Published: February 26th 2025, 4:32:53 pm
The cadets left the classroom in a slow procession, almost as if speeding up even a bit further was too childish for them.
“See you in an hour!” I said. “Remember the assignment, and don’t eat too much!”
I took a deep breath and let the adrenaline fade away. No matter how many classes I had taught over the years, the first day always gave me that adrenaline rush. The sensation lingered for a moment before disappearing. The lesson might have finished, but a teacher’s work continued even after the bell.
The prompt took a second to appear.
Classroom Overlord activated.
New class detected.
Generating class layout.
Ten students added to the Cabbage Class.
I grinned. Regardless of the official roster, Classroom Overlord only counted those willing to learn under my guidance. Ten students already considered me their instructor. Seven were still undecided. It wasn’t a bad ratio for the first day. New orphans usually took a week to accept me, but considering the time constraints, I would’ve liked a better number. By the time of the first selection exam, every practice hour would count.
I examined the class layout.
Cabbage Class
Leonie Almedia, Sorcerer Lv.11 - Motivation 89% - Energy 91% - Confidence 98% - Resilience 92%
Yvain Osgiria, Duelist Lv.10 - Motivation 75% - Energy 71% - Confidence 62% - Resilience 88%
Kili, Trickster Lv.5 - Motivation 60% - Energy 99% - Confidence 42% - Resilience 91%
Aeliana Un-Osgiria, Blade Dancer Lv.9 - Motivation 80% - Evergy 70% - Confidence 79% - Resilience 89%
…
Classroom Overlord provided only a general assessment of my students. However, the class layout was one of the best tools the System had given me. Was it a breach of privacy? Maybe, but it was extremely useful once one learned how to read it.
Motivation wasn’t that fleeting rush of energy but the internal drive that pushed the students to pursue their goals. Orphans usually had very low motivation, which wasn’t surprising, as they have been bombarded with negative preconceptions all their lives. Zaon had put that feeling into words the first time we met. Orphans are expected to become lowly Classes like Soldiers and Archers, not Knights. It had taken a while to figure out why Motivation varied so much between orphans. In general, intrinsic motivations were stronger than external ones but varied from person to person. Some found achieving a certain Class very motivating, others not so much. The best way to determine how to improve a student’s motivation was the same as back on Earth: talk to them. In general, anything above 50% was workable. Below the 40% threshold, the students started to self-sabotage their own efforts. Motivation changed through the days, but it seemed to remain within a certain range unless a huge event occurred.
Energy expressed the student's mental and physical fortitude. It was the stat that most varied throughout the day, usually higher at the start of the day and lower by night. The higher the energy, the better the student performed, but even highly energetic students failed if they lacked discipline. In general, it was a good parameter to know when to step on the gas or cut them some slack. Good sleep, nourishment, and environment helped to keep energy at a reasonable level. A stressful life was the number one enemy of learning.
Confidence measured how certain the student was about their success. Highly confident students were likelier to attempt difficult tasks and explore alternative solutions to problems. They also learned from their mistakes instead of giving up. Most importantly, students with high Confidence believed they could grow with effort rather than thinking their skills and intelligence were fixed, which made it easier to keep them engaged in the learning process. Unlike Motivation and Energy, Confidence changed slowly over time. It was more of a character trait than a temporal feeling.
Resilience determined the rate at which the other stats changed. The more resilient, the slower the degradation of the other stats was. I always thought Confidence was the most important stat for a student. After all, the more confident the student, the more effective the teaching process was. However, highly resilient students had a better time dealing with failure streaks, delays, and overall lack of progress. Resilient students always had a bit more energy to squeeze after a long day. Resilience wasn’t so much about discipline but keeping the student’s beliefs intact regardless of the outcome.
It was no surprise that most cadets had a super-high Resilience stat.
I focused on Kili’s stats. Even in the worst scenarios, resilient students maintained their stats around the 50% mark. Kili’s Confidence was 42%, even with a 92% Resilience. It must’ve taken years for her Confidence to degrade to that level. Something was definitely wrong in her life. Whatever it was, I didn’t like that trend.
I looked around.
Despite telling Kili to see me after class, she was nowhere to be found.
“Sneaky girl,” I said. “I will get you… eventually”
I focused back on the prompt.
