All first-year students of the Knight Department, all first-year students of the Magic Department, and even the professors and assistants overseeing them—
A massive crowd of over two hundred people had gathered in one place.
"Starting today, for one week, you will survive in this forest…"
"There are monsters…"
While listening to the professors' final instructions, Aint quietly observed the people around him.
— That one looks useful.
— That one's no good. Weak and talentless.
— Oh, who's that one?
More precisely, his gaze moved in response to the words of Sir Gardener Alpenfarsen.
Even within the same academy, it was rare for such a large number of people to gather in one place. Sir Gardener wanted to assess the current state of the empire through this event.
— Among them, two stand out like cranes among chickens.
— The one approaching now, and that so-called Saint over there. The Dragon God Cult has always been full of madmen.
"Aint."
Before Sir Gardener's words even finished, Valoshi approached.
"Are you really going to be okay alone?"
"There's a rule against internal conflict anyway. I want to try doing it solo."
"Still, be careful. Sure, conflict is banned, but that doesn't mean there won't be loopholes. There are plenty of shady guys around."
"Thanks for the warning."
As Valoshi gave his advice and left, this time, an elf approached.
"Aint, did you change your mind?"
"No."
"That's a shame. But if you change your mind later, be sure to contact me."
Without waiting for Aint's response, Aria placed a small orb in his hand and vanished.
— A communication orb.
— Just smash it.
"Hm."
Aint hesitated briefly but ended up tucking the orb into his coat.
— What are you doing?
"Well, you never know. There's always a 'what if.'"
— Weakling. If you're a descendant of Armian, you should be able to cut through all the 'what ifs.'
Sir Gardener only clicked his tongue and didn't say anything further.
— Let's go over the plan again.
— The lake we're headed for is Pardern Lake, to the west. We'll have to make it look like a coincidence to avoid suspicion. At first, we'll wander around to divert attention…
"Huh…?"
Just then, someone familiar caught Aint's eye.
— Are you even listening?
"Isn't that Fernyan-sunbae over there?"
— It is that nouveau riche brat. What the hell is he doing here?
"As far as I know, upperclassmen can act as assistants during lowerclassmen field exercises. Isn't that what he's doing?"
— You expect me to believe a rich kid would do that without an ulterior motive?
"There's probably a reason—extra credit, bonus points, something like that."
That was the typical reason students volunteered as assistants.
— Not for money?
— That makes it even more suspicious.
Though it sounded reasonable at a glance, Sir Gardener's suspicions only deepened.
"Thirty minutes from now, the exercise will begin. Assistants, move to your positions."
"To your positions!"
At that moment, the assistants scattered in all directions.
The training was about to begin.
The professors and assistants divided the forest into zones as a way of managing the students.
They were stationed in their designated areas and were responsible for the safety of students who entered.
"Fernyan."
"Yes, Professor."
As Fernyan was heading to his designated zone, Professor Grad called out to stop him.
"Why didn't you come to me? If you'd spoken to me, I could've made this assistant job a lot easier for you."
Fernyan shrugged at the professor's look of regret and greed.
"I'll be sure to ask for your help next time."
But if there was an alternative route next time, he had no intention of relying on Grad.
Grad was the type of professor who would do anything as long as he got paid—but that also meant it would always cost money.
Fernyan's principle was simple: use when necessary, but save wherever possible.
"I don't know what your goal is, but as long as it doesn't interfere with the test… No, you've never caused trouble before. I'll trust you."
"Thank you."
"Off you go."
After arriving at his zone, Fernyan scanned his surroundings. There was no lake nearby, and monster presences could be felt here and there.
From this point on, students had to survive on their own here for a week.
He unfolded a map. The map for professors and assistants showed the students' locations in real time.
Those who hadn't departed yet were still gathered at the starting point, but about thirty minutes later, they finally began to move.
Fernyan focused on the dot marked "38." For now, the student was meandering around, seemingly to avoid suspicion, repeatedly bumping into other students and separating again.
"Come on, Aint. Show me which lake you're heading for."
But Aint didn't commit to any specific direction. While he was still weaving through the forest, someone called out to him from beneath a tree.
"Big bro, I'm here."
It was a red-haired man—Jace Vinez.
"You're here."
"So, are we starting right away?"
"Yes."
Jace opened a subspace and pulled something out—it was a dummy shaped like a human.
"I need some blood and mana."
Fernyan bit his finger and let a few drops of blood fall onto the dummy. As he followed up by injecting mana, a faint light began to seep from the figure.
"All done."
Jace placed his hand over the dummy's chest and began chanting a spell.
As a series of magical circles wrapped around the dummy, its previously clay-like appearance gradually took on a more refined form.
It was Fernyan's face.
"Did you bring clothes?"
"Yes. The same outfit I'm wearing today."
Once the dummy was dressed, it opened its eyes. At a glance, its appearance and aura were indistinguishable from the real Fernyan.
"No way anyone will notice?"
"Don't worry. It'll hold up for at least five hours."
"What makes you so confident?"
"Would you believe me if I said I learned this magic just to sneak out and avoid the Holy Pope's gaze?"
At the determined look in Jace's eyes, Fernyan asked again.
"So you managed to fool the Holy Pope?"
"No. Never succeeded even once."
Fernyan's brow furrowed.
"But he usually caught on only after a few hours had passed. Up to that point, even His Holiness was unsure."
"That's good enough."
The Pope of the Dragon God Cult was officially the most powerful mage in the world. If this spell could even slightly delay his suspicion, it proved how effective the clone spell was.
