Episode 24 - The Wall to Be Overcome
The Royal Lyticia Academy Knight Training Program.
A comprehensive curriculum designed to forge the knights of tomorrow—warriors brimming with justice and courage. The program provided rigorous education not only in martial disciplines such as combat technique, strategic planning, and mounted warfare, but also in the virtues and moral code that defined true knighthood. It was an institution that shaped both body and character, creating defenders of the realm who embodied the highest ideals.
Upon enrollment, students received the title of Esquire—a knight-in-training with official recognition. Then, upon successful completion of the full course of study, graduates were formally ordained as Knights, receiving the ceremonial accolade that granted them full status within the martial aristocracy.
For commoners who possessed no hereditary titles, no family crests, no inherited lands or privileges, this represented the ultimate opportunity for social advancement. It was a legitimate path to prestige and honor that didn't require noble blood flowing through one's veins. Naturally, it had become an object of universal admiration among the lower classes—a shining beacon of possibility in a society otherwise rigidly stratified by birth.
However, precisely because of this appeal, the entrance examination acceptance rate had climbed to a staggering competitive ratio of one hundred to one.
When you factored in this world's total population and narrowed it down to those who possessed sufficient financial means to even attempt the examination in the first place, you began to understand just how impossibly high that barrier truly stood. The numbers were genuinely absurd.
Making matters worse for common-born applicants, the majority of successful candidates weren't actually commoners at all. Instead, they were third and fourth sons of noble families—young men with aristocratic breeding and education who had no prospect of inheriting their family estates and therefore sought glory through martial service. For true commoners without any such advantages, the knight training program represented an almost insurmountably steep mountain to climb.
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"...Do you truly understand what you're saying?"
"Of course. I'm completely serious about passing this examination." I declared the words with my chest puffed out confidently, meeting his gaze without flinching.
In response to my unwavering assertion, Adelvator—sitting across from me in his study—displayed an expression of considerable difficulty. His brow furrowed deeply, and concern flickered across his weathered features.
Well, I couldn't exactly blame him for his reaction. Given our respective positions—him as the head of a noble household and me as merely a servant in his employ—combined with the sheer difficulty and logistical complications involved in the examination process, this wasn't the sort of thing he could simply respond to with a cheerful "Sure, good luck!" His hesitation was entirely reasonable.
I had made my decision. I was going to take the entrance examination for Lyticia Academy.
The discovery that there existed a program which even commoners could enter had been a complete revelation. I honestly hadn't believed such an opportunity was possible in this world. But now that I knew it existed, it was almost too perfect an opportunity for someone in my position to pass up. There was absolutely no way I could let this chance slip through my fingers.
So I'd immediately sought an audience with Adelvator to formally request his support. As an orphan with no family connections or independent means, his cooperation was absolutely essential if I wanted any chance of taking the examination. Without his backing, the entire endeavor would be impossible from the start.
But as I'd anticipated, his initial reaction had been decidedly lukewarm—reluctant, skeptical, cautious.
"...Well, you might indeed have the ability to pass the examination itself," he said slowly, choosing his words with care. "However, this matter doesn't simply come down to whether or not you possess sufficient skill. There are other considerations."
"Yes, I'm fully aware of the complications," I responded immediately, not wanting him to think I'd approached this rashly. "All expenses related to the examination—registration fees, materials, travel costs—I'll cover entirely from my personal savings. I'll continue performing all my current duties without any reduction in workload, and if necessary, you're welcome to reduce my salary during this period to compensate for any inconvenience. If you're uncomfortable lending your name to my application for any reason, I won't force the issue. And I absolutely promise not to cause any trouble or embarrassment for the Unschein family in any way whatsoever—"
"No, wait, wait." Adelvator held up a hand to stop my rapid-fire assurances, looking slightly overwhelmed by the torrent of words. "Just slow down for a moment."
He rubbed his temples, clearly trying to process everything I'd just thrown at him in quick succession.
