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Dellev Kundel secluded himself in his dormitory for two days after being utterly defeated by the liberal arts instructor he had looked down on.

A luxurious single room.

He skipped other class orientations as well, endlessly replaying the humiliation of that day.

However, the more he replayed it, the more the humiliation was replaced by a question.

How in the world did I lose?

He had never experienced such disgrace before.

Yet that only made him more curious.

Movements that were barely visible.

The speed at which he was constantly tripped and subdued whenever he tried to turn around!

For Dellev, who had never been pushed back even in sparring matches against his family’s apprentice knights, a new world had been opened.

It was the world of defeat.

Dozens of defeats in a single day.

That has never happened before.

The Kundel family’s swordsmanship philosophy was simple.

One grows stronger through defeat.

That had always been true for the defeats he had experienced up until now.

He would exchange blows a few times, fall, and then rise again with renewed resolve after receiving sharp yet constructive feedback, swinging his sword with greater determination.

He believed that was what “defeat” was supposed to be.

However, the defeat he suffered at the hands of Instructor Ziel Steelheart was not that kind of defeat.

He crushed me thoroughly, again and again.

The only feedback he received was a brief comment the moment he fell.

After that, he was mercilessly thrown down again and again, rolling across the floor dozens of times.

It was humiliating.

And yet, strangely enough…

After dozens of repetitions, Dellev found himself gritting his teeth.

He tried his hardest not to fall, and he reviewed his movements in his head.

And in the end…

I felt something.

He could clearly sense something.

He didn’t yet know what it was.

Dellev wanted to grow his talent—said to surpass even his brothers’—as quickly as possible, to blossom fully and be acknowledged.

So, on the morning of the third day of his seclusion, Dellev saw the timetable on the wall, confirmed that the instructor’s class was being held today, and left the dormitory.

I need to confirm it again during today’s class.

He had not planned to follow him from the start.

He had simply happened to spot Ziel near the Elbat Hall and followed him out of curiosity…

“Wh-why is it blocked?”

He reached a dead end.

It was his first time coming to the Elbat Hall.

He didn’t know the layout well, but at the very least, this part of the building shouldn’t have led to a dead end…

And the instructor was nowhere to be seen.

“Is there another path?”

From the opposite end, Ziel watched Dellev, who was tilting his head in confusion.

This is not a normal tail.

Those who had tailed him before, even when flustered, would turn back and take another route or take some other action.

Does he have a different purpose?

This student.

Why had Dellev Kundel followed him?

Does he have some business with me, like Celia Rihardt did?

That seemed the most likely reason.

Perhaps it was some kind of trend spreading among the students.

Tailing the instructor. How unique. Then again, that sort of trend might not have been included in the mission intel I received beforehand.

The world was vast, and culture came in many forms.

If he wished to stay long at Edelvine Academy and rise to the position of professor, he would need to adapt quickly.

“Student Dellev Kundel.”

Dellev flinched and spun around at the voice behind him.

He nearly fainted.

The instructor who had just vanished was suddenly standing behind him.

“Te-te-teacher? When…?”

“You were tailing me.”

He was caught.

Was I too obvious?

If he had known this would happen, he would’ve just gone quietly to the classroom.

“Is it a trend?”

“…Excuse me?”

“I asked if it is a trend among the students.”

“A trend…?”

What was he talking about?

“Tailing the instructor.”

“…I-I’m not sure.”

“If it is a trend, you should at least do it more naturally. Hiding your body behind a tree and peeking your head out is far too suspicious. It’s better to blend into a crowd or follow from rooftops outside your target’s line of sight.”

Dellev was speechless at the sudden lecture on how to tail someone.

Why… why is he explaining it in such detail…

“Next time, try to tail more skillfully.”

“Ah… um…”

Ziel took out his pocket watch, checked the time, and began to walk.

“Five minutes until class. Tardiness will result in demerits, so take care.”

“Ah, yes. Yes, sir.”

“Then.”

Ziel disappeared around the corner he had originally turned from.

Dellev stared blankly in that direction.

He completely forgot why he had followed him in the first place.

Then, when he instinctively turned around—

He collapsed to the floor.

“W-what?!”

The hallway that had been blocked off was now wide open.

In fact, he could see students exiting classrooms in the distance.

“This is insane…”

Clatter.

***

Still recovering from the shock, Dellev entered the classroom one minute late.

“You’re late, Student Dellev Kundel. This is your first tardy.”

Students whispered at the sight.

“What’s with his face?”

“Didn’t you hear? He got completely crushed by that instructor during the first liberal arts class.”

“Oh, that self-defense class?”

Dellev’s shoulders twitched.

Just as he was about to turn around—

“I believe I said before class began. You two students, what are your names?”

“Teacher, we weren’t talking…”

“I heard you clearly. Both of you—state your names.”

“…Karen Aswan.”

“Luke Miol…”

With no room to argue against his firm tone, the two students reluctantly gave their names.

“Students Karen Aswan and Luke Miol. Both of you receive a warning for chatting. It will affect your grades, so keep that in mind.”

“T-teacher!”

“This class will be conducted according to proper standards.”

Scratch, scratch.

The sound of Ziel’s pen writing something, likely grading notes.

The protest died down, and the classroom fell silent.

Dellev watched with a strange expression.

Was he… looking out for me?

“And Student Dellev Kundel. Since you were tardy, it will likewise be reflected in your grade.”

Of course not.

What on earth is this? How can he be this strict? What gives him the confidence to act this way toward the children of powerful noble houses recognized by the Empire?

Celia, watching all of this, continued to observe with deep interest.

No matter how she looked at it, he must have some backing.

Otherwise, a mere liberal arts instructor would never act this way toward such students.

There’s definitely something. Absolutely.

As names of numerous powerful noble families raced through Celia’s mind, Ziel began the lecture.

“Today’s class topic is ‘A Healthy Body and Physical Fitness.’”

A healthy body and physical fitness!

As the name suggested, this was a liberal arts class focused on bodily theory and training strength.

Alongside self-defense, it was a physical training–oriented course befitting the Sword School.

I brought my sword. Who am I supposed to spar with?

I’ll just practice alone.

Of course, that was only how it was described in the syllabus.

Until now, the class had never actually been conducted that way.

Students would spar with one another, swing their swords freely, or simply relax and do as they pleased.

The assistants, who took over the class in the absence of the liberal arts instructor, had naturally let things be.

They were already busy enough—it was convenient for them.

But Ziel was different.

“Before we begin full-scale physical training, we will first measure each of your physical fitness levels.”

The classroom fell silent at once.

Physical fitness assessment!

“Um… Teacher.”

A student raised her hand.

“Student Karen Aswan. Do you have a question?”

“What exactly do you mean by measuring fitness?”

“It is exactly as written in the syllabus. We will evaluate the physical fitness levels of all first-year Sword School students here and provide individualized training plans tailored to each level.”

“So then… what kind of measurement is it?”

Up to this point, Karen and the other students still hadn’t let go of their sliver of hope.

“Is he going to watch what we do and measure our fitness that way?”

“That must be it.”

A liberal arts class the upperclassmen said they spent goofing off in the whole time.

They thought they’d get to do the same.

And lately, they were even getting mocked for it.

They said you go there to slack off and end up suffering like dogs.

They’d thought being 40 out of a total class of 100 meant they were the chosen elite.

Turned out they were the elite who stepped in something nasty.

“So I hear you went to slack off and got saddled with a truly amazing liberal arts instructor?”

“Have fun with that. I’m off to Professor Elcanto’s lecture.”

“Honestly, Professor Elcanto’s liberal arts class would be better, wouldn’t it?”

“Long-distance running.”

So maybe it would turn out that way after all.

Long-distance running?

Some students even snorted to themselves.

Sword School students had entered to learn swordsmanship and martial arts.

Naturally, they had received ample training from their families before admission and survived fierce competition to get here.

Stamina wouldn’t be a problem at all.

So they thought.

“How many laps?”

“As many as you can.”

“That’s nothing.”

When one student snickered, a few others tittered in agreement.

But the moment they saw what Ziel lifted up, their expressions froze.

“Sandbags. You’ll run wearing these.”

Sandbags.

It was such an old-fashioned method that no one expected it to come up here and now.

Most had seen them tossed in some storage room—or occasionally used by soldiers training the old-school way.

“That much is nothing.”

“Pfft, if we use mana, it’s easy.”

But at the next instruction, everyone fell into despair.

“Use of mana is prohibited.”

“Huh?”

“It’s only natural. Even if you bolster yourself with mana, your endurance won’t improve that dramatically.”

The students were so shocked they fell silent.

