1-Second Invincible Player in the Game

133. Special Admission (4)

‘What the hell is this kid…’

Meldon gripped the black hilt tightly. Yet, an instinctual hesitation held him back from drawing it.

A premonition based on the instinct that if he moved, the opponent would react reflexively.

In Meldon’s mind, only negative images unfolded, like a cat snatching a leaping mouse in an instant.

He felt acutely that the little one before him exuded the essence of a predator.

‘Even if I do nothing, the outcome will be the same…’

Meldon soon became aware that he was a sentient being.

Then he must use his wits. First, it was essential to wisely quell the fear.

Meldon kept reminding himself that the figure before him was merely a child, half his height.

‘The reason I didn’t notice him approaching was due to stress.’

In a state of excitement, he had been banging against the walls, so he likely hadn’t heard the footsteps.

‘And the kid? He doesn’t radiate any aura.’

He was probably a novice who hadn’t even learned the basics of aura manipulation.

‘Above all, he’s unarmed, right? So why should I be scared? Yes, he’s just a fierce-eyed little brat.’

Meldon released his grip on the hilt and shrugged nonchalantly.

“Right, I did grab your brother by the collar. But that…”

As he spoke, Meldon suddenly recalled that the boy was Hessel Ben Tenest.

And if he was the little brother, then it could only be Mircel Ben Tenest.

‘Wait, isn’t this an opportunity? This could actually work out well.’

Even if he was a genius, he was still a flower yet to bloom.

Let alone being unarmed. This ultimately stirred a single desire within Meldon, a sardonic smile creeping onto his lips.

“Heh heh heh. So you must be the famous Mircel.”

Mircel was a monster destined to achieve great things.

If he were to crush him here and now, it would become a significant bragging point in the future.

To later say that such a one had been utterly defeated by him would elevate his own name in the process.

‘Should I train him to never even meet my gaze? Then, he’d still hold great value later on.’

Meldon was confident he could make it so.

The reason he had climbed to this position was not solely due to brute strength.

Years of accumulated know-how from crushing the spirits of competitors since childhood had been of great assistance.

Thus, he could easily break the spirit of such a child.

‘Shall I start by scaring him first?’

It quickly became clear that it was a nonsensical delusion.

Crack.

Meldon lowered his gaze to the sharp pain radiating from his wrist.

“Eh?”

His right wrist hung limply, undoubtedly dislocated.

Meldon snapped to attention at Mircel’s voice.

“I can hear the gears turning in that head of yours from here.”

“Wh-what the hell did you just do…?”

“Well, I twisted it, didn’t I? But what’s with that expression? Did you think I’d never seen a creature like you before?”

“You little b*stard!!”

Meldon tried to draw his sword with his uninjured left hand, but once again, the jolt of pain surged through him.

Crack!

This time, the motion of twisting his wrist was invisible.

Tears welled in Meldon’s eyes as he screamed. The pain crashed over him like a tidal wave.

“aaaH!!”

Mircel, with an unflinching gaze, seized Meldon by the collar. Pulling down sharply, Meldon’s knees hit the floor.

Mircel matched his height and drew the sword that hung at Meldon’s waist.

Swoosh—

“Wherever you go, there’s always someone like you. Idiots who think winning against me even once is some kind of badge of honor.”

As Mircel pressed the blade against Meldon’s throat, his pupils constricted.

“W-wait a second. What are you trying to do?”

“I’m going to break that finger of yours that’s gripping my brother’s collar. It’s best if you don’t flail about too much. Unless you want your carotid sliced open.”

With a calm tone, Mircel twisted Meldon’s finger without hesitation.

Crack.

The once-quiet corridor began to fill with the sound of Meldon’s screams.

* * *

Natural talent is like a sweet fruit, always attracting pests.

It had always been this way since he took up the sword.

Jealous gazes and petty provocations came at him from all sides, and some even dared to poke at Niasel’s wounds.

Each time, Mircel had proven to be the one who exterminated those pests, a testament to the poisoned fruit he bore.

