Episode 235: Beyond Redemption (3)
Even after Damian disappeared, the students of Class 13 remained motionless.
They were too exhausted to move. Rest felt as sweet as honey. Some of them even fell into a deep sleep.
Who knows how much time passed like that?
”…Hey, Oliver.”
One of the students called out to Oliver, who lifted his head slightly while still lying down.
“What is it?”
“You told us it was a secret passage, right? So how did Damian Haxen know to wait for us at the exit?”
At that question, the other students sat up and stared at Oliver. With all eyes on him, Oliver’s face showed clear signs of distress.
It was a misunderstanding, but he had no way to explain it. Even to himself, it seemed like a situation ripe for suspicion.
“Did you sell us out to Damian Haxen?”
“No wonder he didn’t lay a finger on you.”
“No, that’s not it…”
Oliver felt utterly wronged.
The reason he hadn’t been hit by Damian Haxen was that he was tasked with pulling the unconscious students out of the hole.
And there was nothing to be happy about not getting hit. His shoulders ached as if they were about to dislocate from dragging out the unconscious students.
“Look at him, he can’t even say anything! He must be in cahoots with Damian Haxen!”
“You little rat, you’re not getting away with this! Stay right there!”
Just as the angry students were about to surround Oliver, a new voice cut through the tension.
“Wow, what do we have here? A gathering of trash?”
The students of Class 13 instinctively turned toward the entrance of the training ground.
Two male students were walking in. The moment they saw their faces, the expressions of Class 13 hardened.
“So the rumors were true? The trash of Class 13 is actually training? Maybe the sun will rise in the west tomorrow.”
One of the newcomers sneered.
But none of the Class 13 students dared to get angry. More accurately, they couldn’t.
The two standing before them were the top and second-ranked students of the first year.
Even the notoriously unruly Class 13 knew better than to mess with these two.
“But where’s Oliver?”
“Here, here I am.”
Oliver Fortina emerged from the group. The moment the newcomer saw Oliver’s face, he frowned.
“When your brother shows up, you should come running. Why are you dawdling?”
“Ge-Geliver, brother… I, I was just…”
Oliver, who had even stood up to Damian, couldn’t muster a word against this student.
Geliver Fortina.
The third son of the prestigious Fortina Marquisate and Oliver’s older brother.
“How can someone as dull as you also lack common sense, huh?”
If that were all, Oliver wouldn’t have been so flustered.
Unlike Geliver, who was born to the first wife, Oliver was born to the second.
Their positions and standing within the family were worlds apart.
“I, I’m sorry…”
“Never mind that. Do you know why I’m here?”
“I-I don’t know.”
Standing before Geliver, Oliver could barely string a sentence together, visibly tense.
“I’m here because I’m worried you’ll embarrass the family name with your foolish antics.”
Geliver said, poking Oliver’s forehead with his finger.
“You idiot brother. Have you already forgotten what happened when someone as talentless and dim-witted as you tried to step up?”
“I’m s-sorry…”
“And you’re training under someone like Damian Haxen, a knight with no pedigree? Do you think Father will just let that slide?”
At the mention of their father, Oliver’s eyes widened.
“B-brother… Please, don’t tell Father… I beg you…”
“Pathetic fool.”
Geliver clicked his tongue and shook his head.
“And the rest of you are no better. How could you be so thoughtless as to take lessons from Damian Haxen?”
Geliver looked around at the students of Class 13. They all hung their heads low.
Seeing this, Geliver smirked.
“Pathetic. No wonder you’re called the family’s disgrace.”
“Geliver, that’s enough.”
The other student who had come with Geliver spoke up.
“There’s no point in talking to them. If they had any sense, they wouldn’t be in Class 13.”
“True enough.”
The student walked forward, stopping in front of Penelope Borja.
“Penelope.”
Penelope didn’t respond, only glaring at him.
“Didn’t I warn you? Not to waste your time on pointless things.”
“I told you too, didn’t I? To mind your own business.”
Penelope’s voice was sharp, but the student didn’t flinch.
“Mind my own business? What nonsense. As Emilio Borja, heir to the duchy, it’s my duty to ensure you don’t step out of line.”
Emilio Borja.
The eldest son and heir of the Borja Duchy.
Despite being the eldest, Emilio was barely older than Penelope, for a specific reason.
“Penelope, don’t act like you have no roots. Stop flaunting the fact that you’re a maid’s child.”
Penelope was the duke’s illegitimate child.
Her mother was a maid the Duke had taken a fancy to.
Unlike Oliver’s mother, who was recognized as the second wife, Penelope’s mother remained a maid.
“I told you before you entered the academy, didn’t I? Spend your time learning etiquette and studying. Marrying well is the only contribution you can make to the family.”
Penelope bit her lip, glaring at Emilio.
Emilio didn’t see Penelope as part of the family, only as a pawn for a strategic marriage.
“If you keep ignoring me… you’ll regret it someday.”
“Regret? Do you really believe Father will reconsider the heir position if you beat me?”
Emilio scoffed.
“You’re dreaming. You can’t beat me. And even if you did, Father would never make someone like you the heir.”
Emilio’s taunts made Penelope clench her fists tightly.
“I’m leaving now. Penelope, remember my warning.”
Emilio Borja turned away. Geliver followed him.
But they couldn’t take another step. Someone was standing at the entrance of the training ground.
“And who might you be?”