“The syllabus said we would use ‘the most appropriate method.’ Long-distance running is the most appropriate exercise for measuring individual fitness.”

They knew that.

They knew, but now they were told to wear sandbags and not use mana!

Ziel pointed to the far end of the hall—no, the gymnasium—with his finger.

“Make yourselves as light as possible, go to the end, and line up. On my signal, you’ll run laps around this hall.”

“U-until when?”

“Until you’re exhausted.”

“If it’s ‘until we’re exhausted’…”

“You will continue running until all physical energy is depleted and your muscle fibers no longer respond.”

“What if we lose the will to keep going?”

“The standard for continuing is not your will, but the standard I just stated. That’s all. Everyone to your positions.”

As he finished speaking, Ziel strapped sandbags to his own ankles.

The students were flustered by both the unexpected class and the sight of him doing it himself.

But to Ziel, this was an utterly natural lesson.

For the first two years, I did nothing but run.

That’s how it had been during assassin training.

He even ran with sandbags heavier than these.

“Hey, h-hey. Are we really doing this?”

“H-he said go, so…”

“That’s not the point—”

Just then, one student silently unbuckled the sword and belt from his body and set them on the floor.

He then took sandbags from the box beside Ziel and strapped them to both ankles.

Thump. Thump.

He stepped out of the line and went to stand at the far end of the gym.

It was Dellev Kundel.

Other students flinched at the sight.

And then another.

“C-Celia too…?”

Celia Rihardt followed right after him.

Kundel and Rihardt.

Once the heirs of two great houses moved first, the other students, flustered, began to follow one by one.

“We start running now.”

At Ziel’s signal, the students began to run in ones and twos.

“Run until we drop from exhaustion?”

“I have my major class later… this is insane.”

But none of the students could complain.

Right beside them—

“Keep your breathing regular. Don’t breathe too short or too long. Control it as steadily as possible.”

Ziel began running alongside them, speaking in an utterly calm tone.

“Student, land lightly when you run. Keep doing it like that and your knees will give out soon.”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Student Karen Aswan. Don’t force yourself to keep up. What matters is running at the level you can sustain.”

He even offered advice to students here and there.

At first, they just accepted it.

But after about ten laps, students began to fall behind one by one, and even those in front started to breathe heavily.

Sandbags.

And the restriction on using mana.

The sandbags were actually pretty heavy on top of that.

So this is what it feels like when someone’s grabbing your legs.

“Don’t look at the floor—look straight ahead. You’ll trip if you keep staring down.”

Ziel’s voice remained perfectly composed.

When the first student finally fell behind, Ziel kept pace, ran over, and asked his name.

“Student, your name?”

“Huff, huff. Yurio… huff… Harmattan.”

“Yurio Harmattan. Twenty laps.”

Yurio, a small, timid student, answered meekly.

Each time another student collapsed from exhaustion, Ziel went over without fail, asked their name, and stated their record.

“How does he remember all that?”

There were 100 first-years in total.

Among them, 40 were taking this class.

Since students registered for both Liberal Arts I and II, the headcount stayed the same…

He remembered every single person’s record and reported it like that?

Then he would casually return to running, not even panting—without a single bead of sweat.

Even though he was wearing sandbags.

“Is he a monster?”

“Is he really a liberal arts instructor?”

The students slowly moved past suspicion and began to feel fear.

They’d drawn the short straw.

That thought hit them hard.

“Why did this have to happen during our freshman year…?”

“The upperclassmen said they took liberal arts easy!”

About thirty minutes passed.

Despite the name “Sword School,” half had already dropped out.

If they’d been allowed to use mana, everyone could have run several more laps easily, but without circulating mana through their bodies, they fell out one after another.

Sword School entrants had, at minimum, all awakened to the use of mana.

Beginner or adept, at least they knew how to channel mana through their entire body to enhance strength and endurance.

But once they were forbidden to use it, they dropped out in a short span like this.

Of course, not everyone ran straightforwardly by the book.

Tap.

Ziel slightly quickened his pace and drew alongside the student in the lead.

The student, unaware Ziel had caught up, looked around and made up his mind.

“Just a tiny bit. Just a little. He’ll never notice. It’s not like he’s a mage or anything.”

“You used mana.”

“H-huh?!”

Startled by the voice at his side, the student yelped.

Ziel had been an assassin.

Until just a few days ago.

He had been the best of the assassin order—called “the Wraith” by anyone with a dirty past who feared him.

Why other assassins couldn’t keep up with Ziel.

Why he could return after completing even impossible missions.

Because his “sense”—his aura perception—was perfect even among assassins.

“Your name, student?”

“I, uh…”

“You just used mana.”

“Uh… th-that… that is…”

The student was so flustered he stammered.

The remaining students, either running past or sprawled on the floor, watched.

“I asked what your name is.”

Ziel asked in a flat tone, showing not a hint of fatigue.

That calmness only made it more frightening.

“M-Maris Sopen.”

“Student Maris Sopen. Step out of the line immediately. You will stand over there until the class ends.”

“…”

“Did you not hear me?”

“Wh-what proof do you have that I used mana?”

Ziel tilted his head.

“Are you sure you didn’t?”

“Eighty-five laps. But since you used mana, it’s void.”

He spoke casually, but to Maris it felt scarier than if he’d shouted.

“Void?!”

“If you truly didn’t use mana, come to this exact spot at this exact time tomorrow and run the same way. If, without any issue, you record the same number of laps in the same condition, I’ll accept it.”

Maris couldn’t bring himself to answer.

But inside, he was grinding his teeth.

“How dare a mere liberal arts instructor…”

“You’re disrupting the class. Step aside.”

In the end, Maris moved off to the side.

But even as he did, he trembled with humiliation.

“So I used a little mana—does that justify publicly humiliating me in front of everyone?”

Maris Sopen.

Eldest son of House Sopen, ranked just below the Five Great Houses.

He hadn’t drawn as much attention as Dellev Kundel or Celia Rihardt, but at the time of admission, quite a few professors had taken interest in him.

“A damned liberal arts instructor, and he dares…”

Meanwhile.

Watching Maris step out, every other student had the same thought.

“How did he notice?”

There is a technique that only manifests at a certain level.

It’s called “mana manifestation.”

A technique that expels mana outward, imbuing it into a weapon or a fist.

Only at that level can the eye see mana.

Simply activating mana within the body is not something others can easily detect.

“That idiot Maris let himself get caught like that.”

“Making it obvious all by himself. You think no one else is using it, idiot?”

Of course, that’s all they believed.

They had no idea Ziel had sensed the mana with an assassin’s perception.

Another thirty minutes passed.

“Huff, huff.”

“Whoo, whoo.”

The gym was filled only with the sounds of heavy breathing and pounding footsteps.

Only two remained.

Sandbags on.

Mana use restricted.

And yet the way they kept running made them look like monsters.

“Hey, hey. Who do you think will win?”

“It’s gotta be that one, right?”

Dellev Kundel.

Celia Rihardt.

Of all people, the only two left were the heirs of two houses that had not been on good terms recently.

Of course, Ziel was still running.

Still without a single bead of sweat.

“Even if you used mana, it’d be hard not to get tired like that…”

Karen Aswan muttered.

Another ten minutes passed.

Their duel had reached the point where no one could hope to interfere.

In that stretch of time where you couldn’t tell who would collapse first—

Thud!

Five minutes later, at last, one of them fell.

No—

Just as he was about to fall—

“Student Dellev Kundel.”

Ziel rushed in and supported his body.

“Two hundred twenty-five laps.”

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Everyone in the faculty dining hall turned their eyes to one spot.

A man was striding in, his belly fat wobbling with each heavy step.

It was Professor Elcanto.

“Who do you think you are, just a mere instructor, to do something like that to a student!”

“I’m not sure what you mean, Professor Elcanto Paredes.”

Ziel answered calmly.

“You don’t know what I mean? Huh? Do you not remember what you did to student Dellev Kundel in your class today? Huh?”

“I did nothing beyond self-defense training.”

“That… argh! That’s exactly the problem! Why would you do that to a student! And of all people, a member of the Kundel family!”

“Is there a problem with that?”

“Of course there’s a problem! How could there not be! You slammed the Kundel family’s son into the ground! Are you going to take responsibility? Huh? Are you going to take responsibility!”

Ziel asked back, genuinely confused.

“It was a class in proper procedure. What exactly is there to take responsibility for?”

“Ugh!”

Professor Elcanto erupted in rage.

The assistant beside him hurried to intervene.

“P-Professor, if property is damaged here, our budget…”

The word budget jolted Elcanto back to reality.

Only then did he notice the eyes watching from all around.

Oh, shoot.

