How to Teach a Hero at the Academy

Chapter 8: Special Scholarship Student of the Academy (2)

Beyond the red glint of light,

The dragon's voice was heard.

It was the voice of a man, and also the voice of a woman.

It was the voice of a boy and a girl, and also the voice of a young man and an old man. Each voice scraped against the underground rock walls, echoing in Abel's ears. They were all undoubtedly the dragon's voice, but not its true voice.

For the dragon had no mouth.

“I am not a god.”

Abel bowed his head, showing a brief sign of respect.

“My name is Abel Argento. According to the will of the main gods, I have been dispatched from the Pantheon to save Epezeria.”

I have made a similar hypothesis, and.

The dragon listed its thoughts as if letting out a yawn.

Epezeria is probably not the only world. The main gods are unlikely to be satisfied with a single world. If they are the main gods who created the system of reproduction, they would be unable to control their desire for creation, just as a flower scatters its seeds, an insect spits out its egg sac, and a beast mates.

“I was born a human and have lived as a human. If there is a being suitable to call itself a god, it would be a dragon, not a human.”

Only a few knew of the existence of dragons.

To the masses, dragons were merely a product of imagination.

It was the same in any world. Whether it was a dragon with cunning wisdom and infinite magic, or a dragon that wielded divine power with a wish-granting orb, they were ultimately considered non-existent.

There were no dragons.

They were beings without a distinct form.

Because they had no interest in the world they belonged to, they had evolved to avoid the eyes of the world. They would only reveal themselves by wearing a suitable skin.

The dragon's glint of light narrowed.

The gaze cast towards Abel was also a fiction. What lurked behind the glint of light was merely a gloomy darkness. However, the empty darkness itself could be said to be the dragon's true form.

“A Demon King will be born in the near future. I intend to teach the Hero to prepare for the ravages of war.”

The dragon snorted.

“Besides the Hero, there is a need to train outstanding soldiers. The position of a professor will be of great help to me.”

“It is for everyone.”

The dragon's laughter echoed. The laughter of a man, a woman, a boy, an old man, and a young man curved in all directions.

So, go back.

Because I feel like I'm about to fall asleep, and.

The dragon saw him off with boredom.

“I will take my leave.”

Abel gave a slight nod and turned his back. Fabien was sprawled out like a puppet with its strings cut. The vast energy of the dragon had paralyzed his mana reactor. Abel slung Fabien over his shoulder and opened the iron door of the elevator.

As the clanging sound stopped,

The dragon,

Lar-Prasriti's voice was heard.

However,

I hope we don't meet again.

Listening to Lar-Prasriti's weary voice, Abel nodded his head once.

“I'll try my best.”

The elevator leaped towards the surface.

‘Your efforts will fail.’

Withdrawing its red glint of light,

Lar-Prasriti was certain, lying down in the silence.

His connection with Abel would by no means end with a single meeting.

* * *

At dusk, the capital Naflansee.

Abel and Fabien stood among the splendid clothes.

A certain noble lady stopped upon seeing Abel's beloved sword. When she looked up and checked the sign,

‘The Sweet Breath of the Candy Lady’.

It was undoubtedly the name of a high-end women's clothing store.

A place that didn't suit a man wearing a filthy sword,

- Why is someone like that here…….

The noble lady's brow furrowed.

Abel, who had noticed her gaze, muttered.

“Be careful, Fabien. The surrounding gazes are unusual.”

Has an assassin followed us? He had killed Tarkan's men on sight, but it was plausible that there were survivors. Abel gripped the hilt of his beloved sword.

[It is because we are heterogeneous beings, Professor.]

Fabien advised, seeing Abel's tense hand.

[This is a clothing store favored by ladies. Men wearing swords do not frequent this place.]

“Is that so.”

Abel nodded his head.

“Indeed. I don't recall ever setting foot in a place like this.”

──Chwareuk!

At that moment, the velvet curtain that had been covering one side of the clothing store was drawn.

“……I've put it on.”

Monika revealed herself, speaking in a subdued tone.

The CIAR uniform enveloped Monika's body. While the clothing store's attendant was smoothing out the wrinkles in the clothes, Monika reached out to tie her right sleeve, but……,

“You mustn't. It will damage the fabric.”

The attendant stopped her with a polite smile. When Monika apologized with a reluctant expression, the attendant gave a slight curtsy and withdrew.

“It feels like a one-person prison made to fit the body.”

Monika muttered, examining the hem of the uniform.

The CIAR uniform was a luxury item produced only in the high-end clothing stores of the capital. Smelling the characteristic scent of new clothes, Monika clicked her tongue. And such a modest color, too. Monika blushed and put on the overcoat.

“Let's go to the next destination.”

Abel said, opening the door of the clothing store.

[Professor, you have not completed the procedure of giving your impression to the lady. According to etiquette, please give the appropriate praise.]

Fabien suggested, gathering the spare uniforms, but Abel ignored him and moved on.

Soon, Fabien commented mechanically.

[It suits you well.]

“This is truly a tragedy.”

Monika grumbled, passing by Fabien.

Monika and Fabien followed Abel, who was walking far ahead. Among the exquisitely trimmed shrubs, electric lights began to illuminate the dusky streets of the capital.

‘How strange.’

Monika looked up at the electric light. A marvel made by containing a current generated by magic in a glass sphere, and made to light up in response to day and night. It was an expensive light that did not reach the slums. This was the first time she had seen it so up close.

‘Teacher is…….’

Monika's eyes shifted downwards.

Under the electric light, Abel's dark silver hair was fluttering.

‘What on earth is his identity?’

In any case, Abel was her teacher.

Monika perceived him as such. Not only had he awakened a talent she hadn't realized she had, but he had also helped her become a student at CIAR.

