The exams had all ended.
The students were bustling with chatter about which exams they took and how they performed in them.
The expressions of the students from the Knight and Military Departments, who clearly earned high scores based on their own efforts, varied widely. However, the students from the Magic, Arts, and Administration Departments, whose scores were determined by subjective evaluations from professors, wandered around with sour faces.
Just by looking at their expressions, one could tell how difficult the exam questions had been.
“—That’s all for today. Good job on the exams, everyone, and get some rest.”
“WOOOOOOO—!!”
The students waiting for the professor’s dismissal in the classroom erupted in cheers upon hearing the words.
True to its reputation as the academy that cultivates the finest talents, it had a conscience, so no additional classes were held on the day the exams ended.
After a hard day’s work, the cadets either headed to the dormitories to relieve their accumulated fatigue or left the academy to enjoy the rare break by heading into the city.
Meanwhile, Kail visited the Magic Department with a gloomy expression alongside Gawein.
“What is it?”
“I was told there’s no record of Cadet Kail’s exam results…”
“Why’s that?”
“We’re not sure either. There definitely was some kind of error, but we need to know the reason first.”
The Magic Department professor scratched his cheek as he spoke. All knight department exams were recorded using magic, yet for some reason, Kail’s exam had no record.
In other words, there was no way to prove whether Kail had successfully completed his mission.
Upon hearing this, Gawein protested fiercely.
“Professor, I personally witnessed Kail completing his mission successfully. So, does that settle it?”
“Well, the exam scores are entirely entrusted to the spirits to prevent interference by professors or instructors. And those spirits assess scores based on recorded magic. No matter what Sir Gawein says, I doubt the spirits will listen…”
“Is that so? If those fairies don’t want to die, they’ll listen.”
As Gawein unsheathed his sword, Sleung, the Magic Department professor began pleading desperately for him to stop.
Watching the two professors fussing over the situation, Kail, lost in thought for a moment, cautiously asked:
“From when exactly was the recording missing?”
“Ah, it starts from this part.”
Realizing it would be quicker to convince himself rather than engage in a long argument with the overwhelming Gawein, the Magic Department professor immediately showed Kail the recorded footage.
In the video, as soon as Kail landed in the virtual world, he checked his equipment: compasses, maps, and the condition of the sword at his waist. After confirming everything was fine, he drew his sword and lightly swung it up and down—right at that moment, the video broke apart.
“The recording stops here.”
“…Hmm, I see.”
Having watched the video, Kail understood well why his exam hadn’t been recorded. The Aura Blade. The blade of light that cuts through everything must have interfered with the magical core, preventing the exam from being recorded.
Kail glanced sideways at Gawein. As expected of an Aura Master, Gawein seemed to have also caught on to what Kail had done.
Since Kail had been ordered by both the Headmaster and the Duke to conceal his status as an Aura Master, the two exchanged glances and nodded silently.
“—Hmph, even so, how can they refuse to give grades just because there’s no record?”
“But realistically, we can’t have only Cadet Kail retake the exam…”
“I’ll speak directly to the Headmaster about this. I’ll make sure he’s set aside. Understood?”
“If Professor Gawein says so…”
With that, the Magic Department professor sighed in relief, glad the troublesome matter was resolved. Leaving the Magic Department building, the two let out dry chuckles as they looked at each other.
“You used it, didn’t you?”
“Yes, just as a test.”
“Don’t pull out your Aura Blade carelessly.”
“Do I really have to?”
“It’s not about hiding your power. It’s about being careful.”
Gawein’s eyes glazed over with nostalgia as he began recounting his youthful experiences, much like an old man reminiscing about the past.
“Do you understand, Kail? This world is too fragile. It’s as delicate as a sandcastle that crumbles at the slightest touch.”
This was the genuine sentiment of a hero who had lived his life as an Aura Master.
This world is fragile. So fragile that even touching it requires caution.