"I'm not saying I'm unwilling to cooperate with you," he clarified after a pause. "If you're genuinely serious about enrollment, then I'm prepared to provide appropriate support. We can sit down together and review your employment contract, make adjustments as needed. ...But."
His expression darkened slightly as he continued, new wrinkles forming between his brows.
"The real problem isn't the examination itself—it's what comes after you pass. Because this is a royal academy, the associated costs are far from negligible. You obviously can't commute daily from this estate, so you'll need to live in the academy dormitories. When you add up tuition, boarding fees, meal plans, required materials, and various other expenses... well, I'm fairly certain your current savings won't be sufficient to cover it all."
...He was absolutely right, and I'd known it even before walking into this room.
This financial barrier was precisely one of the major factors that made academy enrollment so difficult for commoners to achieve. While there were certain fee reductions and exemptions available for lower-class students, those accommodations alone couldn't completely solve the problem. If you asked whether a commoner could manage everything through their own resources, the honest answer would be a resounding no.
"I apologize, but it's difficult for us to provide that funding directly," Adelvator continued, his tone genuinely regretful. "We cannot give preferential financial treatment to one particular servant. It would set an impossible precedent and create resentment among the rest of the household staff."
I couldn't complain about this position. Whatever the unusual circumstances of my initial arrival at this estate, my current status was clear—I was a servant of this house, nothing more and nothing less.
What I was essentially asking for was comparable to an employee requesting their company provide funding for personal education that primarily benefited the individual rather than the organization. From a pure business perspective, from a fairness standpoint, from a management standpoint, it simply wasn't reasonable to expect such support.
"...You're absolutely right," I acknowledged with a slight nod. "I understand completely."
"Yes. Which is why I cannot easily approve this proposal as it currently stands." He exhaled slowly, his expression genuinely sympathetic. "I'm sorry, Liam. I know how much this must mean to you."
"No, please don't apologize. Money is always a complicated issue." I offered what I hoped was an understanding smile. "Honestly, if you'd immediately agreed without any concerns, that would have been far more alarming."
"Ha, I suppose that's true enough." Adelvator allowed himself a wry chuckle at that observation, reaching for his teacup and taking a contemplative sip.
But then again... there was another angle to consider here.
"So then," I said carefully, watching his face, "if the financial aspect were somehow resolved—if money weren't an obstacle—would you be willing to give your approval?"
"...What exactly do you mean?"
Adelvator set his cup back down on the desk with a soft clink, regarding me with a mixture of confusion and dawning suspicion. His eyes narrowed slightly, as though he already suspected what I was about to propose but didn't quite want to believe his own intuition.
"I mean that I intend to utilize the special student scholarship system."
The Royal Lyticia Academy maintained a merit-based scholarship program for exceptional students.
It was similar to systems that had existed in the world before my death—my previous life in modern Japan. Students who achieved outstanding academic performance were granted tuition waivers and access to special advanced programs. The specifics varied, but the fundamental principle remained the same: excellence was rewarded regardless of financial circumstances.
If I could secure one of these special student positions, I would be able to attend the academy without any financial concerns whatsoever. My status as a commoner, my lack of personal wealth, none of it would matter. The scholarship would cover everything.
Of course, this wasn't something you could simply apply for because you felt like it. The requirements were extraordinarily stringent.
"Are you actually serious right now?" Adelvator asked, his tone hovering somewhere between disbelief and concern.
It wasn't a strange reaction at all. I'd expected exactly this response.
The conditions for receiving a special student scholarship at Lyticia Academy were notoriously demanding—you had to achieve a certain threshold of excellence in the entrance examination itself. The academy administration had never publicly announced the precise scoring requirements, maintaining an air of mystery around the exact standards. But rumors and speculation ran rampant among prospective applicants.
Some claimed you needed to score above eighty percent on the combined examination. Others insisted you had to place within the top three candidates overall. Still others suggested even more daunting criteria. Whatever the truth, everyone agreed on one fundamental point: it was brutally, punishingly difficult.
