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Translator: Vine
Chapter Title: Martial Arts Studies
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Martial Arts Studies.
As the name suggests, it's the academic discipline of mastering martial arts.
Jerion Academy's philosophy on Martial Arts Studies was simple:
"Kill your enemy before they kill you."
Professor Veganon Mercia, still reeking of hangover today. She let out a wide yawn, dressed in slovenly clothes.
"That's the fundamental stance for dealing with the Apostles you'll face in the Demon Palace."
The Underground Demon Palace.
The Apostles born there, created by the Demon Lord.
It was the academy students' role to stop these creatures before they could emerge from the Underground Demon Palace.
"Soon, after the mock battles, you'll be grouped according to your skill level and enter the Demon Palace for the first time as second-year students."
During the first year, there were casualties, people died. Yet, someone still had to venture into the Demon Palace again.
If the Apostles weren't defeated, the surface world would be in danger.
A world where the responsibility for the world had been shifted onto children. That's why the professors strove to help the children grow, so they could confront the Apostles.
It was a lesson they could impart because they, too, had attended the academy and entered the Demon Palace in the past.
"Remember just one thing."
Veganon looked at the students and said,
"If you can't kill them, then run."
She glanced back at the image of an Apostle projected on the blackboard.
Apostles were strong. Especially those who had undergone repeated transformations; they became uncontrollably powerful.
"If you live, there's always a next time."
Many of those who died with Lucas belonged to the Martial Arts Department.
Though Veganon lived her life steeped in alcohol, appearing hungover every day, she was still a professor who nurtured her students.
She didn't want any more of the students she had taught to die.
It was telling that on the day Lucas died, she, who was always mired in hangovers, didn't touch a drop of alcohol and visited Lucas's party's graves for a long time.
The students, touched by her sincerity, wore slightly moved expressions.
"That's all for today's class."
She turned off the magic blackboard. Then, letting out a long yawn, she turned around.
Shoving her hands into the pockets of her baggy, sagging pants, which revealed even her underwear elastic, she shuffled out.
It was almost a wonder she wasn't reprimanded for her inappropriate attire.
'She probably just ignores the reprimands and dresses like that anyway.'
With the class concluded, I rose from my seat.
The upcoming mock battles. I absolutely had to achieve good results there.
'I need to get into one of the top-ranking groups after the mock battles, no matter what.'
I'd stumbled into a training opportunity with Aisha, but that alone felt insufficient.
This was the world after the bad ending, which followed the protagonist Lucas's death. To proceed with the scenario without Lucas, I had to become a cog in the machine, one way or another.
For that, I'd have to use any means necessary, even underhanded ones.
Just then, I felt eyes on me. When I turned my head, there was Isabelle, glaring fiercely at me.
Instead of the dark circles and gloom that had been present for a while, fierce malice and rage were clearly visible.
'It's working.'
Moreover, the women who sided with Isabelle all looked at me with extreme displeasure.
It was only my second day at the academy. I was slowly starting to get used to receiving such looks.
'They say humans are creatures of adaptation.'
The sharper their gazes became, the higher Isabelle's chances of survival. Thinking that, my heart actually felt more at ease.
'Let them keep looking at me like that.'
'Time to get to work.'
It was lunchtime now. I needed to prepare for the upcoming mock battle.
Just as I was getting up from my seat,
"Hey."
Hearing a voice call out to me, I turned my head. Several girls had, at some point, surrounded me.
All of them glared at me with extremely sharp expressions.
I belatedly realized one thing.
These girls were students of the renowned Martial Arts Department at Jerion Academy.
Whether male or female, those who trained their bodies typically had strong pride and foul tempers.
Someone in their group had been slandered.
So what would happen?
"Come outside for a moment."
A group beating.
'Am I screwed?'
Honestly, there was no other way to put it.
Though I had trained, these girls had trained risking their lives. Even so, if I got a group beating now, I'd get beaten like a dog.
*Scrape—*
But I was also a Martial Arts student admitted to Jerion Academy. They wouldn't underestimate my skills.
So.
"What do you want?"
