Published: March 20th 2025, 4:15:52 am
“How long were you four planning to keep this up?” I said, my voice leaving no room for doubt about my thoughts on the matter. I was disappointed. Discipline wasn’t my strong suit as a teacher, but I could put up a convincing act when needed.
Firana, Zaon, Ilya, and Wolf exchanged nervous glances as the gnome’s music masked my words. Despite giving us space to catch up, Wolfpack members and gnomes couldn’t help but cast glances in our direction. Nobody at the Academy could make the kids cower like I did.
The cozy outdoor party faded into the background.
“Mister Clarke, we—” Ilya started speaking.
I raised my hand.
“Your letters said everything was fine and dandy.” My voice hardened even slightly, but it was enough to make them shrink in their seats. When the easygoing teacher got mad, it stung twice as hard. “You said you were adjusting well. That the classes were going smoothly. That exams weren’t all that hard. Even before I met any of you, I only had to peek into Sir Rovhan’s classroom to know you were bullshitting me. He broke a kid’s hand like it was nothing.”
Ilya looked away, fidgeting with the ring on her finger. She was the one we exchanged the most letters with. “We didn’t want you to worry,” she said.
I took a deep breath, shaking my head.
“Don’t you think Elincia and I wouldn’t have wanted to know? What about Risha?” Astrid? Izabeka? That any of us wouldn’t have moved mountains to help you?”
Ilya cleared her throat. “This isn’t your battle to fight.”
I raised an eyebrow.
Ilya had a point, yet she had gotten it completely wrong.
“So… this is your battle, uh? Are you saying you never accepted the help of these three? You have been going on your own all this time? You are oh, so great the idea of dropping out never crossed your mind?”
Ilya’s eyes shot wide open, and I knew I had touched a nerve. I figured out she had suffered as much as Zaon. With the Restrain Hex in place, Ilya lost all the advantages of her Class. The girl was just a gnome in a world of taller, stronger people.
Ilya glared at Zaon, but the boy raised his hands like saying, ‘I didn’t say a word’.
The Imperial Academy wasn’t a school to raise the next generation of high-level warriors. It was a military institution that worked similarly to those back on Earth. Break them down, build them up. The Imperial Academy, however, wasn’t interested in building up anyone. They broke the cadets down and kept playing with those not crushed by the pressure.
I had accepted the position as an instructor under a completely false set of beliefs, but that was a completely different can of worms.
“I’m not mad. I’m just disappointed,” I said, and my words fell like cold water on the kids’ shoulders. “I understand why you did it. I do. But you are our children. You don’t protect us, we protect you. And we can’t do anything if you hide the truth from us.”
A heavy silence hung in the air despite the gnome drumming in the background.
The quartet exchanged cautious glances, like asking each other if they were off the hook already.
They weren't.
“From now on, no more lies. If things are hard, you tell me. If you feel you are going to break, you tell me. If you think you can’t keep going, you tell me. Understood?”
The kids nodded, ashamed yet relieved the lying had concluded.
I clapped my hands, my job as a stern teacher done.
“So… what have you been up to? I want the details,” I said.
Firana pincered Wolf’s lips shut just as the boy opened his mouth, and I knew, deep inside, that she hadn’t listened to a single word of what I’d said.
“Me first! They capped our stats at Lv.10 and then threw us into the Egg, and I was like, ‘Man, this is lame’, but then they activated the puppets, and I said, ‘Ok, this isn’t all that hard’, and I defeated like five of them, but they kept on coming, and I was like ‘Oh? You want to play rough?’, but they really didn’t stop coming, so I had to take things seriously. Then, I remember you taught us how to fight without the System.” Firana stopped and took a deep breath before continuing. “You told us to fight with our eyes, so I noticed the differences between puppets. Each had a different style! I could fight them differently to keep most of my energy! Oh, I’m talking about the first selection exam, by the way. It lasted like a whole day, from morning to morning. They didn’t even let us sleep! I couldn’t tell where the next puppet would attack, so I had to get creative as I didn’t have any detection skills. Listen, listen, this is the good part. I learned how to use [Aerokinesis] while I was asleep. I created a soft wind current in a circle around me so that when a puppet approached, it would disturb the current, and I would wake up. Pretty cool, isn’t it? The food was crap, though. Water and hardtack. What do they think I am? A pigeon? Ooooh! And then—”
Firana suddenly stopped, still with Wolf’s lips trapped in her pincer.
