Damn Academy - Chapter 135

[Episode 135] The Phantom of the Guardian Tree (14)

Damian returned to his spot at a leisurely pace.

Fenril, having witnessed the intriguing scene, unfolded his arms.

Noticing this, Gerald inquired,

“Did you see something special?”

Before responding, Fenril had an expression of perplexity.

“It’s not something I can easily evaluate. Throwing a sword that accurately is generally taboo… anywhere.”

In human combat, dropping one’s sword could be a wise decision depending on the circumstances, but it differed when facing monsters.

Throwing away one’s sword in front of a beast was akin to suicide.

Unless one had a second sword, throwing the only one was considered the worst possible action a knight could take.

While they spoke, the next student got ready. The Kiraklo with the pierced eye returned to the cage, and a new beast emerged.

Perhaps inspired by Damian’s method, this next student approached with a bow in hand.

As the battle commenced, the student fired arrows earnestly, but the Kiraklo deflected every single one with its front paws, none landing true.

Gerald commented with a tone of confusion,

“It’s odd. Arrows are overwhelmingly faster than throwing a sword. Why don’t they hit?”

Damian’s sword had hit its mark, whereas the seemingly faster arrows did not—baffling indeed.

“The facial area is mostly armored. If the eyes or snout aren’t hit, it’s useless. Their reaction speed is incomparably faster than that of humans.”

“So why did that boy Damian’s attack land properly?”

“…Because the Kiraklo was facing the sun.”

“What do you mean?”

“Kiraklos inhabit regions where the sun doesn’t reach, like forests or caves, gorges, and valleys. They are extremely sensitive to light. He didn’t throw his sword immediately but adjusted his steps a few times. It seems he induced the Kiraklo to look directly into the sunlight.”

“Well thought out. Is the Kiraklo’s trait widely known? Did he prepare by learning about it beforehand?”

Fenril shook his head.
T h i s w a s c op i e d f r om ki ng m tl. o r g

“It’s a species only found in the North, and even the northerners hardly know about it. Kiraklos have numerous subspecies with diverse habits, making them difficult to distinguish. Unless one has memorized the Monsterology dictionary, it’s hard to know such traits in advance.”

Gerald checked the paperwork where Damian’s personal details were recorded. The boy hailed from Weisel, a place far removed from the likes of monsters.

The fact that Damian had just observed and then accurately landed a precise strike implied skillful deduction of its weakness.

“He couldn’t have been lucky to be admitted into Eternia.”

“That’s right. More so, there’s a high chance he’s concealing his true abilities. Why, I can’t say.”

Although he was simply following orders to come here, Gerald felt rising interest in Damian.

He motioned by lifting his arm and clicking his fingers.

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Soon, a servant approached Gerald.

“Deliver an invitation to the social gathering hosted monthly by Lady Vivi to the boy named Damian.”

“Your orders shall be followed.”

“And… could you convey that I would like to meet with him personally?”
Th i s w a s c o pie d f r o m k i n gmt l . o r g

Th i s wa s c o p i e d f r om k i ng m tl . o r g
***

After the Combat Department session, just as I stepped outside the training ground, someone called out my name.

“Damian!”

“…?”
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As I turned, I spotted Trisha waving from under the shade of a tree.

She caught sight of me and rushed over, her black skirt fluttering around her legs, then asked breathlessly,

“Is it over?”

“What is?”

“Combat practice! I wanted to watch.”

“It’s done for today. Besides, aren’t students from other departments prohibited from watching?”

“Why? Over at the Magical Department, our sparring sessions are all open.”

“Perhaps the Combat Department is less entertaining than the Magical Department’s sessions.”

I had an inkling why the sparring with the Kiraklo wasn’t shared with students from other departments.

This practical session had been quite challenging for the first-year Combat Department students. There was no need to add public humiliation to that, possibly creating a disturbance in their academic life.

Trisha pondered for a moment, rolling her eyes before continuing,

“Hmm… Is that so? I’ve heard magic duels are very popular. They’re a long-standing tradition at Eternia. They attract a lot of spectators.”

“That does sound interesting.”

If it’s a magical duel… wouldn’t Luna be completely dominant over the freshmen? Even that formidable Sion couldn’t make a move against her.

“Really? There’s one happening right now!”

“How are you here, then?”

I knew Trisha was from the Magical Department. Shouldn’t her classes still be ongoing?

“Me? My grades were so low that I was excluded from the sparring classes!”

She proudly declared it with an innocent face.

“Ha, I see. So what brings you over here…?”

As I spoke, something flew in from the sky with a whirring of wings, displaying stitches and an initial.

Finally, the awaited response from Silveryn arrived.

As Stitch descended towards Trisha’s head, I quickly caught it and shoved it into my pocket.

She looked up too late and then back down in confusion.

“What was that?”

“Just a letter.”

