Chapter: 48
Time remaining until the first class—4 days.
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Alexon. The one who came closest to the throne of the Mercenary King. The Knight Crusher. The Weapon Master.
Among those who earn their bread using swords in this age, there wasn’t one who didn’t know his name. He always swung his axe at the front lines and though he may have acquired scars, he never faced defeat.
Just counting the dark sorcerers whose heads rolled under his axe reveals why Alexon’s name sends shivers through the world. “Leather Thief,” “Evil Landkeeper,” “Bloodline Blade”—the infamous titles roll off the tongue like a bad joke.
Above all, the reason he was respected was that even on the merciless battlefield, he stayed true to his faith and moral values. He never abandoned his comrades, and if someone needed to buy time, he would volunteer himself. The first to face danger and the one who led the less fortunate.
It’s a famous story that he became hostile toward one of the Grand Dukes’ territories to uphold loyalty to the mercenary band he commanded. He had a knack for showing unconditional care for his people.
That’s why—
Becoming Alexon’s disciple could be seen as the best disguise imaginable.
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Bennett Helton. A second-year student at the Academy, with a longsword as his primary weapon.
After enrolling, he showcased his exceptional physical prowess and a killing intent in his swordsmanship that stood out among the students. Consequently, he caught Alexon’s attention and established a loosely bound master-disciple relationship that has continued to this day.
This was all part of the grand plan, you see.
After carefully analyzing Alexon’s character and concluding that he enjoyed offering advice, Bennett approached him while deliberately showcasing a bizarre and erratic swordsmanship. Talk about effective tactics!
Although Alexon’s main weapon was an axe, he was adept at handling many weapons. Trying to trick him poorly would only result in an inquiry like, “Why are you swinging your sword so chaotically?” That would spark suspicion faster than a cat on a hot tin roof.
So, Bennett committed himself to mastering an odd style of swordsmanship. He bumbled through self-study using an eccentric swordsmanship manual without even having a proper instructor. Maybe his efforts touched the heavens?
Alexon wished to correct Bennett’s oddly developed swordsmanship, which had grown deformed from being swayed by killing intent. Naturally, Bennett wasn’t about to pass up this chance to build rapport. He swung his sword until his hands protested like they were auditioning for a horror movie. Alexon was thoroughly impressed with his persistence and determination.
And just like that, he had secured a solid shield at the Academy.
When Alexon’s disciple found himself wrongfully accused, he would undoubtedly protect him until the truth came to light. A minor charge would be brushed aside as merely a misunderstanding.
So, even if the tables turned and Bennett was discovered to be a Black Wizard, it would at least buy him some time. Now that’s what we call a game-changer in the operation!
The day of reckoning was drawing closer.
The infiltrated Black Wizards would install magic circles throughout the Academy by the designated date. They would stoke fear and anxiety among students like a pot on the verge of boiling over, causing disturbances behind the scenes. If undiscovered, they’d operate like sneaky ninjas; if unmasked, they’d maximize casualties like some twisted game of bingo.
This would serve as the fertilizer for the grand spell that the Black Wizard leading the raid, known as the “Corpse Flower that Consumes Fear,” intends to cast—“Nightmare Summons.”
She had the ability to absorb humans’ negative emotions to enhance her magic’s power. The gloomier and darker the atmosphere at the Academy, the stronger she would become.
And honestly, you couldn’t call the Academy’s vibe anything close to pleasant.
Conflicts boiled between factions, students ground their teeth in endless competition, teaching assistants got cut at the knees for professors’ achievements, and merry-go-lucky souls lived under stress so palpably, it could pop with just a poke.
Naturally, the Academy’s somber mood was thanks to the massive magic circle influencing the entire campus; it had been meticulously pieced together by Black Wizards over thirty years of infiltration and discovery. This circle delicately prodded at the most profound emotions of all living beings in its reach.
And let’s not forget the deliciously malicious rumors spread by the Black Wizards. Like the spine-chilling tale of a high-ranking individual using their influence to have an unsatisfactory student discreetly removed—talk about an extreme eviction notice!
Just a little more foiling would do the trick. Just a tad!
Dressed in his Academy uniform, Bennett Helton had a longsword dangling from his left hip. Today, Alexon summoned him. Thus, he was headed to the professor’s residence. What for? It was a critical time, and he had no clue what to expect!
