Chapter 230: The Academy (2)

Demian stood in the empty classroom, utterly bewildered.

“I heard it was the class for troublemakers, but I never imagined it would be this bad…”

The Academy was renowned across the continent, not just the Empire, as the pinnacle of education. Yet, the students here seemed beyond redemption.

What was even more astonishing was that every student in Class 13 hailed from high-ranking noble families. Such families were typically known for their strict discipline.

But the students of Class 13 were anything but disciplined.

“Did I read it wrong?”

Demian flipped through the student records he had received the day before. The files contained not only photos but detailed histories of each student.

“Marquis Fortina, Count Sand… all from prestigious families…”

As Demian was engrossed in the records, the classroom door swung open. He looked up, expecting a student, but his hopes were dashed.

A female knight, clad in a formal uniform, entered. The red lance strapped to her back was particularly striking.

‘A formidable warrior,’ Demian thought, impressed.

The knight had an aura of power, perfectly controlled so as not to leak out.

‘She’s probably on the verge of breaking through the second wall.’

She was stronger than Salik, the formidable opponent Demian had faced recently. The Empire’s most intimidating trait was how such powerful individuals seemed to appear out of nowhere.

“No one showed up, I see.”

The knight glanced around the classroom, muttering in disappointment.

“Who are you?” Demian asked.

“Oh, my apologies. I should have introduced myself first,” the knight said, her speech refined, hinting at noble origins.

“I am Blanca Roche, the commander of the White Blood Knights, tasked with safeguarding the Academy.”

At the mention of the White Blood Knights, Demian’s eyes widened. He recalled Rachel explaining that the Empire had invested heavily in a knight order to protect the Academy from unforeseen disasters.

The name of that order was the White Blood Knights.

It made sense now, given her skill. As the commander, she was indeed formidable.

“I’m Demian Haxen,” he introduced himself, extending a hand. Blanca Roche shook it warmly.

“I already know who you are. I came here specifically to meet you,” she said, appraising him with a nod of approval.

“You’re as impressive as the rumors say. To possess such a powerful aura at such a young age is truly remarkable.”

Releasing his hand, she continued, “I came to meet you and offer some assistance. I couldn’t just stand by after hearing you were assigned to Class 13.”

“You know about Class 13?” Demian inquired.

“Anyone at the Academy would. It’s the class where all the troublemakers are gathered,” Blanca replied with a wry smile.

“Students with no interest in academics, those who have been involved in violent incidents with others… In short, it’s the class the Academy struggles to control.”

Demian couldn’t help but smile wryly as well. Class 13 was essentially a collection of the Academy’s misfits.

“Why does the Academy tolerate such students?” he asked.

“Because of their families. Every student in Class 13 comes from a powerful lineage.”

Demian found this puzzling. No matter how influential their families were, this was the Academy. Surely, the Academy’s prestige would outweigh any familial protection.

“And there’s one more reason… but it’s not my place to say. Let’s just say their families have their own reasons for wanting it this way.”

The explanation was cryptic, leaving Demian with more questions. But he had more pressing matters to attend to.

“Do you know where the students are?” he asked.

“I don’t, but I’ve run into them a few times while patrolling. They always seem quite busy.”

“How often do Class 13 students attend classes in a month?”

“Hardly ever. If they do show up, it’s the talk of the Academy. I haven’t heard of it happening recently. Other students even bet on it.”

Demian sighed. So, they almost never attended.

‘This is going to be a headache.’

If Class 13 didn’t perform well in the upcoming swordsmanship exam in a week, Demian would be expelled from the Academy.

Being expelled didn’t bother him. He only needed to find Sla. The problem was that finding Sla in a week seemed impossible.

Sla was a black magician from the Frenzy School, unmatched in manipulating the human body. She could disguise herself as anyone, even knights or magicians, using her dark magic.

This made it nearly impossible for Demian to identify her within the Academy.

Moreover, the Academy was vast. Searching the entire place in a week was out of the question.

As Demian pondered his dilemma, Blanca spoke up.

“Well, I must be off. I have more places to patrol.”