Leonie’s stats were simply ridiculous. Back at the orphanage, Ash was my most motivated student, and he only had 70’s and 80’s—the success of the older kids had cemented his high Motivation and Resilience. Students with such high stats along the board generally didn’t need a teacher to achieve good results as they could self-regulate their learning process and find ways around pitfalls most of the time. Guidance only made the process easier.
As I still didn’t know the names of the rest of the group, they were listed as ‘students’ followed by a number. Their stats were marked with question marks. To unlock that information, I had to ‘evaluate’ them. Even a simple conversation could be an ‘evaluation’.
I dismissed the prompts.
“That was a bit hectic,” I said, stretching my back.
Talindra’s eyes shot wide open when I turned around. [Foresight] told me the obvious. She was scared of me. She acted like that even before I sparred against the kids, so my ability with the sword wasn’t the cause. The fact I was a Prestige Class wasn’t it either, because my powers were still locked into a Lv.1’s, and she still looked like a scared deer.
Talindra must’ve known I was a Knight-Killer.
I massaged my temple.
Were Rhovan and the Imperial Knights spreading rumors about me?
There was a difference between a Knight-killer and a dude who slew an Imperial Knight. What I did to Janus was completely legal and protected by royal law. Janus had attempted to murder the Captain of the Guard. A judicial duel was within the rules.
“It was a bit hectic indeed,” Talindra replied, more to humor me than out of genuine interest in the conversation.
I wouldn’t mind the bad publicity in any other situation, but Talindra was my co-teacher. We had to work as a team for the students' benefit, and in the current state of things, I doubted that was possible.
“I’m sorry if I monopolized the class. Sometimes, I just go on auto-pilot,” I said.
“No, no, no. I don’t mind. It was interesting,” Talindra replied apologetically. “This is my second year teaching at the Academy. The truth is I’m not confident in my teaching skills.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Come on, you are Lv.47. You have a hundred times more experience than any of them. What’s not to be confident about?” I said.
“Yeah. I guess you are right,” Talindra laughed nervously as if she were walking through a minefield.
Again, she was trying to appease me. It was going to be difficult to work with her if she couldn’t voice an opinion of her own. [Foresight] told me that explaining I wasn’t technically a Knight-Killer wasn’t the best way to play the situation. Explaining oneself seemed particularly suspicious most of the time.
I pulled my attention back to the platform and acted like I was examining the enchantment. Not having to face me gave her enough courage to speak.
“Any advice for a newbie like me? I had a rough start with the other instructors.”
“Well… if you want to fit in, your approval rate is all that matters. The more students you can get through the first year, the happier Lord Astur will be. If you are good enough, you’ll catch the royal family's attention,” Talindra said. “For Imperial Knights, educating the next generations is a sign of great honor.”
I scratched my chin. I expected to get teaching advice, not an explanation about the political ramifications of good teaching. Still, her words caught my attention. Back in the teacher’s lounge, everyone had become quiet when Holst and Rhovan spoke.
“Rhovan is kind of a celebrity, isn’t he?” I asked.
Talindra stuttered.
“Yes. He has the third-best passing rate in the academy. I was his assistant last year but didn’t get to do much. Lord Astur has the first, of course.”
Talindra’s mention of Lord Astur almost sounded like she was diverting the subject.
I silently apologized. I couldn’t let the opportunity pass to learn about Rhovan’s teaching methods.
“We should copy Rhovan’s methods,” I probed her.
Talindra suddenly fell silent.
I gave her a moment to untangle her thoughts, but she remained frozen.
“Well, stealing someone’s methods might be a bit unfair,” I pointed out. If Alchemists hid their brewing methods like monks guarding their secret scriptures, it wouldn’t be too far-fetched for other Classes to guard their secrets with the same zeal.
“Y-yes, I was thinking the same,” Talindra nervously laughed.
Rhovan was a no-go topic.
“If Astur is the best instructor and Rhovan is the third one, who is the second?” I continued. The more I kept her talking, the more accustomed she would become to me. Or that was what I hoped for.
Talindra gave me a confused look.
“That’s Preceptor Holst. I thought you’d know. You said he’s your friend.”
“Come on, you didn’t believe Holst has friends,” I grinned. “He’s more like an acquaintance with which I am in good standing.”
