Demon King’s Academy

༺ 𓆩 Chapter 13 𓆪 ༻ 

「Translator — Creator」

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

The magic training grounds bustled with Class-A's lesson in full swing; though one magic instructor had survived, Class-A's instruction fell to Rugeros.

The skeleton teacher who had arrived alongside Kindeman.

He too bore a grand title like Kindeman.

— Archmage Rugeros.

Or more precisely...

— War Mage Rugeros.

Every spell in his arsenal was honed for warfare.

His overwhelming prowess left no weakness in either group or single combat; this mastery led him to successfully hunt Demon Kings, earning him the illustrious title of War Mage.

And now, it was Rugeros's lesson.

Class-A had steeled themselves thoroughly.

They had learned their harsh lesson from Kindeman's class — that a skeleton could not be underestimated.

Yet still...

"This will be different."

They believed Kindeman and Rugeros were not alike.

Why?

Because, after all, he was inevitably still a skeleton.

The limitations of being a skeleton were clear — even Kindeman couldn't fully overcome his movement constraints.

It was just that Kindeman’s techniques were so exceptional.

But a skeleton mage...

"Has clear mana limitations."

The amount of mana they could wield was limited.

"And calculations won’t be easy either. Skeletons can barely use ten percent of their living brain capacity."

A fatal flaw for a mage.

While skeleton mages were trickier than common skeletons, their limitations were all the more apparent.

Especially since...

"They can only use 1st-circle magic."

Skeleton mages were confined to 1st-circle spells.

With his crimson eye-light, surely he was the lowest-rank.

Sneer—

Whatever the lesson, they could handle it.

So Class-A students thought.

But such was the way of things.

People never truly understand...

"AAAGHH!"

Until they experience it for themselves.

Students scrambled about running frantically, screaming.

Even Calige tried using [Acceleration] to dodge the spells, but...

"You madman!"

As if anticipating Calige's movement, a 1st-circle Magic Missile was already waiting for him.

Thwack—!

The Magic Missile struck his throat with precision.

"URGHH!"

The pain defied description.

Everyone felt the same.

It was just like with Kindeman’s class.

No — this was worse, perhaps.

Despite being only able to use ten percent of his living brain's capabilities, the War Mage Rugeros was...

"He's a monster!"

Truly deserved to be called monstrous.

He anticipated every situation, attacking and defending simultaneously.

Setting escape routes while blocking his opponents'.

Even with his sluggish movements, he predicted every path, leaving no opening for counterattack.

Thwack—!

And so they met this fate.

"..........."

And there was someone else watching the lesson — Rayze Arden.

Already exhausted from several days of intense classes, she stood observing from the sidelines.

In particular, she now found herself wholly responsible for the second-years, whom Louis had all but abandoned; the second-year students had been cast aside by Louis' indifference, denied even Kindeman and Rugeros' lessons.

Though the second-years seemed unbearably delighted to avoid instruction from the Undead...

"Madness."

Razye had still wanted to witness it.

Kindeman and Rugeros' teaching methods.

They diverged completely from what she had imagined.

Traditionally, whether swordsmanship or magic, first-years began with theory, absorbing understanding and concepts.

Only then would they move their bodies in practice — such had been the orthodox way of academies.

While some students might prepare in advance, Terran's pupils were mostly those cast aside, thrown here without preparation.

Yet Kindeman and Rugeros' lessons followed no such convention; they skipped every preliminary step, plunging straight into practical application.

“This is insane…”

Though these 'practical training' more closely resembled just beating the students senseless.

‘I understand that it’s inevitable.’

Skeletons, especially low-rank ones, were incapable of basic communication. It wasn’t possible to express their intentions, even by writing — their physical and racial limitations barred any form of expression.

She had thought this would make teaching impossible, and yet...

'Just how deep does their will run?'

Kindeman and Rugeros were conducting lessons, albeit through bizarre methods.

THWACK—!

Brutal and violent.

It made one question whether they had truly been Great Heroes.

This seemed less like instruction and more like vengeful spirits rising from graves to torment the living.

Most students appeared to share this impression, but...

"Truly incredible..."

Rayze's amazement stemmed from a different understanding.

Thwack—

Kindeman's lessons, Rugeros's lessons — they shared a common thread.

It was about absorbing knowledge through experience.

Yet this was no mere suffering of punishment; though it appeared so on the surface.

Whoosh—

What the students didn’t realize, as they were struck by Kindeman and Rugeros, was that their circles were being stimulated with each hit.

As a Hero, Rayze could see it.

Whoosh—

These lessons held profound meaning.

No, it was more significant than anything else.

These novices were developing resistance.

Whoosh—

Their bodies were transforming, becoming vessels suited for swordsmanship.

Whoosh—

Becoming vessels attuned to wielding magic.

This transcended innovation — it was revolutionary.

It was probably a method neither Kindeman nor Rugeros had anticipated.

This was...

'Louis Shambel.'

The Demon King must have commanded them to teach this way.

Shiver—

A chill ran down her spine.

What was the end goal of that Demon King?

And had she done right in bringing him to Terran?

But there was one thing that was certain.

'It's changing.'

Terran was transforming, however slightly.

And this was merely ten days into the new term.

☩

— My Great Master, Lord Loui...

A long, drawn-out greeting.

Both knees gracefully bent, arms stretched forward.

Head bowed low, not even daring to breathe.

No — unable to breathe at all.

"Hah."

This one was already dead — an Undead.

