With the new semester underway, interest in Lucas's first lecture was enormous throughout Grasco's dormitories.
That curiosity was not limited to the freshmen. It was widespread even among the upperclassmen.
People hoping to hear their impressions loitered around the central hall.
Just how different was a lecture taught by the Hero of the Eastern Front?
What had they learned there, and what kind of Skills would they get to handle?
-They must have been taught Professor Lucas's secret techniques.
-They must be learning the secret to manifesting Aura.
Since the lecture was open only to those who had been chosen, speculation ran rampant.
Some had even reached the point of deifying the lecture itself.
They wanted to get something, anything, out of the students who attended it.
But no matter how long they waited, not a single one of the people they were waiting for showed up.
As if mocking those waiting impatiently, most of the students taking 'Everything About Combat' had gone to the library instead.
'Aren't they from the Faculty of Combat Studies? What are they doing here?'
'No clue?'
'Whoa, why are they reading those books so intensely?'
'Hey, keep your eyes down and pretend you didn't see them. One wrong move and you could spend the next five years as someone's errand boy.'
They drew enormous attention and countless stares.
Or, in some cases, triggered someone's PTSD.
Of course, not everyone had gone to the library.
"Fuck off."
"Y-Young Master. I-I came to G-Grasco to s-serve you......"
"I said I don't need you. Fuck off. I'll handle my own business."
"B-but......"
"That's an order. While we're at Grasco, don't talk to me without permission and don't interfere in my business. Just take that precious lecture of yours and die."
"Y-Young Master......."
There was one who remained attached to his master.
"Then what if we use a carbon alloy instead of stainless steel? X, run a simulation."
-Recombining based on the entered information.......
There was one who devoted himself to research.
'Just where does the end of that strength lie?'
And there was one who had fallen into deep thought alone.
'Could I have done what Professor Lucas did?'
Romero's shadow, Deyan.
He replayed Lucas's movements in his mind.
If judged purely by speed, there were plenty of people who could move that fast.
But there had been something about Lucas's movements that could not be evaluated by speed alone.
What if it had been Deyan himself?
Could he have reproduced the movements and judgment Lucas had shown in the face of that overwhelming power?
He shook his head.
'I still have a long way to go.'
He gripped his sword and sank into deep contemplation.
Lucas's first lecture had left a deep impression on every one of his disciples.
'No, seriously, where the hell did they all go?'
***
Scratch, scratch.
At this moment, filled with nothing but the sound of pen scraping against paper, I had found peace for the first time in this world.
-Understanding and Application of Combat Patterns Against Demons as Seen from the Situation on the Eastern Front.
The research-paper setting I'd regretted at first had, ironically enough, become the best setting I'd ever written.
It had been a long time since I'd written 'prose.'
It might have taken the form of an academic paper, but at its core, it was an entirely new novel being born from my imagination.
'Yes. This is it!'
Even if I'd been a failed writer, I was still someone who had once dreamed of becoming an author.
I'd chosen that path because I loved writing.
Serialization had been frustrating and exhausting.
Facing malicious comments had hurt.
And when I'd finished the story as a piece of trash, self-loathing had surged through me.
But now that I had a pen in my hand again,
I keenly felt that I was alive.
Amid the hopeless circumstances surrounding me, it was my sole light and my refuge.
I lost myself in it, forgetting the passage of time.
By the time I finally came to my senses, the day had already changed.
***
"Is the surveillance of him proceeding well?"
"......I am doing my best."
Ritt prostrated himself while trying to soothe his throbbing head.
In truth, he wanted to cling to the being before him and pour out his complaints.
'No, that professor bastard won't go home! That bastard's a demon...... Ah, right, we're the demons. Anyway, he's worse than a demon!'
Lucas just holed himself up in his office and refused to leave.
How was an assistant supposed to go home when the professor he was assigned to would not?
Ritt had pulled an all-nighter on his very first day at work.
He had wanted to ask, "Are you not going home?" countless times.
But the tremendous concentration radiating from beyond the office door had silenced him.
He felt as though interrupting it might extinguish his own life, so he had simply kept his mouth shut and waited endlessly.
For twelve hours.
And that repeated every single day.
That madman would finally emerge from his office around five in the morning, look at Ritt, and say,
"You came in early."
Was he insane?
"Report immediately if you notice any suspicious movements."
"Yes. Understood."
Ritt wanted to scream for a reassignment, but defying the Higher Demon before him would also be bad for the lifespan of a Lesser Demon like himself, so he endured it.
'Fine...... I'll sleep when I'm dead.......'
And once he became a ghost, he would repay the grudge he had accumulated against those two bastards.
Ritt made the decision firmly.
***
Lecture-research paper-Daily Training.
A month passed with my life repeating those three things.
I also realized that Ritt, whom I'd thought was always coming in early, actually wasn't going home at all.
What a terrifying bastard.
I continued spending my days going up to the now-familiar classroom and surviving on nothing but my gift of gab.
But these goddamn talent freaks had gotten used to Brother Socrates's method of questioning, so things weren't as easy as they had been at first.
Still, I had my position as the creator of this world to uphold.
I wasn't going to be taken down that easily.
The real problem was that it was about time to start bringing in 'practical training.'
I wanted to delay it as much as possible too, but they needed practical training if I was going to raise them into shields for myself, just as I'd originally intended.
"Before we begin practical training, I will examine each of your talents."
I wasn't going to give them a one-size-fits-all lesson like South Korea's public education system.
Their individuality was not uniform, and if I had intended to raise them that way, I would never have handpicked them in the first place.
Everyone had something they did best.
And I knew that developing those strengths and putting them to use would make me much safer.
"First...... Eilon."
