The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound

Chapter 132: Test Your Skills (1)

Chapter 132: Test Your Skills (1)

At six in the morning, the wake-up bell rings in every dormitory at Colosseo Academy.

All students, boys and girls alike, gather on the field in front of their dormitories and begin their morning routine with gymnastics.

After about 30 minutes of gymnastics, everyone goes their separate ways to eat breakfast, take a shower, or catch up on sleep.

At 8:00, all students head to the lecture hall, unless they have something else going on.

Depending on the day, students with no classes or classes that didn't require attendance could use the gym, library, theater, or other cultural facilities.

Vikir and Piggy planned to finish gymnastics that morning and then go to the lecture hall after eating.

Then.

Piggy was on his way back from gymnastics when he ran into some patients coming out of the infirmary.

They were the same sophomores who had harassed her in OT yesterday.

"...what?"

Piggy froze in place, and the six sophomores froze as well.

And then?

"Hee hee!"

All six of them scurry away from Piggy.

"...?"

Piggy flinched, then turned to look at the seniors who were dodging him, and gave them a puzzled glance.

"Why are you all running away?"

"...."

Vikir looked at Piggy's bewildered expression and the backs of the scurrying sophomores.

Suddenly, the events of last night came flooding back.

'Try being a nuisance in the academy one more time. I will not only kill you, but also your father and mother and your family.'

'....'

'If one day you suddenly hear that your entire family has been wiped out..., consider it your own doing.'

'....'

'If you offend one of them, expect the rest of your kind to suffer.'

Last night, Vikir had nearly beaten the second years to a bloody pulp.

'... If you're willing to go to such lengths to bully someone, you must be a real heartthrob.'

But they don't have the balls to do that.

Someone with that kind of ego wouldn't take pleasure in picking on people who are weaker than them.

They disappeared, leaving everyone around to stare at them as if they'd harassed many people before.

Vikir smiled bitterly.

In his last life, Piggy had dropped out of school because he couldn't stand the bullying, and he'd made a hard living as a low-level government employee.

His parents had gone into debt to send him to the Academy.

Then, when the Age of Destruction began and the Great War with the demons began, Piggy volunteered to go to the front lines, where he contributed greatly to the Allied Forces of Humanity by implementing numerous supply strategies and analyzing and gathering intelligence.

Then, just a few months into the war, Piggy was assassinated.

Vikir still remembers the devastated look on his parents' faces when they saw their son's cold, dead body.

'He was an honorable comrade-in-arms.'

Vikir glanced at Piggy, who was yawning next to him.

He hoped that in this life, his comrade-in-arms would not have such a tragic life.

Then.

Vikir and Piggy were just about to enter their joint general education classroom in the center of the lecture hall when someone stopped them.

"Stop. Wait."

The person who stopped them had a familiar face and voice.

St. Dolores Rune Quovadis. The third-year student council president stood with a stern look on her face.

"The center staircase here is for professors only. Students are not allowed to use it, so from now on, only use the stairs in the left or right hallways."

"Yes. I understand."

"And. I'm going to have to give you demerit points for walking in a restricted area, both of you, minus one demerit point. Please state your names, class, and grades."

The saintess was stern.

Vikir and Piggy both received demerits.

This is recorded on the enchanted scoreboard, which is updated in real time.

Then.

Dolores frowned for a moment as she looked at the demerit list.

"Vikir. What did you do to earn so many demerits already?"

Dolores looked up in surprise to see that Vikir had accumulated quite a few demerits since the first day of school.

He had already gotten demerits for the same thing a few times now for wandering into the restricted areas of the dormitory and lecture halls, as well as other buildings.

'It's a necessity to familiarize myself with the Academy's topography.'

In order to transform into a night hound and go on a night hunt, you need to find a lot of openings that lead outside.

But Dolores, unaware of this, just sees Vikir as a lazy, bad student.

"You know that accumulating too many demerits, no matter how many attitude points you have, will hurt your grades. In some cases, you may have to miss lectures and do community service outside the school. It will also affect the image of the class, so try to be more diligent and careful in the future. Do you understand?"