Before exiting the dormitory, Bennett glanced into the mirror. He saw his dull, ash-gray hair and a gruesome scar that marred half his face. And his empty eye socket? Well, let’s just say it wasn’t winning any beauty contests. The scar was a constant reminder—a sort of memory lane. Each time he looked into the mirror, his long-standing grudge came rushing back like an old friend.
The Academy was packed with rough characters, but perhaps Bennett’s acceptance by Alexon stemmed from their shared fate of losing an eye, fostering a sense of kinship. At least, that was his theory.
Maybe it would be prudent to build more intimacy with Alexon before the grand event!
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“Have you arrived, Bennett!”
A booming voice, enough to rattle your bones, greeted Bennett. Alexon’s residence was a neatly decorated, modestly sized detached house. Inside, the furniture was arranged as if it followed strict military orders.
If judged by appearances alone, one might picture a grand tent or a rough and ready shack. However, Alexon was surprisingly meticulous beneath that rugged exterior.
“Did you call for me, Master?”
“Yes, indeed. It’s nothing serious, just that I found someone suitable to be your Master.”
Bennett’s defenses shot up instantly. Out of the blue, he was told another master was being sought? Did he mess something up? Was Alexon thinking about leaving the Academy? What was the scoop?!
“Hahaha! Don’t wear that long face, Bennett! I genuinely mean it; I found someone you could learn from!”
BAM!
Alexon thumped Bennett on the back with his hand, which resembled a pot lid more than anything else. Bennett thought to himself that if he got hit like that two more times, he might just turn into a noodle! He seriously contemplated whether this was a sneaky ploy to let his guard down before delivering a brutal strike.
Alexon started rubbing his bushy beard—a habit he had whenever he was deep in thought or reminiscing.
“There’s a rule at the Academy that states Countermeasures to Illusion Magic must be taught no matter what, right? But wouldn’t you know it? The previous professor left due to some unfortunate incident, so we had to scout for a new one.”
“I see,” Bennett nodded, still wary.
“I was thinking of requesting a professor from the Purple Magic Tower, someone with rich practical experience and a lengthy resume. And – get this! – Puppet Lorei, known for her outstanding character, was a candidate. As for Charlie of Pain, well, despite his notorious reputation, you couldn’t argue he’d make a perfect professor.
“…”
“However, suddenly the Second Prince decided he wanted to plug in someone else. He said in addition to Countermeasures to Illusion Magic, this person could also cover for the students’ lack of practical experience–as if we’re supposed to toss them into the arena of illusions!”
“No way. Are you telling me they’re going to experience combat via Illusion Magic?”
Bennett rubbed his temple as though fending off a nasty headache. It was ludicrous! Attempts had been made before to integrate Illusion Magic into practical training, and they had all flopped spectacularly. Too large a gulf existed between reality and illusion; plus, the output was too weak, breaking apart quicker than your grandma’s baking.
Injecting realism into an illusion was no walk in the park. Even a world wrought by three Illusion Wizards squeezing out every trickle of mana had to shrink information down, twisting people and objects along the way.
These squishy clay-like goblins wouldn’t help anyone gain actual experience in combat!
“Right! Talk about a ridiculous idea! So, I opposed it. I inquired, ‘Try proving that absurdity, will you?’ The nerve! I thought they’d love to see some flashy verbal sparring too. But lo and behold, that Alejandro punk got schooled!”
“Do you mean Professor Alejandro?”
“There’s more! Brace yourself—I lost to a wizard in a theoretical sword duel of words!”
“What?!”
Bennett’s mind went blank. It was like a priest losing a verbal confrontation to some random farmer! If it had been any other fool, they’d be laughed out of town. How could you lose a war of words to a wizard? But Alexon? He was not someone to be dismissed lightly. His skills overshadowed most!
“I’ve said it time and again: weapons carry the heart, the soul, and the mind. This is no mere philosophical mumbo jumbo!”
This realization was one Alexon had obtained after rolling around various battlefields for a good forty years.
“Attack, evade, or defend? Should I attack, accepting the damage? Where do I sneak in my tricks? Battle entails simultaneous decision-making, all wrapped up like a burrito.”