He took a deep breath and leaned his face close to Ziel’s.

“Instructor Ziel Steelheart. If the Kundel family cuts off their donations to our Sword School or demands accountability over this matter, you’d better be prepared!”

Professor Elcanto stormed off, fuming.

And yet, Ziel still wore the expression of someone who had done nothing wrong.

“Sir, I think you might be in serious trouble,” Celia said.

“Trouble?”

“Yes. I think the incident from class has reached the wrong ears.”

“You mean the demonstration conducted by the book?”

“…By the book?”

“I followed the proper curriculum. I should be receiving praise, not criticism. This is strange.”

Celia was speechless.

This wasn’t just rigidness… it felt like he was driven by some kind of unwavering conviction.

“I believe it was standard procedure to provide appropriate real combat experience to make them recognize the necessity.”

“That was… standard procedure?”

Had it been any other teacher, she would have thought they’d gone mad.

But for some reason…

When this teacher said it, she found herself nodding.

Maybe I should watch him a little longer.

Celia decided to withhold the proposal she had been about to make.

Judging by Professor Elcanto’s reaction, this teacher was unlikely to remain unscathed.

If he gets fired, it’ll be even easier to recruit him.

Offering him the position of bodyguard would be far more appropriate after his dismissal.

“By the way, didn’t you say you had business with me, Celia Rihardt?”

“Oh, um… I forgot.”

“Is your memory lacking?”

“…What?”

“Make sure to eat more salmon and nuts. They’re good for memory. I read it in a book.”

“……”

“Oh, and…”

Ziel added as if he had just remembered something.

“You’re getting a demerit.”

“…What?”

“The school rules state that students are prohibited from entering the faculty dining hall without a valid reason.”

“……”

Celia stared blankly as Ziel strode away… only to suddenly curl her lips into a pleased smile.

“I like him. He’s uncompromising.”

Meanwhile…

“What the…?”

Celia saw something strange.

She thought Ziel was leaving, but instead, he got another plate of food and sat back down.

“You’re still here, Celia Rihardt?”

***

The Next Day – Professor Elcanto’s Office

Professor Elcanto sipped tea as he read the newspaper.

“Hm. Not bad.”

He had overeaten last night due to stress, so today he planned to survive on a few cups of tea until lunch.

[Assassination group ‘Black Sky’ remnants—4 captured… 3 committed suicide]

[‘Leader Executed’—Black Sky destroyed, only the ‘Wraith’ remains!]

[Sir Sores, Commander of the Knights: “Complete eradication is near.”]

“Can they even catch that Wraith guy?”

This was the hottest topic in the Valdrein Empire.

The ongoing purge of the Black Sky assassin group.

Their leader had been captured and executed within a day, and now they were hunting down the remaining members.

But one man remained at large.

The assassin who had elevated Black Sky’s legend.

The Wraith.

Professor Elcanto clicked his tongue as he took another sip of tea.

“Where could he be hiding… Can they even catch him?”

Since the ascension of Emperor Valdrein X, many things had changed.

Imperial authority was being strengthened.

Public welfare was being stabilized.

And the assassination groups were being wiped out.

It seemed the current emperor had thoroughly prepared long before taking the throne.

“Well, good riddance to filth like them.”

Who could sleep peacefully if powerful enemies lurked in the shadows?

Though he was from a noble family and not particularly fond of the imperial house, even he approved of this one thing.

Knock, knock.

At the sound of knocking, Professor Elcanto answered without looking up.

“Enter.”

“Good morning, Professor Elcanto.”

It was his assistant.

He entered, placed the mail on the desk, cleaned off dust, and polished the glass windows he had replaced himself last night.

He looked as though he might burst into tears.

“Oh, right. Assistant.”

“Yes, Professor?”

“That Ziel fellow—he’s apologized, right?”

“Uh… I haven’t heard anything about that.”

Elcanto shot to his feet.

“He still hasn’t apologized?”

Those windows were replaced just yesterday.

“That damned brat…”

But the assistant hadn’t brought it up without reason.

“Student Dellev also hasn’t reported anything to his family yet.”

“What?”

Elcanto’s trembling hands stilled.

“He hasn’t reported it?”

“Yes.”

He had gone to visit yesterday but was turned away by Dellev’s bodyguard with an eviction order.

The young master was supposedly under strict rest.

“…What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure either…”

Professor Elcanto thought for a moment, then clapped his hands.

“That’s it!”

“Yes?”

“That guy… maybe he has someone powerful backing him!”

The assistant sighed inwardly.

If he had backing, why would he apply to be a liberal arts instructor?

No one wants liberal arts instructor positions.

Only nobles qualify, yet the pay is miserable and the job is contractual.

Despite being affiliated with Edelvine Academy, they were treated like dirt by professors and ignored by students.

You’d think they’d treat liberal arts instructors better…

But professors never would.

Because the ones who filled the gaps were assistants—practically no different from slaves.

As a result, the skill level of Sword School students had been declining year after year.

“Yes, he must have backing! There’s no way he would act like that otherwise!”

“Perhaps.”

“Assistant, when you have time, ask him discreetly. Find out which side he’s with. Who knows? Maybe his sponsor is an unbelievably powerful family.”

Steelheart.

A family name he had never heard in his life.

If you combed through the empire’s history books, you might find the name written somewhere.

“Yes, I’ll ask him once.”

“Man, seriously—what if that guy is actually someone incredible?”

The assistant thought to himself.

That’s exactly why I’m asking—why would someone like that take a liberal arts instructor job? And at the Sword School, of all places.

As if he’d have any backing.

If he did, he would’ve gone to the Arcane School, not the Sword School.

***

Ziel calmly finished preparing for class and shut the door to his dorm room.

He didn’t forget to set up a few devices to detect intruders.

His sense of self had returned, but old habits hadn’t vanished.

“Not bad.”

Webs everywhere.

Damp everywhere.

Mold everywhere.

Even bugs everywhere.

The furniture and walls were so old they were rotting through.

At last, a tenant had moved into a faculty dorm that had clearly been neglected for years.

“W-Wow… he really moved in there…”

Right next door, a guard from the lavish, glittering student dorm clicked his tongue as he watched Ziel walk out.

What kind of lunatic faculty member at Edelvine Academy would move into that place?

Maybe if you were a penniless academy kid with no connections and nowhere to sleep!

“Good grief, how did he even sleep in there? Didn’t any ghosts show up?”

But for Ziel, it was the perfect lodging.

When he went on missions and needed to lie low, he sometimes chose places no one would notice and hid for days in a pigsty.

Spending a month motionless beneath a ceiling where bugs and rats skittered was the bare minimum.

And that wasn’t all.

Living beside a cesspit was practically routine.

So this is what my own space feels like.

He felt genuinely pleased.

Back when he was brainwashed and working as an assassin, the only space Ziel was allowed was a tiny cell barely big enough for a single bed.

With no self, he had no desires to pursue, and he was merely given a place to sleep after training.

Now he had a room big enough for a bed, a desk, and even a locker, with space to spare.

Still, some habits were hard to break.

The window.

The ceiling.

The floor.

And the entrance.

Ziel finished setting traps at every point where someone could infiltrate or hide.

It was the same routine he always performed at safehouses during missions.

There was also good reason not to relax just yet.

But more than anything, doing this put his mind at ease.

Schwing.

Ziel drew a dagger and slipped it under the blanket.

So he could counterattack at any time.

Lastly, he adjusted a mirror so it reflected the window.

“That should do it.”

Instead of lying on the bed, Ziel sat with his back against the wall.

He had never once slept lying down.

At least, not while on a mission.

He fell asleep the moment he closed his eyes and woke twenty minutes later.

He immediately sat at the desk and laid out several items.

Cards.

He brought his bag over beside them.

Then he pressed and turned the lock at measured intervals and opened it.

Tap, tap, tap.

Small medicine vials came out of the bag and lined up on the desk.

He opened one and began dripping the contents onto the cards—little by little, bit by bit.

“This dosage should be enough.”

He slid the vial back into his bag as if the work were complete.

The cards showed no outward change.

They looked like ordinary blank cards.

He hesitated for a moment, recalling how he used to receive mission orders.

They’d stamp the order with a heavy thud before handing it over.

If he remembered right, there was some kind of magic on the stamp, but he figured he didn’t need to go that far.

“Hm.”

After a brief thought, he stepped outside, found a smooth stone, and brought it back.

Then he took out a very small knife…

Scritch, scritch. Tap, tap.

He carved the surface, etching what looked like a smiling face.

His hands moved with exquisite precision.

Scritch, scritch.

Innate dexterity.

Refined further by assassin training.

He finished in no time.

