Damn Academy - Chapter 134

[Episode 134] The Phantom of the Guardian Tree (13)

Th is w as c o p ie d f r om k i ng m t l. o r g
Lady Vivi’s aide, Gerald, and the captain of the guard, Fenril, observed the training session of the first-year Combat Department from a suitable distance, their figures sheathed in robes.

“Are you looking for an immediate power asset?”

At Fenril’s query, Gerald shook his head. Had that been the case, they could’ve easily picked any fourth-year student. What they sought was an assessment of Damian’s capabilities.

“This is merely a formality.”

Whether Damian’s skills were exceptional or woefully inadequate did not matter. If anything, Vivi would be pleased with his incompetence, using it as a pretext for emotional retribution.

The idea was to assign him menial tasks such as washing feet or cleaning shoes to humiliate him due to inadequacy.

Knowing what was likely to unfold, Gerald was not particularly keen on this duty.

Of course, some level of proficiency assessment was necessary. The journey towards the principality was not entirely safe. One had to be at least capable enough to preserve their life in an emergency scenario.

Soon, Associate Professor Gael spoke up in the training ground.

“Starting today and for the next week, you shall battle this monster. If you fail to land a meaningful hit during this time, it’s the lowest score for you.”

The students grimaced and let out almost weeping objections.

Captain Fenril glanced at the creature and commented,

“That’s a Kiraklo, isn’t it? I wonder how you managed to transport such a ferocious beast from the North.”

Hook-like claws, thick teeth, and a stinger that could penetrate any ordinary armor in a single strike.

A normal human caught by it would be torn to shreds without even a chance for last words.

Of course, all hazardous elements had been thoroughly removed, leaving the Kiraklo with only the formidable power of its bull-like legs and its agility.

“Now, do we have any volunteers to go first?”

The first to step forward would be volunteering as a test subject, providing combat hints to the others.

Gael scowled as if displeased and gestured to an assistant, and a lottery box was placed before her.

Without fussing, Gael plunged her hand in and immediately drew out a piece of paper.

“Pecorino! Come forth and choose your weapon.”

All eyes suddenly focused on a boy, who closed his eyes tight like a man facing execution, then stepped forward.
Th i s w a s co p i e d fro m k i n g m t l. o r g

While the boy chose his weapon, Gael and an assistant released the Kiraklo.

Once the cage was open, it burst forth with terrifying speed.

“Ah, Aaack!”

Witnessing this, Pecorino jumped back in shock, landing on his backside.

But no one laughed; the rest of the students were just as startled.

Pecorino, with a face twisted as if suffering toothache, picked up a spear and stepped before Gael.

“Why did you choose the spear? Is it your primary weapon?”

“It’s not, but it has the longest reach. To aim for its weaknesses…”

Gael cut him off and gave him a shove.

“Alright, you’ve got five minutes.”

The student was pushed into the fight without a moment to prepare mentally or otherwise.

“Step out of the arena and it’s a permanent fail. Remember that.”

“Ah, ah…”

Clutching the spear in both hands, Pecorino hunkered down like a frightened mouse, trying to probe his opponent.

After several tentative thrusts without even coming close to the Kiraklo, he spent two minutes merely irritating the beast.

Gael shouted in frustration,

“If you don’t fight properly, we will release its constraints.”

Almost on cue, the chains restraining the Kiraklo’s hind legs were loosened further.

The monster surged forward with a thunderous rumble,

Incapable of defending himself, Pecorino was knocked over.

“Ugh! Aah! Save me!”

With the Kiraklo scratching furiously at him, the boy would have been dismembered if its claw-like nails had still been intact. Now, only blunt limbs roughed him up.

Gael approached with a special artifact, causing the Kiraklo to skitter back into its cage, leaving Pecorino behind.

Gael hauled him out by the scruff, the boy nearly unconscious.

Half the students cringed in disgust, while the other half blanched. It would have been a commendable fight against a mere beast, but the repugnant form of the Kiraklo amplified their revulsion.

Gerald inquired,

“What rank is that student?”

“Based on the entrance exam, he’s upper-middle tier. Disappointing performance, though, for such a position.”

“Hmm…”

Gael spoke dismissively,

“I hope someone shows us a decent performance. It doesn’t look good in front of the knight from the principality.”

A few students sneakily glanced towards where Gerald and Fenril stood. Without Gael’s direction, some were aware of their presence.

With external observers watching, humiliation here equaled an unfathomable level of disgrace for any student.

Gael conducted another lottery and called the next participant.

“Lescon! Come forward and fight.”

Like the previous challenger, the named Lescon stepped forward with a deathly expression, picking a longsword and taking his position.

Gael, with her arms crossed, asked,

“Why did you select that weapon?”

Trying hard to conceal his nerves, he responded,

T hi s w a s copi e d from k in g m t l.o r g
“It’s the one I’m most comfortable with.”

“Very well, let’s see you in action.”

Grasping the hilt firmly, Lescon charged at the Kiraklo, his sword swings ineffective against its long legs due to overcautiousness.

Fenril, observing the scene, remarked,

“Better than the last student, but not by much. Their grades are similar, too.”

Gerald pondered internally, rubbing his chin. It seemed there wasn’t much to be expected from freshmen regarding their prowess.

Lescon, witnessing the Kiraklo’s increasing ferocity, threw his sword away and fled.

Associate Professor Gael looked sternly after the fleeing Lescon,

“Throwing your weapon is the worst of the worst.”

“Professor, I might not know much else, but I have a severe phobia of spiders…”

“You think a monster you encounter on the street will consider your personal issues? It’s a failing score for you.”

“…!”

Gael did not hesitate to give the lowest mark.

