“What are those guys even learning?”
“Seriously, why do they keep practicing nothing but downward slashes like their lives depend on it?”
It was a strange sight.
Those students were unquestionably among the finest elites of Grasco’s Faculty of Combat Studies, yet for some reason they did nothing but endlessly repeat the most basic of basics—no, something so bare that it hardly deserved to be called a basic technique: the downward slash.
An instinctive swing that even a newborn could manage if you put a sword in its hands.
Yet they swung with utter seriousness, as though it were some peerless sword art.
The answers they gave whenever someone asked were even more ridiculous.
‘Have you ever seen a ‘real’ downward slash? I…… have.’
That wistful look on their faces.
‘A downward slash is a downward slash. What do you mean, real or fake?’
But the conversation never went any further than that, so there was no way to understand what they meant.
Fortunately, Professor John Michern cleared up the mystery.
“What are you doing right now?”
“Ah, well…….”
“What? You say that is Professor Lucas’s swordsmanship?”
“It was a truly perfect downward slash. We wished to reach that sword…….”
“No matter how perfect a downward slash may be, it is still a downward slash. I thought we had gathered the aces, only to find we were running a swordsmanship kindergarten.”
A sneer curled at the professor’s lips.
Snickers leaked out here and there among the other students as well.
“I knew it. There was a reason Professor Lucas did not select young Jesse! Hahaha!”
The other students seemed to agree to some extent. Aside from those taking Lucas’s class, the atmosphere turned cheerful and convivial.
Yet Jesse Athlon himself did not look pleased.
‘Dumbasses.’
Only Jesse, who had experienced firsthand just what kind of monsters had gathered in that class, understood the true meaning behind that strange behavior.
No, they probably sensed it at least a little too.
That was the ‘sour grapes phenomenon.’
A way of rationalizing away something they could never attain.
The whole situation simply irritated Jesse.
***
<‘Everything About Combat’ Course Notice>
To all students enrolled in Everything About Combat.
Practical training will be held at next week. Notify the teaching assistant whether you will attend.
-Content : Simulated real combat to improve combat proficiency
-Date : Year XXXX, Month X, Day XX
-Eligibility : ＇Everything About Combat＇ students only
-Application : Applications accepted until Month X, Day XX (Tactical Researcher Ritt)
-Bring your own weaponry.
***
I’m screwed.
I wanted to avoid running into Ritt as much as possible and live as though neither of us existed to the other, but the setting I’d written came back to bite me.
Namely: ‘A teaching assistant is absolutely necessary.’
Back then, I’d thrown it in without knowing any better. I just saw graduate students suffering under the care(?) of professors as a kind of meme. To portray that sort of realism, where even in a fantasy world graduate students suffered because of their professors.
……And now I’m paying dearly for that sin.
That meant there were inevitably times when I had no choice but to work with Ritt.
When it came to papers ‘alone,’ I didn’t need Ritt.
The footnotes and citations were all fiction coming straight out of my head, after all.
But actual work was different.
There were things that had to be processed through a teaching assistant, and things I had to prepare with one accompanying me. Especially now that practical training season had arrived, the need for an assistant had become so pronounced that I had to face Ritt all day long.
On top of that, like graduate students in the real world, Ritt also had to prepare a thesis, so they had to stay glued to me, their academic adviser, the entire time we were at work.
Damn you, past me.
Thanks to that, between preparing lectures and worrying about Ritt, I spent the entire day on edge and was exhausted to death.
My digestion wasn’t great either, and at this rate I felt like I was going to make myself sick. Of course, with super recovery from my Daily Reward, that wouldn’t actually happen.
Anyway, Ritt was my only teaching assistant, so naturally they had far more work to handle than the assistants of other professors.
The guilt was killing me.
“You may leave first.”
“Ah, no, Professor. How could I possibly leave before you? Please do not mind me. I will go make some copies.”
Even when I hinted that they should go home first, they stubbornly refused, leaving me at a loss.
Only when Ritt occasionally stepped away like this could I finally let my guard down and relax to my heart’s content.
‘Do Demons not need sleep or something……? I mean, I’m one thing, but…….’
Sometimes I would lose myself in work and suddenly realize the day had changed. As for me, whether I slept or not, my body had become one that woke at 5 a.m. regardless, and I had super recovery, so fine—but what about Ritt?
They didn’t leave work, they didn’t sleep, and I was worried to death.
……About me, of course.
You know, there are plenty of stories like that on the internet.
Those hair-raising posts where sleep-deprived, overworked graduate students confess that they want to kill their professors. Those desperate cries that they thought they had become graduate students, only to feel as though they were turning into devils.