Ziel flattened the surface, pulled ink from his bag, and dabbed it.

“This should work.”

Thud.

A smiling face stamped onto a blank card.

Perfect bilateral symmetry, a flawless circle.

With that, the “Praise Card” was complete.

Will the students like it?

He had crafted the drug using a formula favored by assassins.

By applying it to the card, he’d made it special.

The card itself was also unusual.

It was a modified version—card-shaped—of an item he had used back in his assassin days.

Once used, it vanished without a trace, and it was incredibly convenient to deploy.

The purpose was simple.

Student protection.

The students would naturally come to understand how to use it.

“Today’s class… physical conditioning.”

Ziel packed the cards away, checked the schedule, and recalled the textbook he’d studied in advance yesterday.

“Stamina is national power!”

That’s what it said on the very first page.

If your stamina is lacking, you can’t do anything.

Ziel agreed completely.

After all, the first training assassins received was endurance training.

Only with stamina could you maintain mental focus during long stakeouts and seize fleeting assassination opportunities.

Most assassin techniques could barely be executed a few times without stamina.

“It’ll be a good session for the students.”

He left the dorm and headed to the Sword School lecture hall.

“Elbat Hall, huh.”

Elbat Ansen.

At the founding of Edelvine Academy, he had been a Sword School professor and was known as the Guardian Knight of the Valdrein Empire.

He was also the first person ever granted the title of “Imperial Knight.”

He lived over two hundred years ago, but if you listed the greatest figures of Valdrein, he always ranked in the top five.

Thanks to that, while Elbat Hall was the oldest among the Sword School buildings, the interior was perfectly maintained.

“Not bad.”

His memories from the assassin days were only of dingy, pitch-dark buildings.

Places where you couldn’t find an exit, where there wasn’t a single window, where even your sense of time broke down.

“Who’s that? A new freshman?”

“I don’t think I’ve heard about any freshman like that…”

Ziel’s relaxed stroll through Elbat Hall drew a lot of attention.

His looks, the aura that emanated from his appearance and gait, and his indifferent expression all combined into a weight you couldn’t quite define.

But it wasn’t the suffocating heaviness that some professors wore, the kind that forbade even approaching them.

“Oh, I heard about him. Isn’t he the new liberal arts instructor?”

“Ah! The one who supposedly caused a scene in the very first class?”

“I heard a freshman mouthed off at him.”

“And that freshman was from the Kundel family.”

“Ah.”

“So we actually have a real liberal arts instructor at the Sword School?”

Ziel heard every word aimed his way.

He couldn’t help it.

But he didn’t particularly care.

Instead, he focused on one sharp gaze that had been fixed on him for a while.

They’ve been on me since outside—about five minutes now.

At first, he assumed it was just someone staring, but since it kept trailing him, it had to be a tail.

The assassin’s instinct stirred.

Time to lure them out.

When you were being tailed, there were two ways to respond.

Shake them naturally.

Or eliminate them.

But this was a school.

Right now, shaking them naturally—or eliminating them—wasn’t easy.

So he decided to use a third option.

Ziel slid a hand into his jacket and pulled something out.

After turning into a side corridor, he confirmed that no one was ahead.

Click.

He quickly set the item from his jacket onto the floor.

Then he sprinkled a glittering powder over it, and the corridor looked empty again.

A moment later—

“Huh?”

The person tailing Ziel appeared.

“W-Was this always blocked off?”

They looked utterly bewildered.

And Ziel…

Is tailing teachers trendy at this school?

Found himself facing a very familiar face.

From Ziel’s side, it was beyond a transparent wall.

It was a trap used exclusively by Black Sky assassins.

In short, a device that projected a perfectly crafted fake scene.

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‘Really, Father?’

‘Of course. My judgment is precise. You will grow into greatness. I’m saying this secretly, but your talent surpasses even your brothers’.’

‘Then I want to become the greatest knight in the Empire!’

‘Yes, yes. You most certainly can.’

For a moment, it felt like his life flashed before his eyes.

Dellev blinked blankly.

It was the third time.

This time, he was struck when his attention was distracted by the chalk that Ziel had thrown.

Murmurs filled the room.

“He lost again?”

“It didn’t even look like a loss. He just got slammed.”

“Three times already…”

It was humiliating.

Was it because he stepped forward so confidently, only to be defeated?

No.

‘What the hell is going on?’

In the blink of an eye, the instructor named Ziel vanished, and his body was slammed into the floor.

This had never happened before.

Even when he lost a spar, he could always tell how he lost.

But this time, he couldn’t see anything at all.

He blinked, and suddenly he was on the floor.

‘I’m the greatest talent of House Kundel…!’

The greatest talent who would surpass his brothers!

That pride was the source of Dellev’s very existence.

But that pride was thoroughly shattered.

“Distraction is the easiest way to succeed with an ambush. When something suddenly flies at your face, always suspect an attack from behind.”

Ziel continued his explanation in a flat tone, as if it were nothing.

The students thought:

‘Forget suspecting anything—there was literally no time to think…’

‘How is chalk that fast?’

‘Is that even possible?’

Thanks to that, Dellev barely managed to lift his body amid his disgrace.

“Dellev Kundel, now do you understand the importance of self-defense?”

This was humiliation beyond humiliation.

The kind that must never be left unresolved.

“No… I still don’t… understand.”

Ziel tilted his head.

He had clearly shown it, and yet Dellev claimed he still didn’t understand?

‘Does he lack aptitude?’

But as a teacher, it was his duty to guide even those lacking aptitude.

“Then let us try again until you do.”

“As many times as you wish.”

A poisonous determination burned in Dellev’s eyes.

‘This time, I’ll see it.’

But—

Bang!

He didn’t see it again.

Dellev was once more slammed into the floor.

He still couldn’t see the chalk.

Instead, the lights flickered off again and on.

‘This is insane…’

This time, it was even faster.

The moment the attack came, the lights went out, and as he hit the ground, they flickered back on.

“Your reaction is too slow. When you expect an attack from behind, your hands should already be positioned near your chest to respond quickly.”

Dellev shot to his feet.

As Ziel said, he placed his hands at his chest.

Not because he chose to—

But because his body moved on its own.

At this point, pride no longer mattered.

“I still… don’t… understand.”

Bang!

Boom!

Ziel struck him down over a dozen more times without letting him block a single one.

“Your movement was slightly faster that time.”

“It’s more effective to block with your palm turned outward rather than the back of your hand.”

“Don’t drag your feet. It slows you down even for a moment.”

Gradually, Dellev’s responses began to improve.

The lights turned on and off, chalk flew at him again and again.

“This time, it’s smoke. I’ll warn you in advance.”

Poof!

Even a smoke bomb was thrown, and naturally, Dellev went rolling again.

‘A smoke bomb now?’

‘Isn’t that only used in second-year advanced classes…?’

In the latter part of their second year at Sword School, students took mock combat training resembling real battle.

Smoke bombs were used there.

“Huff… huff…”

The students observing fell silent.

‘This instructor is insane…’

It was one thing for Dellev to keep charging in like that.

But what was that instructor?

Surely he knew who House Kundel was.

Why was he mercilessly slamming the scion of one of the Empire’s greatest houses into the dirt?

‘Does he have someone powerful backing him?’

To attack the Kundel heir without hesitation—

He must not fear even the highest noble houses.

‘The Imperial Family…?’

‘Or another great house…? Ludbekia? Rihart?’

On top of that, Ziel hadn’t moved a single step since the beginning.

Only Dellev was rushing in like a madman.

Bang! Bang!

“This is getting entertaining.”

One student, Celia Rihardt, watched with growing interest.

‘So he’s not just good-looking.’

House Rihardt.

Alongside House Kundel, one of the Empire’s most prestigious noble families.

In terms of talent produced, some claimed it even slightly surpassed Kundel.

Celia was the second daughter of House Rihardt, and like Dellev, was considered the greatest genius in her family’s history.

And from her perspective…

This instructor named Ziel Steelheart was quite to her liking.

‘Perhaps… I should add him to the candidate list.’

She was referring to candidates for a personal knight.

Bang!

Meanwhile, Dellev was slammed down once again.

He wasn’t seriously injured or exhausted.

He had simply been knocked over.

Dellev realized—

The instructor was focusing on knocking him down, not hurting him.

‘He’s mocking me.’

There was no pain.

It didn’t hurt much even when he hit the floor.

And yet his mind was in tatters.

“Rrrgh!”

Crash!

He was slammed again.

“Your counterattack is too slow. Your field of vision is too narrow. Look more to your left and right.”

And yet… strangely…

He wanted to keep going.

It felt like he was improving, bit by bit.

