Broken Possessors of Infinite Regression Academy

The return of the Sword Saint, Rachel Daybreaker, who was once hailed as humanity’s last hope, took a full two days. All of humanity, anxiously awaiting the results, was shocked to learn that Rahel’s right arm had been severely injured. They urgently brought an abundance of elixirs from the Emperor’s treasury and poured them over her like water. Simultaneously, they were also horrified by the fact that a mountain of undead, estimated to be around a million, had formed at the battle site.

Although Rachel had not captured the Demon King, the fact that she had annihilated an army of nearly a million undead was met with lavish praise from everyone. Yet, Rachel’s expression remained deeply sober, for she knew the glory was not truly hers.

Rachel could no longer wield a sword. She could not use her right arm. The vivid sensation of her bones being crushed, her skin tearing, and her flesh being mangled by the Demon King was too intense to forget.

‘You have to endure.’

But she couldn’t fall here.

The human Rachel could not collapse, the Sword Saint Daybreaker could not fall apart.

She had become humanity’s beacon of hope, just as the Demon King had declared. Thus, she could never show weakness, regardless of the situation.

She started using her left arm instead of her right and grabbed anything she could, wrapping it in mana and swinging it like a sword. People who didn’t know the full story cheered for the Sword Saint.

‘…It would have been better if I had died there.’

Rachel found herself thinking this several times a day. If she had died there, if she had perished valiantly alongside the million undead, then Rachel Daybreaker would be celebrated as a hero who fought against overwhelming odds and met a glorious end.

But despite understanding this in her mind, Rachel could never bring herself to follow through.

‘I don’t want to die.’

She wanted to live. Even if her survival was merely because she had been spared, she didn’t want to throw her life away with her own hands. Aware of her situation and overwhelmed by self-reproach, Rahel often felt phantom pain in her right arm whenever she recalled the trauma of that day. She had contemplated cutting off her arm to escape the pain many times, but she could never do it.

Rahel was a coward.

The confident Sword Saint Rachel Daybreaker, who had boasted she would kill the Demon King and save humanity, had become a weak woman who silently cried herself to sleep every night, tormented by severe trauma and phantom pain.

‘…How.’

That’s why Rachel was all the more confused. Her body reacted instinctively to anything related to the Demon King, and the shock she felt in her mind was as intense as the phantom pain in her right arm.

‘How… how does this child possess traces of the technique used by the Demon King?’

She could not be sure of what exactly was triggering her trauma.

After the Sword Saint left abruptly, citing an urgent matter, our gathering came to a hasty end.

“Do you think she had a lot on her plate?” wondered Brynhild.

“Well, she is the Sword Saint. It wouldn’t be surprising if she had several pressing matters to attend to,” Aria added, looking puzzled.

Brynhild and Aria seemed confused, having missed the sight of Rachel massaging her arm due to the Sword Saint’s billowing clothes. It seemed almost intentional that her attire hid such actions from everyone except those directly in front of her. Thus, we parted ways with lingering questions, and the reason the Sword Saint had pulled me aside remained unresolved.

Later that night, I confided the incident to Priscilla, who reacted with intense, almost frightening fervor. Fortunately, she was eventually convinced; otherwise, we might have ended up missing classes for a week.

Two days after this event, on the Monday of the fourth week, precisely one month before midterms, two significant announcements were made.

“The Sword Saint, Rachel Daybreaker, the unparalleled hero and beacon of hope for humanity, has decided to stay at Bellium Academy as a special instructor for the duration of the Hero’s three-year tenure here.”

The official announcement confirmed that the Sword Saint would remain at the academy for three years as a special instructor.

“Those filthy bastards.”

The second notable event was the return of Ingrid from the Mage Association, where she had gone to discuss improvements to the area-of-effect annihilation spell. Looking thoroughly exhausted, she immediately summoned me after a brief meeting with the principal and started vehemently cursing the association. She must have had a dreadful experience dealing with them.

“That’s the Mage Association for you. They’d stop at nothing when it comes to magic. There’s a reason I gave up on both my reputation and wealth,” I thought.

“That’s why they’ll be all the more useful.”

If I were to reveal the existence of healing magic, those lunatics would back me up, regardless of what the Starlight Church might do. Madmen are reliable allies if you know how to leash them properly.

“…Ahem. I’ve been rambling on about my own issues. Anyway, Mira Crate, you no longer need to attend my lectures. You’ll be exempt from both the midterms and the finals.”

After a while, Ingrid collected herself and got to the point, offering me full marks for fulfilling the task she had set. Professors were already starting to mention the upcoming midterms, but the atmosphere felt different from what I knew of exam periods. Students seemed eager to showcase their skills, with some using their animosity towards me as motivation. It was nothing new to me, though. Even the usual troublemaker, Warden Viking, had quieted down.

“As long as I keep doing what I’ve been doing, I’ll be fine.”

Despite the condition that I maintain the top rank for the entire three years, I didn’t feel much pressure.

There wasn’t much additional preparation needed on my part.

First-year students at Bellium Academy take a total of 10 classes. Of these, half are theory classes that Priscilla has thoroughly mastered, and since I haven’t been neglecting my studies either, I can just keep doing what I’ve been doing.

Among the remaining half, I already have a guaranteed perfect score in the Area Destruction Magic class, and the Practical Combat class is also practically guaranteed to be perfect due to Jake’s influence. The Dungeon Exploration Practice, which was supposed to resume this week, is now going to be graded on a complete pass/fail basis due to the incident, though this change is only for this semester.

That leaves two classes, neither of which are related to grades but are electives. As long as I ask Priscilla to help me with the theory classes, I don’t really have to prepare for anything else.

Naturally, my recent focus has been less on the midterm exams and more on other matters.

“I need to get stronger.”

One concern is the enemies I’ll have to face outside the academy.

The Sword Saint was incredibly strong despite being plagued by trauma and fighting with a teaspoon in her left hand, and yet she was still overwhelmed by the Demon King at her peak. Although I believe the Sword Saint might have managed to win if she fought seriously without worrying about appearances, it doesn’t change the fact that the Demon King is an out-of-this-world being.

So, I need to get stronger as well.

“I also need to consider the possibility that Brynhild might not grow as much as she does in the original story.”

The reason, of course, is me. To gain experience and grow, she needs to face and defeat those causing incidents, but the likelihood is high that I will end up dealing with them preemptively to protect the academy. I’ll have to make up for the experience points I’ve taken by taking on her share of the battles as well.

“Why Is it you again, Mira?”

“…This time, it’s really unfair.”

“So, you’re saying the times before this you didn’t feel guilty?”

“…”

And then there’s the Sword Saint, whose gaze on me has become strangely more intense.

Since feeling phantom pain and leaving abruptly, the Sword Saint, now a special instructor, has shown an oddly strong interest in me. I wondered if I had done something wrong, but nothing came to mind.

“Isn’t it a good thing, though? The Sword Saint is paying attention to you.”

“That’s exactly the problem, Aria. I mean, how long has it been since we first met?”

Brynhild jokingly complained that only I was getting the attention, while Aria was genuinely impressed and tried to defend me. Priscilla remained visibly anxious.

The Sword Saint’s peculiar interest didn’t stop there. When she heard that the four of us were forming a club, she volunteered to be our advisor without us even asking. I tried to get Ingrid to be our advisor instead, but unfortunately, even the reputation of a Grand Mage fell short compared to the Sword Saint.

“Since it turned out this way, I look forward to working with you, Mira.”

“…”

Seriously, what is this?