In fact, there were years when no special students were selected at all—when not a single applicant met the unnamed standards, regardless of how many people took the examination. It certainly wasn't something you could count on achieving just because you announced your intention to do so.
"Yes, I already told you, didn't I?" I met his skeptical gaze steadily, unwavering in my conviction. "I'm genuinely serious about earning this special student position. That's my goal."
I intended to break through that absurdly high barrier, to overcome odds that most people wouldn't even dare to challenge.
That was the determination I carried as I stood before Adelvator in his study.
I understood this request had come seemingly out of nowhere, appearing like a bolt from the blue. But I'd been training relentlessly all this time, hadn't I? Honing my skills day after day, pushing myself to the absolute limits of my capabilities. Working toward the goal of becoming strong enough to overcome any obstacle, to defeat any threat.
My original purpose for that training had been different, certainly. But now was the time to leverage everything I'd built, to put those accumulated abilities to use for this new objective.
"..."
Adelvator opened and closed his mouth several times, clearly wrestling with multiple competing thoughts. Various sounds escaped him—uncertain hums, thoughtful murmurs, the verbal equivalent of mental gears turning as he considered the situation from every possible angle.
He seemed to be carefully weighing numerous factors: my demonstrated abilities, the realistic chances of success, the potential consequences of either supporting or refusing my request, what this might mean for our relationship and my future service to the family.
...But eventually, after what felt like an eternity of deliberation, he reached a conclusion.
"...Alright," he said at last, releasing a long breath that seemed to carry the weight of resignation and acceptance in equal measure. "Fine. Go ahead and take the examination. I'll handle all the necessary administrative procedures on your behalf."
"Really?! You mean it?" I could hardly contain my surprise and elation.
He let out a dry, somewhat exasperated laugh, shaking his head as though he couldn't quite believe what he'd just agreed to. But there was something almost fond in his expression—perhaps he appreciated my determination, or maybe he simply couldn't bring himself to crush my ambition.
The fact that he'd agreed to handle the examination registration procedures himself was an unexpected bonus, a pleasant surprise I hadn't actually anticipated. It would make everything so much simpler.
...But now that I'd made this declaration so confidently, I absolutely had to follow through and deliver results.
I wouldn't have made such bold claims if I didn't genuinely believe I could succeed. But at the same time, this wasn't something I could accomplish through confidence alone, without meticulous preparation. Arrogance without substance would only lead to failure and humiliation.
Starting immediately, I needed to throw myself into intensive preparation, studying and training with laser focus.
"...Although, I must say," Adelvator added, picking up his tea again, "I never expected you to bring this proposal to me just one month before the examination date." He took a thoughtful sip, then fixed me with a curious look, as though searching for clues in my expression. "How long have you been planning this, exactly?"
Hmm? How long had I been planning this?
Well, that was simple enough to answer.
"Since yesterday. I only learned about the program's existence yesterday."
"...Are you actually serious right now?"
Adelvator's eyes went wide, and he very nearly choked on the tea he'd just sipped, barely managing to swallow it properly instead of spraying it across his desk. His voice rose sharply in incredulous alarm.
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"Um, uh... the one who defeated the massive dragon swarm during the Human-Demon Holy War was..."
"Gino Bruce Sandorphon," I supplied immediately, not even needing to think about it. "He's said to have single-handedly taken down approximately fifty dragons during the Battle of the Flying Dragons in the Duchy of Rilinz. Although in reality, he was simply the commanding officer of one particular platoon, and the story as it's commonly told has acquired quite a bit of exaggeration over the years. The tail has grown considerably longer than the actual fish, so to speak."
"Wait, hold on—Miss Nanai never mentioned anything like that...!" Erica's voice rose in pitch, tinged with anxiety. "Is that really going to be on the examination?!"
"No, I actually learned this from independent reading," I reassured her quickly, realizing I might have unnecessarily stressed her out. "Besides, it's fairly obscure information. I doubt it would appear as a test question."
