Destructive behavior was detected in the training hall.
It wasn’t long before the guards and the head of security rushed in.
This year, surprise attacks had been unusually frequent.
In such a situation, someone had not only managed to cut through the sturdy outer wall but also left several students sitting on the ground, sobbing as if under a mental curse.
It was only natural that their faces were pale.
There was no way the lesson could continue in this state.
The lecture was temporarily suspended under the pretext of gathering information.
Professor Riyan explained the situation with a troubled expression, while a guard, unable to believe the story, expressed horror, accusing Riyan of being manipulated by a demon.
It seemed the conversation would continue for quite a while.
While the professor was absorbed in explaining the situation, the students quietly exchanged glances.
As if they had arranged it beforehand, the students moved to a spot outside Riyan’s line of sight.
Before long, the class gathered in one place.
Most of them looked pale.
Contrary to common belief, swordsmanship required not only skill but also intelligence to grasp its principles and intricacies.
Many, like Cain, had uncovered the truth.
Even those who hadn’t deduced it had likely heard it from others.
They were weighed down by a dreadful sense of guilt.
Everyone was silent, faces blank with helplessness, unsure of what to say in this situation.
Once again, it was Cain who broke the silence first.
There was something he had to figure out, no matter what.
“How severe is Professor Riyan’s condition?”
The level of mental swordsmanship, thought to be unprecedented.
It was unimaginable what hardships and trials Professor Riyan must have endured to reach that level.
Yet, he claimed that he could no longer wield a sword, admitting that he would never reach the pinnacle of swordsmanship he had pursued all his life.
If such a warrior had resigned to the point of laying down his sword, the situation was more serious than they had imagined.
“I thought something was strange for a few days.”
As expected, someone soon spoke up.
The girl reported her observations of unusual behavior with a serious expression.
“Even when students greeted him cheerfully, or when a student he had helped came by to thank him, his face seemed unusually dark.”
The passionate professor, who cherished his students dearly, sighed instead of smiling at their gestures of goodwill.
The meaning was clear.
The after effects were far more severe than anyone had realized.
It wasn’t just about losing strength; it was coupled with a pain so severe that daily life had become unbearable.
The pain must have been so intense that the professor, who had always been as resolute as steel, could no longer manage his expression, wincing in discomfort.
‘What kind of pain had he endured all by himself?’
Just the thought of it made their chests feel heavy with sorrow.
Their tear ducts felt as though they would burst at any moment.
As overwhelming as it was to process this situation, reality remained unforgiving.
Before they could even gather their thoughts, a horrifying realization loomed before them again.
A student, pale-faced, asked a question.
“Do you remember that foxfolk masseuse we kicked out?”
For some reason, Riyan had called in a masseuse.
He boldly set up a sunbed in the middle of class, sipped coffee, and received a massage from a professional, claiming he was “healing” himself.
Everyone protested against this out-of-place behavior.
Due to the recent surge in attacks, the entrance of outsiders was strictly controlled.
When they threatened him with the rules, the masseuse whom Riyan had smuggled in fled in fear of punishment.
Yet, Riyan shamelessly lay back, sipping his drink and declaring that they couldn’t take away his sunbed and coffee, much to the students’ bewilderment.
“Was that masseuse really just there to give a massage?”
In retrospect, something felt odd.
It was unlikely that Professor Riyan had summoned a beastfolk masseuse just because he wanted a massage.
The foxfolk are a beastfolk tribe renowned for their illusions.
They aren’t specialized in healing, but they excel at making people forget their pain and suffering through enchantment.
‘Did Professor Riyan get lured by some cheap advertisement like, “Experience paradise in the soft, warm hands of a fox,” and call in a masseuse?’
‘Or did he disguise an illusionist as a masseuse to briefly forget an unbearable pain?’
The truth was all too obvious.
“We… pushed the professor into hell.”
The genius illusionist, disguised as a member of the “Fluffy Club.” That fox must have been Professor Riyan’s only hope to escape his horrendous pain.
Ungratefully, they had snatched that hope away.
Burdened beyond endurance, Professor Riyan had pleaded, “This pain… I can’t bear it while fully conscious. Please, just let me forget it for even a moment.”
But it was they who had mercilessly turned him away.
Everyone’s faces reflected the anguish of their guilt.