“That wasn’t bad. But you’re still too slow.”

“Huff… huff… What was slow?”

“Your right hand.”

Thud!

He was flattened again.

“You cannot assume I will always come from the right.”

This time, Ziel had attacked from the left.

“Still, that was your best movement yet, Dellev Kundel.”

The moment he heard those words, Dellev simply collapsed on the ground.

He was completely spent.

Ziel looked down at him and asked:

“Now do you understand?”

“Huff… huff…”

Dellev could only gasp for air, unable to speak.

“If you still do not understand, then try again next class.”

Ziel glanced at the clock, then turned to the students.

“I’ll end our first class here. The other students should also understand the importance of self-defense by now.”

Ziel thought so.

He believed he had shown them more than enough.

“In the next class, I’ll explain the basics of self-defense, so make sure you all bring your textbooks.”

With that, Ziel left the lecture hall.

But none of the students could stand up for a long while.

Including Dellev, who was lying on the floor—no one moved.

“L-let’s go…”

“Dellev, are you okay…?”

Kusman was the only one who ran over to help Dellev up.

“D-Dellev, you alright?”

“……”

Dellev raised only his upper body and stared blankly into space.

“‘Best,’ my foot…”

He was dazed.

Scenes from the last two hours flashed through his head without pause.

And yet, strangely…

Why was that?

It didn’t feel all that bad.

“This is the first time I’ve been slammed into the floor dozens of times like this…”

“No one’s ever had that experience…”

“But I don’t actually feel bad…?”

For a young lord from a noble house, this was a situation beyond imagination.

“Are… are you sure you’re okay?”

Kus had a thought.

Maybe Dellev’s head had gotten scrambled from being slammed too often.

***

Slurp!

Professor Elcanto’s office was steeped in leisure.

Six in the evening.

Professor Elcanto had finished all his classes and returned to his office to enjoy a restful evening.

He didn’t eat dinner.

His personal physician had advised him to reduce his food intake as much as possible.

‘I really did gain a lot of weight.’

Professor Elcanto kept knocking back cups of tea.

It was the only way to endure the hunger.

Every so often his eyes drifted to the box where he kept snacks, but he resisted with all his might.

He wanted to get back the sharp jawline he used to have.

“Right, I’ve been under way too much stress these past few years, so of course I gained weight.”

So many bouts of intrigue he had weathered to become a full professor.

It was a position he had won through struggle.

How bitter it had been to be passed over just because he didn’t come from a great noble house, despite his ability.

But all that hardship had ended a few years ago.

Among the full professors he was still at the bottom, but from here on out he expected a stress-free life where he could do as he pleased…

Knock knock.

“Um, Professor Elcanto. It’s your TA.”

“Oh, right. Come in.”

Professor Elcanto poured another cup of tea.

Of course, it was for himself, not the TA.

“So, what is it?”

He asked with the gentlest smile he could muster.

But at the TA’s next words, he shot to his feet.

“W-what?”

“W-well…”

“That damned instructor…”

His hands trembled.

His face flushed a furious red.

He could not contain the anger boiling up.

“Three, two, one.”

The TA, who had been counting down silently, squeezed his eyes shut and covered his ears.

“What on earth did he doooooooo!”

Clang!

The glass on the table shattered, and cracks spread across the display cabinet’s panes.

A roar suffused with mana.

It was a Battle Roar—the kind they said only a grandmaster-level fighter could use.

Why it had to erupt now of all times was beyond him.

With a weary look, the TA started counting the broken windows and cups.

‘We’re going to have to replace all of that again…’

Third year as a TA.

By now, he had resigned himself to fate.

“How dare some contract instructor lay hands on House Kundel!”

Professor Elcanto turned sharply toward the TA, still fuming.

“So he ‘demonstrated’ self-defense by slamming Dellev Kundel into the floor?”

“Y-yes…”

“This lunatic…”

Professor Elcanto clenched his fist tight.

‘One instructor is going to derail my entire life…’

Kundel.

Rihardt.

And the other great houses’ heirs were all special-care students at Edelvine Academy.

Why?

Because a substantial portion of Edelvine Academy’s finances were funded by donations from those great houses.

Which meant not a single incident—no matter how small—could be allowed to befall those heirs while they studied and graduated.

And yet… a major incident had just exploded.

“Why—why… why would he do that…”

Whether it was the Sword School or the Arcane School, liberal arts classes existed mainly to rack up credits.

First-years, who mostly took liberal arts, often treated the year as time to coast by with just enough attendance.

That was all Professor Elcanto had wanted as well.

Teach just enough, give out generous grades, and let the semester pass quietly…

‘If Kundel cuts off their donations…’

A horrible vision he didn’t dare fully imagine flashed through his mind.

Professor Elcanto’s brain started spinning fast.

“Right, th-that Zi—Zi—”

“Ziel Steelheart, Professor.”

“Right! Where is that bastard?”

“In the staff cafeteria…”

Wobble.

Professor Elcanto’s belly wobbled fearsomely as he heaved himself up.

***

Clatter.

Ziel set down his fork, satisfied with his meal.

The staff cafeteria.

He liked it here very much.

Because he could eat to his heart’s content.

“The food tastes good.”

Food was special to Ziel.

He had once gone three days without eating.

Then, lured by the promise of a meal, he took a man’s hand, followed him, and became an assassin.

After that, as an assassin, he rarely felt the joy of eating.

Only the minimum rations necessary for training.

Nutrient bricks with no flavor to speak of.

Now, with the brainwashing undone, he had regained his sense of self.

The unresolved grudge of his childhood.

He was finally releasing it, twenty years later.

“Hey, who is that guy?”

“Who eats dinner five times?”

He was perhaps releasing a bit too much.

“I like this place.”

Ziel had taken a liking to this place.

If he simply followed Professor Elcanto’s instructions by the book, he could live safely here—where the food was delicious.

“I wrapped up the first class very satisfactorily…”

The students had seemed focused on the lesson, too.

Not a single one took their eyes off him until the class ended, which meant they were fully absorbed.

“It would be nice to become a full professor, too.”

He had never even dared to dream of a new life while he was brainwashed.

But the moment he regained his self, Ziel began pursuing one.

Safe, with a cover identity, and above all, with good food.

Teaching was fairly fun as well.

One more thing.

“My face doesn’t feel suffocated.”

Since being taken by the assassin order, he had never once gone outside with his real face.

After he completed training and became a formal assassin, he used a disguise mask on every mission.

Walking around with his real face—this was the first time since those days begging under the bridge before he was taken.

“I should head back to the dorm.”

He even had a place to lay his head.

He hadn’t had time to explore because he started teaching on day one, but simply having a place to sleep pleased him immensely.

While Ziel was focused on his food and his thoughts…

‘There he is.’

A student entered the staff cafeteria and snuck up behind him.

Just as the student reached for Ziel’s shoulder from behind—

“Celia Rihardt.”

Ziel turned his head.

Celia froze on the spot.

“H-how did you know?”

Once he had observed a person, identifying them wasn’t difficult.

Celia was even easier.

The spacing of her footsteps.

The strong perfume.

Those two things were enough.

“Next time you try to approach me secretly, use a different method.”

Celia stared at him in disbelief, then suddenly brightened.

“But… you do remember me, right? You only saw me once earlier. So I did stand out, didn’t I?”

“You’re my student.”

My student.

Those words made Celia’s heart skip.

For Ziel, it was a literal statement.

To him, she didn’t even have a particularly striking face.

At least, not to Ziel.

“So, what’s your business? Before that, this is a staff-only cafeteria. Students aren’t allowed in.”

“Oh my, I’m a Rihardt.”

“You mean your house is Rihardt?”

“That’s not what I mean—I am a Rihardt…”

It wasn’t the kind of thing one said outright.

“Anyway, no one’s going to make a fuss.”

“Because you’re a Rihardt?”

“Yes.”

Only then did Ziel begin to understand.

“Do entry privileges here depend on a house’s prestige?”

‘Why is he being so stiff?’

People like him were rare these days.

Not in a good way.

At least, not at Edelvine Academy.

“That’s not it exactly… There’s this thing called flexibility in the world.”

“So it isn’t by the book.”

“What does that matter?”

“It matters. Schools have rules.”

“You’re really rigid, aren’t you. Right, you asked what I wanted. Honestly… I just happened to see your face as I was passing by.”

Ziel tilted his head.

“For just passing by, you watched me for quite a long time.”

He checked the time and added:

“It’s been about thirty minutes since I started eating. Celia Rihardt, you’d been following me for at least fifty minutes. From Avedardo Hall.”

Good grief.

He’d known?

Celia’s ears turned red.