Especially if it involved touching a family, the punishment would be even harsher.

“Ugh…”

Meldon wept like a child.

His face, filled with rage, was more consumed by despair than the pain in his fingers. It was a sight familiar to Mircel.

“Consider yourself fortunate that it ended at this level. Next time, I might not even let you hold a sword. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Meldon, eyes squeezed shut in indignation, nodded.

Mircel turned his gaze away from Meldon and vanished into the shadowy corridor.

“Oh, and listen. If you’re prepared to be devoured, you should also be ready to be the one who gets devoured, don’t you think? Don’t prance around like a fool, trying to gauge the mood without any backbone. It’s pathetic to watch.”

As Mircel’s voice echoed, Meldon clenched his teeth until blood seeped from his gums.

He had to stifle the curses that threatened to spill out.

It was humiliating to admit he was so frightened that he had to watch his back until that monster disappeared.

“Y-you… you little brat! You little brat!!”

Left alone in the empty corridor, Meldon spat out curses for a long while.

With each word, the relief he sought was overshadowed by the anger that began to rise from the depths of his being.

Eventually, drained of energy, he lifted his sorrowful face and stood up.

His shuffling steps led him to the lounge where the Ten Coins awaited.

“…Cough, you damn brat. Think you’re so special, huh? Let’s see you handle this. I’ll make sure your brothers know exactly what the Frost Heart is all about.”

Meldon intended to engrave into that little brat’s bones just why the Ten Coins were to be feared.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the principal’s office, Rockefeller asked in astonishment.

“You want to have Shulafe’s class? Are you serious?”

“Indeed. I am quite serious.”

Akhendrik’s decision seemed resolute.

Still, Rockefeller found it hard to agree.

To treat a special admission student in such a manner was beyond common sense.

“Principal, please think it over just one more time…”

He barely managed to start speaking when Akhendrik’s next words silenced him.

“Dorothian El Grice will find all the academy’s classes to be childish games. You know well what the Grice family is like, don’t you?”

The Grice dukedom was a time-honored family of mages.

An environment brimming with unparalleled magical knowledge.

Dorothian was a natural genius, capable of mastering magic with just a fleeting glance at the lessons her siblings received.

‘The headmaster’s words do hold some truth…’

For Dorothian, magic was not a matter of theory or calculations in her mind. It was more akin to an innate understanding of the essence of things.

Would there be any difference for her between the lessons at Shulafe Hall and those at Adel Hall?

“But, she is a special admission. If Duke Dortian were to learn of this, it could lead to complications.”

“From the start, the reason Duke Dortian sent Dorothian here was to prevent her from causing any more trouble. I believe this decision aligns with his intentions.”

Rockefeller’s eyes widened. The headmaster’s intent flashed through his mind.

“…You don’t mean to assign her to that fellow, do you?”

“Indeed, as you know, even with three layers of the cursed armor, relying solely on a professor might be a bit much. Besides, it’s not as if you and I can always be together, is it?”

“Oh, I see what you mean.”

Akandric’s intention was to use Hessel as a buffer against Dorothian’s potential mischief.

Rockefeller couldn’t help but admire his seasoned insight.

“An excellent idea!”

That issue had been a headache in itself.

* * *

Today’s lesson took place outdoors.

Professor No sat on a neatly cut log, explaining the lecture content.

“Today’s lesson is a training to sharpen your innate senses. To achieve this, you must fully harness your mana sensitivity.”

The lesson was as follows.

The professor had hidden mana stones within the forest for the students to find.

“Use your touch, sight, smell, and hearing to sense the mana emanating from the stones. If you follow the clues well, you should be able to find them. Ah, of course, return the stones immediately upon discovery.”

At the mention of returning the stones, the students grumbled in discontent.

“Come on, that’s so petty. Can’t we just keep them?”

“Right? We’re already strapped for cash.”

As expected, the Shulafe Hall students were always poor. Nevertheless, Professor No flatly refused, as if it were out of the question.