There was no way I wanted Trisha to see the initials on Stitch.

“Who’s it from?”

“My mentor.”

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Curiosity piqued in her eyes, Trisha pressed on,

“I’m curious about your mentor. Can I see?”

“Do you think it makes sense to share personal letters? Get permission from the mentor yourself and I’ll show you.”

You’ve got to be kidding, thinking you can just peek.

“But your mentor seems like a forgiving person. Wouldn’t they allow it?”

“Not at all.”

“What’s your mentor like? An elderly lady?”

I shook my head vehemently.

“You couldn’t be more wrong.”

“What do they look like? A grand mage with money and a professor at Eternia has to be old, right?”

“You’ve seen them, haven’t you? Don’t you remember?”

“What?”
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“My painting.”

Hadn’t I told her it was a painting of my mentor when she looked at my artwork in the greenhouse after the ‘Draw a Friend’ class in the Art Department?

Shock widened Trisha’s eyes drastically.

“That, that red-haired figure…?”

I nodded.

It was probably the most shocked expression I’d seen lately. I couldn’t understand why she was so surprised from my perspective.

“What did you think it was when you saw the painting?”

“I thought it was someone you knew!”

***

Trisha had come looking for me to finish up a painting.

She seemed excited about it, though she didn’t show it outwardly.

We stayed in a greenhouse devoid of anyone else.

As I busied myself with paints and washed brushes, Trisha admired the paintings.

By the time I returned, she was still gazing at one in particular—Silveryn’s painting.

She had become flustered by it, thumping her chest with her fist and returning with a deflated expression.

“What’s the matter?”

Her shoulders slumped, a look of deep disappointment on her face.

“Cheer up. I can’t capture that expression in the painting.”

“What can I do about feeling down…”

With no better option, I began painting aimlessly.

About an hour into the painting, Trisha started nodding off.

“Let’s take a short break.”

“Yawn, just ten minutes…”

Overcome by sleepiness, she immediately climbed onto a nearby table, curled up, and nodded off, so I draped my coat over her.

Taking advantage of the silence, I took out Silveryn’s letter, too curious to wait any longer.

With a tense heart, I examined its content.

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“…?”

What was written was shocking and entirely unexpected.

[Silveryn is detained in Poligrax Prison, home to first-level dangerous individuals in the Capital.]

What was this nonsense?

But as I read on, surprise gradually subsided.

[If you wish to see Silveryn, come to the Capital as soon as possible and request a visitation.]

Calming my confused thoughts, I scrutinized the handwriting carefully.

It had stiffer strokes fitting for an official document, yet it was undeniably Silveryn’s. The same familiar perfume scent Silveryn often used emanated from the letter, just as always.

Except for its content, it was certainly Silveryn’s.

This implied Silveryn was pretending to be a jail official by announcing her own imprisonment.

There was no other explanation than Silveryn was lying to me.

What could be the reason for suddenly deceiving me like this? Had she undergone some change of heart?

I carefully drew out paper to pen a response.

[Student Damian is in a coma from a dormitory explosion incident. Due to the aforementioned reasons, direct contact with student Damian is not possible. Please note this in your records.]

Will this do…?

***

Silveryn sat at a tea table, her face full of discontent as she gazed out at the Capital’s view through the window.

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By her elbow, which was propped on her chin, lay a letter almost sent off, a quill pen resting alongside.

Meant for her apprentice, containing detailed answers, the letter never took flight. Instead, the anguished fabrication reached the student.

The motive behind Silveryn’s behavior was simple.

“Promised to write every day…”

Even though claiming to be busy with the Circulatory class, she should have been sending letters even during practical work as she had vowed.

For her, the situation warranted sufficient reason to mete out punishment, with plans already outlined in her head on how to administer it.

“…You’re in for a scolding.”

While Silveryn passed her solitary time, a knock came at her door.

Erzebet, the headmaster of Eternia, entered the room.

Adorned in a modest dress yet exuding a mystical aura, Erzebet approached the window where a potted plant stood.

Erzebet reached out and tenderly caressed the plant. A closed bud blossomed instantly under her touch—a unique ability of hers.

The headmaster spoke first,

“Kenyon Grandid arrived yesterday. Now all summoned members have gathered in the capital for the alliance meeting. It will take place soon.”

“…”

The meeting would have two magic scholars, seven swordmasters, and four great mages. Such a gathering of influential figures in one place was unprecedented.

Erzebet continued,

“I heard that the new bearer of the holy sword, a boy, will be introduced there.”

“…As expected, the Order is too hasty.”

Erzebet smiled faintly and nodded, sharing Silveryn’s view.

The Order’s motives were clear—they desired anew the relationship between the holy Fleurence and the divine swordsman Zeldan Hart.

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Their intent was to groom the new bearer of the holy sword as Zeldan Hart’s successor and unite him with the apostle of the next holy maiden to follow Fleurence.