Chapter 12

The Chief Instructor focused on the three distant dots.

White.

“Mago.”

And black.

“Kinjo Shua.”

The instructor muttered to himself.

“So the leaders are those two—Mago, huh? That black-and-white pair really stands out.”

Then a gray-haired figure who looked like a blend of the two.

“Hm. Oscar Sita too. Seems the black is slowly bleeding out of the ranks...”

He waited with arms folded.

The instant the three trainees reached his feet they collapsed.

“Huuuh...”

Kinjo’s groan was the most pitiful.

The instructor fought the urge to haul them up and dress the formation at once.

He simply copied names onto the evaluation sheet.

“Mago, Kinjo Shua.”

“Y-Yes, sir...”

“First place. Perfect hundred.”

Mago and Kinjo weakly slapped palms.

Even the clap sounded exhausted.

“Second. Oscar Sita. His teammate Louise Murphy will get ninety-nine if she makes it on time.”

“Th-thank you, sir. Louise... she’ll make it alone. Probably...”

Two hours passed.

‘I thought this batch was high-caliber, but it’s just these freaks. One of them just got lucky.’

That’s what the Chief Instructor told himself.

A little later four more trainees arrived.

Fourth place was settled.

Soon after, two stragglers.

“Belle Red.”

The instructor murmured.

“And Amon Coster.”

Belle collapsed the moment she passed him.

“Belle Red, Amon Coster. Fifth.”

“Good work, Belle.”

With that, Amon toppled too.

Right on their heels came Louise.

“Next... Louise Murphy. Held on to second for her team.”

“Oscar! You did it!”

She greeted Oscar, who’d arrived earlier.

“Louise...! We’re second.”

“Well done. Well done.”

They clapped hands.

Then Louise bowed to the instructor—

—and slapped Mago’s cheek.

The crisp smack echoed like a gunshot.

Mago blinked, fingers to his face.

“Thanks, Louise. For hitting him for Belle too.”

Belle, sprawled out, faintly voiced her gratitude.

Amon’s reaction was different.

‘I want Louise to hit me too.’

The instructor cut in.

“What was that?”

“Sorry, sir.”

Louise bowed again.

“Hm... Mago, over here.”

Mago hurried forward.

“What exactly happened up there?”

“We held the checkpoint, sir.”

“Held it? Meaning?”

“May I explain later, sir? I think... I lost a tooth.”

“Fine... go get patched up.”

After that the trainees trickled in.

Half were too winded to speak.

The other half cursed Mago.

Everyone arrived within twenty-four hours.

“All accounted for. Injured, raise your hands.”

Most did.

The Chief Instructor would later learn most injuries were Mago’s fault.

“Everyone—well done.”

The words didn’t reach a single ear.

No comfort at all.

The instructor knew the mood well; he saw it every year.

So he offered:

“Dinner’s meat.”

Eyes snapped open.

They formed up in seconds, waiting only for chow.

A short rest later, late evening.

“Belle! Pick one—eat or sleep!”

Mago fretted at half-lidded Belle.

“Shut it, traitor!”

He only earned more curses for his trouble.

Mago appeased his classmates’ hatred by manning the grill alone.

* * *

Same hour, the very front.

Imperial Army Special Mission Unit 1.

The man swept his black hair back from his forehead.

Half of it was already steel-gray.

He was Captain of Unit 1—and of the entire Special Task Force.

“In a few months we’ll get fresh trainees. Know anyone coming in?”

He tossed the question over his shoulder to the woman behind him.

“Marcello.”

Marcello slowly shook her head.

The ends of her jet-black bob brushed the nape of her neck.

“I just hope the top-ten talents enlist with us. Wartime and all.”

“Wartime,” she echoed. “But wouldn’t they rather join the Knights? The Knights get posted to the Southern Castle with the Emperor—plenty of excuse to stay safe in the rear.”

“Then no loss. I don’t need runners.”

The captain stared at the two wolves looming in the distance.

“What are those things even built like? Wish we had someone who could see straight through them.”

Mountain-sized.

The Demon King’s moving castle.

Steam from its back, flame from its maw.

“Sometimes I miss trainee days. How about you, Marcello?”

“I remember them.”

“Ever wish you could go back?”

“No.”

“Marcello, you should try making... you know, friends.”

“Friends, sir?”

“Yeah. Friends.”

“...Sounds tedious.”

“If we could rewind to before the war—five years’d do it—I could stop the whole thing. Not that it matters now.”

“I doubt it would be pleasant, sir.”

“Hmm? Pleasant?”

“Even knowing the future, you’d still hit your limits. It’d be lonely—and painful.”

“Mmm...”

“Going back isn’t always a blessing. I wouldn’t want it.”

“Fair enough.”

“All we can do is our best with what’s in front of us.”

Marcello tightened her grip on her spear.

“Especially now that I’m here.”

The captain laughed, loud and easy.

“Reassuring words.”

* * *

‘Blocked another squad single-handed at the checkpoint... In twenty years as chief instructor I’ve never seen that. Even Marcello Arnes never pulled a stunt like that.’

The chief instructor skimmed Mago’s report.

“You said you’d file a report, not write a novel. Mago, is this a joke?”

“Sir? It’s... not a joke. I’d call it dead serious.”

Flustered, the instructor misspoke.

“No— I meant, is the report a joke?”

Beside the report lay the score sheet from after the first exam.

Mago and Kinjo, joint top rank.