Damian Haxen asked, looking at the two.
“And who might you be?”
Arriving at the training ground, Damian looked at the two with a bemused expression.
It was baffling to see strangers hurling insults at Class 13.
The two exchanged glances before bowing their heads simultaneously.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Emilio Borja.”
“I’m Geliver Fortina.”
Their polite demeanor was a refreshing change for Damian, who was used to the brashness of Class 13.
“Apologies for not introducing ourselves sooner.”
“We came to see our siblings.”
“Siblings?”
Now that he thought about it, their surnames did sound familiar. Damian pointed to Penelope Borja and Oliver Fortina.
“You mean them?”
“Yes.”
Damian studied the two with curiosity.
Unlike their siblings, the magical aura emanating from them was anything but ordinary.
It meant they were not only talented but also had the full support of their families.
“I’ve heard of your reputation, Sir Damian.”
“You’re the champion of the Helian Tournament from the Kingdom of Apple, aren’t you?”
The two showered Damian with praise, their faces full of admiration.
“We hope our troublesome siblings haven’t caused you too much trouble.”
“Given how unruly Class 13 is, you must have had a hard time.”
Damian nodded at their words.
“Class 13 is a bit beyond redemption.”
The two looked at him with sympathetic expressions.
“It’s a shame someone as skilled as you is stuck with Class 13. It’s a loss for the academy.”
“If you’d like, we can arrange for you to transfer to another class.”
“No, that’s not necessary.”
Emilio smiled at Damian’s refusal.
“There’s no need to feel burdened. It’s just a small favor from us.”
“Our families can easily make it happen.”
Damian was about to refuse again when he noticed the faces of Class 13.
The students who had once defied him now looked utterly dejected, like abandoned puppies.
Damian pondered for a moment.
Transferring classes wasn’t an option. The headmaster had set specific conditions.
Whether he liked it or not, Damian was stuck with Class 13.
In that case, it wasn’t just about reforming them; he needed to boost their morale too.
“No, really, it’s not necessary.”
“Sir Damian, there’s no need to feel burdened.”
“Please, accept our offer.”
And there was something about these two that rubbed him the wrong way.
The way they addressed him as “Sir” and kept insisting on their “favor” was particularly grating.
The most irritating thing of all was the way those two looked at him, as if they were gazing down at something beneath them.
“What a damn nuisance,” Demian muttered, his voice dripping with disdain. Emilio and Geliver’s brows furrowed in response.
“What did you just say?”
“Why don’t you just take the hint and leave? I can’t fathom why you have so much to say,” Demian continued, his words causing their brows to knit even tighter.
“I need to start training, so both of you, get lost. I don’t have time to waste on buzzing flies,” he said, waving his hand dismissively in the air.
“Sir Demian, are you rejecting our offer of goodwill?” one of them asked, incredulous.
“Goodwill? Is that what you call it?” Demian chuckled dryly.
The two were barely at the level of junior knights. While impressive for their age, compared to Demian, they were nothing more than dust on the ground. The idea of junior knights offering goodwill to someone of his master class was laughable.
“Do you even know which family we belong to? Acting like this won’t do you any good…” Emilio’s words trailed off abruptly.
Demian’s finger was suddenly pressed against his throat.
“What are you doing…?” Emilio’s face turned pale. Somehow, that finger felt like a blade. If Demian flicked it upward, it seemed like it would pierce through his jaw and into his brain.
“Goodwill… such a nice word,” Demian said, his face devoid of any humor. “Then I suppose sparing your lives here could be considered goodwill too, couldn’t it?”
“The kids in Class 13 are a bit of a lost cause, aren’t they?” When Demian Haxen said that, the students of Class 13 were deeply disappointed.
They couldn’t understand it themselves. Why were they disappointed? Because Demian Haxen wasn’t siding with them?
It was absurd. They had despised him, yet they were disappointed when he seemed to agree with those two.
“Someone as skilled as Sir Demian taking charge of Class 13 is a huge loss for the academy,” one of the students remarked. “If you don’t mind, we could try to have you transferred to another class.”
Even as they heard this, some students smirked bitterly. It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. Every teacher who had been assigned to them had eventually given up and left.
Naturally, they assumed Demian Haxen would do the same…
“What a damn nuisance,” he repeated.
But what he said next was far from what Class 13 expected.
“What did you just say?”
“Why don’t you just take the hint and leave? I can’t fathom why you have so much to say.”
The students exchanged shocked glances. What was Demian Haxen saying? Could it be that he wasn’t planning to leave Class 13?
“I need to start training, so both of you, get lost. I don’t have time to waste on buzzing flies.”
Their faces went blank with disbelief. They hadn’t misheard. Demian Haxen was actually choosing to stay with Class 13.
It made no sense, but he was standing up for them.
“Then I suppose sparing your lives here could be considered goodwill too, couldn’t it?” Demian said to Emilio, and the students of Class 13 felt a sense of relief.
Just then, a booming voice interrupted.
“What do you think you’re doing?” A powerful presence swept into the training ground as a middle-aged man approached, each step radiating immense energy.
“Do you know who those two are? They’re the top and second-ranked first-year students! And you, a teacher, are threatening such outstanding students?” he bellowed.
The students of Class 13 turned to look at the man in shock.
It was Delong Müller, the head of the first-year swordsmanship classes at the academy and a knight once hailed as a hero of the empire.