How to Teach a Hero at the Academy

Chapter 10: Special Scholarship Student of the Academy (4)

The head of Sharma said.

The head of Zylon said.

The head of Mystriel said.

Iris laughed coldly.

‘What in the world is going on?’

Monika narrowed her eyes.

She looked at the stained glass with the black swan painted on it.

While various colored glass pieces formed a five-colored background, only the black swan symbolizing the Orléans family was painted in black. The sunset light reflecting on such pitch-black glass pieces. It was as if it were the sneering expression of Iris, who would be on the other side of the stained glass.

‘Duke Orléans…….’

Iris René von Orléans.

The Iron-blooded Maiden. A young powerhouse of the capital. Monika had also heard her name several times. Because the foundation sponsored by the Orléans family would often bestow goods upon the slums.

‘……I'm indebted to her.’

Monika thought, brushing back her hair.

Iris's scathing remarks towards the chairpersons poured cold water on Monika's inner thoughts. Thanks to that, her heart, which felt like it was on fire, calmed down.

Zylon had insulted her disabled body. Sharma had insulted her low status, and Mystriel had insulted her lost hometown. Even if there was no intention of insult, nothing changed. It just felt even more insulting.

‘I got too worked up.’

What would have happened if the chairpersons had heard her mutter ‘sons of bitches’. Would her head have flown off? Monika smiled bitterly and touched the back of her neck.

“Don't do that again, Miss Lohengrin.”

Konstanze whispered in a subdued voice.

Konstanze, who had been standing next to Monika, had noticed.

Monika's resentment towards the chairpersons.

“I understand the life of a commoner, at least a little. No matter how outstanding your talent is, your life will be so very light to them. So you should have endured it.”

“……I'm sorry.”

Monika bowed her head.

Suddenly, Abel's words came to mind.

Did he say that life is a continuous process of saving oneself? If so, she was clearly just firm in her thought that she must live, but had not learned how to live.

“I don't think it's a matter to apologize for, but if you must, please do it to Duke Orléans. She must have spoken up because she also understood.”

Your position, that is.

Konstanze muttered so.

At the same time, Iris called Monika's name.

“What……, what do you mean?”

Monika tilted her head.

“I have never met Your Highness. I have received the grace of the foundation sponsored by Your Highness's family, but……”

At Iris's declaration, Monika's pupils widened.

The chairpersons trembled with rage. The animals in the stained glass, except for the black swan, stopped moving.

Abel of the Margin. The youngest Sword Saint. The Pope's most precious shadow. A man of unknown identity whom even they, the highest echelons of the empire, barely knew by name. That the House of Orléans was sponsoring a Sword Saint meant that the trust they received from the Pope was that deep.

Iris said to Monika.

Because you lost your hometown due to the Mirror War, I have bestowed upon you a facility where you can stay properly, not in a corner of the slums.

Because you would be reproached for living a life like a scarecrow, I have bestowed upon you the power to choose whether to cut such a scarecrow or not.

And finally……,

“All of that……, was it Your Highness's will?”

Monika asked with a confused expression.

“The reason Teacher Abel took care of me……, was it because Your Highness Orléans ordered it?”

Your will is my will.

The insult you received is an insult to me.

Therefore, I have spoken up towards the chairpersons.

Iris's assertion enveloped Heaven's Altar.

“Why?”

Monika asked, as if squeezing out the words.

“I……, I have nothing to give. Why does everyone bestow so much upon me? I'm scared. I'm scared because I've received too much.”

I'm……, I'm not a valuable existence……

Monika looked like she was about to cry.

She had received things she could never repay. That's why she became scared. If she were ever asked for reciprocation, what could she offer? If her mind was soaked in such fear, was the object of her fear Abel, Iris, or her own self who had nothing? Monika's vision began to blur with helpless resentment.

Iris said firmly.

So, say it, and.

Iris's strong voice reached Monika's ears.

“I……”

“……I will repay Orléans.”

A moment of silence.

<──Orléans speaks.>

“……What?”

Monika lifted her bowed head.

