Even a Scoundrel Gets Tired

42 – Midterm Evaluation (End)

A pure white light is born within the black void.

A light, its origin unknown, floods the space entirely.

Startled by the sudden brightness, Leon recoiled,

his eyes questioning what was unfolding before him.

He had certainly thrust the blade right through his heart.

The black blade jutting out from his chest was proof enough.

And yet, how in the world?

How was it that he, who had undeniably lost consciousness and fallen, was now rising so unscathed?

Finally, he lifted his head, and his face was no longer the same as before.

No longer the face with exposed cheekbones and missing eyelids, forever denying him the ability to close his eyes.

His eyelids were restored, his skin had grown back, covering the muscles and bones of his face,

and even his hands and feet were back to normal.

The only difference was that his eyes shone with a white light.

But his expression was dreadful, a stark contrast to the radiant orbs.

Tears streamed down from his eyes, which shone with such blinding brilliance,

and his face betrayed a sense of guilt directed at something unknown.

[S… orr… sob…]

‘…?’

Spewing some unknowable gibberish, the fellow kept wiping away tears, a constant stream.

Finishing off someone who seemed so utterly gone from their senses wouldn’t be much of a challenge.

With that thought, Leon charged again, the dark blade aimed at him.

He felt, somehow, as though the dark energies around him were clutching at his ankles,

but he brushed it off as a trick of the mind, focusing his gaze on the man’s neck.

Each stride quickened, the distance closing with every step,

until only five paces remained between Leon and his target,

at which point the dark energies desperately seized his arm.

As if begging him to let the enemy before him simply go.

Unacceptable.

The man who could rightly be called his nemesis, standing alive and well before him.

Even if the power that coursed through him desired it, there was no reason for him to obediently comply,

and if that desire came from Jenison, then it was all the more intolerable.

“Let…go!!!”

He shook off the dark energies clinging to him, and at last, the blade kissed his neck.

At first, a surge of release and euphoria.

The feeling of resolving a long-held grievance.

An intoxicating satisfaction at having brought the man who made him this way to his knees.

A newfound confidence bloomed within him, like he could accomplish anything.

Then came bewilderment.

“…Huh?”

[…]

The blade he’d conjured hadn’t pierced his neck in the slightest.

The neck that had received his swing showed not a single drop of blood,

and he even felt as if his sword was recoiling, pulling away from the man.

As if instinctively repelled, trying to distance itself as much as possible.

Then, the man who had been silent until now slowly raised his head.

The man who had been weeping endlessly, offering apologies that could never be accepted, raised his head.

His eyes still shone with a brilliant, beautiful light, but for some reason, Leon found himself repulsed by those eyes,

and from his lips, which had been silent, a different utterance was made other than simple apologies.

[First, his safety…]

“What’s he…”

His vision flipped, starting from his muttering.

The question he’d managed to utter spun into nothingness,

before the sight of his own body collapsing headless came into view, and

‘Fin…gers…’

His hand stretched out, swung horizontally.

*

Silence descends.

First, there had been the scream, a sound filled with agony.

First, a swirling apple, steeped in guilt.

And third, a silent emptiness, the black space filling with naught.

In that black space, heavy with silence, only two figures were visible.

One, kneeling on blood-soaked ground, face buried in their hands, weeping.

And before them, a figure, blackened and frozen, their body turned frigid.

Nothing else existed.

[To..this extent.. hngh.. it hurts..]

[I am sorry… I am so sorry…]

From the constantly apologizing figure,

White tears like dewdrops spilled again and again,

Weeping so mournfully that any soul would feel pity.

Had perhaps a minute of tears passed?

Cracks began to spiderweb across the black barrier surrounding them,

Signaling it could no longer contain this being.

How to cope with this emotion, a thick, viscous blend of

apology, sorrow, guilt, and pity?

The black blade piercing her heart began to crumble.

Though her presence was brief, the pain felt as natural as breathing.

As the pain intensified, so did the guilt, in cruel proportion.

She should be offering her body, begging forgiveness,

But instead, she was showering him with empty apologies and ugly tears.

What could she possibly do for him?

The answer, surprisingly, came easily.

He despised her.

Loathed her, hated her, resented her.

Then, she would receive all that resentment and bitterness.

She would willingly accept whatever torment followed.

