Everyone knows that the undead in fantasy worlds are not treated particularly well.
Monsters that hate life.
Rendered impotent upon being granted a new life.
Beings shunned by clerics for defying the laws ordained by the gods.
But.
Perhaps because this was a kind romantic-fantasy world, the standards for undead that could be tolerated were rather lax, even with the Holy Kingdom—the nation of clerics—plainly existing.
And thus.
Clatter.
"I am Luke Eaenril, instructor for ‘The Basics and Understanding of Swordsmanship.’"
It was not at all strange for a skeleton radiating blue light from its eyes to be standing at the lectern before me.
Sleek, well-proportioned white bones.
Whenever he opened his mouth, a rattling sound accompanied a voice like a machine’s.
I had no idea where the sound came from when he had no vocal cords.
And there was even a blue flame burning in his right eye socket.
The professor, every inch a stereotypical skeleton, introduced himself as Luke Eaenril.
The cadets could not hide their shock at the sudden appearance of a skeleton.
Yet some sincerely applauded him, while others looked at him with admiration shining in their eyes.
Even Asdel, who came from the Holy Kingdom, was merely surprised by the professor’s identity rather than contemptuous of it.
That was likely because the skeleton standing at that lectern was Luke Eaenril.
Luke Eaenril.
A mysterious being whose appointment as an academy professor no one knew the date of.
Some said the Red Duke had brought him here.
Others said he was an undead that had naturally spawned within the academy.
There were even rumors that he had simply been an academy student who died from overwork, only for one of the professors to turn him into an undead.
The subject of countless rumors.
One of Lumea Academy’s Seven Mysteries.
And another name that defined him was the Teacher of Heroes.
Swordsmen who had passed through his hands all said the same thing: "He may be third-rate as a living creature, but as a teacher, he is the very best of the best."
That was saying enough, considering that most of the continent’s foremost swordsmen had once been disciples of that skeleton.
One might say that was only possible because he taught the basics, but even the Sword Lord had been his disciple and publicly stated that he respected him. His reputation was by no means undeserved.
In the game, he had merely appeared as a gag character, and that was all the setting guide had revealed about him.
That did not mean he was weak, though, because he had been powerful in the story.
During the future academy attack incident, he effortlessly subdued an opponent the protagonists had struggled against.
He possessed strength wholly unbefitting a low-ranking undead.
Still, he was a professor in name. Wasn’t he at least a Sword Master?
About level seventy?
【Luke Eaenril】
◈ Level: 90
Huh?
Had I seen that wrong?
I rubbed my eyes and checked the notification window again.
But the number 90 was still plainly displayed at the bottom.
Fuck, ninety?
In other words, if the information from Insight Eye was accurate, that guy was a monster on the same level as that five-hundred-year-old henhouse of a headmaster.
As expected of Lumea Academy.
I could keenly feel that this was not a place where just anyone could become a professor.
"...Um, Ian?"
Fuck, that tickles.
A voice slipped into my ear along with a sudden breath, making it incredibly ticklish.
Were my ears always this sensitive?
The one whispering into my ear was Iris.
"You may leave off the formalities, my lady. What is it?"
"Why is there a skeleton at the academy?"
"That is the fate of academy students. Even after death, they cannot escape being enslaved by professors."
Iris stared at Professor Luke in horror at my words.
"Academy students are truly frightening creatures...."
"There will come a time when a professor suddenly says they will buy you a meal."
"Should I follow them right away?"
"...That is precisely when you need to be careful."
She was going to get herself into trouble one day.
You should not follow strangers just because they offer you candy.
Professor Luke tapped the lectern once with a finger consisting of nothing but dry bone, then opened his jaw.
Clatter!
"Well, it is still the course adjustment period, and this is orientation, so I will briefly explain this class."
Every time he opened his mouth, I could vividly hear the rattle of his moving jawbone.