“I’m sorry. I talk too much when I get excited,” she said, slightly ashamed.
“It’s okay. I want to know everything,” I replied.
Her eyes lit up.
Firana told me everything she had done for the past two years.
Although the sun still hung in the sky, a shadow descended over the city. It took me a moment to understand, but [Foresight] pinged my brain with the answer. The sun had set behind the invisible wall, and the illusion of daylight broke down. Everyone but me seemed used to it.
Firana told me everything: from the first selection exam, passing through the dining hall menu, and all the noble and commoner cadets who tried to put her down. The stories had seemingly accumulated behind her tongue over the weeks and months, and only now could she unleash them. It must’ve taken her much restraint to keep her letters vague. By the time she finished telling me about the end-of-year exam, Firana hovered above me, almost invading my personal space.
I felt like I could hear her talking for a year straight.
Unlike Zaon, Firana was unbreakable. Maybe she didn’t lie in her letters. Not a single time during the story did she voice her fear of being expelled. She knew what was at stake in every selection exam, yet the notion of not becoming an Imperial Knight didn’t seem to bother her so much as the idea of facing a challenge she couldn’t complete. The difference was slim, but Firana wasn’t fighting to prove she was Imperial Knight material. She was fighting because she loved surpassing challenges.
To Zaon, each selection exam was a test to see if he could protect those he loved.
To Firana, it was a game, but that didn’t mean she took it lightly.
I glanced at the kids. It was difficult to reconcile my last picture of them with who they were now. It wasn’t just their appearances. It was everything, from the way they talked to the way they interacted with their surroundings. Back on Earth, seventeen-year-olds were barely more than children. Now, they gave the impression of competent warriors—not yet seasoned but highly competent.
“What about you, Nugget?” I asked.
Ilya, who was sitting across the table, blushed.
“Please, don’t call me that. I had a growth spurt last year, and I’m as tall as a half-gnome now,” she said, pushing her wooden mug away. Gnome mead wasn’t particularly tasty.
Ilya sighed, still down from the reprimand.
I wondered how much of it was her idea.
“Nobody expected a gnome to pass any selection exam. I almost died during the Puppet Exam, then again during the midterms, and yet again during the end-of-year exam, but here I am,” she said with a wide grin. “Holst recognized my genius pretty early first year, so the Osgirian assholes didn’t mess with me… a lot. Adopting your life philosophy helped me cruise through the first year. It was kinda effective.”
I looked at Ilya, confused.
“My philosophy?” I asked. “Every problem has a solution?”
I didn’t remember telling the kids my secret mantra. This time, the kids were the ones looking at each other in confusion. I knew it wasn’t about my motto, but I wasn’t prepared for the answer.
“Do no harm, take no shit,” Wolf said.
The other three nodded approvingly like it was a deep, ancient wisdom lost for ages.
Do no harm, take no shit.
“I didn’t teach you that!” I exclaimed, my voice a bit higher than I intended.
“Maybe you didn’t explicitly teach us, but that’s how you act,” Wolf said.
The other three nodded.
[Foresight] told me I was caught with my metaphorical pants down.
“Of course not! I don’t act like that! I’m a good American lad. I always turn the other cheek when someone wrongs me,” I replied, embarrassed. “Forgive and forget! Live, laugh, love!”
Firana cupped her face between her hands and gave me a mischievous glance.
“Hey, Wolfpack!” she raised her voice. “Do no harm!”
“Take no shit!” the cadets chanted back, dropping their conversation and raising their cups.
“Do no harm!” Wolf said.
“Take no shit!” the squad replied.
I rubbed my temples.
