood in my voice.
"Selena," I said softly, yet firmly. "Thank you. For everything."
Selena's steps halted in the air.
The girl who always possessed absolute control over her expressions suddenly froze. Her eyes widened slightly, and her jaw tensed. A word of thanks from me apparently was something shocking to her.
That perfect angel mask crumbled for two full seconds.
Then, the corners of Selena's lips slowly pulled upward. But this time, it was not a charming psychopathic smile, or a diplomatic Senate smile. It was a small smile that was very fragile, sincere, and somehow made my chest a little tight seeing it.
"You are welcome, Kael," replied Selena with a voice almost a soft whisper, devoid of manipulative echo. "Thank you too... for the truly extraordinary entertainment."
Before I could digest that drastic change, Selena quickly turned and walked away with half-hurried steps, as if she were fleeing from something she could not control.
I stood still for a moment, staring at her back disappearing behind the academy gates. A truly troublesome variable.
Parting ways with Ragnar who headed to the lower district, I walked alone down the cobblestone corridor toward the Basic Class dormitory.
The academy's afternoon air felt peaceful, but inside my head, the drums of war were being beaten loudly. I was not naive. The victory over Vane and the Wyrm was merely an opening move.
Orvelis Nightbane had lost face, subordinates, and a large amount of money. I knew Orvelis very well in my past life; that arrogant man would no longer rely on lowly academy cadets. He would definitely hire professionals. And in the Aethelgard Empire, the word "professional" only referred to one entity.
The Black Tower Assassins Association.
I evaluated the condition of my body while walking. The "glass cup" of my Sanguine Core was cracked. I needed weeks, perhaps months, to be able to use blood magic again without exploding my own heart.
If an elite assassin from the Black Tower ambushed me tonight, I would die, no matter how genius my tactical brain was.
I needed a protector. I needed my own squad.
Back then, in my first life, my special forces squad, The Deck Hounds, consisted of seven abnormal people. Ragnar was one of them. There were six more scattered across this empire, and two of them currently held the status of academy cadets.
I knew exactly who I had to find first. I did not need a sword hero or an arrogant genius. I needed a pragmatic utility support mage who could cover all my physical weaknesses.
My steps stopped automatically when passing the outskirts of the Middle Class Magic Training Field.
The field was filled with dozens of noble male and female cadets showing off flashy elemental magic. Some exploded fireballs, shot water spears, and showed off their expensive robes.
However, my eyes were not attracted to those tacky flashes of light. My focus locked onto one female figure standing alone in the darkest corner of the field, near the area of broken wooden target dummies.
Her appearance was very ordinary. Her dull gray hair was tied haphazardly, her academy robe looked oversized and worn out, and thick glasses perched on her nose. She was casting standard earth magic, creating a small stone wall then destroying it again.
No instructor glanced at her. No noble talked to her. She was nearly invisible.
But in my eyes, I did not see an outcast Middle Class female cadet.
In my past life, I saw that same girl split the earth to swallow an enemy company, create a sand shield that withstood magic cannon fire, and never complain once when having to patch my wounds amidst a rain of arrows.
The corners of my lips slowly curved upward, forming a dark smile full of anticipation.
"Long time no see, Virelith Ashryn," I mumbled softly, the afternoon wind carrying my voice toward the field. "Get ready. Because this time, I will pull you into my hell much faster than before."