The problem was that she didn't know the reason. When they first met, she had thought he was a professor at CIAR, but Abel had only just obtained his professorship today.

‘……To choose one student and prove their talent.’

Monika had heard of Abel's intention from Konstanze. To become a professor, he had to choose a student and prove their talent. That was the final test to obtain the qualifications of a professor.

‘But still, why did he choose me?’

Abel had designated Monika, who was a janitor and not a student. If he had chosen a plausible student, he would have passed the test more easily.

‘And above all, that power…….’

Monika recalled Abel's sword strike.

When he swung his beloved sword once, the pile of building debris turned to dust and scattered.

‘For some reason…….’

He looked desolate, Monika thought.

[He is a strange person, Professor Argento.]

Suddenly, Fabien spoke to her.

“Strange?”

[When I asked what furniture to order for the faculty dormitory, he said that one round table, one chair, and one wardrobe were enough. He didn't want any tableware, let alone a bed.]

Come to think of it, she had never seen it.

Abel eating or drinking something.

He refused even when she offered him a piece of bread or black tea.

One could think it was because he was a picky eater, but why did he not even want a bed?

‘In the first place……, where is he living?’

Towards the questioning Monika, Fabien asserted.

[You are also strange, my lady.]

“Please don't call me lady. It makes my whole body itch. My name is Monika Lohengrin.”

[Acknowledged. Are you asking me to slap you.]

“Why does the conversation turn that way?”

[I have served many masters until now, but only one has requested to be called by their name. She was a refined lady from a count's family. She would ask me to call her name and slap her every night. She also wanted to be whipped. Sometimes, with candle wax…….]

“Stop!”

What kind of crazy things did she make you do?

Monika's expression distorted.

[Does the word ‘stop’ mean you want more.]

“No! I was just purely asking you to call me by my name. Please call me Monika from now on.”

It would be even better if you didn't use honorifics.

Since you look older than me.

Listening to Monika's muttering, Fabien tilted his head.

[Indeed, you are also strange, Lady Monika.]

Fabien was only made to look like a young man; the concept of age was meaningless to him. Above all, a Golem was a servant that would not betray its master even if looked down upon. To tell such a Golem not to use honorifics. Monika's words were considered strange to Fabien.

“We've arrived.”

Suddenly, Abel said, looking back at Monika.

Behind Abel was a large building surrounded by plaster pillars.

“An auction house……, is it?”

Monika asked with a dazed expression.

The crest engraved on the outer wall explained the building's purpose. The shape of a dove biting a gold coin. She had heard that auctions for the upper class were held in buildings with such crests. Perhaps because of that, mercenaries were surrounding the building and guarding it. Monika shrugged, thinking it was a place that didn't suit Abel.

And rightly so, for the inside of the auction house was all jewels.

Walking through the venue, Monika shrank back. The upper-class figures who formed a crowd were showing off expensive accessories. It seemed that human nobles, orc artisans, and elf mages were mingling without distinction.

“Would you like a drink, miss?”

“Th, thank you……”

Monika received a glass of Ginger Ale from the waiter.

“It seems we're not late.”

Abel muttered, staring at the stage.

“There's not much time left!”

An old troll stood on the circular stage.

A magic staff held to the troll's mouth was amplifying his hoarse voice. Indeed. Trolls always flock to where money is involved. Thinking so, Monika swallowed her ginger ale.

“Now is the perfect opportunity to purchase a living Porginay!”

The troll pointed to an iron cage with a firm gesture.

Inside the iron cage, engraved with various spells, was a Porginay. The Porginay was a man-eating plant that inhabited the center of the southern rainforest. It was also a monster with a stalk that could crush an ogre's bones in a single blow, and a poisonous stinger that could neutralize even divine power. The indigenous people's primitive religion pointed to the Porginay as a goddess of nature.

Indeed,

Between the black stalks that looked like the devil's hair,

The Porginay's giant mouth was spewing out a viscous liquid.

“I'll pay eight thousand gold coins!”

An orc mage standing next to Monika shouted.

“Eight thousand gold coins! Is there anyone who will bid a higher price?”

“Eight thousand five hundred coins!”

“Eight thousand five hundred! An old gentleman has bid eight thousand five hundred coins. What do you say, mage? Will you raise the price?”

At the troll's question, the orc mage clenched his teeth as if in frustration.

“Or anyone else, is there anyone who will offer a higher price?”

As the venue quieted down,

‘Why would anyone buy something so hideous? Are they going to grow it in their garden?’

Monika thought with pouted lips.

Just then, Abel raised his hand.

“Ten thousand gold coins.”

The surroundings began to stir.

Ten thousand gold coins was an amount that could build a mansion near the capital.

Monika looked at Abel with a dumbfounded expression.

“The Porginay is a top-grade material.”

Abel explained, meeting Monika's gaze.

“As it contains a deadly poison, its immune system is outstanding, and to burn it, a simultaneous chant from a legion of 5th-rank mages is required. Moreover, the Porginay's roots are incomparably harder than steel.”

[That is certainly true.]

Fabien nodded his head.

[Especially a living Porginay is exceptional. It is a plant that begins to rot at the same time its breath is cut. If you entrust it to a craftsman for processing, ten thousand gold coins will not be a waste.]

“……I suppose so.”

Monika said, leaning her back against the railing.

Is he going to make armor out of it?

Monika chugged her ginger ale.

“I will make your prosthetic arm with the Porginay.”

As if in response to Abel's declaration,

Krwaaak──!

The Porginay's roar silenced the murmurs in the venue.

Monika also opened her mouth.

Jureuk……,

Ginger ale flowed down Monika's neckline.