I laughed them off back then, but I can’t laugh them off anymore.
Now I’m in that professor’s position.
And my teaching assistant is a devil in the literal sense of the word…….
***
“W-What did you just say?”
“You heard me correctly. I told you to use Bewitchment on Lucas.”
“B-But…….”
Ritt could not believe their ears.
Bewitch Lucas?
That was practically impossible.
“You, too, are a Dream Demon. Bewitchment magic should not be difficult for you.”
“But I am a mixed-blood. A mixed-blood, not a pureblood. I do not possess any exceptional Bewitchment Arts to begin with. Please withdraw your order.”
Ritt prostrated themselves and begged.
But the being merely smiled.
‘Damn it.’
The decision had already been made.
That had only been a notification.
They…… were planning to throw Ritt away.
“We prepared essence to dramatically increase the success rate of your Bewitchment Arts. It was bestowed personally by the Queen of the Dream Demons, so its effects should be certain.”
……Maybe not?
Essence bestowed personally by the Queen of the Dream Demons could boost every Dream Demon’s stats to at least three times their normal level.
Of course, as a mixed-blood, Ritt would only receive that benefit when it came to Bewitchment Arts.
“What do you think? With this much, is it not worth a try?”
There was no choice either way.
“I will…… do my best.”
“Good.”
But even with the essence of the Queen of the Dream Demons, success against someone as powerful as Lucas could not be guaranteed.
Ritt had to make every possible preparation.
From that day on, whenever Lucas was away, Ritt made preparations for the Bewitchment. Little by little. So subtly that he would not notice.
Ritt drew a magic circle centered on Lucas’s seat and placed a catalyst at each axis.
Then they infused the essence of the Queen of the Dream Demons into the magic circle and synchronized it with their own magic power.
With that, the preparations were complete.
But Ritt could not attempt the Bewitchment recklessly.
If it failed, the only price would be death.
Ritt watched constantly for an opening, waiting for the right moment.
Then practical training provided a suitable opportunity.
The preparations for it let Ritt watch for an opening all day long.
An unease that felt as though it were constricting Ritt’s soul gnawed away at them, but they had to endure it.
Failure meant death.
After a long time spent holding their breath and watching for an opening-
At last, the moment came.
“Um, Professor.”
With every condition in place, Ritt called out to Lucas.
Now, the Bewitchment magic would succeed as soon as their eyes met.
***
“Um, Professor.”
Ritt called out to me.
But at that moment.
[sis45778 donated 100G.]
[sis45778 donated 100G.]
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[sis45778 donated 100G.]
[sis45778 donated 100G.]
[sis45778 donated 100G.]
[sis45778 donated 100G.]
[sis45778 donated 100G.]
[sis45778 donated 100G.]
[sis45778 donated 100G.]
Ten donation windows in total.
Along with overwhelming gratitude came bewilderment.
‘Whoa, they could’ve sent it all at once. That must’ve been a hassle.’
It did feel like ten donations, which was not bad, but I could not help worrying that it might have been a hassle for them.
While I was busy worrying about something pointless, I saw Ritt beyond the translucent notification window.
And they looked incredibly flustered.
‘Don’t get worked up. I’m standing in front of a vicious Demon bastard right now. It wouldn’t be strange if they tore me apart and killed me at any moment. Get a grip. Get a grip!’
I quickly closed the notification window and asked in as kind and gentle a tone as possible, trying not to get on their nerves.
“Are you finished?”
If they’re not finished, I should help.
***
‘D-Did it work?’
The magic circle had activated properly.
At this level, Ritt could confidently say it would be enough to bewitch even a Higher Demon.
Ritt drew up their magic power and met Lucas’s gaze.
A flicker of bewilderment appeared in his eyes.
It was only the faintest change in expression, but Ritt noticed it at once.
‘Yes, it worked!’
Sensing success, Ritt smiled triumphantly.
But only for a moment.
‘Something’s off…?’
As Ritt sensed that something was wrong, their face slowly stiffened.
‘B-But the Bewitchment magic should’ve worked, right?’
As if to deny Ritt’s certainty, Lucas’s pupils shifted.
When those cold eyes landed on Ritt, they could not move a muscle. A fear rooted in pure instinct constricted their body.
‘N-No. The Bewitchment magic must’ve worked. I’m only shrinking back because of that bastard’s racial trait. Now that bastard is my faithful servant…….’
But.
“Are you finished?”
There was even a faint sneer beneath the words, as though he were asking whether that was the end of the trick Ritt had prepared.
Goosebumps rose all over Ritt’s body.
The being before Ritt, who had effortlessly broken through a trap that would have rendered even a high-ranking Demon helpless, was simply so, terrifying.