‘Yet looking at the results, he isn’t exactly wrong. And with Kinjo Shua injured... if he hadn’t sealed that narrow checkpoint on the descent, he couldn’t have taken first.’

The instructor tapped his wooden desk—steady rhythm—while thinking Mago’s future through.

‘But seeing with his eyes closed...’

His forefinger sped up.

‘Why bother? Just open them. What’s the point?’

Tap-tap.

‘I’ve heard of mages boosting perception by reading mana, but that’s mage territory, not mine.’

Tap.

‘If it’s all true, though...’

Tap. Final beat.

Silence filled the room.

‘I can’t let talent rot.’

He yanked a drawer open and rifled through the stack until a dust-coated letter surfaced.

“Dismissed. I’ll call you when it’s time.”

* * *

One month after the first exam.

Eve of the second.

The instructor briefed them indoors, just as before.

After sweeping his gaze down the row of trainees, he spoke.

“Second exam: written.”

Someone reacted instantly.

“S-sorry, could you repeat that?”

Belle pretended she hadn’t heard.

I was too busy marveling at how her response matched her last life word-for-word.

“Second exam. Written. A paper test.”

The instructor hammered the word into Belle’s ear.

“What did you think all those theory lectures were for?”

“Ha, ha...!”

Kinjo’s voice rang out—he was laughing like a maniac.

“Written test? I’ve got this!”

He spread his arms wide in triumph.

The 66th Class had been lulled by weeks of nothing but sparring, so the sudden announcement of a paper exam caught them off guard.

Telling us the subject only the night before was part of the trap.

Everyone except me had fallen for it.

After the second exam—

“Hey, Mago.”

Kinjo glared at me, freshly marked test in hand.

“Did you cram every last cell into your muscles or what?”

His face was pure resentment.

“If that were possible, you wouldn’t be human—just a lump of protein.”

I curled a corner of my mouth.

“Why are you the one with a perfect score? Something’s wrong here.”

“Beats me.”

I’d taken the top seat alone.

First place, fair and square.

Right beneath me: Kinjo.

“Kyaaah!”

A shrill shriek split the air—Belle was eating her test paper.

Belle Red.

She’d plummeted from 5th to 30th.

A straight drop.

Special Task Force was now out of reach.

“B-Belle, are you insane?”

Amon patted her back.

“Spit it out! You’re not a goat!”

Amon Coster.

Up from 5th to 4th.

“Your rank multiplied by six, Belle. Higher is better, right?”

“Louise, you calling me stupid too?”

“Still, missing question one is... a bit much, yeah?”

“Who knew the Knight Division was literally the ‘Knight’ Division? I had no idea...”

“That’s why I told you to memorize it as ‘Seven-Jeon-Gi-Pal-Knight’: 7th, Warrior, 8th, Knight. Imperial Command splits into those four divisions plus the independent Special Task Force.”

“Thanks, but it’s too late.”

“I told you before the test...”

Louise Murphy.

Down from 2nd to 5th.

“Th-thank goodness... I’m still in the top ten! At this rate I can make Knight Division!”

Meanwhile Oscar hugged his paper like a long-lost friend.

Oscar Sita.

Down from 2nd to 9th—yet he looked perfectly content.

“Now... we’re all here.”

The 66th Class felt like family, and the five left in this lecture hall most of all: Kinjo, Belle, Amon, Louise, Oscar.

Seeing them together made me want to hug each one—yet it also meant their deaths weren’t far off.

The warmth hurt.

Watching their faces, I kept seeing the light fading from their eyes, one by one.

I could almost feel their blood slipping through my fingers.

“Mago, what’s with the face? You look sick.”

“Today’s the day the second-exam results came out.”

“Dude, you scored a hundred—quit the gloom act, it’s bad luck.”

“Only two months left until the final, fourth exam.”

“Wouldn’t it be good if it ended quickly?”

I looked away from him and quietly closed my eyes.

Two months until the Demon King’s Army launched its second invasion—on the very day of the fourth exam.

Half the six of us in this room would die.

I couldn’t let that repeat.

First thing I had to do—all I could do—was stop that second invasion here at the Training Center, at minimum.

“Yeah... if it ends quickly, and well, that would be good.”

The real plan would start after that.

“No mistakes. Do it right.”

I’d have to make it happen the moment I swapped my rank insignia.

Knowing the future was worthless if I couldn’t move the army myself.

Orders that only followed commands were useless.

The road was long.

And I’d only used the lake twice so far.

Back during the first exam, if the weapons in my classmates’ hands had been real swords instead of wooden ones, I’d have burned through the lake’s limit in no time.

Kinjo had said that with a mentor, I could break my limits.

“Kinjo, Aquaella’s gone, so every Mage is either dead or hiding, right? Most of them lived there. That’s why Mages are so rare in the Empire now.”

“Pretty much. But ‘most’ isn’t ‘all.’ There’ll still be plenty left—those in the Imperial Army, for starters. I’m standing right here, and you’re technically a Mage yourself.”

“Sure, they exist. But why would any of them care about a lowly Trainee Soldier like me? And by now they’re all on the front lines.”

Two months from now the Second Invasion would hit; only after that would I meet a Mage worth learning from.

I needed one today.

Just then the lecture-hall door burst open.

I didn’t need to look up anymore—the sound of that swing already screamed Chief Instructor.

The chatter around me died before I even turned.

As I straightened in my seat, the Instructor spoke.

“Mago. With me.”

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