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Chapter 13
“Is the confusion gone now?”
There are several sharply debated topics within the Valdrain Empire.
One of the biggest is: Which of the two great academies is superior?
Edelvine Academy of the Central Capital.
Telvier Academy of the South.
The South is as economically and culturally advanced as the capital, so the quality of the academies is nearly impossible to rank definitively.
The Sword School.
The Arcane School.
And the Arts School, as well as all other departments, compete fiercely.
However—if one absolutely had to choose—Edelvine is said to have a slight edge in the Sword School.
One of the reasons is the level of its professors.
“Then, we will now begin the Edelvine Academy Sword School faculty regular meeting.”
The professors gathered here were all once famous knights or warriors.
A former captain of the Imperial Knight Order.
A former captain of the Kundel family knight order.
A former vice-captain of the Rihardt family knight order.
And other knights from renowned families.
Regular meetings always make my palms sweat.
“We have two items on the agenda: the first-half donations, and the exchange tournament.”
When Professor Berhal, the department chair and meeting conductor, opened his mouth, everyone listened closely.
Some—including Elcanto—looked at Berhal with deep respect.
For good reason.
Berhal was one of fewer than thirty people in the Empire’s long history to earn the title of Imperial Knight.
He had also served in the Emperor’s Royal Guard.
By rights, he could have been the academy president, yet he became the Sword School chair instead.
“As of last month, the first-half donations total 200 million sel. Among them, the Kundel family contributed the highest—30 million sel.”
“Oh ho. Even if it’s a mid-year tally, exceeding 10% alone is something we haven’t seen since the Kandea family last year, Chair.”
“Yes. It seems the admission of Delev Kundel this year played a part.”
Berhal’s gaze naturally shifted to one side.
“Professor Elcanto, how is Student Delev doing?”
“Ah, yes, of course. He’s doing very well—working hard and enjoying academy life.”
“Since you’re officially in charge of the first-year class this year, I’ll be counting on you. As you know, nothing is more important than managing the first-years.”
“Of course, Chair.”
“Especially Delev Kundel, Celia Rihardt, and also Maris Sophan. I hear the Sophan family donated ten million sel this year.”
“My goodness. The Sophan family?”
“It seems their business has been thriving. Though having Maris join this year surely contributed.”
“I’ll give them my utmost attention!”
Elcanto straightened up, looking nothing like the man who casually bantered with Jiehl or the assistant Tyrone.
“Well, that concludes donations. Now… the most important topic. How’s the preparation for the exchange tournament?”
The Edelvine Academy Exchange Tournament.
It is no exaggeration to call it the Sword School’s most important event.
Alongside the Academy Festa, it is the biggest festival.
But unlike the Festa, which is internal, the exchange tournament includes external participants—specifically parents.
And most parents are heads or spouses of noble families, sometimes alumni or future entrants.
“Let’s focus on wrapping it up smoothly like last year.”
“There won’t be any surprises this year, right?”
“What surprises? The difference between grade levels is obvious.”
A “surprise” meant a lower-year student beating an upper-year.
“It could happen for one or two individuals, but an entire lower-year group beating upper-years will never happen.”
Rarely, a genius might beat a second-year.
But generally? No.
The difference between grade levels is clear—because their training and courses differ greatly.
Thus, a first-year defeating a second-year was especially difficult.
“Professor Camellia will continue handling preparations. And don’t forget the ‘Night of Edelvine’ event after the tournament.”
The Night of Edelvine.
A banquet and ball held on the evening of the exchange tournament.
Another major highlight.
“Now then, this concludes the regular meeting—oh. Professor Elcanto.”
Elcanto, already tense, jolted upright as he was suddenly called on.
“Y-yes, Chair!”
“Why are you so startled?”
“Oh, well… it still feels unreal sitting among seniors like this…”
“Haha. Come to think of it, until two years ago, you were following behind us calling ‘Professor! Professor!’ every time.”
“Indeed. Hard to believe he’s a professor already!”
Elcanto scratched his head sheepishly.
“All thanks to my seniors’ guidance. I will continue to do my best.”
“Yes, yes. Anyway… how is the new general education instructor?”
Why would the chair bring up Teacher Jiehl?
His mind spun rapidly.
A department chair usually doesn’t bother with first-year matters—unless a major noble family is involved.
Could he know…?
After intense thought, Elcanto reached a dramatic conclusion:
Someone powerful—maybe even the Imperial Family—is backing Jiehl Steelheart.
“Ah! Yes, Chair. Of course. He’s doing very well. According to the assistant, he submits reports diligently. Oh! And recently, he voluntarily observed second- and third-year classes.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. Very passionate.”
Passionate?
He had only done so because Elcanto asked Tyrone to send him.