"Then please don't make me anxious right before the exam like this!" she protested, her delicate features scrunching up in distress.
We were having this conversation while swaying together in the carriage that carried us toward our destination.
Perhaps I'd been slightly mean-spirited to bring up such an obscure historical detail at this particular moment.
The knowledge I'd just shared wasn't common at all, primarily because there was a complicated political background to the story. The Sandorphon family and the Duchy of Rilinz had both actively suppressed the accurate historical records, deliberately obscuring the truth in order to inflate the legendary status of their supposed hero. They'd embellished and exaggerated the tale to ridiculous proportions, using it as propaganda to enhance their own authority and prestige.
Unless you were someone like me—deeply fascinated with this world's history and lore, obsessed with the original game's backstory—or perhaps a professional historical researcher, you'd be extremely unlikely to know the real facts behind the popular legend.
...So anyway, why was I quizzing Erica on obscure historical trivia? This was actually practice for the entrance examination, a final review session right before the main event.
One month had passed since I'd received Adelvator's permission to take the examination.
And now, finally, the day of the Royal Lyticia Academy entrance test had arrived.
Throughout that entire month, I'd devoted myself completely to intensive preparation—studying academic subjects, drilling sword techniques, practicing magical theory and application. Everything that might possibly appear on the examination, I'd hammered into my brain and body through sheer repetitive effort.
Honestly, though, I hadn't struggled too much with the preparation. I'd already been studying and training fairly seriously before this, so I wasn't starting from zero. My combat abilities went without saying—I'd been honing those for years. As for basic academic knowledge, I'd already read through most of the books in the estate's library at least once, giving me a solid foundation to build upon.
Moreover, I possessed something other candidates didn't: knowledge of the original game world, combined with genuine love and passion for that source material.
The fact that I already understood this world's fundamental structure, combined with my burning desire to learn even more about it, had driven my studies forward with almost effortless momentum. Curiosity was a powerful motivator.
With additional assistance from Nanai—Erica's primary tutor, who had been incredibly generous with her time and expertise—I believed I'd managed to reach a fairly high level of preparedness despite the compressed timeframe.
"Ugh, I'm starting to feel really anxious now..." Erica murmured beside me, her voice small and uncertain.
In stark contrast to my own confident assessment, she looked genuinely nervous, her fingers fidgeting with the fabric of her dress.
"It's going to be fine, Lady Erica. You'll definitely pass," I assured her with as much confidence as I could project, hoping to boost her spirits.
Well, to be fair, some of her current anxiety was probably my fault for bringing up that obscure historical question just now.
While I'd been studying with intense focus and making rapid progress, Erica had been struggling somewhat with her own preparation. That wasn't entirely surprising, given the different nature of what she was being tested on. Unlike the knight candidates who would face both written examinations and practical combat assessments, nobles were primarily evaluated on academic knowledge alone—literature, history, mathematics, etiquette, and so forth. There were no swordfighting demonstrations for students on the aristocratic track.
But even accounting for that difference in focus, there was something else I'd noticed during our study sessions together.
Despite having a naturally sharp mind and good intuition, Erica seemed to lack certain fundamental knowledge that should have been second nature to someone of her education level. It was as though her studies had been consistently interrupted or she simply hadn't been applying herself seriously for an extended period.
"...This is all your fault, Liam..." she muttered under her breath, her cheeks slightly flushed.
"...I apologize for that joke just now," I said contritely, assuming she meant my ill-timed historical trivia. "But really, you're going to do wonderfully. I believe in you completely."
"It's not just that..." she added in an even smaller voice, the words barely audible. "There's more than just that..."
More than just that? What else could she possibly mean?
Had I been causing her problems without even realizing it? Was I somehow distracting her or making things more difficult? The thought made me genuinely concerned—if I'd been a poor servant, interfering with my lady's important studies, that would be absolutely inexcusable.