Many were from noble knight families, proud and honorable.
Some had already declared that they no longer deserved to wield a sword, while others were ready to sacrifice their lives to atone to the professor.
Cain, though feeling similar, spoke up resolutely:
“Your way of atonement is wrong.”
He declared firmly before the despairing crowd.
He couldn’t endure without saying it with confidence.
“That’s not taking responsibility; it’s running from it! Do you think Professor Riyan would be satisfied if you all committed mass suicide?”
A heavy responsibility rested in his hands.
“Professor Riyan doesn’t have much time left.”
This was evident just by looking at this lecture.
After saying he would reflect on abusing his authority, there was only one reason he had once again ignored academic schedules to conduct a lecture.
He was too ill to last until the next semester.
He wanted to impart his teachings before he died.
“But we can’t lose him. Even if he has given up, we can’t give up on him.”
Only they knew the reality Professor Riyan faced.
Thus, it was their duty to save him.
If the truth were revealed, surely demons would come for him, so it had to be done with their own strength alone.
This was nothing short of a mission assigned to them.
“…I understand how you feel. But if his aftereffects could be cured, wouldn’t he have healed himself? Did you forget that Professor Riyan is a mage?”
A natural observation came not long after.
But Cain had already considered this point.
“There is a way.”
A genius mage capable of casting great magic at will.
If even someone like that couldn’t cure his injuries, no magic could heal his aftereffects.
Therefore, they would have to use something beyond magic.
“An artifact. That’s our only solution.”
The mystery held within artifacts.
A realm of miracles beyond comprehension.
If they could obtain the right elixir from a dungeon, it wouldn’t be impossible to save Professor Riyan.
“Of course, I know this is an idealistic plan. The chances are close to zero, and the probability of us all dying is much higher than the chance of saving the professor.”
Artifacts could multiply one’s magical power, grant mystical abilities, or even extend life by centuries.
While the possibilities of artifacts were endless, finding one that could heal the professor and taking it from the hands of powerful beasts was near impossible.
The likelihood was high that everyone here would be annihilated.
But.
Even so.
“Let’s go save Professor Riyan together.”
At Cain’s words, everyone nodded resolutely.
They knew there were moments when, even facing death, they had to take on the impossible.
These young knights understood that.
Therefore, no voice of dissent was raised.
At least, it seemed that way.
“Rushing headlong into danger, relying on sheer willpower… It’s stupidity to the point of being a sickness. You’ll all die meaninglessly.”
A voice came from somewhere.
A girl with a figure similar to that of a student, but without a uniform, approached them with black hair and deep blue eyes.
“Though I can’t say I dislike that kind of bravery.”
The girl struck a pose, looking every bit as beautiful, yet none of the students could bring themselves to admire her beauty.
“Lucky you, little ones.”
Referring to Cain and the other students as “little ones,” yet barely over 150 cm herself.
Her voice was still shaky.
Her eyes were red, as if she had been sobbing moments ago.
With a tissue scrap still clinging to her nose like a makeshift mustache.
It was hard to feel any sense of awe.
Unfazed by their reactions, the girl, lost in her own self-admiration, shouted confidently to them all.
“Mercenary King Karin will join your journey!”
The runny-nosed savior had arrived.
***
‘I guess I’m destined never to be fired.’
I let out a deep sigh that seemed to echo to the ground.
The ambitious disaster of a lecture I had prepared was ruined by the protagonist awakening at this very moment.
I tried to salvage the situation somehow, but that failed too.
The head of security persistently hounded me.
In the end, I confessed that my student had become a Swordmaster instead of making excuses about a crumbling wall.
A teacher who produced a Swordmaster.
That title certainly wasn’t going to save me from being fired.
Once again, I had failed.
With a dying expression, I called out to the students.
Lacking the energy, I intended just to announce a few notices and end the class.
That’s all I had in mind.
Yet, something felt strange.
No student responded to my call.
No matter how I looked around, there wasn’t a single person in sight.
It was as if the students, tired of my class, had fled without permission.
A bit of color returned to my previously pale face.
The gray world was suddenly awash with vibrant colors.
Joy surged through me so strongly I felt my mouth stretching into a grin.
Forgetting all sense of decorum in my excitement, I shouted out.
“It’s, it’s finally done!”
…The moment the world finally sided with me.