Perhaps it was the only true form of apology available to her.

[I am… sorry… hngh…]

Realizing her actions resembled those of the hated ‘younger sibling’,

She fell into renewed self-reproach, yet there was only one thing she could do for him now.

She did not know what future this would bring,

But at least it would not worsen his situation.

As the black space dissolved,

A brief light flickered on Jenison’s forehead.

*

‘Almost… complete.’

Outside, Academy Chairman Ruinay, who was reverse engineering the spell,

Could feel the calculation nearing its end.

‘The Academy evaluations will be temporarily suspended.

“All but those designated for guidance, gather over there.”

“Y-yes?! Yes?!”

“Just a moment, Headmaster?!”

The instant Headmaster saw the paper Leon, the student, had produced,

she disregarded all evaluation protocols and moved to that location with utmost haste,

only to find a massive, black, hemispherical barrier already stood in their stead,

students who had fought alongside him were already hammering it with magic.

“Stand aside.”

“H-Headmaster?!”

“Headmaster! Jennison is in there…!”

“I am aware. Stand aside.”

As she drew closer, a thick, viscous miasma threatened to cling to her,

but with the slightest surge of her magic, it could no longer adhere.

Recognizing the miasma immediately as demonic magic,

she commenced a reverse calculation on the spot.

Demonic magic or not, it was still magic, after all.

A method for reversing it existed, and though time-consuming, it was foolproof.

She could force her own magic through, perhaps, but

that method offered no guarantee for the safety of the student inside.

Believing that his capabilities, as she’d witnessed them thus far, would surely see him through,

she began the reverse calculation at the fastest pace she could manage.

With the professors who followed lending their aid to the reverse calculation, the process would only accelerate.

So thinking, she began the calculation, and as a minute turned into two, then crept towards three,

she heard two voices that made her aware she was nearing completion of the reversal.

“I…are we still far off…?”

“Please…just stay alive…”

The words, uttered by the Saintess and Albert respectively.

Of course, they weren’t the only ones in a state of anxious agitation.

“Please…please…”

“…Just calm yourself, Lianna.”

At least those who had acted with him were all concerned for his well-being,

as was Professor Frenche, who blamed himself for his oversight.

The circumstances – Leon, turned into a mind-corrupted being, had taken him – made them all the more uneasy.

Even with the most generous interpretation, it was hard to believe Leon harbored any positive feelings towards Jennison.

Even those professors who held Jennison in low regard were consumed by worry of a different sort.

A mind-corrupted being originating from the Academy, a failure to detect the intrusion,

and a student endangered because of it.

An incident ripe for gossip, it was clear,

and while many feared for their own livelihoods,

at least, for the best possible resolution, it would be preferable if Jennison were to survive.

The inverted calculation concluded, and four minutes passed. Finally, cracks began to spiderweb across the dark barrier.

The fissures spread, wider and wider, until shattering like a colossal pane of glass, the fragments dissolving into nothing.

“Je…Jennison!”

“Is he alive?!”

Rihanna and Albert plunged through the dissipating haze the moment it vanished.

Their haste allowed them to be the first to find him, collapsed on the ground.

Scattered around him lay what appeared to be fingers and toes,

and the ground beneath him was slick with blood and other fluids.

Even at a glance, it was clear this was a site of torture.

The implications of finding him prone in such a place turned their faces ashen.

“Re…really? This can’t be?!”

“Calm yourself…! He’s breathing.”

Thankfully, he still drew breath, merely unconscious it seemed.

How he lived was a mystery, but the fact alone was enough to inspire relief.

With composure restored, they surveyed their surroundings and soon discovered Leon’s corpse.

Even decapitated, a baleful aura emanated from the body.

Nearby, a head lay motionless, its face a mask of despair.

“Is that…Leon?!”

“Jennison doesn’t seem to be the one who did it…”

Soon the others who had followed them heard the news of Jennison’s survival,

and all seemed relieved, save for one.

“Ah…?!”

The Holy Woman, Hildegard, upon seeing him, struggled to control her wildly dilating pupils,

and staggered towards Jennison before collapsing to her knees.

“..?!”

“…!!”

“H…how could this…”

Voices, a chorus of concern, washed over her as she slumped,

but her gaze remained fixated, unwavering.

Upon his forehead, still faintly rising and falling with breath.