This night, he had a rare dream as well.
He was sitting in a small wooden boat, drifting through quiet, dangerous waters.
Tall trees surrounded him, seemingly growing directly from the water’s surface.
Their canopy completely obscured the sky, making night and day indistinguishable.
He knew what this place was.
It was a swamp!
He looked down at the muddy waters below, marvelling over a fascinating detail.
These were salt waters.
How could trees survive here?
Right.
He remembered now.
The trees around him were mangroves, perhaps grown bigger than normal due to the presence of mana.
They had a peculiar ability to filter saltwater, enabling them to thrive in such a climate.
As expected, the world was a beautiful thing.
Nature’s brilliance far surpassed anything the human mind could come up with.
Suddenly, a whisper from behind disturbed his relaxed thoughts.
Someone once again muttered a complaint under their breath, thinking he wouldn’t notice.
There was someone else in the boat with him.
He almost forgot that unpleasant fact.
These waters were home to swampsharks.
Their pale leathery skin was invulnerable to any blade, and their four rows of sharp teeth could easily bite through enchanted steel.
Someone had to guard them from these beasts.
He was clearly the strongest of the two of them, so the other had to take care of the rowing.
What was so hard to understand?
Why won’t he use a spell to make the boat go by itself?
…Because seeing this nuisance struggle brought him joy-
Obviously not.
It’s because he had to conserve his mana in this treacherous place.
Who knew what could happen?
That was it.
It’s not his fault she didn’t know any useful spells herself.
Why was he assigned a dead weight like that?
The whole journey was now ruined.
He simply could not imagine a future where he would tolerate that waste’s company.
He was incredibly unlucky.
“…”
Cyril slowly lifted himself from the bed, staring at the wall for a few seconds to recover from slumber.
The dream lingered vaguely in his mind.
But the more awake he became, the more he seemed to forget.
Soon, he could remember nothing of it, but the feelings remained with him.
It was a surprisingly pleasant dream.
“Good morning.” Rhamn materialized nearby and hugged him.
Good morning.
Cyril responded to her antics with a flat face.
He instead glanced at the eager butterfly fluttering over him.
“Good morning, Morpho.”
Despite all that happened, it was a day like any other.
Tomorrow would be the time to find out the truth, so he decided to enjoy the peace for now.
…
Cyril went out of his dorm for his usual morning routine.
Morpho followed him on his shoulder, of course.
This early there were few other students wandering outside.
Some went for a morning run, some trained in the field.
However, Ailanthus was an academy of magic after all.
Most mages preferred sitting late into the night learning a new spell.
They didn’t have time for a healthy morning routine.
“Actually, you can skip this routine.
I can just sustain your body’s shape with mana.”
No need.
Cyril denied her offer as he lightly stretched before starting the exercise.
Physical exercise was just as much for the mind as it was for the body.
In a way, it was relaxing, similar to meditation.
Not to mention…
Cyril glanced to the side at a peculiar sight nearby.
Without our routine we wouldn’t get to see this every day.
“True!”
A butterfly stood next to him, fluttering her wings in a peculiar manner.
She slowly unfurled and furled them in a circular motion, appearing as if she were stretching.
Morpho also took part in his exercises, which made this time that much more valuable.
The butterfly repeated in her own way whatever training Cyril decided to do.
When he started practicing his spear skills on a dummy, she flew to another one nearby.
Morpho first silently observed his movements, her antennae twitching with joyful curiosity.
Then, trying to copy his movements in her own way, she began to swiftly move across the dummy’s ‘body.’
Morpho flew faster and faster, soon turning into a red blur.
“Our Morpho is a martial arts genius!”
As pleasant as this sight was, it carried a slight side effect.
Cyril inevitably paid attention to her training more, dismissing his own somewhat.
I should focus.
But it was a worthwhile price to pay.
Together they trained like this for a while.
Whenever Cyril started doing something else, Morpho would try to imitate it to the best of her abilities.
After some time, when more and more students started appearing on the academy grounds, Cyril was finally done.
