SRS 10

Yohan felt wronged by the professor’s tone, it seemed he was being accused of slacking off, and almost protested before deciding to just grab the sword again.

It was faster to show than to talk a hundred times.

He brought down his sword again, but the tip of the blade wobbled weakly, drawing an uneven line.

“…Hmm.”

The Phantom Swordmaster, finally realizing that this was Yohan’s full effort, scratched his head with the end of his pen.

“Good grief.”

At the professor’s exasperated voice, Yohan lowered his head slightly, his face hot with embarrassment.

“A student who passed both the practical and final tests, and this is all you can do?”

Sounding genuinely baffled, he left Yohan speechless. Then his friends jumped in to defend him.

“Professor, Yohan’s a priest.”

“That’s right! He’s the one who defeated monsters using holy power!”

“Yohan’s specialty is saving people, not killing them!”

Even if only two days had passed, friendships had already bloomed among those who had risked their lives together. Feeling touched, Yohan looked at his friends. The Sword Master scratched his neck.

“Well, even for a priest, this is a bit…”

He trailed off, sighed, and waved his hand.

“Enough. I’ll teach you. Try one more time after this.”

The professor took a step closer and began explaining how to channel one’s physical strength into the blade of the sword. He mentioned something about energy flow, but Yohan couldn’t understand a single word.

“Did you understand that?”

“…Yes.”

But Yohan didn’t have the guts to say, “I don’t understand anything,” with a bear-like man standing right in front of him. It also felt too rude to say such a thing to his instructor.

As a student, he felt it was his duty to at least try his best to follow along, so he answered and adjusted his grip on the sword again. The Sword Master stepped back as he doubtfully looked at him.

“Now, swing again.”

Whoosh!

A sound rang out as the sword shook. His stance was a little better than before, but the power was still poorly delivered, and The Sword Master sighed.

“How can someone be this untalented…!”

Showing the most dramatic reaction since class began, the professor clicked his tongue and picked up his pen.

“Yohan Herse.”

“Yes.”

“0 points.”

“……”

Yohan wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. No one else had received a zero so far, which made it even more humiliating.

He knew he wasn’t talented at swordsmanship, but he didn’t it was to this extent.

While he was feeling discouraged, the Sword Master grabbed his shoulder. Thinking it was a consolation, Yohan smiled weakly and tried to say he was fine, but…

“Yohan. Listen carefully.”

The serious tone made Yohan stop mid-sentence. The Sword Master looked at him and continued.

“You have no talent for swordsmanship.”

“…Yes.”

Yohan blinked, realizing the man was just stabbing an open wound.

Feeling twice as miserable, he answered quietly, but the Sword Master gripped both his shoulders and forced him to met his eyes.

“Don’t just brush it off. Take this seriously. You have no talent for swordsmanship. None at all.”

“……”

“Absolutely none.”

“…Yes.”

The repetition left Yohan unable to laugh or cry. Saying that much to his face felt like overkill. As a small spark of defiance flickered inside him, the professor’s eyes widened sternly.

“I mean it. You really don’t. Never touch a real sword. If you ever pick one up, you might stab your own throat before you even touch your enemy.”

“……”

Hearing that from a Fantasiademia instructor, who’d probably seen everything in life, made Yohan start worrying about his own lack of skill too.

But… was he really that bad?

He sighed in disbelief, but the professor continued emphasizing his words. After making Yohan promise three times never to wield a real sword, the Sword Master finally released his shoulders.

“Next. Kitty!”

At last, Yohan’s turn, which had taken several times longer than everyone else’s, was over. He pouted at the poor wooden sword before returning to his spot.

“Hak… khh… heheh…!”

Suhyeok was clutching his stomach and leaning toward Kylus, laughing like he was about to explode. Yohan frowned, already guessing why, and turned away from him without a glance.

“Ow!”

“Suhyeok, shut up.”

“I’m trying… I really am, but… hah… the professor’s face… I can’t…!”

Unable to hold it in, Suhyeok finally broke into full-blown laughter. Whack! Kylus hit him on the head with his wooden sword to shut him up, then gave Yohan a sympathetic look.

“……”

Yohan felt hurt, since Kylus wasn’t the kind to look at anyone that way.

“But… you’ve divine power, so it’ll be fine.”

“Yes. Thanks.”

“…Don’t let the professor’s words bother you. You’ve divine power, so—”

“Kylus.”

Cutting him off mid-sentence, Yohan smiled.

“It’s okay.”

“…Alright.”

Kylus stopped his awkward attempt at comfort. As Yohan hugged his knees, he felt a gentle pat on his back. When he turned, Mikael was blinking at him. His eyes held neither pity nor mockery, which made Yohan feel a little better.

“Thanks.”

Speaking more softly, Yohan relaxed, and Mikael leaned closer to whisper.

