Scratch, scratch, scratch.
Clatter, click.
Scratch... scratch.
Clatter, click.
...Scratch.
Clatter, click.
"...Would you please stop clicking your teeth?"
Having finally reached the end of her patience, the academy’s headmistress stopped moving her pen and snapped irritably at the skeleton.
The headmistress’s office, after a storm of an incident had swept through it.
The very culprit responsible for the colossal mess had long since made his escape.
All that remained here was the headmistress, forcing herself to work through a mountain of paperwork, and one skeleton slumped on the sofa, mechanically clacking his teeth in a state of utter disbelief.
"You are not even helping, so why are you still squatting in someone else’s office? The sound of that skull rattling is louder than the pages turning, so please get out."
Clatter, clatter.
"Oh, for goodness’ sake."
Ash pressed a hand to her throbbing forehead and finally set down her pen.
It was not as though she could not understand how that bucket of bones felt.
But she was already busy enough to die beneath this mountain of paperwork. Did he really have to sit in the seat of honor in someone else’s office and make such an irritating spectacle of himself?
More importantly, there was something else that infuriated her most.
"Why is an undead, who would normally be delighted by this sort of thing, acting so miserable?"
"...Would you be in your right mind after your entire bag of tricks was emptied out in just two demonstrations?"
"Then I recommend extinguishing those blue flames in your eye sockets before you start moving your jawbone."
Having watched that skeleton for five hundred long years, Ash knew very well.
The blue flames flickering within Luke’s eye sockets were raging like a furnace stuffed full of high-quality firewood. That was clear evidence not that he was dumbfounded, but that he was excited.
In short—
"My, you noticed?"
"I have watched that bucket of bones for five hundred years. It would be stranger if I did not know."
Pretending that shock had caused his brain to shut down, that hateful skeleton had been deliberately clacking his jawbone just to irritate Ash.
As Ash let out a deep sigh, the blue flames in Professor Luke’s eye sockets thinned into gentle crescents.
Then he casually walked to the corner and, with the ease of habit, took out a teacup.
Humming an absurd little tune, Luke began brewing coffee.
Watching him with an incredulous expression, Ash kept her gaze fixed on his creaking, swaying pelvis as she slowly sank into deep thought.
She could concede a hundred times over that he had deliberately clacked his jawbone to tease her.
Yet the shock hidden beneath that playful attitude was undoubtedly real.
The headmistress knew well that Ian was good at imitation.
During his spar with Angelica, the academy’s top student, he had not merely matched her by copying her swordsmanship exactly; he had even flawlessly reproduced Mad Orlando, the secret art of the Orlando family.
But this was a different matter.
Breath-Splitting.
The headmistress acknowledged that Mad Orlando was no easy technique, either.
And copying it exactly as Angelica did, reproducing that swordsmanship’s unexpected quality through techniques other than Mad Orlando alone, was all the more remarkable.
Even so, it was nothing compared to Breath-Splitting.
It was true that Professor Luke had never passed that technique on to anyone before, but even from the perspective of a half-dragon who had lived for centuries, it was unquestionably such an absurdly difficult technique that she wondered whether the very concept of a learning difficulty could apply to it.
And Ian had completely mastered such a technique merely because he had watched it twice.
He is not even a dragon.
It was a realm that even the common sense of a half-dragon who had lived for centuries—and that skeleton himself—would have rightly deemed utterly impossible.
Click.
A teacup holding a pleasant warmth was set down on Ash’s desk.
A rich, fragrant coffee aroma soon began to gently spread through the quiet headmistress’s office.
Ash lightly hooked her index finger through the white, smooth handle of the cup and slowly raised it.
"...Is there not a chance that boy lied?"
Taking a light sip of the black liquid, she spoke quietly over the rim of her cup.
"Wouldn’t the headmistress know that better than anyone?"
With a quiet sigh, Luke took a deep drink of his own coffee.
Of course she knew.
That had merely been Ash testing him.
A human’s lies could never work on a half-dragon.
Besides, the human called Ian was not the sort to concoct such petty schemes in the first place.
Had he not been the oddball who rejected even her offer to teach him magic personally, saying that it did not suit his path?
The odds of him now daring to lie about his abilities to curry favor with the professors were lower than the odds of hair sprouting from Luke’s skeletal head.
"Well, he boasted that he would prove it himself tomorrow. We can simply see it with our own eyes then, can’t we?"
Luke took another sip of coffee, his voice sounding pleased.
Ash gave a hollow laugh as she looked at the bucket of bones, then lifted her cup.
"There was a way to make him prove it right here today, too."
"Are you trying to make someone’s head explode?"
Luke answered Ash’s joke in a tone of apparent disgust.
"Even if he has mastered the technique, that only means he has understood its form. His body itself has not been properly developed yet, so how could he possibly cut through the headmistress’s magic?"
Is that so? Though I have a feeling he could cut it apart even in his present state.
It was half a joke, but only half.
Rationally speaking, Luke was right a hundred times over.
Though the fact that he had defeated a Sword Master existed, Ian’s apparent realm was, regrettably, no more than that of a Sword User.