An Elder Lich, after all.

Elder Lich Oh Henry, a faithful servant who had attended the Demon King of Chaos, Louis Shambel, for centuries beyond count.

Now, he had also volunteered himself as Terran's guardian.

"What now? What’s the matter?”

At Louis' voice laden with irritation, Oh Henry cried out, trembling as if struck by divine terror.

— I beg of you, I have come to request something, daring to seek the Demon King’s presence...

"This is Terran."

Louis cut off Oh Henry words.

"And I am the headmaster."

— Ahh...

"When there’s something to be done, do it properly. Oh Henry."

— My deepest apologies!

As if having committed a grave sin, Oh Henry...

THUD—!

…began smashing his skull against the ground; though a life vessel was a Lich's source of existence, the skull held nearly equal importance.

— My sincerest apologies! This foolish one's ignorance...!

THUD—! THUD—! THUD—!

Yet Oh Henryy, determined to make amends, continued to bash his skull against the ground until his cranium shattered completely.

"Enough."

Without Louis’ command, Oh Henry might truly have continued until his skull splintered.

Already...

"Hah."

The distinct X-shaped crack in the center of his forehead spoke volumes about how often he had repeated this ritual.

"I wonder why I even picked up something like you."

— My Lord!

"No, never mind. Speak."

Louis waved his hand dismissively.

Only then did Oh Henry nod and begin.

— I, Oh Henry, have inspected every corner of Terran during my appointed time as guardian!

Being a guardian meant searching dark corners, watching for misconduct.

One could say Oh Henry fulfilled his role faithfully, vigilant for any intruders who might threaten the academy.

Moreover, Oh Henry's duty included maintaining the magical array that kept Terran hidden from the outside world while preventing external interference.

"And?"

— My Lord! My teeth chatter, my skull trembles!

Rattle—, Rattle—

It wasn't mere words.

Indeed, Oh Henry's skull trembled, scattering crimson eye-light.

— How! How could thiiiis!

His spectral voice resonated through the surroundings, making vegetation quiver.

— How could such a shabby, decrepit place house my Demon King!

".............."

— This place is filthy! Moreover, it's squalid! And furthermore! It lacks even basic dignity!

Oh Henry wailed.

— If my Lord remains in such a place any longer, I, Oh Henry...!

Rattle—

The Elder Lich, Oh Henry, appeared as if his skull could shatter at any instant.

— I may shatter my own Life Vessel, for I cannot forgive myself!

"Go ahead then."

— I, Oh Henry, cannot stand idly by!

"I said break your vessel."

— I, Ohh Henryyyyyy!

Sigh—

Louis watched Oh Henry with an exhausted breath.

— I shall transform this place into something befitting a Demon King’s castle.

Freeze—

Louis’ movements ceased entirely; his languid eyes narrowed to razor-thin slits.

Tremble—, Tremble—, Tremble—

Oh Henry shook violently.

This wasn’t the trembling from earlier—it was the kind born from genuine fear.

The dead should fear nothing.

Having already tasted death once, a second death should hold little dread.

This grants the undead a profound resistance to fear.

Especially for an Elder Lich, practically royalty among the Undead — their immunity to fear should have been absolute.

Tremble—, Tremble—, Tremble—

Yet here Oh Henry quivered.

— I am honored... truly honored.

The problem lay in Oh Henry's earnest desire for this.

"Hah."

Louis exhaled another weary sigh.

"Stop with this pathetic nonsense. I've no more patience to spare."

— ........

"But I'll grant your request."

— Truly, truly my Lord?

"Yes."

Louis reclined in the headmaster's chair.

Creeak—

The rickety chair groaned under his weight, as though it might collapse at any moment; chairs in the other teachers’ offices exuded luxury and solidity, a stark contrast to the rickety one Louis now sat in. One might argue that the previous headmaster had been frugal, but in truth—

‘He was simply too miserly.’

It was likely something else entirely.

The previous headmaster, rarely present in this office, had simply neglected to invest in it. Even those meager resources had been siphoned away, every last grain hoarded for personal gain.

Though Louis typically paid little mind to such matters, these things had begun to grate on him, like splinters beneath skin.

"But you cannot be the one to do it."

— Whaaaat?

Louis spoke with unyielding finality.

"Your skills are far too crude."

— B-but my Loooord!

Yet it was simple truth.

In the past...

— Allow this humble one to renovate your demon castle!

When Oh Henry had once been entrusted with remodeling after such a plea...

'Hah.'

The result had transcended spectacle to become something truly horrifying.

Towers that pierced the heavens.

Even for a demon king castle, surely it should maintain some basic livability?

— From the first floor to... your quarters on the hundred and fifty-sixth, my Lord...

Though spatial transfer magic could ease movement, Oh Henry's tastes had been excessive beyond reason.

And his aesthetic sense had been absolutely abysmal.

Thus, Oh Henry could not be trusted with this task.

— In that case...

Oh Henry's eye-light flickered as he questioned Louis.

"Fear not. I shall entrust this to those whom even you would acknowledge."

The continent held no shortage of renowned architects.

Yet none would accept a Demon King's commission to renovate Terran, and even if they did, mere humans could hardly be trusted with such a task.

There existed those with truly fitting expertise.

— Ahh.

Oh Henry seemed to catch on.

— You speak of the Dwarves, my Lord.

The Dwarves.

No master craftsmen in all the continent could rival their skill.

END of CHAPTER

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