“Bah, do you have any idea how expensive mana stones are? Listen here, if you want them, you’ll have to put in the effort to find them during practical lessons.”

Having listened quietly, I suddenly wondered how we were supposed to find them and raised my hand.

“Professor, I have a question.”

“Oh? Ha ha, I thought you were doing just fine on your own until now. Who would have thought you’d be the one to ask questions? This is surprising. So, what is your question?”

The old professor had certainly spoken, leaving out but one of the five senses.

It was a peculiar kind, closely tied to the talent I possessed. That is, taste.

“Must I seek it with my tongue?”

As I asked, the old professor averted his gaze. This time, his expression twisted into a frown as he inquired once more.

“Professor, must I seek it with my tongue?”

The old professor pouted his lips and barely managed to respond.

“Truth be told, I’ve never encountered a student like you, so I’m not quite sure what to do…”

“…Ah, is that so?”

“Don’t think too negatively. Who knows? This might awaken a new sense in you.”

At that moment, a woman’s laughter echoed from somewhere.

“Fufufu.”

I whipped my head around, and the students of Shulafe exchanged wary glances.

They too seemed to be searching for the source of the laughter.

Yet, no matter where I looked, there was no woman to be found, laughing.

With a mix of surprise and seriousness, I shouted into the void.

“Clabe, have you finally become a perfect invisible man?”

As I asked, the air before me began to shimmer like a mirage.

To wield such flawless stealth magic…

I wanted to learn it. I must take Clabe as my master.

Just as I was fixated on that spot with anticipation, someone thrust a disgruntled face before me.

“Hey, that’s not me, you know?”

To my astonishment, it was Clabe. Rix, nearby, spoke with a bewildered expression.

“…C-can this be? Even Clabe’s uniqueness has been stolen by someone.”

His gang murmured with worried faces.

“What are we to do now… I thought if it was blurry, it must be Clabe, and that’s how I figured it out.”

“This is bad… At this rate, will we really forget?”

It seemed that even a lack of individuality had once been a form of identity.

If that too were to vanish, I feared Clabe might truly cease to exist.

Clabe, who had been timid in response to their remarks, furrowed his brow.

“Hey, aren’t you being a bit too harsh?”

It doesn’t seem fake at all; this must truly be Klave.

Then who on earth is that?

Once more, all eyes were drawn to the haze.

Gradually, a wave of black began to rise.

“Oh, a tongue, you say? I was just going to sit quietly, but it’s too amusing to hold back.”

The woman’s sultry voice.

The source of the black wave was a dress that clung to her body.

As the chains of the cursed armor jingled, everyone swallowed hard and slowly backed away.

No one seemed inclined to question why she was here.

I had no choice but to muster my courage and glance at the old professor.

“Professor, it seems someone has taken a wrong turn in class.”

This was the Shulafe Ministry of Magic class. A Dorothian should have been attending the Adel class.

Yet the old professor offered a nonsensical reply and subtly continued the lesson.

“No, that’s right. The Dorothians have been accepted into the Shulafe Ministry. Anyway, the story has strayed too far. Let’s continue with the explanation we were on earlier.”

Dorothians in the Shulafe Ministry? What on earth…?

“What does that mean?”

The old professor ignored my question and picked up the roster. It seemed he had no intention of acknowledging any objections.

“Today’s lesson will be assigned in pairs for safety. There are creatures awakened from hibernation, so be cautious. Now, each of you will pair up and find a magic stone. Those called now may depart. Klave Don Gravel, Rix Don Orian. You two are partners.”

Names flowed out one by one. As they slowly vacated their seats, my unease deepened.

The reason was that the presence of the Dorothian became all the more pronounced as the crowd thinned.

“Hapal Bon Rhodes, Edril Zen Hartina.”

And only at the end did I feel a chill run down my spine at the two names called.

“Hershel Ben Tenest, Dorothian El Grice. That is all.”

Upon hearing my name, I turned my head toward the Dorothian.

But she was already staring at me, as if she had been watching from the start.

Her eyes widened as she asked.

“Hershel Ben Tenest?”