With a nod, Blanca left the classroom. Demian stared at the door for a moment.

‘Could she be Sla?’

Sla could disguise herself as a master class. While she couldn’t perfectly mimic a master class’s abilities, it was hard to tell when she was just standing still.

‘I need to keep a closer watch.’

Sla could be anyone. Demian resolved to suspect everyone he met at the Academy.

As he leaned against the teacher’s desk, lost in thought, the classroom door opened again.

At first, Demian thought Blanca had returned, but he was mistaken.

A male student in the Academy’s uniform entered. With buck teeth reminiscent of a mouse, the boy’s eyes lit up when he saw Demian.

“Wow, the rumors were true! Demian Haxen is really our Class 13 instructor!”

Demian was taken aback. Anyone would be, hearing such casual speech from a much younger student.

But the boy seemed oblivious to Demian’s feelings.

“This is insane! I have to tell the others right away.”

The student turned to leave, but Demian called out.

“Hey.”

The boy stopped and looked back at Demian.

“Are you a student of Class 13?”

“So what if I am?”

Demian chuckled at the boy’s lack of manners.

“Your speech is a bit short.”

“And what of it?”

The boy’s audacity almost made Demian question if he was the one in the wrong.

“Are you upset because I’m speaking informally? That’s hilarious.”

The boy laughed dismissively.

“Do you know who I am? I’m Oliver Fortina, the fourth son of Marquis Fortina! You’re from the Kingdom of Apple, so you should know your place.”

Demian couldn’t help but laugh. Now he understood the boy’s confidence.

In the Empire, a marquis’s family held a different level of power compared to other kingdoms.

With a knight order, elite troops on standby, and several master classes, the Fortina family’s influence was immense.

Oliver likely assumed Demian wouldn’t dare touch him, especially since other instructors probably treated him with caution.

“Well, this is convenient,” Demian said, stepping closer to Oliver. The sudden approach startled the boy.

“Why are you coming closer?”

“You mentioned telling the others about me. Do you know where they are? Lead me to them.”

Oliver’s expression turned sour.

“No way. Why should I tell you?”

“If you refuse, I have no choice.”

Demian reached into a pocket of space and pulled something out. Oliver flinched at the sight.

“Wh-what’s that?”

Demian had retrieved a wooden club, polished to a shine.

“Let me ask again. Where are the other students?”

“What nonsense—”

Without hesitation, Demian struck Oliver Fortina on the head with the club.

Thud.

With a resounding crack, Oliver’s head hit the ground.

“Ah! Agh! Aaaagh!”

Oliver clutched his head, writhing on the floor.

“You crazy bastard! How dare you hit me? You’re dead! I’ll tell my father!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. What did I do wrong?”

“Don’t even try to play dumb! You just… you just hit me on the head…”

Oliver Fortina rubbed the back of his head, bewildered.

“What… what the…?”

There wasn’t even a bruise, let alone a bump. This strange phenomenon left Oliver utterly confused.

“How… how did you…?”

“Let me ask you again. Where are the other students?”

“Get lost! You think I’d sell out my friends?”

Damian was impressed by Oliver’s defiance. Most people would cower after a single hit, but this one was different.

“Quite the rebellious spirit you’ve got there.”

Acknowledging this, Damian struck Oliver on the head once more.

Thud.

With a clearer sound, Oliver rolled across the floor again.

“Ow! You’re dead! My father won’t let this slide…”

Damian raised his club high. Oliver shielded his head with his arms and shouted.

“Wait! I’ll talk! I’ll tell you! They’re scattered, so I don’t know exactly where they all are, but at this time…”

“No need to tell me now.”

Oliver looked up at Damian, bewildered by the sudden change in tone.

“What… what?”

“Even in this situation, you can’t help but speak informally. You’re not just any troublemaker. Before finding the others, I think we need to ‘reform’ that attitude of yours.”

Damian tapped the club against his palm. Oliver stared at it, terror-stricken.

“So let’s start with a little lesson.”

In the quiet, empty classroom, the sound of something being struck echoed steadily.