"Yes!"
Eilon's expression visibly brightened when I called his name.
He'd probably made tremendous improvements since the first day's lesson.
"Your talent is perfectly clear. So move off to the side."
Ugh, I never want to face you again.
Even now, I flinch whenever I see red light.
Eilon visibly deflated as he maneuvered his wheelchair off to one side.
"Torres, come forward."
"Y-yes!"
There was no particular reason I'd called Torres first.
At this point, Torres was simply the worst one here.
He possessed tremendous talent, but he had never received professional training.
Naturally, that meant he had no choice but to be rough around the edges.
In other words, he was the easiest target, someone even I could point things out to.
"Take up the weapon you are most confident with and move freely."
Torres gripped an iron sword and swung it awkwardly.
'......!'
At that moment, I had no choice but to doubt my own eyes.
'I can...... see what needs fixing?'
Just as I did during Daily Training, I'd unconsciously activated .
And just like during training, a translucent figure had been overlaid on top of the real Torres.
As if pointing out the flaws in his awkward movements, it was guiding him toward the correct posture.
But I was the only one who could see it.
'F-fucking sweet!'
That changed everything.
Wasn't this practically a special ability designed specifically for pointing out flaws?
First, I steadied myself.
It might only work on Torres.
"Next."
I hurriedly called the next student forward.
The method was the same, but that student's proficiency was clearly different from Torres's.
Even so, I could still unmistakably 'see' it.
The overlay cut away inefficient movements and showed the movements that would draw out the greatest amount of talent.
'This is enough!'
I could absolutely make this work.
***
"Change your weapon. A heavier two-handed sword suits you better than a one-handed sword."
"Use the recoil of your waist more from there. Put more power and speed into it."
As they grew accustomed to Lucas's theory lectures, it was true that the intense impression he had first made had begun to fade.
But as of today, that changed again.
They had done nothing more than take up their weapons and swing them.
Yet Lucas identified their shortcomings with exact precision and corrected them.
He even told some of them to abandon the weapons they had been using and recommended entirely new ones.
Astonishingly, the replacements fit their hands perfectly.
The one who felt the greatest shock was Deyan.
Deyan had taken a certain amount of pride in his own swordsmanship.
He had assumed the corrections being given to the others would have little to do with him.
"You are not putting enough force into your lower body. Plant your feet about 30% harder."
"......!"
Lucas's correction was nothing short of shocking.
A tiny difference in detail produced an astonishing change.
His technique became sharper, and the path of his sword grew smoother.
He had merely followed Lucas's words, yet it felt as though his level had risen.
Admiration surged beyond mere surprise.
Could he truly surpass that man, as Romero had ordered?
A fundamental doubt arose within him.
"Professor."
That doubt instinctively shot toward Lucas.
***
"Professor."
That familiar voice.
Deyan.
"What is it?"
Why?
Again?
What now?
Maybe it was because of what had happened during the first lecture, but hearing him call me somehow didn’t rub me the wrong way.
"How can I become as strong as you, Professor?"
"......."
That guy was under a serious misunderstanding.
To be completely honest, I'd lose even if I fought your pinky finger, man.
But there was no reason to say that out loud.
"Train and refine yourself."
All I could do was encourage him to work hard.
At this point, I was practically a true teacher.
"Then show us how much we must train and refine ourselves before we can reach you. Show us your sword, Professor, so that we may know what to aim for."
What a ridiculous thing to ask.
The only thing I knew how to do was an Eight-Direction Slash.
What would I possibly gain by showing something like that to them?
'I have to refuse. Convincingly.'
It just so happened that class was about to end.
I should come up with a plausible excuse and dismiss them.
I was just about to open my mouth.
[New notification received.]
[FlaccidEjaculation donated 1,000G.]
What kind of king-sized donation is this?
My eyes widened.
It was true that no matter how many times I received one, it was always exhilarating.
I suddenly felt confidence welling up too.
"Professor?"
"......."
Crap.
I'd missed my timing while marveling at the donation.
Backing out now would be way too awkward.
I wracked my brain as hard as I could, trying to find a plausible way out.
'There's only one thing I can do anyway.'
I might as well show them the one thing I'm decent at.
"I will show you briefly."
That way, it'll be too ambiguous for you bastards to judge me properly.
***
Originally, Lucas's lecture should have ended there.
Lucas obsessively kept to the allotted time or ended early.
He never went past the scheduled time.
"Show us your sword, Professor, so that we may know what to aim for."
In truth, Deyan's request should not have been accepted.
Lucas would flatly reject additional questions once the lecture time was over.
But it was also true that they were looking forward to it.
Just as Deyan had said, everyone there wanted to know what they should aim for.
"......."
'Huh?'
A pause followed Deyan's request.
That pause planted a strange sense of anticipation.
Could it be?
"I will show you briefly."
Lucas drew his sword and raised it straight above his head.
The entire sequence was as graceful as watching a work of art.
'His stance really is different.'
The most basic stance.
High Guard.
Regardless of weapon, it was a stance that every student in the Faculty of Combat Studies would have learned as a matter of course.
Lucas had said he would show them only briefly, but they had never expected him to demonstrate something so basic.
Just as a faint sense of disappointment arose, Lucas's sword cut downward.
SWISH—!
"......."
The air in the classroom froze.
A silence in which even breathing seemed forbidden wrapped around the room.
"......That is all."
Professor Lucas turned and disappeared just like that, but the people in the classroom could not move even slightly.
'Beautiful.'
A single thought pierced through all of their minds.
It had been a simple downward slash.
But it had not been a simple downward slash.
It was an overwhelming single sword strike powerful enough to seize their very souls.
In and of itself, it was the pinnacle.