For the first time since we first met, Talindra smiled.
I couldn’t believe Holst’s unpleasant demeanor was helping me make friends.
“Preceptor Holst is a bit scary, I guess,” Talindra said, getting a little more comfortable. “Rumor has it he made a major breakthrough in his Class. Novices and Adepts across all Circles swarm his study to become their apprentices. It was a surprise when he was summoned to teach at the Academy. Last year, he almost toppled Lord Astur.”
My teacher’s senses tingled.
Holst had figured out something, and I needed to know what.
Luckily for me, I had to pay him a visit.
“Do you know where the Basilisk Squad classroom is? We have to sort the students' transfer,” I said.
Talindra nodded and climbed the platform to return the classroom to the previous configuration. As she left the carpet, a clip-clop reached my ears. It took me a moment to figure out the origin of the sound. The wide robe hid them, but Talindra had hooves.
“Wait! Are you beastfolk, Talindra?” I asked.
“N-no,” she replied, startled. “I’m a Faun, actually.”
I wondered if complimenting the sound of her hooves would be seen as inappropriate.
“Nice,” I said.
“Yes,” Talindra replied.
After a second glance, she looked a bit ‘faunish’. Her hair was slightly too red for a human, and her eyebrows had a funny shape. I made a mental note not to mention her brows until I knew it was a safe topic.
Talindra channeled her mana, and the platform retracted onto the floor. The amphitheater-like structure emerged from the wall opposite the chalkboard, and the wall swallowed the weapon racks. The mechanism wasn’t just about enchantments but an almost endless number of mobile parts hidden beneath the boards. I couldn’t stop to examine it because Talindra was already walking to the door.
“Instructor Clarke?” she suddenly stopped.
“Call me Rob,” I replied with my best laid-back voice.
It didn’t seem to have a favorable effect on her.
“Eh… Rob? You are still under the effect of the hex,” Talindra said.
“Oh, right,” I said. I couldn’t go around as a Lv.1 while Rhovan and the other knights considered me a Knight-Killer. I shouted the passphrase. “Pineapple Juice!”
Next to Classroom Cabbage were Classroom Black Wolf, Stormclaw Bear, Blood Hawk, and Emberwing Crow. Cadets were still inside the classrooms. The doors were closed, but I heard the shouting and the spells even across the dampening spell on the walls.
I wondered if I sent our cadets for lunch too early.
“Did we get the short stick during the name assignment?” I asked.
Talindra gave me another of her nervous laughs, so I didn’t press the matter further.
There was a Classroom Oak, Blazebloom, Daggerweed, and even a Classroom Glowberry. Nothing nearly as harmless as a Cabbage.
We walked down the corridor into the older part of the academy. The white paint on the walls had lost luster, and the golden ornaments had a patina of smoke and dust. We were getting into the classrooms with history.
The door of Classroom Hawkdrake was open.
I peeked through the opening to see Rhovan smacking a cadet’s shoulder with his sword. The cadet fell to the ground, groaning in pain. After a moment, Rhovan realized the cadet wouldn’t stand up. He signaled with his hand, and a man dressed in the black robe of the Library climbed onto the platform and used a healing skill on the cadet. Rhovan barked, and the man dragged the cadet down the platform. Then, the next cadet prepared for the fight.
“We should go,” Talindra pressed.
“Yeah,” I said.
No one was using safety equipment.
Before the new cadet could react, Rhovan smacked his hands with the hardened wood sword. One of his fingers bent in the wrong direction. That could hardly be considered teaching. We left Classroom Hawkdrake behind without exchanging a word, but I couldn’t help but wonder how Talindra had endured Rhovan as her teaching partner.
Classroom Basilisk was a few meters down the corridor. Unlike the other rooms, the double door was wide open. The room was a carbon copy of Classroom Cabbage, although the furniture was starting to show signs of wear and tear. Holst was standing on the corner, overseeing the match. Both cadets wore the complete fencing uniform, with masks, gauntlets, and padded skirts down to the knees.
I had half-expected Holst’s methods to be like Rhovan’s.
The cadets exchanged blows at a dizzying speed. One cadet was tall, with broad shoulders and a solid stance. The other was shorter, a bit smaller than Kili. However, the shorter one controlled the pace of the combat without even losing ground.