Something was strange. A familiar feeling wafted from Iris's tone.

‘That's what she said earlier, isn't it?’

It's as if it's being played on repeat.

No, it's certain. It is being played on repeat.

Monika stared at the black swan with a dazed expression.

And at the same time,

The growling head of Zylon.

The hollowly laughing head of Sharma.

The whimpering head of Mystriel.

As if in response to the chairpersons, Iris's voice continued.

So it was all just a recording.

Did she see through everything that would be said?

No way. The strength in Monika's expression scattered.

Her wet eyes were already dry.

* * *

“Time is precious.”

So I used a recording spell.

Iris said, holding a teaspoon.

“The nerve battles of the nobility always follow the same pattern. They are both overbearing and rude. Because they are such noble people.”

Ah, a good scent.

Iris smiled, stirring the flower tea with a teaspoon. Iris's face reflected in the rippling tea. Though it was covered by a black mesh veil, only her light pink eyes, resembling a fully bloomed quince flower, were distinct.

“I didn't know you would come in person.”

Across from Iris,

Abel, who had been standing with his arms crossed, said.

“Why did you think that? Of course I had to come in person.”

Since it was to deliver a gift to the girl who would become the Hero.

Iris shrugged and looked around. Desolate surroundings without any objects. The teacup placed next to Iris, the teaspoon held in Iris's hand, were all things that Fabien had hastily procured.

“Aren't your legs hurting? You didn't have to put just one chair.”

When Iris asked with her chin propped on her hand,

“It doesn't matter. My legs are healthy.”

Abel replied in a curt tone.

[That question was not asked to check the health of your legs, Professor. Her Highness Orléans is pointing out the shabbiness of this place. In the future, you will have many guests, Professor, and you will not be able to stand every time.]

“It's possible. Why do you think it's impossible.”

[……How strange.]

Fabien commented with an expressionless face.

Fabien headed towards Iris with a teapot in his hand. Just as he was about to tilt the teapot towards the empty teacup, Iris waved an empty hand at Fabien. Meaning she would pour it herself. Fabien hesitated for a moment, then placed the teapot on the round table and gave a slight nod.

Thank you, you considerate person.

Iris's whisper towards Fabien.

Unlike her moniker, the Iron-blooded Maiden, her tone was as soft as a cradle dried in the daylight.

“In any case……”

Iris said, picking up the teapot.

“The prosthetic arm you ordered has been successfully completed. The craftsmen of Orléans let out a joyful scream.”

In the center of the round table,

The prosthetic arm to replace Monika's right arm was placed. A whitish moonlight shone on the prosthetic arm. Abel stroked it. If a tree were given an arm, would it have this form? While the stalk of the Porginay had taken the shape of a bone, it seemed the roots had formed the muscles and the leaves had completed it as flesh.

“What is this?”

At the same time as he asked, Abel pressed the back of the prosthetic arm's hand.

Clank, and. The sound of mechanical parts engaging.

The prosthetic arm's wrist bent, revealing the shape of a cannon barrel.

“I've installed a few armaments. To prepare for an emergency. The part you're looking at now is a cannon barrel that fires a magic bullet through a poison sac.”

“Your preparedness is thorough. But……”

Abel's gaze shifted.

The Great Sword placed next to the prosthetic arm. It was about the same size as Monika's height. The thick blade and long hilt extended out of the round table. Abel picked it up with one hand and examined it.

[Please be careful, Professor. The ceiling might break.]

“I will be careful.”

Replying to Fabien's concern, Abel tried to estimate the materials used in the great sword. The faint sparkle on the blade. Was it that after hardening the blade with Pure Silver, which is highly effective against monsters, it was cooled with holy water to imitate a Holy Relic? However……,

“The current Monika cannot lift this. A sword of this weight would have to be supported by Aura. Monika has not yet reached such a level.”

“I thought it was moderately light? The size is also on the small side……”

Iris said with a troubled expression.

For Iris, it was difficult to accept Abel's diagnosis. Because she had carried the sword and prosthetic arm with ease, holding them separately.