“Your ears are flushing. That’s a bodily reaction that usually shows when you’re embarrassed.”

“N-no! I’m not embarrassed at all!”

“Really? Then you’re flustered.”

“I suppose I told the truth, then.”

Even in that moment, Celia was thinking.

‘He’s more impressive than I thought.’

At first, it was his face that drew her eye.

But Celia wasn’t the type to tail someone for looks alone.

Good-looking people were everywhere.

Of course, few were as handsome as Ziel.

Either way, there was only one reason she had trailed him and struck up a conversation.

“Then how did you know I was following you?”

“You trailed me boldly without even trying to hide your presence.”

As if his unearthly good looks weren’t enough, he looked strong enough to have toyed with Dellev Kundel.

And on top of that, he had the keen senses to notice she was tailing him.

“Is that so?”

Celia let her reddened ears show as she curled one corner of her mouth.

“Professor. About that…”

Just then—

“Ziel Steelheart!”

From the entrance of the staff cafeteria.

A thunderous voice rang out, calling Ziel by name.

Prev I TOC I Next

Prev I TOC I Next

The rumor that a new liberal arts Instructor had arrived at Sword School spread quickly.

“Hey, did you hear? They said a new liberal arts Instructor is coming.”

“Really? Why?”

“What does it matter? Liberal arts is just something you attend half-heartedly anyway.”

“Yeah. The seniors said the same thing. As long as you don’t get marked absent, you’re fine.”

“Anyway, they said you just sit through liberal arts. Since today is orientation, it’ll probably be over in ten minutes.”

Sword School’s first liberal arts subject:

Understanding Self-Defense.

The students were only attending because they were told to, not because anyone was interested in the class.

In fact, they didn’t even need to attend.

It was good if they did, but if not, they could just earn credits through their major.

However, students still fought fiercely to register for liberal arts classes.

To be exact, out of the five liberal arts classes, they avoided the three taught by professors and flocked to the two taught by Instructors.

One of them was “Understanding Self-Defense.”

“Hey, isn’t this seriously a free ride? The seniors said so.”

“I’m telling you, since it’s an Instructor teaching it, it’s supposed to be easy. You just sit there and leave.”

“When I think about how hard it was to get into this class…”

There were one hundred first-year students in total.

And on top of that, there were second-years and above who hadn’t passed their liberal arts requirements for various reasons.

Among all those competitors, the forty students here had claimed victory.

A fierce battle fought just to enjoy the benefits!

These forty were the winners.

“Dellev, what are you doing?”

“Studying my major.”

Among those students was one boy reading his major textbook with an expression that said he didn’t care at all about the class.

“Class is about to start.”

“Liberal arts are always taught by teaching assistants anyway. And I heard they just give a short orientation and then tell us to self-study.”

Dellev Kundel.

The third son of the Kundel family, a boy with a memorable appearance—smooth golden hair symbolizing the Kundel family, and bright blue eyes.

“This time, they said an actual Instructor is coming.”

“They never last more than a few months anyway. My brothers said so. Even if an Instructor arrives, they don’t last long.”

“Oh, right, your brothers are in their third and fifth year.”

Dellev soon became absorbed in his textbook.

A few nearby students glanced at him.

“He’s the one who entered as the top student, right? From the Kundel family?”

“If we get close to him, he might help us get through academy life smoother.”

“I don’t know. Go talk to him.”

Dellev noticed their stares but his mind was entirely focused on his major.

‘Surpass my brothers.’

Amidst praise of being the greatest talent, he had entered Edelvine Academy as a freshman.

As the top of his class!

He had to prove his exceptional talent.

He couldn’t disappoint his family’s expectations.

Meanwhile—

“Celia, do you want to go to the plaza after this? The seniors said there’s something really good there—”

“Luke, shut up and stop talking to me. I’m going to sleep.”

“Oh, o-okay…”

There was even a student like Celia Rihardt who simply fell asleep.

Rihardt.

Along with Kundel, one of the Empire’s Five Great Houses.

Celia was the second daughter of the Rihardt family, and among the heirs, she had the greatest talent in swordsmanship.

Just like Dellev, she showed no interest and lay down with her eyes closed.

Her smooth, flowing red hair covering her face attracted the stares of the male students this time.

“Hey, did you hear? That assassin organization got destroyed.”

“Assassin organization?”

“You know, that super scary one.”

“Oh, that Wraith? The one with that guy?”

“Yeah. It was in the newspaper. The Empire wiped them out.”

Meanwhile, some students chatted excitedly.

Out of the forty students, not a single one was actually interested in the liberal arts lecture.

And then—

“Everyone, take your seats. Class is beginning.”

None of the students noticed that Ziel had entered.

“W-what the?”

A voice suddenly came from the front, causing the students to flinch.

“When did he… come in?”

“Hey, did you see? When did he walk in?”

An assassin (former).

Not just any assassin, but the greatest assassin of the organization, feared as Wraith.

He hadn’t even needed to use any assassination technique to walk to the podium unnoticed.

He had simply walked in naturally.

Anyone with his skill could slip into a person’s blind spot at any time.

From the entrance to the podium.

About ten meters.

That walk had been executed with exquisite timing.

The classroom suddenly fell silent.

“He’s the new liberal arts Instructor… right?”

“Hey, he looks kind of good.”

“Not just good… he’s on another level…”

Celia lifted her head at the murmurs.

At that moment, sunlight streaming through the window illuminated the side of Ziel’s face.

Celia took in a quiet breath.

A pale face.

Eyes and nose sharply shaded by the sunlight.

And orange-colored eyes.

How could someone with a face like that have walked in without anyone noticing?

‘It’s really him.’

She had planned to sleep.

But a smile spread across Celia’s lips.

“So they really brought in a separate Instructor this time. Last year, a teaching assistant came in and told everyone to self-study.”

“He didn’t even last one semester before quitting, right?”

Cus whispered next to Dellev, who still had his major textbook open.

And right then—

“Yes. This year, I will be serving as the liberal arts Instructor.”

“You… heard us?”

“I heard.”

“……!”

“And the student next to you—what exactly are you reading? We haven’t distributed the textbook for this class yet.”

Dellev glared at Cus.

“Because of you…”

“The ‘Theory of Sword Counterattacks’ you’re reading is not part of this course, so put the book away.”

How had he heard and seen that?

The distance between the podium and the students was at least twenty meters.

There was no way he could see the title of the book, let alone hear whispering.

Dellev closed his book with a bewildered expression and swallowed hard.

“Starting today, I am Ziel Steelheart, and I will be in charge of the liberal arts subjects at Sword School.”

The classroom was silent.

‘Weren’t we just supposed to sleep?’

‘I was going to study my major…’

‘Nothing the seniors said was true.’

Whether at Sword School or Arcane School, they had been told that as long as they didn’t skip, liberal arts didn’t matter.

“I will conduct this class properly, following the standard curriculum.”

“Properly.”

At that word, the students sensed something ominous.

“If you do anything unrelated during class or fail to participate earnestly, you will be called out—just like now.”

It wasn’t going to be easy.

“Evaluation will also be conducted properly. Please refer to the syllabus for the grading criteria.”

The grading criteria written in the syllabus were extremely strict.

Class participation, number of questions, improvements throughout the term!

Were they really going to evaluate all that?

‘We’re screwed, aren’t we?’

‘Why didn’t the seniors say any of this?!’

Why had they fought so hard to get into this class?

‘Wasn’t this supposed to be easy?’

‘They said it was free credits…!’

They had endured so much competition all for the sake of this.

“Is this not honey, but… poison?”

While every student sat in shock, only Celia watched Ziel with a look of growing interest.

“Hm.”

It was not because of what he had just said.

And then, a student raised his hand for an entirely different reason.

“Sir.”

It was Dellev.

The same student who had brothers in their third and fifth year.

“Since this is just liberal arts, can’t we take it easy?”

The lecture hall once again fell completely silent.

“From what I’ve heard, that’s how it’s always been.”

The same goes for Arcane School, and even more so for Sword School.

There’s this perception that liberal arts lectures exist only to satisfy the school rules.

“And come on, this is Sword School—who needs self-defense? You just draw your sword and cut.”

Dellev’s attitude wasn’t much different from what the long-ignored liberal arts Instructors had seen before.

That puffed-up spirit unique to freshmen!

The pride of entering as the top student!

And even a touch of arrogance that comes from being a scion of a premier family.

Ziel watched him in silence and asked a question.

“What’s your name, student?”

“Dellev Kundel.”

Kundel.

One of the greatest houses in the Empire.

Dellev was their third son.

In other words, among these Sword School freshmen, he had one of the strongest backgrounds.