But when I looked at her to gauge her meaning, trying to read her expression, I noticed that her cheeks had taken on a distinctly pink tinge. The color in her face wasn't from stress or anger, but something else entirely—something I couldn't quite identify.
I really, genuinely didn't understand what she was trying to tell me.
Though I had to admit, there was something oddly endearing about seeing this side of her. It created an interesting contrast with the character I'd known from the original game.
In 'Celestia Kingdom,' Erica's background and personal life had been deliberately mysterious, revealed only in fragments throughout her route. Consequently, details like her actual academic abilities had never been clearly established. The game had focused on other aspects of her character.
But if the game's version of Erica had been somewhat like this—occasionally flustered, struggling with her studies, showing vulnerable moments—it would have added a charming dimension to her character. Players would have loved seeing that softer side.
Of course, if the reason for her poor academic performance in the game timeline had been that she was too busy engaging in various villainous schemes and machinations to focus on her schoolwork... well, that wouldn't be charming at all. That would just be tragic.
...No, no. I needed to stop this line of thinking.
What was I doing, letting my mind wander like this right before such a crucial examination?
I should be using every available moment to review material, to reinforce knowledge, to ensure I was as prepared as humanly possible. This wasn't just about passing—I was attempting to achieve something far more difficult. I was aiming for special student status, which required performance so exceptional it stood out even among successful candidates.
The difficulty level I'd set for myself was absolutely extraordinary.
I shook my head slightly to clear these distracting thoughts and tried to return my attention to the grimoire open in my lap, intending to review magical theory one more time.
But just as I was about to focus on the text, I experienced an odd sensation—a prickling awareness that made the back of my neck tingle.
It felt exactly like someone was staring at me with unusual intensity.
"...Is something wrong?" I asked, turning toward Erica.
"Eh?! W-what?! N-no, nothing's wrong at all...!" she stammered, her voice jumping up several octaves as a flustered expression flashed across her face.
Come to think of it, this same thing had happened during our study sessions over the past month. I'd occasionally catch her watching me with that same intense focus, and when I'd ask what was wrong, she'd always deflect or change the subject, never giving me a straight answer.
Was there something strange on my face? Some distracting blemish or mark I was unaware of?
Or perhaps I had a death omen hovering over me, some spiritual harbinger of doom that only she could perceive. That would certainly be inauspicious right before an important examination. Gahahaha.
...What a ridiculous thought.
But as I tried to brush off the moment and return to studying, I heard her whisper something else.
"...It really is because of Liam..." The words were clearly meant to be inaudible, spoken almost to herself.
But my hearing was sharp enough to catch them anyway.
I couldn't see her expression since she'd turned her face away, deliberately avoiding my gaze. But the tips of her ears, visible beneath her elaborate pink braids and ornamental hair accessories, had turned distinctly red.
...Wait, what was actually going on here? Seriously?!
I found myself flustered and confused, while Erica seemed restless and uncomfortable, unable to settle.
We were mere hours away from one of the most important examinations of our lives, and somehow, inexplicably, neither of us could properly concentrate on studying anymore.
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After some time had passed, our destination finally came into view through the carriage windows.
The Royal Lyticia Academy.
The main academy building resembled an enormous castle, its architecture grand and imposing, designed to inspire awe in all who approached. Towers stretched skyward like fingers reaching toward the heavens, their pointed spires seeming to pierce the very clouds. The entire complex was surrounded by massive walls that must have stood dozens of meters high, giving the entire institution the appearance of a fortified city—a bastion of learning protected like a military stronghold.
...Well, from what I understood, that comparison wasn't actually inaccurate. The academy's scale and defensive capabilities were genuinely comparable to a major fortress.
Beyond those imposing walls, the story of 'Celestia Kingdom' would unfold. The characters I'd once loved as a player would live and breathe as real people. The events I'd experienced through a screen would become tangible reality.
And I was steadily, inexorably approaching the wall I needed to overcome—both literally and metaphorically.
This was it. The beginning of everything.