Ebros’ social order followed—broadly speaking—that mantra. Do no harm, take no shit. People were responsible for their powers but could also police how others used them. It wasn’t perfect, as many people took a lot of shit from those higher up in the societal pyramid. However, it allowed for a certain level of peace even with superhumans running amok. For better or worse, I was getting infected with the customs of this world. Maybe it was purely a social survival instinct in action.
“Just… focus on ‘do no harm’,” I said.
“Take no shit!” the cadets and some gnomes chanted.
I wondered if the cult leader's life was my destiny after all. An alarm in my brain told me to change the topic as fast as possible. I didn’t want a Fight Club scenario unfolding anywhere near me.
“What’s the deal with Holst, Ilya? You weren’t fond of him back at the orphanage. Why become his assistant?” I asked, trying to ignore the other members of the Wolfpack.
Holst hadn’t even bothered to include Ilya in his lessons back at the orphanage.
The girl shrugged.
“After the first selection exam, Holst apologized. He said he failed to bring me up to Imperial Cadet standard and that my presence at the academy was a testament to his shortcomings as a Scholar,” Ilya said with a mischievous smile like she was savoring every second of the memory.
I couldn’t help but find a new level of respect for the man.
“Really? Holst isn’t as bad as he seemed,” I pointed out, but Ilya cut me off.
“Everyone loves winners. He wouldn't have looked at me twice if I hadn’t entered the academy. But not you, though, Mister Clarke. You went out of your way to teach me when I was just an orphan,” Ilya said. “Anyway, I agreed to help Holst for that same reason. If he learned to see the things as you do, he might help others like me.”
Before I could say anything, Firana pushed Ilya’s face away.
“I don’t care about your sob story. I’m still Mister Clarke’s favorite student,” Firana said.
“You aren’t even his student anymore,” Ilya pushed back.
And just like that, the moment was lost.
Some things never changed.
Ilya was a celebrity among Cadria’s gnomes. Not only had she been greeted with reverence, but I was also treated like royalty if it was only by proxy. Just as the gnome party started, I tried to excuse myself, alleging I had to meet up for dinner with Ilya. My claims reached deaf ears as the gnomes promised to tell Ilya and the Wolfpack to attend the party, and in the meantime, they served me food like I was a king.
For a moment, Ilya got the upper hand on Firana.
“I might not be his student anymore, but I can be his cute sidekick,” Firana grabbed Ilya’s wrists and pushed her back.
“Bad news, airhead, to be a cute sidekick, you need to be cute,” Ilya grunted.
Zaon opened his mouth, probably to announce his position as my assistant, but ultimately, he decided to keep it a secret. If anything, he had wisened up during the last two years.
I let the girls release steam and focused on the boys.
“Lots of work lately?” I asked, looking at Wolf.
“Half of the time, I miss Ilya’s set of skills. The other half, I thank the System that she isn’t part of the Wolfpack,” he sighed as the girls continued their wrestling match. Then, he turned to the rest of the squad, scattered across the gnome population. “I can’t say they are the brightest bunch, but they get the work done. We started seeing success once they understood the squad was more important than their egos… and only the System knows how egotistically Imperial Cadets they can be.”
“I see… you essentially formed a squad of Teal Moon Warriors,” I said. “What about the two years before the Wolfpack? Harsh?”
Wolf shook his head.
“Firana is the only one who has been breezing through the selection exams. Ilya and Zaon had been on the verge of breaking down,” the boy said with a serious expression.
“What about you, Wolf?”
The boy shrugged.
“Does it matter? I passed.”
“It matters to me,” I said.
“They'll need more if they want to break me,” Wolf said. “But I’m glad you are here.”
I smiled. It wasn’t pride that drove Wolf forward but a selflessness deeply ingrained in orc culture. Sometimes, I couldn’t help but compare them with ants: tireless, cooperative, and selfless. They were inspiring, although their lack of individuality sometimes crashed with me. It took a lot of pressure to break an orc.
The gnomes brought enchanted lanterns as the sun fell, and the music continued. A few cadets hit the dance floor—a few wooden planks in the middle of the road. Aardvark was a very good dancer.