He was even called the most gifted among his brothers.

At the entrance ceremony, every professor had sought him out at least once to meet him.

‘He should get it by now.’

But Ziel answered with a blank expression.

“Dellev Kundel. Come to the front.”

“Sorry?”

“Come to the front.”

Dellev let out a short, disbelieving laugh.

If anything, he was curious.

What would this man say after calling him out?

‘I’m from the Kundel family.’

A house known across the Empire.

Dellev walked forward just as Ziel had said.

“Yes, I’m here.”

In the same calm voice, Ziel asked Dellev.

“Do you understand the importance of self-defense?”

“We belong to Sword School, though.”

“I asked about the importance of self-defense, and your answer is that you belong to Sword School. That’s the wrong answer.”

Dellev tilted his head.

“I’m saying self-defense isn’t necessary because we’re in Sword School.”

“Why wouldn’t it be necessary?”

“Well… isn’t drawing a sword faster in that time?”

Ziel thought differently.

Even if you have a sword, there are many urgent situations where you don’t have the time to draw it.

Even after drawing, there are plenty of times when you can’t swing it freely.

In fact, some assassination targets with excellent swordsmanship died without drawing even once.

‘I’ll have to teach him.’

Professor Elcanto had said it.

Just follow the standard approach.

This student clearly didn’t understand the importance of self-defense, so he would simply show him.

“Then why don’t we try it. Whether self-defense is necessary or not—let’s experience it.”

Not theory, but practice.

Theory matters.

But practice matters more.

It was something he had learned many times while mastering the art of assassination.

Dellev, on the other hand, was incredulous.

‘A mere liberal arts Instructor?’

He could demonstrate as much as needed.

And he could show off in front of his peers while he was at it.

If he showed his skill properly, liberal arts would be smooth sailing from now on.

Of course, with the Kundel name behind him, who would dare lay a hand on him—but earning it himself felt different.

“So, are you going to attack me or what?”

“Dellev Kundel can attack, or I can. It doesn’t matter.”

Dellev’s eyebrow twitched.

Even if he was only a first-year, he was the most talented among his brothers.

‘He’s looking down on me.’

Ziel Steelheart?

He had never even heard the name.

Dellev had been sparring with knights even before enrolling.

And as the valedictorian, his confidence overflowed.

His opponent was a liberal arts Instructor.

‘How strong could he be, really.’

If he were a former knight, he wouldn’t have come in as an Instructor but in some other position.

With a faint scowl, Dellev gripped his scabbard.

“Sir, don’t regret this. I won’t be responsible if you get hurt.”

Ziel silently took a small step back to open the distance.

Dellev smirked.

More than enough distance.

With a single step forward, he would have plenty of time to draw and swing.

“Block my attack and counter me.”

“Sure—come at me whenever.”

And then—

Fwip.

For a moment, it felt like Ziel had vanished.

Not only Dellev but every student in the lecture hall sensed the same thing.

But a moment later—

Thud!

Someone slammed into the floor.

It wasn’t Ziel, but Dellev.

No one realized what had just happened.

“Uh… so…”

“Dellev just…”

They hadn’t seen the exchange.

They blinked, and Dellev was already flat on his back.

In a very undignified position.

“Urgh, gah… ngh…”

Letting out a pitiful groan.

He hadn’t had the chance to draw his sword, let alone respond.

“Kh.”

Dellev hurriedly pushed himself up.

He had only fallen; the impact wasn’t all that serious.

Physically, anyway.

His mind, however, had already started to unravel.

“I… I was thinking about something else just now.”

At that, Ziel turned his head toward a student sitting by the window.

“You there. Close the curtains.”

“Sorry?”

“I said close them. Block the light.”

The student stood up without thinking and drew the curtains.

Only the indoor lights remained.

‘What is he planning?’

Dellev looked confused, then let out a short laugh.

“What, you don’t want the students to see you getting beaten by me?”

He still thought that way.

He told himself the earlier fall had been due to carelessness.

So he could still talk like this.

For now.

“You don’t seem to know the definition of self-defense, so I’ll explain it, Dellev Kundel.”

At that moment, Ziel picked up a piece of chalk—

Tap.

He threw it and hit the switch dead on.

Darkness swallowed the room at once.

And in the dark came a dull thud and a cry.

Bang.

“A surprise attack can come at any time. In situations where you can’t see a thing like this, of course, but also when you’re asleep.”

Tap.

“Gah!”

The lights flicked back on.

Two chalk marks stained the magic-powered switch.

What the students saw was exactly the same scene as before.

“Urk, gah…”

Dellev lay there again in an embarrassing heap.

And Ziel stood over him, looking down.

“This is what self-defense means. An ambush comes in the worst possible circumstances. You won’t have time to draw your sword, and after it lands, you won’t even have time to scream.”

Ziel looked over the students and continued.

“Will you scream ‘cowardly ambush’ only after you’re dead? Or will you respond, create an opening, and counter in that brief moment?”

He had heard it all before.

During assassinations.

‘You cowardly assassin!’

‘Stabbing from behind!’

‘Fight fair and square!’

It was mostly the cowards who said such things.

Like the leader of a bandit gang.

Or a slaver.

‘If we fought fair, I’d crush you with one—urk!’

Of course, he never heard the rest of that line.

They usually died before finishing the sentence.

Dellev had no answer.

The other students were silent as well.

There was nothing to argue with.

The real problem was the absurd movement Ziel had just shown.

You could blame the second time on the darkness, maybe.

But no one had seen how Dellev had fallen the first time.

‘They didn’t bring in a liberal arts Instructor…’

‘What… what kind of person did they bring in?’

Ziel looked at Dellev again.

“Do you understand the importance of self-defense now?”

This was the importance of self-defense, interpreted in Ziel’s way.

It was a method the students had never even imagined.

Seeing their blank faces, Ziel felt satisfied.

‘I followed the standard approach.’

It was the first day as an Instructor.

And the students—

‘This isn’t easy credits.’

‘This is a total disaster…’

‘We’re screwed.’

They shuddered at the hardship they felt was coming.

It was a liberal arts class they had to take regardless.

If they dropped it now, they would have to wait until next year.

Edelvine Academy had no course drop system.

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It seemed the organization had been destroyed.

It felt as if a rope tightly bound around his mind had suddenly snapped free all at once.

There was no doubt.

The final layer of brainwashing placed by the organization had just been lifted.

After a mission ended.

The sensation was identical to when existing brainwashing was loosened to initiate re-brainwashing.

Flutter.

A pigeon flew in at that exact moment.

It was a pigeon sent by the organization.

Rustle.

He unfolded the note tied to its ankle and infused it with mana, revealing the message.

[Black rain has fallen.]

No matter how many times he checked, it was unmistakably from the organization.

He had received many short coded messages before, but never this one.

However, he knew exactly what it meant.

The organization has perished!

He had been a member of the Empire’s greatest assassination group.

And he had been their greatest assassin.

Wraith.

That was what they called him.

But now, there was no place left for him to return to.

And—

“I’m perfectly fine.”

Wraith placed his fingers in turn on his neck, wrist, and heart to check his pulse.

As expected.

He wasn’t dead.

Even the organization’s final contingency plan had failed to kill him.

[Black rain has fallen.]

Normally, any assassin who saw this sentence was meant to die.

A hidden trigger embedded deep within the brainwashing.

The moment they touched a strip of a specific material and saw those words.

Their heart would stop.

But Wraith’s heart continued to beat powerfully.

Wraith immediately pulled the mission orders from his coat.

Fwoosh!

In an instant, both the mission orders and the note burst into flames.

The only remaining traces of the mission were completely erased.

Any evidence that Wraith had been dispatched was now gone.

“At last… I’m free.”

The organization had been destroyed.

And now, Wraith was—

[Edelvine Academy – Sword School, Introductory General Education Course: Understanding of Self-Defense] 

[Instructor: Ziel Steelheart]

He was about to begin his first class under his cover identity.

It was the first day of his mission.

***

He hadn’t been called Wraith from the beginning.

About twenty years ago.

At that time—his name and memories from then were now hazy.

Before he even turned three, the first words he learned were “Please give me food.”

He repeated those words in front of passersby.

—You have talent, boy.

One day, a man said that to him.

—Follow me, and you’ll never go hungry.

From that moment on, he became an assassin.

What followed was relentless training and brainwashing.

He learned countless killing techniques, and his emotions were suppressed.

After passing the final test and becoming a full assassin, he spent the next twenty years living in the shadows.

He began to be called Wraith after completing 200 assassination missions.

Enemy assassins.

High-ranking bureaucrats.

Slave traders.

Corrupt lords.