There were similarities to chess—every action weaved through choices. One could strike with a 60% attack and 40% defense, anticipate the opponent’s next move, or pour every ounce of strength into a specific moment.
That’s why, when unpacking the decisions embedded in a weapon, people become visible. One can deduce how they fight or act.
“Which is why I say your sword reek of killing intent! Your weapon essentially assumes you’ll win even if it means giving up an arm or two. But the swordsmanship this punk wielded on a whim is…”
A flicker of fear crossed Alexon’s gaze, just weak enough you might miss it.
It wasn’t fear of ghosts or boogeymen. It was a fear stemming from the incomprehensible—like witnessing the sun rising in the west or water flowing upwards!
He reminisced once more.
“The first attack was merely bait. My opponent instinctively countered with a probing move. Right then and there, I felt something was off. Sword dueling relies on words…if one side plays too dirty, it all falls apart. But this guy was calculating every single move precisely!”
Everything mattered—weight, destructive power, muscle mass, the whole shebang. Ignoring unquantifiable aspects like mana and transformations, he was sharp enough to analyze each bit of data, recognizing his limitations while deftly rolling away from Alexon’s axe.
Though words passed between them, Alexon conjured a vivid battle in his mind. A sword versus an axe, clashing at points.
“Three moves passed, and as we approached the fourth, it hit me. I felt something strange.”
That particular swing had a trajectory I’d never witnessed in any martial arts style. Alexon could only visualize that wizard’s tongue’s path and momentarily feel a fog settle over him.
His mind insisted it was a move clumsily drafted by a wizard who didn’t even know the basics of martial arts.
But his heart—the instincts sharpened over years of warfare—screamed otherwise. Danger! His heart squeezed, even if he couldn’t articulate why. There was no question; it was a decisive blow!
“Somewhere along the lines, our positions flipped.”
It was so fluid it was nearly imperceptible. The aggressive Alexon found himself tangled in defense! Definitely a slow and weak display—but that wizard’s blade always seemed one step ahead.
Yet, instead of marveling at such refined skills, Alexon felt a revolting sensation, akin to bugs writhing through his veins.
Dismantlement.
The wizard’s sword efficiently cut Alexon apart. Each move was purposeful, mechanical, swinging just precisely enough, always landing with a slight advantage.
There was no heart, no care, no aim. What mattered—offense, defense, intention—was dictated solely by cold efficiency. It felt as if he were battling a hundred-headed monster.
That monster only calculated the most efficient moves. No exceptions.
Bit by bit, he was whittled away.
Layer by layer, from the outside, he began to vanish.
“In the second half, it was nothing but flailing.”
A desperate struggle that felt utterly pointless. It was as if his skin was being peeled off in thin layers as he fought for existence. Sweat poured down Alexon’s face as his frenzy escalated, yet there was no escaping the outcome; they were eradicating layers.
“In that way, I died on the 147th exchange.”
The reminiscence came to a close.
Alexon’s expression twisted in anguish, just the thought of recalling it sending chills spilling down his back. Here he was, hands clenched and trembling as though he’d just witnessed a ghost!
Bennett had never seen Alexon in such a state.
“…In that moment, I acknowledged him. If that wizard had been born with a flawless body… perhaps one day, he could have targeted the Empire’s Boy Knight.”
“…”
“Go learn from him, Bennett. Had I not reached my transformation… I might have attempted to mimic that wizard’s methods of fighting. But I’ve chosen my path—it’s set in stone. You, however, are different. Bennett… go and learn that wizard’s swordsmanship.”
Head out, swim with bigger fish, and learn from a better teacher. That was what Alexon intended to convey. Here he was, openly admitting his shortcomings and advising his disciple accordingly. And poor Bennett only clenched his teeth.
His thoughts whirled like a paper in the wind.
“Yes, Master.”
Bennett nodded resolutely and sprang from his seat.
It was a variable.
The wizard from the Purple Magic Tower… if Alexon rated him so highly, then surely he would be a variable in the overarching plan. It was imperative to conduct a more thorough investigation and inform the infiltrating Black Wizards. If he posed a problem? Well then, removing him would be the priority!
As Bennett glanced at Alexon, who seemed lost in a funk, he couldn’t help but blurt out without thinking.
“But still, I only have one Master.”
“You punk…”
A flicker of clarity returned to Alexon’s visage. Bennett bowed low, and exited Alexon’s residence.