At first sight, there was nothing outstanding about Holst’s teaching setup.
I knocked on the open door.
Holst’s co-teacher, a tall elven man with a stern, wrinkled face, looked at us scornfully as if we were peeping.
I ignored him.
“Can I have a word with you, Preceptor?” I asked.
All the cadets turned around, but the two were sparring on the platform.
Holst signaled us to enter.
“Instructor Clarke, Cabbage,” Holst greeted us without taking his eyes off the platform. “What do I owe the visit to?”
I expected a colder greeting.
The small cadet performed a feint and effortlessly hit the tall cadet in the face. Holst seemed to have a prodigy of his own. The tall cadet took off his mask, revealing a sweaty angry face.
“Next!” Holst shouted.
The boy left the platform and was replaced with a slender elven girl. She didn’t have much more luck against the small cadet. The difference in skill was massive. It even seemed like the small cadet wasn’t under a Bind Hex.
“I have a favor to ask, Holst,” I said as the slender elf girl tried to use [Quickstep] but was smacked on the head and sent to the floor. The small cadet was vicious. “Would you like to take Lord Gairon’s son and his friends?”
Holst raised an eyebrow.
“You understand, Robert Clarke, that turning the son of a duke into an Imperial Knight comes with several political and monetary advantages? I’m sure a man of your skill won’t have trouble with properly shaping a spoiled brat.”
Holst’s comment didn’t seem underhanded at all.
Was he truly complimenting me?
Talindra seemed equally surprised.
“I don’t have time to convince him I’m worthy of being a Martial Instructor, and considering the time constraints, I would rather not have to deal with a divisive student,” I shrugged.
Holst was the one surprised this time.
“Didn’t you tell them you killed an Imperial Knight?”
“Why would I tell them that? They want to become Knights,” I replied.
Holst sighed.
“Well, the instructors know. Have any of them given you trouble?”
Other than Rhovan’s vague threat, no other instructor had even talked to me.
“I’m not going to use fear against my students, Holst!”
“Not even a little? It has worked well for me so far,” Holst replied, pointing at the platform. “Seven seconds, Herran! You call yourself the son of a duke?! If you can’t last a minute against my assistant by the mid-exam, I will ensure you are expelled.”
Holst’s assistant was wreaking havoc against the rest of the cadets.
A boy with the Herran red mane stomped down the platform.
“Next!” Holst shouted as another Herran redhead climbed the platform. Their size alone made it easy to tell them apart from the rest. “If you don’t last ten seconds, I swear I will tell Lord Herran to hang you from your pinkies from the tallest tower in Neskarath!”
Holst’s assistant hit the Herran boy’s hands in the first two seconds of the spar, prompting a laugh from the cadets.
“I don’t care if I have to expel every single one of you! You better start taking this seriously!” Holst said and turned back at me. His tone returned to his usual calm, almost disdainful cadence. “A bit of pressure goes a long way. I call this phase the tenderization. It helps them realize they still have a long way to go, but if they follow my instructions, they will become as strong as my assistant. The real training starts tomorrow.”
Holst’s approach wasn’t all different from mine. Showing the cadets what they could achieve was precisely what I had done minutes before. Unlike me, Holst used one of his old students.
I wondered if I should invite Ilya to one of my lessons.
I shook my head. I wasn’t there for Holst to judge my methods.
“Would you do me a favor and take the Gairon kid?” I asked.
“That’s hardly a favor.”
“There’s seven of them.”
Holst rolled his eyes.
“The more the merrier,” he said. “But you owe me.”
“Thank you,” I said.
On the platform, Holst’s assistant blocked a powerful strike and hit the current cadet’s extended leg, sending her to the floor. I couldn’t help but notice that each combat had ended embarrassingly for the cadets—either disarmed, on the floor, or smacked in the head. There was no way it wasn’t on purpose.
“That was the last one, Holst,” the assistant said, loosening the straps of their fencing mask.
I recognized her voice.
The assistant pulled off the mask, revealing a wavy long hair and light blue skin.
“Ilya?!” I asked, my voice a bit too high-pitched.
Ilya almost dropped her sword. She was pale like she had seen a ghost.
“Mister Clarke?!”