“Don’t worry. Your lack of talent is proof of God’s favor. Those loved by God are never gifted at harming others.”

The soft whisper slipped gently into Yohan’s ear, and his eyes widened. Mikael’s way of speaking was similar to that of the priests.

“…You.”

Yohan slowly turned his head to look at the young man. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t say anything.

In the end, he remained silent, squinting his eyes as he scrutinized Mikael. He couldn’t feel any divine power from him. And yet…

It was the same as when they first met in the garden, and again when they’d been surrounded by griffins. Things kept happening, sensations Yohan should never have perceived without divine power. It left him confused.

“What is wrong?”

Mikael tilted his head slightly as he asked. His gaze was calm and unreadable. Yohan’s lips moved a few times, but he shook his head instead.

He was certain that even if he asked whether Mikael was a priest, Mikael wouldn’t answer.

Then there was no reason to make things awkward by asking.

“It’s nothing.”

“Hmm. It doesn’t look like nothing.”

“……”

“Well, it doesn’t matter.”

Speaking casually, almost teasingly, Mikael removed his hand from Yohan’s back. Acting as if nothing had happened, he turned forward again, while Yohan tried to sort out his entangled thoughts and focus on class.

There was plenty of time. He could figure out Mikael’s true identity little by little.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

After the basic swordsmanship class that had left Yohan both shocked and confused, the students finally got to enjoy their first one-hour break between lessons.

Because there were so many students, the test alone had taken two full hours, so the class ended without any physical hardship for once.

Yohan lay on his dorm bed to rest, agreeing with Suhyeok’s comment that this finally felt like a normal school day. He closed his eyes, using every minute of his precious break to recover his strength and focus, when suddenly, the dormitory tower began to vibrate.

“What’s that?”

The resting students sat up. Yohan also got out of bed and looked around suspiciously at the trembling tower.

Then, a voice sounded from above.

–Greetings, new students. This is Serdik Agor, vice headmaster of Fantasiademia. Before the next class, Basic Supernatural Abilities, begins, we are now accepting withdrawal applications. Any student wishing to withdraw should come to the entrance of the Rose Garden to submit their withdrawal form.

He looked around and it turned out to be an announcement informing them of the deadline for submitting withdrawal application. From what he’d heard, in Fantasiademia, you couldn’t even withdraw whenever you wanted. They said there was a regular application period, and today was one of them.

Yohan tilted his head.

“Why are they accepting withdrawals so soon?”

“Good question… maybe there’s something about the next class?”

At Suhyeok’s guess, the room fell quiet. Normally, they’d have asked the one student who might know the answer, but Mikael had disappeared right after swordsmanship class and still hadn’t returned.

“…Hmm. Should we go take a look?”

“Even if we don’t plan to submit anything, it’d be good to at least see how the process works.”

When Suhyeok suggested it and Kylus agreed, Yohan naturally followed the two of them out. They weren’t the only ones thinking that way, the entrance to the Rose Garden was crowded with new students.

“Students who wish to withdraw, please line up and submit your forms.”

At the front stood a man who seemed to be the vice headmaster and, beside him, a small elderly man with white hair helping collect the forms.

Yohan was startled when he saw the vice headmaster’s appearance.

“…Isn’t he a demon?”

Two curved black horns arched over his head, and a pair of dark wings extended from his back, breaking through his formal attire. Anyone could see what he was.

Judging from the pressure and aura emanating from him, he wasn’t a low-ranked one either, he was a high demon. Yohan’s body instinctively trembled, not because of their opposing powers, but because his past memories grabbed hold of him and dragged him down.

‘Do you still believe your god watches over you?’

‘…‘Herse’. It was far too grand a title for you.’

‘Let’s meet again in the lowest place.’

“……”

“Yohan?”

Suhyeok called out, puzzled by Yohan’s pale face. Feeling the grip on his arm, Yohan took a slow, deep breath and looked back at the vice headmaster.

That man wasn’t the same demon who had mocked him and the Herse name. Sharing a race didn’t mean sharing the same sin, nor the same time.

Though demons still unsettled him, he forced himself to stay calm. As he did, both the vice headmaster and the old man turned their gaze toward him.

“You there, do you have a question?”

The polite tone made Yohan flinch. The other students also turned to look at him. To avoid seeming strange, or drawing suspicion, Yohan blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“…Is it possible to skip the Basic Swordsmanship class?”

The white-haired old man answered instead.

“Hmm. That would be difficult. It’s a required course for probationary bed student.”

“…I see.”

Yohan took the chance to calm his breathing. His shaken composure gradually returned. When he lowered his gaze, the old man scratched his cheek, mistaking Yohan’s look for interest in the withdrawal form he was holding.

“Ah, Yohan, was it? Sorry, but as the top student of your year, you’re not allowed to withdraw.”

“…What?”

Just when he’d finally regained his calm, his thoughts rippled again.