He headed back home with a tired butterfly lying on his shoulder.
Morpho’s small insect legs couldn’t hold her body, but her spirit stood tall as a feeling of satisfaction radiated from her.
“Good work,” Cyril whispered to her with a nod.
Morpho weakly twitched her antennae in response.
…
Leaving Morpho at home to recover, Cyril went into the castle for his lessons.
Today, the first lesson of the day was Demonology.
Even though demons were no longer a common topic of conversation among people, the students seemed to enjoy these lessons.
The professor of demonology stood in front of the whiteboard, pointing at an illusory image of a bird-like creature.
Its feathers were black, its beak deformed, and a small horn grew out of its head.
“Today’s topic will be catchers.
These demons closely resemble storm eagles that can often be met on the mountains north of the city.
Soldiers on missions outside often confuse the two, failing to see an approaching threat.
Remember, many demons look similar to animals you know, but that’s only on the surface.”
The lesson went on and on, shoving all of the information that is relevant to face catchers in battle into the students’ heads.
Everyone listened with curiosity, be it due to the professor’s beauty or genuine interest in demons.
But none of them carried any reverence when looking at humanity’s enemy, even if only an image.
To them, demons like ghouls or catchers might as well be weeds that they can easily cut down with a single spell.
The professor looked at the sheer irreverence on the students’ faces, her gaze becoming colder.
“Don’t be careless when it comes to demons!
Ghouls and catchers might not be archdemons, but it doesn’t make them any less dangerous.
In fact, statistically, a soldier of the Empire is far more likely to die from a simple ghoul than he is to even see an archdemon.
Don’t add on to that statistic.”
Some students sat up straight at her loud voice, though how well they truly accepted this message was unknown.
Truthfully, Cyril also failed to see much threat from something like a ghoul.
…
After the lessons were over, Cyril, along with Myra and Rose, headed towards the academy’s park.
As the best students of the grade, they had a unique opportunity to perform group studies.
While Cyril was confident enough to be on his own, since he had an opportunity to perform better, he wouldn’t deny it.
Every duel with Myra substantially increased his understanding of combat, while Rose’s insights into magic were undeniably inspiring.
Even Rhamn wasn’t too against these group studies.
“Hmph.”
It was a very convenient setup for all the people involved.
Most of all for one particular lazy noble.
“What will we be focusing on today, my friends?” Edmund said with a beaming smile.
He was here as well.
“Leech.”
They sat in a gazebo, where they once drank Magnolia.
It became something of a regular spot for them, at least until the weather becomes too cold.
Rose quickly browsed through her notes, answering Edmund without looking up.
“I was thinking of revising the content we went through today and briefly consolidating our previous lessons.”
Edmund only bobbed his head up and down, no thoughts behind his gaze.
He was ready to write down whatever she said without any question.
“Are you sure?” Myra asked with obvious reluctance on her face.
“How about we do some training today?
We did magic theory last time as well…”
Edmund’s idyllic expression froze.
For this young noble, combat training was perhaps the worst thing about Ailanthus.
“The Tower trip is tomorrow.
I think it would be better to focus on magic for now,” Rose said as she put her notes on the table.
Edmund breathed a sigh of relief.
“I might not be going to the Tower with you, but I agree.”
Myra pursed her lips.
That was two votes in opposition to her one.
Suddenly, she glanced at Cyril, her eyes asking for help.
What?
Cyril mercilessly looked away.
He didn’t really care.
Either was fine with him.
Myra’s pitiful gaze froze.
She opened her mouth in shock from the sheer betrayal, abandoned by every human around her.
However, just as Edmund’s lips widened in triumph, someone else made their vote.
Morpho had already recovered from her morning exercise, perched on Cyril’s shoulder as usual.
And now she was itching for more.
The red butterfly eagerly raised a wing, as if announcing something to the world.
So, when the rest of them looked at her in confusion, Cyril spoke.
“Let’s do training today.
We are going to the Tower to learn, not to be tested.”
Suddenly getting the backing she wanted, Myra excitedly bobbed her head up and down.