"The first step in learning the sword begins with knowing what you yourself, the one wielding that sword, are. If you were in the magic department, you could finish just by casually placing your hand on a crystal ball, but unfortunately, we cannot do that."
As if to convey that he was narrowing his eyes, the blue flames in his sockets gradually shrank.
"Today’s first class will proceed through sparring."
Put simply.
He could not be bothered to teach, so we were supposed to fight among ourselves.
But could undead even feel bothered?
Professor Luke swept his gaze over the cadets.
Then, with a clatter, he extended a bony finger and pointed someone out.
The person selected was a woman with striking jet-black hair and blood-red eyes.
"I was originally going to choose at random, but... Miss Angelica? Would you come forward?"
It was Angelica.
She nodded and slowly walked to the front of the platform.
Professor Luke looked at Angelica as she stepped onto the platform and raised one bony index finger.
"I will grant a privilege to our top student, Miss Angelica. Miss Angelica, you may select one person as your sparring partner."
When Angelica looked over the crowd at his words, most cadets of noble birth tried their best to avoid meeting her eyes.
It could not be helped.
Angelica was the top student.
And she was from the Karl Kingdom, at that.
The prospect of getting overwhelmingly trounced was obvious. Who would want that?
Especially when they would not want to lose to someone from the Karl Kingdom as Imperial nobles.
The only ones who did not avoid her gaze were commoners, Iris, and the male leads.
If things proceeded according to the story, then.
Angelica would ask one of the male leads to spar, defeat him,
and the defeated male lead would become interested in her extraordinary ability and develop feelings for her. That was how I understood this part to go.
And I would use Insight Eye to devour every last bit of their skills, down to the bowl.
What a perfect plan....
Then, without realizing it, I met those red eyes.
But I was not worried.
Because she would choose one of the male leads....
But.
Her blood-red eyes showed no intention whatsoever of leaving me.
Huh?
By now, she should have lost interest.
Why the hell was she not looking away from me?
Hey! No, she could not be—
"Ian de Logres."
Fuck.
Please, do not do this.
Tell me you misspoke.
But contrary to my hopes.
"I select Ian as my sparring partner."
She went ahead and confirmed the kill, did she not?
Fuck this.
#
A hulking, muscle-bound giant two meters tall, and a delicate woman who looked as though a touch would knock her over.
From appearances alone, one might call it an unfair match.
But it really was fucking unfair, damn it.
No, why did you choose me?
The Second Prince is right there, and so is Prince Charles, your superior.
Why pick poor, delicate me?
I wanted to shout that at the monster standing before me with a wooden sword in hand.
Angelica de Olivier.
She might look like a slender, curvaceous beauty with an airheaded expression, but.
She was a genius who, despite being a Sword User, had defeated a Sword Master in a swordsmanship spar.
In short, she was a monster perfectly disguised as a young lady.
If she fought seriously, what the hell was I supposed to do? All I could see was an ending where I got completely fucked.
Then what could I do?
Was there anything I could do besides take a hit and collapse?
If you picked me to humiliate me, you chose wrong.
Because I was more confident than anyone that I could go down spectacularly.
Let me get hit once and lie down already. That would be easi—
[Oath of Chivalry has activated.]
[The Stars of Knights are watching you.]
Those voyeuristic bastards were telling me this.
That I would die if I went down in one hit.
Fuck this.
They would not even let me take it easy.
Then I had no choice but to trust that.
The reward from Oath of Chivalry that I had received after taking down those fanatics.
Perhaps it gave me bonus points for cutting down a cult, but what it handed me this time was a skill book.
I did not know whether it was because I had leveled up or for some other reason, but it seemed skill books were not something one could receive only through communion with the Stars of Knights.
In any event, the skill I obtained was.
[The One-Armed Man’s Writings]
A narrative written by the One-Armed Knight, one of the Stars of Knights.
Upon use, acquire [Skill: Insight of One Who Has Seen the End].
[Insight of One Who Has Seen the End] Lv. 1
May you survive and reach the end.