I decided to act defiant.
Back when I used to train, if I showed any fear on my face during a match, my opponent's fist would invariably connect. Because of that, my former champion coach had punched me in the stomach hundreds of times, all in the name of 'maintaining a poker face.'
The nightmare of that day still haunted me. So, I could manage my expressions artistically.
Perhaps my expression was too nonchalant. The girls' eyebrows furrowed venomously.
Contempt filled their eyes.
"Go apologize to Isabelle, right now."
The girl standing in the center of the group snapped at me. Hearing her voice, I pressed the back of my neck to hide the cold sweat.
"Apologize for what?"
"All those harsh things you said to Isabelle! Apologize for all of them!"
"Look at her pretending not to know. So disgusting."
"Makes me want to puke."
The girls behind her chimed in, shouting. The atmosphere in the classroom quickly grew hostile.
Some watched with interest. But there were also those who seemed to dislike me and agreed with the others.
Among them, there was no one on my side.
I had provoked Isabelle, who was the center of the class. It was only natural.
"Why should I apologize for stating the obvious?"
"Wow, are you serious? I knew you were ill-mannered, but this is beyond that level."
"You piece of trash."
"Is that even human?"
The insults were strong.
But when it came to a battle of wills,
"Unless it's Isabelle herself, I don't see why you're demanding an apology from me."
I wouldn't back down either.
If all they came for was an apology, then. I had a responsibility to save Isabelle's life.
Therefore, I absolutely could not back down in this battle of wills.
"Honestly! Isabelle and we are friends! If a friend is in trouble, of course, we have to help!"
"Look at the way she talks."
"Looks like someone who'll never have friends."
'Which bitch said that just now?' I hadn't expected to be hit with such a critical blow out of nowhere. To think there were such nasty insults.
I quickly regained my composure. My expression had almost crumbled.
"Funny. 'Friends,' you say? You bitches couldn't even take care of someone who looked like she was about to die any minute."
And at some point, my own tone had grown sharp.
A moment ago, something she said—that friends should help when one is in trouble—had struck a nerve.
Because in the end, none of them had been able to help Isabelle, and she had committed suicide.
"What?"
Perhaps surprised that I would say such a thing, the girls looked flustered. I took a step closer to the leader of the girl group who had been snapping at me.
"Isn't it true? Isabelle Luna, even to me, who just met her, seemed like she'd been dying for a long time."
Isabelle showed several signs of suicidal ideation.
Just looking at the dark circles under her eyes and her body, which was much thinner than before, anyone could tell Isabelle's condition was far from normal.
It was evidence that death was tightening its grip around her neck. Devoid of the will to live, she was slowly letting go of her life.
"Yet, those who claim to be her friends showed no sign of having taken care of her."
"Don't change the subject! Isabelle was struggling, so we gave her space..."
"That wasn't giving her space; it was abandonment."
The leader's body flinched.
"In that state, it was obvious Isabelle would have followed that Lucas fellow, sooner or later."
I, who had just met Isabelle, knew this fact. Yet, those who called themselves her friends hadn't even noticed.
I used this point to lash out at them.
If I had spoken vaguely, they would have probably protested in their own way.
But I spoke with conviction. That conviction silenced them.
Isabelle's death was a confirmed future. That's why my conviction carried even more weight.
"W-we did take care of Isabelle!"
"Yes, you probably did take care of her initially. But when there was no sign of improvement, you got tired and just left her, which is how she ended up like that, isn't it?"
Every single one of these girls defended Isabelle. Yet, Isabelle suffered alone and eventually took her own life.
Just as they glared at me, contempt filled my own eyes.
Months had passed since Lucas's death. But Isabelle still hadn't been able to escape from the grief of his passing.
Even those who initially helped her grew weary seeing her unchanged state. So, they merely appeared to care for her, but no genuine sincerity remained.
In truth, this wasn't entirely their fault. Though not present here, Isabelle's other close friends were still looking out for her. The girls who had just left with Isabelle were those kinds of friends.
But even then, Isabelle hadn't improved.