“That’s right!”
Rose sighed, giving Cyril a brief side eye.
“So we are two against two.
Now what?”
“Edmund’s vote shouldn’t count!
He contributes nothing!
Morpho’s vote should also be counted separately!
So it’s actually 3 vs 1!”
Fortunately Edmund couldn’t hear the voice in Cyril’s head.
Otherwise he would be mildly upset.
Edmund clapped his hands together, gathering everyone’s attention.
“Then let’s do a little game to decide what to do.
How about-”
“Rock-Paper-Scissors?” Myra suddenly cut in.
“…Sure?” Edmund said, somewhat perturbed by the energy in her voice.
A peculiar change happened in Myra.
Her back straightened, her head was raised higher, her eyes narrowed a little, and her lips widened into a slight smirk.
“Then let’s do it,” she whispered with confidence.
Rose stared suspiciously at Myra’s demeanor.
At first hesitating, she suddenly nodded, a spark igniting in her eyes.
“It’s just a game of luck.”
Myra’s smirk widened a little more.
“…Is she going to cheat or something?”
…
As representatives of their camps, it was decided Myra would go against Rose in a best-of-three format.
In a competitive atmosphere, both of them shook their fists at the other and, on a count of three, threw their hands forward.
Without any suspense, Myra easily won all three games.
“…” Rose stared at her open palm in shock.
Soon, her confusion gave way to a frown.
She glared at Myra with intense curiosity.
“How did it happen?
What tactic did you use?”
“…Did you observe the muscle movement of my arm to predict my move?” She instantly concocted a theory.
Impatient to confirm it, she drilled a hole in Myra with her gaze.
Myra proudly shook her head in response, completely unaffected.
“You have a rich imagination,” she slowly said.
“If you want, we can do a rematch, but this time I’ll close my eyes.”
Suddenly her whole demeanor shifted once again.
Her gaze alone exuded an unprecedented level of confidence.
With the calm of someone who has everything under control, she lazily stared at Rose.
The change was significant, and, somehow, her usually average face seemed a lot prettier at this moment.
But maybe that was just Cyril’s eyes playing a trick on him.
“Huh?”
Cyril leaned a little closer, paying a bit more attention to the game now.
How did she do it?
“She must be cheating somehow, right?”
At least he couldn’t do what Rose just theorized.
Rose contemplated for a minute before steeling her resolve.
“Let’s do a rematch!” she said with clenched teeth.
“But don’t regret giving me this chance later.”
The two of them once again played for three rounds.
Rose’s actions became much more cautious now.
Each round she quickly threw her hand forward, like a child improvising a martial arts technique.
True to her words, Myra played with her eyes closed, reaching out like she wanted to gently nudge someone.
And she easily won all three rounds this time as well.
“…!”
Rose relaxed in her chair, staring at the ceiling of the gazebo with a numb face.
The soul left this vessel, replaced by emptiness.
Myra proudly sat with her arms crossed, looking quite pleased with herself.
Cyril kept scanning her face, as if trying to discern the trick from it.
Led by pure curiosity, of course, he paid her close attention during all three rounds, yet he found nothing in the end.
“How did you do it?” he ended up asking.
The red butterfly flew up from his shoulder and cautiously landed on Myra’s.
Momentarily surprised, Myra stared at the compound eyes filled with curiosity but didn’t shoo the insect away.
Rose also came alive.
She slowly turned her head to face Myra, the hollowness within her filled by curiosity.
Taking on everyone’s gazes without backing down, Myra shrugged.
“There is no trick to it.
I am just lucky when it comes to games like this.”
“…”
Their table went silent.
Everyone stared at her as if waiting for her to reveal she was only joking, but Myra remained quiet.
She was just naturally lucky?
She played at random and won all six games?
“Bullshit!” Rhamn slammed the table, although her immaterial hands did no damage.
“This doesn’t make any sense!”
…
Rose tried to ask about it in detail, but Myra continued her claim of it being luck and nothing else.