Watching fight after fight, Gerald yawned, prompting Fenril to comment casually,

“It takes three experienced knights to subdue one of those creatures. It’s too much to expect a first-year student to stand a chance. Our expectations must not be too high.”

Soon, Gael called forth Victor, among the top ten in the Combat Department.

He promptly checked the weaponry and moved forward, bringing a noticeable shift in the atmosphere of the training ground.

Even a non-expert like Gerald could sense a weight and ease to Victor’s examination of the weapon.

He leafed through the documents, noting Victor’s background,

“From the Clodinas Brotherhood. An interesting history indeed.”

The Clodinas Brotherhood, a mercenary group set on eradicating monsters, had branches across the entire continent.

This wa s co p i e d f r om k i n g m t l .o rg
“He’s met his match, hasn’t he?”

Even the other students perceived it, anticipating a different outcome from this challenge.

Victor grasped a longsword, limbered up, and advanced.

“Shall I commence?”

“Yes.”

The fight began at once. Victor charged head-on at the Kiraklo, the monster attempting to swat him with its front paws.

He rolled diagonally, skillfully striking the soft joint of the front leg, causing greenish bodily fluids to spurt out.

The Kiraklo recoiled a few steps in pain as the struck leg folded.

The students unwittingly let out exclamations.

Regaining his footing, Victor shook the blood from his blade, his motions clean and unnecessary.

T h is w a s c o p i e d f r o m k i ng m t l .o r g
He dived again, sliding and targeting the other front leg this time.

The leg was rendered unusable, having wounded the pairs the Kiraklo used for both attacking and mobility.

While it flailed in agony, Victor didn’t pause, sliding under its belly in a tackling maneuver.

Fenril shook his head,

“Dangerous moves.”

The Kiraklo’s belly, devoid of hard exoskeleton, was a vulnerable target, yet such a position was equally risky for Victor.

He stabbed the monster’s abdomen, delivering a severe blow but not a fatal one.

Desperately, the Kiraklo slammed its hind end down in a reflexive attempt to sting with its last ounce of strength.

Victor, struck several times on the thigh, would have been doomed if the stinger hadn’t been removed.

He pulled out the sword, plunged it in again, rolled out, and the Kiraklo collapsed into the cage, spurting fluids and ultimately motionless.

Gael nodded for the first time, somewhat satisfied.

“Not bad at all.”

Panting, Victor dusted off the dirt.
Thi s was c o pie d fr o m k i n g m t l . or g

“Thank you.”

“Your judgment to strike the front legs first was excellent, but going under the belly wasn’t wise. It could deliver a lethal blow to the enemy, but it put your own life in danger. Work on that.”

Even from a distance, Fenril gave his approval.

“He’s daring and perceptive for his age.”

Victor had recharged the monotonous practice with a renewed vigor.

The problem was, having displayed such excellent battle prowess, he’d set the bar high for the next in line, inevitably drawing comparisons.

As aides removed the Kiraklo’s corpse and prepared the next monster, Gael drew the next name.

“Damian! You’re up next.”

Upon hearing his name, Gerald stopped his paperwork and lifted his head.

Damian. He was the reason Gerald had come here.

Then, from amidst those waiting, a brown-haired youth strode forward.

With features better suited for a theatre stage than a dusty training ground, he thought,

‘This boy is Silveryn’s apprentice…’

Records indicated that among the upper echelons of the Combat Department, his performance was on the lower end.

The freshly prepared Kiraklo burst from its cage. Starved for days, it clawed the restraints taut at the sight of prey.
T h i s was c o p i ed f r o m k in g m t l . o r g

Its large size and quick movements, coupled with a more savage demeanor, heightened the intimidation.

Fenril clicked his tongue, pitying the unfortunate youth.

“Oh dear, it’s going to be a nightmarish day for that fine-looking boy.”

Damian’s role might well just be to tire out the Kiraklo for the next contender to shine.

Without much contemplation, Damian reached forth and grabbed a shortsword—opposite of the long-reach weapons chosen by all previous contestants, breaking the expectation mold.

His approach to the fight was an enigma.

Damian stepped into the ring, his blade trailing the ground, circling clockwise while facing the Kiraklo in an apparent standoff.

What struck Gerald was the look in Damian’s eyes.

The relentlessness sensed in the taut chains, the creature scraping the ground, eager to pounce at its prey.

Was it an illusion?
T h i s w a s c o p i e d f r o m k i n gm tl . o rg

Meeting the beast, ten steps apart, a vicious intensity swirled in Damian’s gaze.

For a fleeting moment, that venom was visible, then smoothly concealed by a facade of composure and tranquility.

Gael signaled the start,

“Fight however you wish.”
T h i s wa s c op i e d f r om ki ngm t l . or g

And with the end of the instruction, Damian, who had stood stolidly, swung his arm grandly.
T h i s w a s co p i e d f r o m ki n gmtl .or g

The sword sliced through the air, sparkling as it flew.

It lodged itself in one of the Kiraklo’s eyes.

In utter disbelief at the sight, a piercing scream from the Kiraklo filled the arena, its movements halting abruptly as if time had stopped.

Then, with a thud, it collapsed, stirring up dust.

The entire vicinity was enveloped in silence.

Just as everyone presumed it over, movement returned to the Kiraklo’s legs.

With a sword still stuck in one eye, it slowly rose, body twitching in pain, yet clearly alive and capable of motion.

Damian, as if surrendering, raised his hands and backed away, signaling an aversion to get filthy in the skirmish.

“This is as far as I go.”

Gael narrowed her eyes at Damian.

A proper strike had been dealt but lacked the finality; with the sword discarded, the end remained unseen.

It wasn’t outright misdone, but rather an ambiguous performance that was excellent in parts yet also a risky gamble.