“……Compared to the weapon you use, it would be light and small.”

Abel said with a sigh-laden voice.

Then he opened a subspace and put the great sword in.

Gwoong, and.

At the same time the circular gap in space closed,

Thud, and.

Fabien's body, stopping its operation.

“As you know……”

The index finger that had been aimed at Fabien's mana reactor.

Folding it, Iris spoke.

“Monika Lohengrin must become stronger. Strong enough to wield the great sword I gifted her with ease. A month should be enough, right?”

And one more thing.

A benevolent smile spread across Iris's lips.

“I interrogated Two-Tongued Tarkan. Thanks to that, I found out. The fact that the remnants of the 2nd Prince's faction are gathering under the surface of the capital. Did you apprehend him to report this?”

“I didn't know.”

“How humble of you. Anyway, CIAR is a weak point of the capital. Their evil hands may have reached here as well. I would like to ask you to investigate.”

A month should be enough for that too, right?

At Iris's question, Abel nodded his head without hesitation.

“Then I will be on my way. The life of a cold-hearted duke is as busy as the life of a kind-hearted saintess.”

Iris stood up from her chair.

She took a brisk step, then suddenly looked back at Abel.

“Abel, when was the last time you had a meal.”

Abel did not answer the question.

“Then Abel, when was the last day you slept.”

No, he couldn't answer.

Abel's body had become unrelated to human physiology. He could no longer feel the small joy of a meal, and he had grown distant from the dreams that could only be reached at the end of sleep.

It was a problem of the soul, not the body. As a result of countless reincarnations, Abel's soul had been considerably worn down. The more the soul became hazy, the closer the body became to an object. Unable to eat, and having no need to sleep.

Iris knew this fact all too well.

For she was also a being like Abel.

In any world, they are called ‘The Mother God's Right Hand’. The adversary of the Demon King, consisting of a Hero, a Saintess, a Mage, a Strategist, and an Inspector.

And so, it is ‘The Mother God's Left Hand’.

Those like herself were merely ‘The Mother God's Left Hand’.

Iris sneered inwardly. Those who had turned their backs on their respective worlds after subjugating the Demon King. Returnees who had chosen to fight even to the point of turning away from their own world, who had decided not to return.

The man before her was once a Hero.

She herself was once a Saintess.

What a ridiculous sight this was.

“The Mother God said that you are the only creation who has gone through 97 reincarnations. I have only gone through 13 reincarnations at most, but my soul has already begun to fade.”

You must be feeling it yourself.

That your soul is in tatters.

The fact that the annihilation of your existence is not far off.

At Iris's whisper, Abel responded, looking away.

“I won't see you off far, Saintess from another world.”

Does that mean don't mind me.

Iris let out a sigh mixed with a laugh, then finally bid farewell.

“Stay safe until you save this world, Hero from another world.”

“I am no longer a Hero……”

“Oh my, how noisy.”

Finally, the sound of a creaking hinge.

Iris took a step with her back to the dormitory door.

The hem of her unadorned black dress brushed against the floor. Then suddenly, Iris discovered a girl who had been walking from the opposite direction. Monika Lohengrin. The child who would become the Hero of Epezeria. Her one and only hand was holding a folding chair.

“My precious, are you on your way to see Abel?”

“Huh? Ah……, yes.”

At Iris's question, Monika replied with a dazed expression.

‘Who is she?’

Monika wondered inwardly. A voice similar to Duke Orléans. But so very different. That person's way of speaking was not that gentle. And her all-black attire. Duke Orléans would not wear such plain clothes as the woman before her.

“That's good. It seemed Abel needed one more chair.”

A smile graced Iris's veiled face.

Iris, who walked gracefully past Monika.

Monika, who was scanning Iris's back.

Iris, pretending not to notice Monika's gaze, placed her index finger on her lips and recited a scripture.

* * *

Then behold, your left hand.

The reason even our left hand has five fingers,

Is it because the Mother God's left hand also has five?

That, we cannot know.

For the Mother God has never shown us her left hand.

─ From the Platinum Round Table Orthodoxy Law