At this point, it wasn't a matter of blaming anyone.
However, while it might be different for her *true* close friends, it was hard to listen to the babbling of those who were merely peripheral acquaintances.
"If that's the case, shouldn't Isabelle or you be thanking *me* instead?"
I looked at the flustered leader's face and let out a sneer.
"Because as long as she's this angry, she won't be thinking about dying."
Everyone in the class fell silent.
My words just now had clearly crossed a line.
However, if I was going to be an enemy, I couldn't do it half-heartedly. I would make sure everyone here firmly understood that I was Isabelle's enemy.
At that moment, the leader of the girl group raised her hand. My gaze instinctively tracked her hand. *Thwack—* My wrist, extended somehow, blocked the path of her hand. It was pure quick thinking, born entirely of reflex.
Her eyes widened, clearly not expecting her wrist to be blocked.
"You—!"
*Whoosh!*
Furious, she swung her other hand, and I pulled my head back to dodge. It was a swift movement, like a flying squirrel.
'Oh.'
'Still got it, huh?'
At this distance, the direction her hand could swing was limited anyway. I could dodge this much just by watching her movements.
"Ugh!"
Having failed to slap my cheek twice, she was utterly enraged.
I knew it. That was just a jab; if she truly attacked, I wouldn't be able to just keep dodging like this.
Because she was also a Martial Arts student at Jerion Academy.
But perhaps because too many eyes were on them, she, who had initiated the violence, slowly lowered her hand as if she herself felt exposed.
"You crazy bastard..."
The leader of the girl group turned around, wearing an expression as if she had seen something utterly abominable and not worth dealing with.
"That's enough. Don't bother talking to trash like that."
"Let's go. There's no point in engaging with that kind of trash."
"He's not even worth associating with."
They turned away, expressions of utter disgust on their faces. It was clear they didn't want to exchange another word with me.
The same went for the other students. Even those who had been watching with interest now looked at me with cold eyes.
But among them, only the Third Princess, Iris Haisilion, stared at me intently.
'Those eyes are scarier than anyone else's.' I decided to quickly leave the classroom.
'Somehow, I avoided a group beating.'
It seemed they had left today because I'd said something truly terrible that disgusted them. But there was no guarantee it wouldn't happen again.
I'd need to prepare for that too.
"Yo, Wangnon."
Just then, I felt a weight on my neck. Its origin was a thick, tanned arm.
The arm belonged to the delinquent, Card Bellickman. It seemed his Magicology class had ended a bit early today, and he'd dropped by.
The name he called me by had changed at some point. He was a magnanimous fellow who readily acknowledged what needed acknowledging, even between men.
"Already popular with the girls, huh? Must be nice? Is it because you're a king, after all?"
'Did this guy see all that and still say something like this?' He was quite something, in more ways than one.
I gently pushed his arm away. Card clicked his tongue, looking disappointed.
"Does this look like popularity to you?"
"If you think of it as that kind of 'play,' it's not bad."
Playboys were truly something. So, even being an outcast could be enjoyed in such a unique way.
"You won't gain anything by hanging out with me, you know?"
The eyes of the Martial Arts class students sharpened at Card, who was associating with me. Card, however, just grinned brightly.
"It's fine. All the second-year girls already hate me anyway!"
It was a given, considering Card's messy history with women.
The problem was that despite this, victims who fell for Card's charms continued to appear consistently. He was truly something else.
"Besides, it's fine to have at least one person you can be comfortable around, right?"
Card smiled warmly as he looked at me. It seemed Card thought I had taken his words from yesterday to heart.
I had unintentionally gained Card's favor.
It was a huge misunderstanding, but seeing him, I felt a little lighter.
"So, lunch?"
"I have something to do."
I pulled out the sandwich I had received earlier that morning.
I was a busy person. No time to sit across from some guy and eat lunch.
"Tsk, too bad. Next time, then."
Card didn't insist further. It seemed he genuinely just needed someone to eat lunch with.
I sent Card on his way and immediately moved on.
And at that moment, I didn't know that Isabelle had briefly returned to the classroom.