“Please ensure nothing goes wrong. General education instructors are very important—for first-years.”
No one else thought much of the remark.
General education instructors quit often; he was likely just encouraging him.
But Elcanto felt a different weight in the words.
Very important… for first-years?
His anxiety shot up.
“Y-yes! Of course! I’ll keep a close eye. Absolutely nothing will go wrong!”
“Haha, our Professor Elcanto is full of enthusiasm. Must be because he’s the first-year advisor.”
“Indeed, Chair. Haha!”
The room warmed with laughter.
Except for Elcanto, who couldn’t laugh at all.
Damn… Should I go observe his class myself?
Self-defense class was in full swing.
But few students were truly focused.
“Among those attending this class today, ten will be chosen.”
Jiehl’s single sentence—casually dropped right before class—hung like fog in their minds.
What does he mean? Has he already chosen?
No way. He shouldn’t have that authority… right?
A hundred first-years, and the ten selected are all here? Over everyone else?
No one could tell what he meant.
But brushing it off was impossible—being selected for the exchange tournament was a huge opportunity.
Especially for mid-tier noble heirs like Yurio and Karen, who barely made it into Edelvine.
“Delev, you’re slower than last time.”
The cost of poor concentration came fast.
“Kh!”
His belated defense was indeed slower than before.
“You’ve lost focus. Thinking of something else?”
“N-no. Again.”
Despite his resolve to counterattack today, his moves were sluggish.
“Wait for your next turn, Delev.”
He wasn’t the only one.
“Celia Rihardt, your reaction is late. Raise your arm faster. Based on my expectations, you should’ve blocked that today.”
“Karen Aswan, pivot on your left ankle and turn faster.”
Everyone was the same.
Their heads full of one question:
Ten of us?
Are there pre-selected candidates?
Does Teacher Jiehl… have authority like that?
Think about it:
A man with that skill level is just a general-ed instructor?
Even this class itself was absurd, yet everyone accepted it because it was him.
Yes… he’s choosing the ten here.
Some reached this conclusion.
Others went further—
Damn it! I shouldn’t have talked back that time!
Like Maris, now drowning in regret.
“Your skills are worse than before.”
Jiehl paused the class.
“Your concentration is lowered.”
Then he asked the last thing anyone expected:
“Did upperclassmen bully you?”
Silence.
“Or are you hungry?”
Why were these his guesses?
“If not, there’s no reason every one of you would be unfocused.”
He truly didn’t understand.
Finally, Delev raised his hand.
“Teacher.”
“Delev Kundel. Speak.”
“Your earlier words confused all of us.”
“My words? Confused?”
Jiehl tilted his head.
“I didn’t say anything meant to confuse you.”
“You said ten of us would be selected.”
All students nodded.
“Is that confusing?”
“Yes! Very confusing!”
“Confusing…?”
Jiehl genuinely pondered it.
Ten?
Among you?
Ah.
Understanding dawned.
“Yes. I suppose that could be confusing.”
“Yes, it sounded like you already predetermined—”
“All ten selected here will defeat the second-years. I failed to say this earlier; that’s what caused the confusion.”
“……What?”
“For the exchange tournament. The chosen ten will defeat the second-years.”
The students fell into greater confusion.
He’s interfering with the results??
What is he even saying…?
Because to them, one thing was absolute:
A first-year beating a second-year was impossible.
Not just due to skill, but because of the Sword School’s strict senior-junior hierarchy.
Except for huge noble families, most students were heavily influenced by that hierarchy.
“W-what… does that mean?”
Even Delev, bold enough to ask, was shaken.
“Still confused?”
“Yes… very.”
“Hm.”
Jiehl thought carefully.
How to remove their confusion?
Confusion…
A state of unclarity, fog, disorder.
Celia also raised her hand.
“Teacher.”
“Celia Rihardt. Speak.”
“Do you… already know the results? In advance?”
Jiehl already knew the structure of the selection rounds and the tournament thanks to Assistant Tyrone.
He knew the usual outcomes, the general level differences.
But the actual results? Impossible to know.
Results only exist after the process.
Yet the way he interpreted Celia’s question was… different.
“Yes. I can see the outcome.”
“R-really?!”
The class gasped.
He really is intervening?!
What kind of monster is he…?
Just as the misunderstanding was about to explode—
“You are already far ahead of the other first-years who aren’t taking this class.”
Jiehl looked around calmly.
“Stamina, reflexes, ambush response, breathing. In these two months, you’ve all improved significantly.”
That was the true meaning of his earlier words.
“So I’m certain ten of you will be chosen.”
Because this class was already ahead.
“And those ten will defeat the second-years.”
Even opponents they believed they could never beat—
they could.
Jiehl asked again:
“Is the confusion gone now?”