And since no one in this academy surpassed the Pope in magical prowess, the chances of detection were low.
"But remember, five hours is the limit for maintaining this."
"That's more than enough. You've memorized all the duties for the assistant role, right?"
"Of course."
Fernyan handed over everything needed for the assistant tasks—he'd already prepared extras in advance.
"Then, I'll see you later."
"Yes. I'll be parked right here until you return."
"If something goes wrong…"
"I'll handle it myself before the other assistants even notice."
Pulling his hood deep over his face, Fernyan checked the map again.
"…Perfect timing."
The dot marked 38 had now distanced itself significantly from the others. Though still moving in a zigzag to avoid attention, there was only one lake at the end of that path.
Fernyan's eyes gleamed coldly.
He pulled a magic orb from his subspace and infused it with mana. This was a type of communication orb—when mana was injected into one, its twin would begin to vibrate.
It was time to set his second plan in motion.
A breeze swept through the thick forest.
Fallen leaves drifted down between two figures facing each other.
One of them, Berian Kalburden, quietly touched the signal orb pulsing on his chest and swallowed hard.
'Why the hell am I doing this again…?'
It was because of Fernyan. After the threats he'd received recently, he couldn't refuse—even after losing twice, here he was, standing in front of that man once again.
'Never imagined I'd be back this soon.'
Although Berian had initially believed he would win easily, he was defeated.
The second time, he swore he wouldn't let his guard down—yet he still lost.
After those two defeats, Berian could no longer deny the gap in skill between himself and Aint.
That was why. The sword he held as he faced Aint now didn't carry the same confidence it once had.
Even so, he had no choice but to fight.
"Your task during this practical is simple. When I give the signal, you're to keep Aint occupied."
"The longer you hold out, the better for you. Endure for an hour, and I won't report your secrets to the judges. Endure for two, and I'll even reward you."
"No justification? Can't accept the loss? Then say you're challenging again to protect the honor of a knight. What better excuse could a knight have?"
It was blatant blackmail. There was no such thing as a real choice.
'I really am being wronged here…!'
He had once wanted revenge. He couldn't accept losing to Aint.
But he'd never sold his soul to a devil—or so he swore. So why was he going through all this?
It was unfair, but he had no way out. As long as that damned recording orb existed, he had no choice but to follow Fernyan's orders.
"What's this, Berian?"
The opponent—Aint Armian—looked at him.
"You want another go? You know it won't end well, right?"
It was the kind of line Berian himself should've said. He clenched his teeth in rising self-loathing.
"…I can't accept defeat."
Truthfully, Aint's constant growth had begun to fill him with fear.
"Twice wasn't enough for you?"
"Even if it's a hundred times, it's the same."
He didn't need to go that far. Twice was already more than enough. But he pushed the fear far away.
"Losing to you has dragged my honor through the gutter. I'll fight you again to protect it—and to reclaim it."
"And if you lose again?"
"…A knight speaks with his sword."
Because Fernyan was scarier than Aint.
Losing to Aint was just losing. He'd already lost twice—adding one more defeat wouldn't change much.
But if he got on Fernyan's bad side, his life was over. That wretched merchant could drag him into hell in some horrifyingly unexpected way.
"Come, Aint. This time will be different. You won't pass until you defeat me."
Vrrrmmm—
Berian's sword began to hum. A gray aura shimmered around it.
— A spirit that doesn't falter despite defeat!
— At first I didn't think much of him, but now I see he's a fine knight.
— The way he stands tall for his honor without fearing defeat is an inspiration to all knights! If you're a knight too, give him your all!
Moved by his resolve, Sir Gardener urged Aint on. But Aint only shook his head.
"…All that's fine, Berian."
A sigh escaped him naturally.
"But you haven't forgotten, right? This survival exercise prohibits conflict between students."
"..."
He knew.
Even as he drew his sword, Berian wasn't particularly eager to fight.
"Fighting's forbidden during a survival exercise? That's your problem, Berian. If you want to survive, stall for time however you can. In this world, nothing's truly impossible. If it's not allowed, then make it allowed."
"..."
He was just using "honor" as a cover to buy more time.
"I-I don't care! I'm doing this for honor…!"
— Who cares about school rules, Aint! A knight fights for honor! Will you trample on the courage of a knight who's standing tall?
Aint sighed again.
'We're short on time, and this guy's just clinging on.'
It was like having a clingy leech stuck to him.
Rumble—
In the dark underground, Fernyan ran through the earth. His magic tunneled through solid ground, creating a passage and sealing it again behind him.
It consumed a lot of mana and was relatively slow, but this was the best way to avoid being detected by the scattered students, professors, and assistants.
'Keep him distracted, Berian.'
He occasionally checked his map. The two dots marked "2" and "38" had converged. For five full minutes now, neither dot had moved.
So far, everything was going according to plan.
'Luckily, the lake isn't far.'
It wasn't the closest lake—which was a slight disappointment—but it also wasn't the farthest one.
He kept running for a long while, and even then, the two dots remained locked in place.
'He's doing better than expected.'
Fernyan mentally raised his estimation of Berian's worth.
And then—
──!
Water began to flow through a hole he'd punctured. He had reached the lake.
He tore a scroll imbued with a breathing spell and plunged into the water. He'd been here once before, but even then, he hadn't found what he'd wanted.
'Let's see if I can find it this time.'
Fernyan opened his subspace.
────!
Massive arms and legs burst out.
It was a special worker he had prepared just for this job.