- The One-Armed Knight -
◈ Calculates and predicts the future, discerning a thousand possibilities.
In other words, it was a skill that discerned a thousand possibilities and let me choose one where I could win.
Surely, among those thousand possibilities, there had to be a route where I could win?
That was what I believed.
Clatter!
"Ian de Logres versus Angelica de Olivier. Sparring begins now."
[Activating Insight of One Who Has Seen the End.]
[Predicting one thousand possibilities.]
When she raised her sword.
[Possibilities discerned: 0]
I realized it had all been a futile delusion.
Angelica’s entire atmosphere changed the instant she took up her sword.
Her bearing was different.
She was clearly using neither mana nor sword aura, yet she created the illusion that I had to look up at her small frame.
Could that really be a human being?
Damn it.
I wished I could just get hit once and have this end.
[The Stars of Knights are watching you.]
That fucking notification stopped me from doing so.
They said facing an impossible enemy was chivalry, but.
Was this not too much?
Then it happened.
Angelica took a few steps.
Wham!
An enormous physical force struck my body without a sound or warning.
There had clearly been only one sound, but having personally been hit by her, I knew.
She had struck me four times in that instant.
That fucking hurt.
To think she could do this much with only a wooden sword.
If I had not been wearing armor right now, that attack would have knocked me unconscious.
She could not see it, but.
[Insight Eye has activated.]
As Insight Eye activated.
[You have identified Angelica’s narrative, ‘Olivier-style Swordsmanship.’]
[Learning ‘Olivier-style Swordsmanship’....]
My eye moved to copy her swordsmanship.
But Insight Eye remained stuck on learning.
Did that mean a single attack was not enough to copy it all?
Haa.
I drew in a long breath, then let it out.
"I am Ian de Logres. Angelica de Olivier, I challenge you to a duel."
If I had to clash with her anyway, then I might as well do it properly.
Had Isabella not said that if you could not avoid it, you should enjoy it?
The surroundings went quiet.
I expected them to laugh.
Perhaps because they had seen my earlier ridiculous performance.
Or perhaps they were cowed by the force of the girl before my eyes.
Clatter!
"Oh, is that the chivalry from the books? How romantic."
Professor Luke was the only one who could open his jaw in this atmosphere.
Insight of One Who Has Seen the End had already become useless.
The only thing I could trust was copying her swordsmanship and personally breaking it down.
I could not think of any other way.
Putting aside whether I could break down the swordsmanship of that crazy bitch who had defeated even a Sword Master.
I did not even know whether I could endure until the copying was complete.
But so what?
Face an impossible enemy and reach the stars.
Was that not the purpose I was supposed to fulfill?
This was merely an extension of it.
Come, Angelica.
I will break you head-on—
Wham!
Still, getting hit head-on hurt like hell.
#
The sword had been easy.
When I took an interest in swords, I manifested sword aura.
When I swung one as my heart led me, I performed secret techniques.
While the other friends I had grown close to held teacups, I held a sword.
Because it was fun.
Because wielding a sword was easier and more enjoyable than anything else.
I had thought that the others who swung swords more diligently than I did must have felt the same way.
And then.
One day, when I defeated one of my uncles without using mana or sword aura, I realized it.
‘I am not normal.’
The looks others gave me after I defeated Uncle Astolfo.
Admiration, emptiness, genius, monster, monster, monstermonstermonstermonstermonstermonster.
It felt as though a wall had been erected between them and me.
Before I knew it, even the young ladies I had considered friends began looking at me with similar eyes before leaving.
My uncles did not look at me that way, but.
It felt as though I had been left alone in the world.
So, for the first time, I came to hate the sword I had loved above all else.
I hated the sword that had built a wall between me and other people.
I do not think I ever swung a sword seriously after that.
I hated the sword, but I did not like the thought of putting it down, either.
I wandered.
Having lost both my destination and my path.
I let go of my heart and decided to swing my sword aimlessly, so I did.
