How To Live As An Academy Extra Villain

✦ Chapter 109 ✦

「Translator – Creator」

In the heart of the academy’s plaza, an imposing altar stood ready. Surrounding it, torches fueled by sacred oil flickered ceaselessly, casting dancing shadows.

With measured steps, priests bearing a lengthy chest ascended the altar and carefully placed it upon a pedestal positioned at its center.

The chest resembled a meticulously crafted work of art, its sturdy construction showcasing the craftsmanship of seasoned artisans. Carved from a single block of aged sandalwood, it was adorned with a meticulously woven cover.

Angels in the act of trumpet-blowing were delicately etched upon each corner, their forms framed by an intricate border of rose vines and palm fronds. At the casket’s center, an eagle emblem gleamed in the sunlight—a symbol of the supreme deity. If the Saint was the goddess’s representative, then the hero was the supreme deity’s guide.

As the priests who had placed the chest cleared a path, the Saintess gracefully ascended the steps, her every movement exuding an air of solemnity. 

Upon reaching the chest, she retrieved a brass key from her robes and inserted it into the lock securing the iron chains that tightly bound the chest. With a touch of her hand, imbuing the key with holy power, the formidable chains yielded, their strength dissipating in an instant.

The priests reverently lifted the chest’s lid and descended the altar in procession. As the Saintess turned, the gazes of the multitude gathered around her converged upon her solitary figure.

After surveying the assembled masses, she finally spoke—

“Greetings, esteemed members of St. Clifford Academy. I am Christina, a devoted servant of the goddess, and I stand before you today.”

This marked the first public appearance of the current generation’s Saintess; those who had eagerly anticipated this moment let out small gasps of awe. A murmur rippled through the crowd, gathering momentum like a wave.

Her voice, perhaps deliberately modulated for the speech, rang out clear and sharp.

The Saintess patiently waited for the commotion to subside before continuing her prepared address. She touched upon pleasantries, the friendship between the Empire and the Holy Kingdom, and various rhetorical points about the academy.

And then, she broached the topic that everyone had been eagerly awaiting—

“…The era of prolonged peace has come to an end. We stand on the brink of a new age of turmoil. The shadows of evil extend their insidious grasp across the land.”

The Saintess paused, her gaze sweeping across the crowd. Whether intentional or not, the timing of her pause was particularly dramatic. A sense of unease began to creep among the people gathered in the plaza.

“But the gods continue to watch over us with benevolence. And they have guided me here.”

Just as the crowd’s anxiety was about to erupt, the Saintess spoke once more—

“They spoke to me. They guided me through the stars. They whispered in my dreams…! ‘Your sun awaits you in the Promised Land! You must depart for that place and welcome the rightful one!’”

In an instant, the Saintess had captivated her audience. The earlier unease vanished as if it had never existed, replaced by fervent aspiration and resonance.

“I, Christina, shall wait! For the spring that thaws winter! For the torch in the dead of night! For my sun! For the one who shall uproot evil and bring light to this land! Courageous souls! Whoever you may be, step forward and take up the Holy Sword!”

As soon as the Saintess finished speaking, thunderous cheers engulfed the plaza; the air vibrated with near-frenzied cries. Having concluded her address, she demurely took her seat on the chair prepared atop the altar.

It was my first time seeing the Saintess in person. However, her exceptional political acumen was undeniable. In that brief moment, with just a few words, she had utterly enthralled the multitude before her.

I felt like I was witnessing the side of someone who tried to overthrow the Holy Kingdom by putting the Hero behind her back.

To be honest, she was the kind of person I’d rather not have as an enemy. Falling in love was still a long way off, but if Eugene becomes a Hero, the Saintess would also help him pave the way.

And as things stand, I seem highly likely to become an obstacle in their path…

“I am Destain of Barant! Please grant me this opportunity!”

“Little light, step forward!”

While I was lost in thought, the Holy Sword Ceremony had already begun. As a handsome male student climbed the altar and waved his hand, screams that were almost cries erupted from all directions.