It seemed today they were going to do some combat training.
With her task finished, Myra’s great confidence deflated.
She casually sat on her chair with an optimistic smile.
Having failed to glean any answer, Morpho returned to Cyril’s shoulder.
She could only twitch her antennae with disappointment.
That’s that, I guess.
He didn’t mind.
Just one more mystery around her.
She had plenty already.
However, someone at their table struggled to share in Cyril’s apathy.
Edmund, who’s been rather silent the whole game, wore a seemingly friendly smile as he stared at Myra for a few seconds.
Noticing his persistent gaze, Myra turned to him.
“What’s wrong?” she casually asked.
Edmund quickly shook his head.
“Nothing’s wrong, of course.
I was just…
suddenly curious.
What is it you intend to achieve by enrolling here?
This is an academy of magic after all.”
His voice was relaxed and friendly, as if genuinely curious, but Cyril suspected otherwise.
This young noble clearly wasn’t a fan of combat training.
Myra’s insistence on physical exercise likely caused him a bit of frustration, which he couldn’t help but let out at this moment.
At least that’s how Cyril saw it.
Myra contemplated Edmund’s question only for a moment.
“Becoming a Knight!” she replied without a shred of doubt, as if she had thought about that question countless times before.
“Ailanthus’s recommendation carries weight, so it will be easier after graduating here.”
A reasonable answer.
Cyril subtly nodded in agreement.
This was almost exactly his reasoning for enrolling here as well.
However, Edmund remained unconvinced.
“Why would you want to become a Knight?
That doesn’t seem worthwhile,” he said after a delay.
Cyril gave him a side-eye but said nothing.
Instead, he paid attention to Myra’s answer.
He was a bit curious to hear her reasoning.
Myra shook her head with a subtle, helpless smile.
“It’s a little difficult to explain,” she replied with a casual, innocent voice.
“In short… I want to become something like a hero, I guess?”
“…”
Another silence settled on the table.
Edmund’s smile twitched a few more times, this time holding back laughter by the looks of it.
“Haha!” Rose couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at this moment.
And that was enough to break through Edmund’s defenses.
No longer able to hold it back, he laughed openly.
Perhaps it was the way she said it that made it seem so funny to them.
“A hero?!
I really didn’t expect that from you!
That’s something Cedric from your class would say!” Edmund said through laughter.
Myra didn’t look offended.
Rather, she shrugged without a care, accepting their words.
She continued in a joking manner.
“Yeah, but I don’t want to be a ‘help-everything-with-a-pulse’ naive-type hero, but more like an ‘always-do-what-I-feel-is-just’ cool-type hero, you know?”
Rose immediately wheezed with laughter, as if trying to pay back for her humiliating defeat earlier.
The three of them appeared to be having a good time laughing.
Cyril wasn’t.
He simply stared at them with an expressionless face.
Strangely, he didn’t feel like Myra was lying right now.
Was that really what she wanted?
But that didn’t explain a single bizarre circumstance around her.
In fact, it only added more to his confusion.
Cyril massaged his temples.
As expected, he couldn’t understand humans, so it was pointless to think about.
Rose soon recovered.
She wiped away at her eyes, her soul restored.
“Sorry for laughing.
If you want to be…
a hero, then go for it,” she said half-apologetically.
Though her suppressed smile as she uttered ‘hero’ made her words seem slightly less sincere.
Myra crossed her arms, staring at the two students who just finished having a good laugh.
“I will,” she said, glancing in Cyril’s direction.
“I think it’s a pretty good goal, right Cyril?”
He contemplated for a moment, not having anticipated being brought into this conversation.
“Becoming a Knight is worthwhile,” he said.
Myra joyfully nodded and raised a fist in the air.
“Let’s both aim to become heroes!”
Rose and Edmund let out another chuckle, glancing in Cyril’s direction as if imagining him in the role.
The corner of Cyril’s eye twitched as he endured their stares.
“…I never said anything about a hero.”
“Why is she dragging you into her delusions?”
He spent the rest of the day perplexed by her words.