He could not even properly manifest an aura blade, so there was no way he could cut through magic cast by a dragon.
But.
Was the very fact that a Sword User had defeated a Sword Master not already far beyond common sense?
From Ash’s cool assessment, the Ian of today was absolutely not at a level where he could defeat a Sword Master.
Even if he died and came back dozens of times to challenge one, it would be impossible.
Yet in that brief interval when she had been held up by a certain person, had Ian not somehow defeated a Sword Master?
Did that make any sense at all?
And yet, the chance that Professor Luke had seen things that were not there was practically nonexistent.
"...I really should have dragged him away by force with Dragon Speech then."
"Pardon? What did you say?"
"Nothing."
It was a shame.
Thinking that, Ash took another sip of coffee.
The more she thought about it, the more she saw that boy, the more deeply regret seeped into her bones.
A terrifying control of mana that filled every empty space throughout his entire body seamlessly with pure mana alone.
An insane capacity for learning that allowed him to fully master, after seeing it only twice, a technique ordinary people might question whether they could ever learn in a lifetime.
And on top of that, eyes that saw directly through the flow of mana itself.
Where on the entire continent could there possibly be a more perfect and outstanding talent for magic?
"Would you like to switch? Club advisor, that is."
"Go to hell. Things are just starting to get interesting."
What a shame. Truly.
Lately, it felt as though nothing but bizarre events that overturned her centuries of common sense had occurred one after another.
There was that skeleton, who had suddenly taught a human student a technique he had never taught anyone in his life.
There was Ian, who not only somehow defeated a Sword Master despite remaining at the mere level of a Sword User, but had also completely mastered that technique after seeing it only twice.
And there was the man who called himself Il Capitano, who had used Logres Swordsmanship and held her in place.
After that battle ended, Ash had immediately contacted the Logres family and gone through verification procedures.
But all she had confirmed was that Il Capitano was neither Cassian nor Marshall. There had been no progress beyond that.
Just who was he?
Whenever she closed her eyes, the battle from then still unfolded vividly before her.
...Calling it a fierce battle would be a stretch.
Ash had not fought with all her strength in that battle.
Of course, from her perspective, she could not shake the impression that the masked man had likewise been responding in moderation without revealing all his cards.
Even so, it was also true that he had held her in place.
The mysterious man possessed enough martial prowess to restrain Ash, though he had not done something as outrageous as splitting a breath attack head-on like Luke.
One moment he wielded Logres Swordsmanship, and the next he naturally unleashed Mad Orlando, the secret art of the Orlando family.
And that was not all. The secret arts of the Olivier family and the Renault family, too.
Had he not handled even those techniques called the pinnacle of knighthood as though they were his own limbs?
He indiscriminately poured out powerful techniques even by a dragon’s standards as if they were his own, and had even erected an enormous barrier over the entire area so that she could not return to the academy through magic.
Did the Dawn Troupe have someone that strong?
At first, upon seeing the Logres Swordsmanship and Mad Orlando he used, she had instinctively thought of Ian.
As far as she knew, Ian was the only human who could wield Mad Orlando with a sword on top of Logres Swordsmanship.
There was Angelica as well, but the masked figure had clearly been male. Even the color of the aura he emitted from his blade had been the same white as Ian’s.
That pure-white aura was one point they had in common.
But while their aura was the same color, its texture and the character possessed by that man were clearly different from Ian’s.
More than anything, at that very time, Ian had been dealing with the Sword Master who had unlawfully infiltrated the academy.
Besides, unlike Ian, the masked man had not done that strange and inefficient thing of scattering mana to fill every empty space in his body.
What in the world is his true identity? Should I simply take comfort in the fact that he was not Student Ian?
Slowly setting down her cup, she stared at Luke, who was still contentedly drinking his coffee.
"By the way, Professor Luke, are you truly certain it is all right to teach that technique to Student Ian? As I understand it, you had good reason to keep it hidden all this time."
At those words, Luke’s joints stiffened rigidly for a fleeting moment.
"...It seems likely to be exposed before long anyway. So I decided to reveal it myself. Besides, that was not why I hid it in the first place."
"Oh, really? Here I thought you had been living in hiding because you were afraid."
"It is because they are a nuisance. You know those fanatics."
Ash knew very well, too.
She knew just how troublesome those mad fanatics were.
The Abyssal Mother Cult.
She had some idea why they sought Luke’s whereabouts.
"...I worry that this may only place too heavy a burden upon that boy’s shoulders."
She had already been receiving intelligence that the cult’s movements had seemed unusual lately.
Well, if it was indeed true that he had defeated a Sword Master, whether through a trick or not, that would ease her concerns somewhat.
"And I think Student Ian needs to grow stronger if we are to give this damned flow of events a proper kick in the teeth."
"Then would it not be far more worthwhile to pass down my magic rather than your swordsmanship?"
"Fuck off."
"..."
Struck by the profanity that had come from a mouth consisting of nothing but bones, Headmistress Ash could only stare blankly at her empty teacup and sink into deep silence.
...Should I just barge into his bedroom myself later?
Comments (0)
Please log in to leave a comment. Login or Register