Alexon’s social standing had not changed. He was still a perfectly good cover, a sturdy shield. So, buttering up a crestfallen Alexon wasn’t merely a good deed; it was likely crucial for the plan.
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The intel Bennett gathered from the Black Wizards and classmates was as follows.
Name: Unknown.
Age: Unknown.
Affiliation: Purple Magic Tower.
The Star Disciple of the Tower Master.
Has the Second Prince as a secret backer.
Often seen being pampered by a female butler dressed in a formal suit.
Caught up in some rivalry with that female butler and an Academy female student.
Immediately upon entering the Academy, made a pit-stop at the campus women’s underwear store.
Spotted engaging in suspicious activities at multiple locations within the Academy.
Testimony confirmed he was seen leaving the professor’s residence, moving south the night before.
“……”
Bennett decided to report to the higher-ups, labeling the target as a lecher. With someone so blatantly licentious, it seemed honey traps would work wonders!
“Suspicious activities, they say…”
Any direct interaction would be postponed. For now, Bennett planned to investigate what this wizard from the Tower intended to pull at the Academy—tonight, when everyone was fast asleep!
Bennett closed his eyes, feeling the contours of his soul. With utmost caution, he tore a little piece away. A fleeting, heart-wrenching pain raced through his chest, leaving behind a hefty dose of mana at his fingertips.
The soul and the body were intrinsically connected. If the soul suffered, the body would too. Thus, using one’s own soul as material to cast Black Magic was just asking for a shorter lifespan.
Bennett always hesitated when relying on his soul for Black Magic.
However, reminding himself that everything he once had was devoured in a blaze made him feel a surge of courage. The same courage that fueled his determination to see the plan through, come what may!
“Burnt Offering – Tracing the Past.”
By consuming a piece of his soul, this magic showed the past. A swirl of mana enveloped Bennett, settling into his eyes. He spat the rising bile into a trash can like he was rehearsing for an awful drama.
Although some three years off his lifespan just went poof, it didn’t matter in light of the execution of the plan.
This magic, which usually presented a view of one minute into the past, was now enhanced to depict vivid events from a day ago. Bennett pursued the illusion of a hooded wizard and a beauty clad in a suit.
Arriving at a clearing in the lecture facility area, he caught sight of the wizard burying something in the ground with a shovel. After confirming no one else was around, Bennett summoned magic to rapidly excavate the earth.
“A sword?”
A plain-looking sword lay buried there.
It wouldn’t do to come out on a rainy night just to toss trash; not to mention they used a shovel. They were likely trying to avoid leaving behind traces of magic. With such meticulousness, it couldn’t possibly just be an ordinary sword.
With a suspicion bubbling in his gut, Bennett carefully cut his palm on the sword.
Blood dripped down. Then, the Demonic Sword awakened from its slumber, having absorbed his blood like it was a midnight snack.
You are my new Master? To think you would awaken me…
“Artifact Seal of the Marsh Devil.”
Confirming it was indeed a Demonic Sword, Bennett immediately sealed it. Strapping the sword to his waist, he took care to avoid being discovered.
“Lecherous, with the Second Prince behind him, asserting wisdom to defeat Alexon in a verbal fight, and hiding a Demonic Sword in the Academy…”
Is he perhaps another one of those Black Wizards?
Bennett speculated that this could be a high-ranking Black Wizard, dispatched by the “Corpse Flower that Consumes Fear,” to assist in implementing the plan.
The Black Wizard community operated on a cell structure. Bennett could only communicate with the ‘higher-ups’ and had no clue who else in the Academy might be disguised as a Black Wizard. Hence, determining whether this wizard from the Purple Magic Tower was an ally or foe was currently impossible.
If he was indeed a Black Wizard, was it wiser to rebury the Demonic Sword?
If he wasn’t, well then, keeping the sword wouldn’t pose a problem. But logically speaking, there seemed no cause for burying a Demonic Sword within the Academy unless he had something up his sleeve. After all, take it to the Church and they’d sort it out, reward and all!
As his thoughts spiraled, he sensed someone approaching.
“……”
There wasn’t enough time to rebury the sword or disguise himself, so Bennett hurriedly slipped away, the Demonic Sword tucked under his arm, like a kid escaping a homework assignment!
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