Then one day, Father told me to go to the academy.
The reason was that people were needed for Prince Charles’s enrollment, and I, being his age, had been selected.
Naturally, I did not want to go. I said there would be nothing for me to learn at the academy, but Father, who had always listened to me, was determined to send me there this time.
That was how I came to the banquet hall with Prince Charles.
‘My lady, would you like to come with me?’
And there, I encountered a strange person.
He suddenly asked me to come watch couples fight.
Despite that huge body of his, he somehow thought he could hide behind a narrow pillar.
A madman who stopped the Second Prince’s hand when he tried to strike the duke’s daughter, then challenged him to a duel.
Yet.
The sword debate he conducted was real.
The prince’s moves had clearly been logical, but as if he had predicted them all, he shut down every one.
I was not confident I could defeat this man in a sword debate.
In a situation where one mistake could mean immediate death, he won by blocking every one of the prince’s moves without the slightest error.
And when someone absurdly asked whether he could see the future, he replied.
"It must be because I am a genius."
An arrogant declaration that he was a genius.
But that word, genius, lodged in my heart.
For the first time since defeating my uncle.
I became interested in someone.
I had become interested in a person named Ian.
Wondering if perhaps he was one of the same kind as me.
That was why, when the skeleton professor told me to choose a sparring partner.
I chose Ian, who was fidgeting with a pen over there.
Perhaps.
Perhaps he was the same kind as me.
Perhaps he might understand me.
When I took up my sword and looked at him.
His eyes had changed into the same eyes from that time.
Monster.
Why are you looking at me like that?
Why are you looking at me that way?
You are the same as me, too—
I lightly bit my lip.
Then I swung my sword.
Unlike during the sword debate, Ian accepted my sword without resistance.
The dull sound of a blow striking someone’s body.
The moment I hit him, I knew.
It was not that he had chosen not to block it.
He had been unable to block it.
I see.
You were not one either.
The monster.
Was me alone.
It was true now.
And it would remain true in the future.
‘How foolish.’
I raised my sword.
To end this meaningless spar with this one strike.
But.
Ian had different eyes.
Huh?
They were not the eyes of someone looking at a monster.
Nor the eyes of someone looking at a genius.
Nor even the eyes of someone looking at their own kind.
A pattern I had never encountered before.
Eyes of his that I had never seen anywhere.
But I could understand this.
‘Ian has not given up.’
Even so.
That did not mean
changing his eyes would let him win.
I knew it from the moment I swung my sword.
Ian could not defeat me.
But.
No matter how many times I struck him.
Ian did not collapse.
Even when he swung his sword, it did not reach me.
He allowed dozens of attacks to hit him.
Yet he did not fall.
He only looked at me with unchanged eyes.
Why?
Why would he not fall?
He must know better than anyone that he could not win.
‘Angelica, I truly want you to go to the academy.’
Why?
‘But there is nothing for me to learn at the academy.’
Why would he not fall?
‘It is not to learn. You are going to see the wider world, to broaden your knowledge.’
Why was he still looking at me with those eyes?
‘Knowledge?’
Why was he looking at me like that?
‘Yes. Knowledge. The world is vast. That is why it holds countless connections, and there will be friends there who spark your interest.’
At some point, he raised his sword once more.
The same action.
A meaningless act.
His sword would never reach me.
I thought it would come to nothing once again.
‘Will someone like that truly exist?’
Smack!
His sword bent as it swung.
Only slightly, but.
‘There definitely will. Someone who lives in the same era as you, who stands on the same horizon as you.... Someone who can understand you.’
His wooden sword grazed past me.
"Only once so far."
One action amid a thousand possibilities.
Perhaps it had merely landed by luck.
Perhaps it was only a single success, but....
‘After all, that is how I met your mother.’
"Still, I have gotten somewhat used to your movements."
His sword had undeniably reached me.
Comments (0)
Please log in to leave a comment. Login or Register