The opportunity was given first to the senior students, proceeding downwards in order of academic achievement. Those who came forward to request a chance were formally acknowledged by the priests.

However, the ceremony felt less grand than its name suggested. One would climb the altar, engage in brief conversation with the Saintess, then attempt to lift the Holy Sword. If they weren’t the Chosen One, the Sword wouldn’t budge, and that would be the end. 

This process would repeat until the rightful owner appeared.

While many predicted an anticlimactic ending, the Chosen One was already predetermined. And as a first-year student, it would be quite some time before my turn came.

Those who came down from the altar had a wide variety of expressions. Most simply dusted off their hands nonchalantly, while others looked visibly frustrated.

One student even had to be dragged away by priests after repeatedly demanding more chances. The familiar voice reminded me it was the female student who had declared her intention to create a harem of handsome men.

“I am Mineta of Pirol. I forfeit my turn.”

“That too is courage!”

However, not everyone eagerly accepted the opportunity. Holy Kingdom students were basically not given a chance, and apart from that, about one in three people refused the chance to lift the Holy Sword.

This was understandable in a way. It was not easy for ordinary citizens, already overwhelmed with their own lives, to take on such a monumental task. And no one mocked or disregarded those who had declined. Everyone present understood the burden. The priests, too, only offered words of encouragement in response.

“I am Novius! Please…!”

“Aston of Zalie…”

“Cortia. I forfeit…”

Countless people had already climbed up and down the altar, but the owner of the Holy Sword still did not appear. The ceremony continued even after the sun went down and the moon rose. The Saintess was still silently keeping her place.

Sometimes, she simply replaced all activities by infusing her own holy power.

“Claudia of Acelus. I forfeit.”

“Granted!”

Time flew by quickly, and soon it was the first-years’ turn. In the same grade, the opportunity was given to the Class-A students first, according to their academic performance.

As students from my grade began to take their turns or forfeit, it was finally time for Class-C. Aldera, who was just before me, was called. Even though I knew I wouldn’t be chosen as a Hero, my heart pounded faintly.

Aldera naturally returned to the seat without any results, and now all eyes were on me.

“Edwin of Reed. I for-“

—Thump!

At the moment I was about to spit out the word. Almost as soon as the first syllable ended, the Saintess suddenly got up from her seat; there was a brief murmur of confusion, but she soon sat back down as if nothing had happened. The gazes that had momentarily shifted to the altar returned to me.

“…Please grant me the opportunity to lift the sword.”

“Step forward!”

At first I was just going to abstain, but the Saintess’ sudden action gave me a chance to think. Actually, I’m a little curious about the Holy Sword. If I recall, it wasn’t just an ordinary sword. There may never be another chance to see it up close.

I decided to use this opportunity to both express my gratitude for the Saintess’ previous assistance and satisfy my curiosity about the holy sword.

I stood at the foot of the altar. As I decided to climb it myself, I realized that it was much higher than I had thought. I took a step and climbed the stairs, and soon I could see the view from the top. I saw the chest placed in the center of the altar and the Saintess sitting on a chair next to it, looking at me. A faint blue light emanated from the veil that covered her face.

“Edwin of Reed greets the Saintess,” I said, bowing.

“Welcome, Young Master Edwin. This is our first formal meeting,” the Saintess replied, inclining her head slightly. A hint of weariness tinged her voice.

“Yes, it is. It’s a little late, but I would like to express my gratitude now. Reed will forever remember the grace you have shown us.”

As I expressed my gratitude for the last indulgence, she waved her hand, “That’s it. It’s not really a grace. Think of it as a reward for your hard work. But I was surprised when I thought you were going to abstain just now.”

“It’s true that I was going to abstain. How could someone as ordinary as myself hope to lift the Holy Sword? But I just wanted to borrow this place to thank the Saintess.”

“Well…”

The Saintess opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it again. An awkward silence began to flow, and I turned and walked towards the chest containing the Holy Sword. After all, I was on the altar, so I should at least pretend to wield the sword.