"Understood."

Vikir replied in a businesslike manner.

He was trying to sound as normal as possible, but it made Dolores and Piggy jump.

"Vii, Vikir... don't just answer like that!"

"...?"

Piggy punched Vikir in the side of the head.

When Vikir looked at him with a puzzled expression, Piggy sighed lightly and bowed ninety degrees to Dolores.

"I apologize, senior, I'll be more careful!"

"...what. All right, we'll see."

Dolores nodded.

He glanced back at Vikir once more with a frown, and then disappeared down the hall.

"Uh-oh-isn't this going to get us caught?"

Unlike Piggy, who was running his hands through his bushy hair in agony, Vikir

Then.

The window of the lecture hall opened and someone spoke in a fluent tone towards them.

Es la misión del verdadero caballero. Su deber. ?No! Su deber no. Su privilegio.

-It is the mission and duty of a true knight. No! It is not a duty, but a privilege.

So?ar lo imposible so?ar.

-To dream the impossible dream.

Vencer al invicto rival,

-To defeat the invincible enemy,

Sufrir el dolor insufrible,

-To endure the unbearable pain,

Morir por un noble ideal.

-To die for a noble ideal.

Saber enmendar el error,

-To know how to fix the wrong,

Amar con pureza y bondad.

-To love with purity and good will.

Querer, en un sue?o imposible,

-Falling in love in an impossible dream,

Con fe, una estrella alcanzar.

-To have faith, to reach for a star.

A romantic poem straight out of chivalric literature.

The speaker was a nobleman with beautiful blond hair and blue eyes.

Don Quixote Tudor. a top member of the Cold Class.

Strength to strength, intelligence to intelligence, good looks to good looks, toughness to toughness.

The perfect man, with nothing missing.

He leaned against the window and winked at Vikir.

"You've been spotted by the student council president since the first day of school, my friends. You'd better be a little more punctual in the future, I hear this student council president is very strict about tardiness."

Just then, a cold sneer comes from the side.

A female student with long raw hair tied back in a tight bun spoke up after Tudor.

"I don't care if you get detention or forced community service for being late, don't ruin the image of the entire Cold Class. Apparently, there's such a thing as a group attitude score."

This was Usher Bianca, a top member of the Cold Class.

As Tudor and Bianca each said something to Vikir, the front door of the classroom opened and a girl with disheveled gray hair and a short skirt stepped out.

"A~ What's wrong with you both~ Friends shouldn't be arguing with each other on the first day of school! Over there... are you Vikir and Pig, right? Come on in, you two, your seats are in the window row on the right!"

The girl gesturing to Vikir was Sinclair, the overall top student in the prefect's class and head of the joint general education class.

She had memorized the name, and she called Vikir by her first name.

Piggy was equally impressed that Sinclair had memorized his name and called him by it.

Even if she did spell his name slightly wrong.

* * *

Class began.

General Studies, a class that all Hot-Class students and all Cold-Class students were required to take.

It's a theory class where we study the ecology and culture of monsters and barbarians.

Many students are intimidated by the difficulty of the course and either take notes frantically or give up altogether.

Some freshmen were intimidated by the notorious difficulty that their seniors had warned them about and chose to drop out.

And.

Tudor and Bianca, co-leaders of Cold Class, glared at each other.

"You know how I cut it off at the seams when I was talking to my tardy friends earlier? Don't do that in the future."

"It's my business, and I need to be told off when I see something pathetic."

"I don't look kindly on tardiness either. But I don't like to be interrupted. You should know that."

"I know. Why do I need to know what you like and dislike? You're an idiot."

As co-leaders, the tension was already high.

Is that why? Even in theory class, Tudor and Bianca would listen to lectures with their eyes glowing, trying to outsmart each other.

Also. They had one more common enemy besides each other.

Sinclair, the head of the Hot Class, smirked at Tudor and Bianca, who were glaring at her.