Merchant guild masters.

Even those who stood at the peak trembled at rumors of Wraith’s approach.

Absurd rumors followed him.

They said he had no physical form and lived only as a shadow.

That he had been born from darkness.

That he was the child of a demon.

Wraith was such a being.

Respected by his fellow assassins, feared by those who stood against him.

Now, that very figure was meeting with a professor of the Sword School in anticipation of teaching his first class.

‘He’s not a bad warrior.’

Edelvine Academy’s Sword School.

A specialized academy where students who wished to learn martial arts, including swordsmanship, enrolled.

Together with the Arcane School, which taught magic, it formed the two great pillars of Edelvine Academy.

Although the Arcane School had surpassed the Sword School in recent years, the perception among the populace remained unchanged.

Out of approximately 3,000 undergraduates, nearly 1,000 were Sword School students—making it the academy’s largest division.

One of its tenured professors.

Elcanto Paredes had once been a formidable fighter.

A Knight of the Empire.

More precisely, a Grand Knight—one rank below a Holy Knight.

Though he had been a lower-ranked Grand Knight, that title was only bestowed upon those who had achieved a significant level of mastery in swordsmanship.

However—

‘Why does his stomach look so bloated today?’

The man had grown immensely overweight.

Perhaps, in the past, he had been exceptional.

While Elcanto’s gaze lingered on his own gut, Ziel was observing something else.

‘If I attacked by surprise, once would be enough. If face-to-face, twice.’

His instincts measured the level and determined the likely outcome.

Professor Elcanto seemed to misunderstand Ziel’s gaze for a moment.

“Professor Ziel Steelheart, please relax.”

In that instant, Ziel realized an unexpected fact.

‘He’s ridiculously handsome. And why is his skin so pale?’

This new life he was beginning as Ziel Steelheart, under a fabricated identity.

Up until now, he had never shown his real face.

On missions, he always wore an infiltration mask.

Ziel had never truly given thought to his natural appearance.

Which is why he didn’t yet realize how striking—and dangerous—his looks could be to others.

“Ahem, ahem. Professor Ziel Steelheart?”

“Ah, yes.”

Professor Elcanto’s gentle voice reached him.

“Thank you for joining us, Professor Ziel. Coming to this honorable Edelvine Academy is a most excellent and distinguished decision.”

“Is that so.”

“Yes. I cannot tell you how fortunate we are to have you here. Please take good care of our students.”

“Yes, I understand.”

His response was indifferent and emotionless.

If the brainwashing had not been lifted, he might have shown an appropriate level of friendliness.

The brainwashing altered one’s entire personality to match the mission they were assigned.

There was no such thing as a true self.

They were nothing more than puppets moving according to pre-programmed conditioning.

But now, only three things remained within Ziel.

The instincts of an assassin.

The techniques of an assassin.

And—

A blank, white self he had regained after twenty years.

The information and knowledge he acquired during mission deployments remained intact.

But it is the self that gathers that knowledge and turns it into thoughts and ideology.

Without a center, that knowledge was scattered like fragments—leaving his self almost pure white.

“Are you the quiet type? That’s actually good. Yes, an instructor at Edelvine Academy should carry a certain gravitas.”

Ziel did not respond to Professor Elcanto’s words.

His mind was still clouded, adjusting to the self he had just regained for the first time in decades.

But the serious expression on his face gave rise to misunderstanding.

‘Did he not hear me?’

“Professor Ziel?”

“…….”

“Ahem, yes! Very good! You have gravitas. Essential for an educator!”

Ziel had a single goal.

To adapt well in this place as a general education instructor for Edelvine Academy’s Sword School.

It was his own goal—not that of an assassin.

‘A new life.’

Twenty years as an assassin.

In other words, twenty years without a self.

Now that he had regained his self, he was aiming for a new life.

In truth, he had regained his self specifically to live that new life.

“I will do my best to adapt.”

“Excellent attitude.”

Professor Elcanto smiled with satisfaction.

But inwardly, his smile held a different meaning.

‘Thank goodness. I can finally survive this year.’

Sword School general education instructors were hard to come by.

The eligibility requirements were strict.

Commoners could not apply.

Only nobles could.

Even fallen nobles were acceptable, but most fallen nobles chose to join the military instead.

After all, they could still start as officers and earn good pay.

Of course, if that were the only issue, there would still be a number of applicants.

After all, what kind of place was Edelvine Academy?

It was one of the two great academies, founded alongside the Empire itself, sharing its history.

Many came solely for the honor of serving here.

However, the general education instructor position was different.

Low pay.

Short-term contract.

No honor and no retirement benefits.

They were looked down upon by professors and often ignored by students.

It was no wonder the previous instructor resigned before even finishing a single semester.

The situation had become so dire that three of the five general courses were being taught by full professors, and the remaining two by teaching assistants.

Now that someone had finally taken the position, the professors—especially Professor Elcanto, the lowest in seniority among the full professors—could finally breathe a sigh of relief.

‘Was the record five months? Either way, please don’t quit. My suffering needs to end!’

He wondered how this one would fare.

If he lasted even six months, it would be a blessing.

“Ahem. And just so you know, if things go well, a contract renewal is possible. So work hard.”

“Is it possible to eventually become a professor?”

“A… professor?”

Why would someone applying for a general instructor position even ask such a thing?

Professor Elcanto hesitated for a moment.

Becoming a full professor after starting as a general instructor and working up through assistant professor was not theoretically impossible…

‘But practically, it was absurd.’

Still, Professor Elcanto smiled broadly.

“Of course, Professor Ziel.”

“Professor……?”

“Anyone who works hard and proves their ability has every possibility. You’ve met the basic requirements. Keep working as a general education instructor, and your opportunity will come.”

“Yes, I understand.”

A clueless fool.

A meaningful smile spread across Professor Elcanto’s face.

‘I can become a professor.’

Ziel formed yet another goal.

If he became a professor.

Then his life under this false identity would become even safer.

For now, however, his first priority was simply to stay at Edelvine Academy as long as possible.

‘This is the safest place.’

It wasn’t that Edelvine Academy itself was particularly safe.

It was that this mission was safe.

Unlike past missions, this one was designed entirely by him.

Only he knew about it.

He even wrote the mission orders himself and secured his cover identity alone.

For the sake of his new life.

The assassination target was real, though.

Ziel asked,

“I have a question.”

“What is it, Professor Ziel?”

“What must I do to receive a good evaluation as an instructor?”

Ziel genuinely wanted to know.

Receiving a good evaluation would allow him to remain at Edelvine Academy for a long time.

After a brief pause, Professor Elcanto answered.

“Just follow the rules and teach your classes properly.”

“Follow the rules.”

“What else is there? An educator should teach students well and evaluate them according to protocol.”

“Yes, I will do so.”

Ziel repeated those words several times in his mind.

Follow the rules.

As if someone could become a professor just by doing that.

Professor Elcanto sneered inwardly.

“Oh, and it’s good to show affection for your students.”

“How does one show affection?”

“……Well. Just care for them with love? Ha ha.”

“Love……”

He didn’t quite understand.

“I will try.”

“Mhm. Very good. I’m sure you’ll do well, Professor Ziel.”

A gentle smile spread across Professor Elcanto’s face.

“Oh, and this is a gift. It’s a book of academy regulations. Please read it.”

“Do I need to memorize it?”

“Well, memorizing it would be admirable, but—”

“I understand.”

Ziel accepted the book and rose from his seat.

“Then I will head to class.”

“Ah, it’s already time. I leave it in your hands, Professor Ziel.”

Click.

As Ziel left and closed the door, Professor Elcanto stood with a satisfied expression and began brewing tea.

“A professor, huh. The guy doesn’t know a thing about how the world works.”

Chuckling to himself, Professor Elcanto brought over the steaming teacup and morning newspaper.

“Memorize the regulations? As if. That thing is thicker than a brick.”

When he unfolded the newspaper, an astonishing headline appeared on the front page.

“Assassination group exterminated? The world really has seen everything now.”

It was news of the imperial crackdown on the very assassination group that had terrorized the Empire’s most powerful figures.

“Good riddance.”

Professor Elcanto set the newspaper down with a tap.

[Valdrein Empire Announces Successful Operation to Exterminate ‘Black Sky’ Assassination Group… Remnants Confirmed Dead] 

[Key High-Risk Target, ‘Wraith,’ Specializing in Assassination of Key Figures—Current Whereabouts Unknown] 

[Feature Article: ‘200 Confirmed Assassinations’ – What Kind of Being Is Wraith?] 

[Commander of the Operation: “For the peace of the Empire, we will dedicate all efforts to eradicating the remaining remnants.”]

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