Ilya and Firana had come to a truce.
“This is your last year. What do you plan to do once you graduate?” I asked.
The kids gave me a confused look.
The most common path for commoners was to take shelter under the wing of the royal family like Janus did back in his day. Working for the Academy under Astur’s command was also an option for those who wanted to escalate Ebros' social pyramid. Others returned to their hometowns and became commanders and captains for their lords, but those were few as there was little to gain far from Cadria and the ducal capitals.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Ilya asked.
“You’ll need the help of smart and capable people to complete the Yellow Guy’s quest, and you will not find smarter and more capable people than me,” Firana added. “Ghila the Gorilla said I’m a genius. She was my martial instructor.”
“This is our training arc, but our goal remains the same,” Wolf interjected.
“We are here just to catch up with you,” Zaon concluded.
Saving the world was a tall order, yet having four seventeen-year-olds by my side made me feel much more optimistic. I hoped they would catch up to me and eventually surpass me. However, they had their own paths to walk.
“Don’t feel forced to do it,” I said.
Firana smacked his mug against the table, catching the Wolfpack's attention. “Are you mental? This is some legendary stuff! We will be famous!” Then, she suddenly stopped, and a devilish smile appeared on her face. “We will need more hands if we have another Draco-Lich incident. We might need to start a cult.”
I rubbed my temples.
“Not this stuff again.”
Firana elbowed me and smiled at me so radiantly that I almost went blind.
“I’m kiddin!”
“You better!”
I planned to live a long, happy life, and cult leaders had notably short life spans.
For the next hour, I listened to the kids gossiping about instructors and classmates, what kitchen shifts cooked the best food—lunch was a surprisingly important matter for cadets—and what squads were in danger of collapsing. The kids told me about their selection exams, field trips, nightly escapades, and general mischief. Occasionally, they froze, biting their tongues where the parts I wasn’t supposed to hear came out. I just rolled my eyes and ignored it. I wouldn’t breach their privacy for every little thing they did.
Eventually, the sun set behind the plains far in the west, and I left my mug aside.
“Enough for today. I have to teach a class first thing tomorrow,” I said.
Firana clung to my sleeve, almost falling from her seat.
“Come on, you Scholars can sleep four hours and do just fine,” she said, stretching each syllable.
“I let the System tinker with my brain enough to leave my sleep time in its hands,” I replied. “I won’t be going anywhere. If you need me, you know where to find me.”
I said goodbye, and after hugging each of the kids, I walked up the row of houses into the poplar promenade. Enchanted lanterns hanging from wooden poles at each side of the road lit the promenade dimly. Most cadets had disappeared into the buildings, and the gardens were almost empty.
The sound of hooves clattering behind me made me turn around.
Talindra grabbed the hem of her librarian robe and stumbled through the cobbled road. Under the heavy robe, she was wearing breeches, just like the cadets. I wondered if the robe was mandatory. It wasn’t enchanted and didn’t seem to give any tactical advantage when using magic.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“I’m fine,” she huffed.
She was as shaky as a young fawn. Was she drunk? I prepared my [Minor Aerokinesis] to create a cushion just in case, but she seemed to take offense at my precaution.
“I’m fine, I say! Can’t a faun have a cup in peace around here?”
Talindra sneezed, and two long faun ears sprang from the mess of her orange hair.
I fought my facial muscles not to laugh. Gnomes were relentless hosts. If my mug wasn’t full, they filled it to the brim. I wasn’t sure if I was comfortable with them as neighbors, but that remained to be seen.
“Let’s go, Talindra. We have a class to teach tomorrow,” I said, trying to sound reasonable.
“Nay!” Talindra hiccuped, crossing her arms and standing like a wobbly statue. “I want to be a great teacher, and I want you to teach me!”
I was caught off guard.
“Alright, but let’s go. People can’t see an instructor like this.”
“Promise?” Talindra asked, still refusing to budge.
“Promise.”
“Hoofsy promise?”
“Y-yeah, hoofsy promise.”
“Hell, yes!”