She was so well versed in theory that she was ranked second in the class, not only in practice but also in writing.

So in addition to keeping an eye on each other, Tudor and Bianca were also keeping an eye on Sinclair.

In other words, it was a battle of the hot and cold, and a battle within the cold.

Then. The professor turned to all the students and asked a sudden, out-of-the-blue question.

" ... In this way. We've finished our general lecture on the culture of the barbarian tribe, the Balak. Now it's time to test how well you've memorized and understood what I've taught you."

The stern-looking professor adjusted his tiny glasses on his hawkish nose.

Then, in a dry, dry voice, he asked the question.

"Based on the locations of the places where the hunters of the Balak have been said to have been found, I want you to guess the location of their home base. It is of great military importance to know where the enemy is based on the places where they have been engaged."

This was a difficult question to answer without memorizing the culture of the Balak, their fighting style, and the geography of the locations where they had been spotted and their immediate surroundings.

"...."

There was a moment of silence in the room.

There was no way any of the freshmen could answer this difficult question.

After all, this was a question that even third-year students would struggle to answer.

When no one answered the question, the professor took the roll call.

"Who's number one in the cold class this year, Tudor. Is that you?"

"What? Yes, yes, yes!"

At first, Tudor is quick to answer.

But with the professor's glare demanding an answer, he had none.

"Well, first of all, the clashes between the Balak and the Empire took place at the 1st, 8th, and 75th Heights on the Western Front... to...."

"The 1st, 8th, and 75th, is that all?"

"That, that is...."

When Tudor failed to answer, the professor clicked his tongue once.

Then he turned his attention to the attendance book.

"I see you're the one in charge of this cold class, Bianca. Would you like to answer the question?"

"What? It's, uh, it's...."

Bianca rolled her eyes.

She was about to add what she knew to be flesh to what Tudor had said earlier.

"The clashes between the Balak and the Empire took place on the western front, at heights 1, 7, 8, 75, and 207, and um... considering that these are all low basin terrain... perhaps the Balak's main base is in the low plains...."

"Wait. Are you sure that there are only 1, 7, 8, 75, and 207 heights, and are you sure that all those forts you just mentioned are all in basin terrain?"

"That's, that's, that's, that's...."

Bianca stammered, as did Tudor.

The professor clicks his tongue again.

He turned to the attendance book and called out the next name.

"Sinclair, you're the head of the Hot Classs this term, aren't you?"

"Yes, .... Professor."

Sinclair nodded, trying to sound calm.

Her expression, however, was lightly set with tension.

The professor looked at the attendance book and nodded, then raised his gaze to Sinclair and nodded once more.

Her cue to answer.

Sinclair took a light breath and opened his mouth.

"According to what the military has published to the academic community, the locations of the clashes between the Balak and the Empire are the 1st, 4th, 5th, 7th, 8th, 30th, 75th, and 207th heights on the Western Front. All of these locations are basin terrain, with the exception of the 8th, which is atop a high mountain peak. Taken together, this suggests that Balak's home base is likely to be in a low-lying area, deep in the jungle, along the lines of the map."

It was a neat explanation. It was also the best theory that fit the academic literature so far.

The stern professor nodded in agreement.

"This year, I'm going to add 10 points to your attitude score, Sinclair, and 1 point to the overall attitude score of the class."

The faces of all the hot students brightened at that.

The faces of all the cold students crumpled.

Tudor and Bianca could do nothing but grunt and groan.

Just then.

The professor's already furrowed brow furrowed once more.

He spoke up, sounding slightly offended.

"...No, I don't think it's the hot class that's outstanding, it's the cold class that's terrible, judging from that pathetic sight."

The cold class students were stunned.

All of the students in both the hot and cold classes turned their heads to follow the professor's gaze.

It was a seat by the window on the right side of the lecture hall. It was in the back, just below where the curtains fluttered in the wind.

A boy with bushy hair that covered his face and thick horn-rimmed glasses dozed with his arms crossed.

It was Vikir.