Inside the casket, nestled in layers of soft fabric, lay what appeared to be a branch. About the thickness of a thumb and the length of an adult’s forearm, it bore fresh green leaves as if recently plucked. Despite its seemingly light weight, the previous failures to lift it suggested otherwise.

I had seen everything and expressed my gratitude to the Saintess, so I had no more business here. I reached out my hand and tried to lift the Holy Sword, but the branch didn’t move at all, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

I turned back without hesitation and bowed my head to the Saintess. And I took a step towards the stairs, but at that moment, I heard a voice holding me back from behind.

“…Wait.”

“…Huh?”

“Young Master Edwin. Did you really try to lift the sword?”

“Yes, I did. Clearly, I’m not destined to be the hero. If that’s all…”

“…Again.”

“…Yes?”

The Saintess urged me again. There was even a hint of confusion in her voice. Was there something I had left out of the procedure? It was not that difficult to try it again.

I turned and walked towards the chest containing the Holy Sword. And this time, I stepped aside so that the Saintess could see me well and lifted the sword firmly. The branch still didn’t move.

I headed back to the stairs again, and since I had just greeted her, I didn’t say anything more to the Saintess. I noticed a few people jeering, thinking I was rudely asking for another chance.

The Saintess, this time, however, made no further attempt to stop me.

* * * * *

‘What… What is this…?’

“I am Zanrik. I greet the Saintess.”

Christina’s mind was in turmoil. After Edwin, many others had ascended and descended the altar, but none had truly registered in her consciousness.

“Gavold here. I greet the Saintess…”

She had endured fatigue, waiting for this moment. Now, her hopeful expectations lay shattered, and the one she had unquestioningly believed in had vanished without a trace.

“Raev…”

The tangled threads of her thoughts refused to unravel. If not him, then who…?

“I am Eugene. I greet the Saintess.”

A clear, melodious voice roused Christina from her reverie. Before her stood a boy with golden hair and blue eyes; he bowed and approached the casket, bending to reach inside. Each moment seemed to stretch into eternity.

Finally, the boy raised his arm. But his hand was not empty. The branch, once as immovable as a mountain, rested lightly in his grasp; his expression mingled surprise and joy.

“Huh…?”

The atmosphere shifted, rippling through the crowd. Someone whispered, barely audible, “It lifted… It lifted…”

The ripple grew into a tidal wave. Murmurs swelled into an indecipherable echo.

“It’s been drawn…!”

“The holy sword…! Then…?”

Christina surveyed the crowd below. The faces looking up displayed a remarkable range of emotions. Some reactions stood out: a silver-haired girl on the verge of joyful tears, a red-haired girl affecting nonchalance despite her flushed cheeks, an orange-haired girl bouncing excitedly in place.

Christina turned her gaze again. She saw a brown-haired girl with a cool expression tinged with surprise, and a familiar-looking light green-haired girl, mouth agape in disbelief.

At the edge stood a black-haired boy with gray eyes, wearing an indifferent expression.

—Kwawng!

In that instant, pillars of light poured from the sky, enveloping the golden-haired boy like a gentle veil. What he held was no longer a mere branch, but the crystallized will of the Gods. The expression of joy on the blond boy’s face turned into one of conviction. As he raised the sword high, thunderous cheers erupted. His friends chanted his name endlessly.

—Waaah!

—Eugene! Eugene…!

As Christina struggled to gather her thoughts, a single idea flashed through her mind—

The day she dreamed of the Dark Horse.

The day Sister Rosanna visited.

The meaning of that one sentence she couldn’t decipher until dawn.

Christina finally recalled Erich’s last dream.

‘…Stray… starlight…?’

“Saintess…!”

She turned to see the golden-haired boy looking at her, his face radiant with a smile. Christina composed herself and stood. The Gods had made their decision, and she had her role to fulfill.

She approached the boy, the concept of stray starlight still echoing in her mind.

With utmost reverence, Christina greeted him—

“We have been waiting for only you, Hero.”

— End of Chapter —

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