“When I say don’t pull it out carelessly, I mean it. Every time you do, many things that can’t withstand it collapse…”
“But, Master, aren’t you the one groaning from injuries sustained during the war?”
“…Hmph.”
“And you still talk about how fragile the world is… Seems like you don’t have the right to say that.”
“You little brat. Quiet.”
After throwing a sharp remark at Kail, who was teasing him, Gawein headed straight for the principal’s office.
“Go back and rest.”
“Huh? Is that okay?”
“I’m the examiner. What would you do following me?”
“Well, I guess you’re right.”
“Don’t worry and go.”
With Gawein waving him off, urging him to go play like a proper cadet, Kail headed straight for the dormitory. His group, who had already finished their exams and were waiting for him, greeted him warmly.
“Kail!”
“Hey, Arthur. How did your exam go?”
“Not bad. You?”
“Heh… Don’t be surprised when you hear this. First place is mine.”
“Haha, of course. It’d be more surprising if someone else got first place.”
Arthur laughed heartily as she spoke. She must’ve done well on her exam too, judging by how easily she could laugh.
After all, wasn’t she the possessor of the Dragon’s Heart, unmatched in aura strength? At the cadet level, few could oppose her.
Next—Kail turned his gaze toward Yuri and Sera. The top two students in the academy, as well as the top two in the Magic Department, were inexplicably wearing sour expressions.
“…Why do they look like that?”
“…They said they messed up their exams.”
“What? Top students messing up? That’s hard to believe…”
Curious, Kail approached the two with a full smile on his face. Laughter is contagious, and he thought seeing a smiling face might cheer them up.
“—Yuri, Sera. Why the long faces? How bad could it have been?”
“…It’s invalid.”
“Invalid? What do you mean?”
“For some unknown reason, the magic didn’t work properly, so it’s practically invalid.”
“…You two didn’t…”
With a sinking feeling, Kail asked what their virtual worlds had been like. Though the exam content was confidential and the two magic students didn’t know much about the Knight Department’s exams, they knew one thing.
“It was a large-scale world where even professors from the Knight Department entered.”
“Dozens of Military Department cadets went in too.”
A massive virtual world where Knight Department professors and dozens of Military Department cadets entered together. And somehow, the magic malfunctioned.
No matter how he thought about it, there was only one virtual world that fit both criteria: the very exam field Kail himself had entered.
“…Uh, hang in there.”
Kail consoled the two and averted his eyes. No matter how tough he was, he couldn’t reveal the truth.
He could only pray in his heart that Gawein would negotiate with the headmaster to secure good grades for them, nullifying their invalidation.
* * *
The week after the exams ended.
The cadets were dissatisfied with the delayed announcement of results, but no one openly rebelled against it. Curiosity about the results wasn’t worth risking their names by confronting the professors.
Amidst the mysterious delay of exam scores, the professors brought up a topic that would ignite the cadets’ excitement.
“In a few days, there will be a festival within the academy.”
“A festival? What…?”
“A cultural festival.”
At the mention of a word straight out of an anime, Kail perked up his ears and focused on Gawein’s words.
“For those who haven’t heard of it, let me explain briefly… It’s just a festival organized by the cadets themselves.”
“A festival? Why are we suddenly holding one?”
“It’s the practical exam for the Arts Department. His Majesty believes that popular art is true art.”
The Emperor highly distrusted the notion that only what a small group of scholarly artists or rigid old professors claimed as art could truly be considered art.
True art must be enjoyable even to the ignorant masses. This was the Emperor’s artistic philosophy, and the Arts Department professors adapted to survive, unable to change his ideology.
“They’re involving the entire academy to evaluate their artistic abilities.”
Thus, the Arts Department’s practical exam became a cultural festival involving the entire academy, and during this time, other departments didn’t have much to do.
They simply enjoyed the festival and provided honest evaluations.
“Oh, and—we’re selecting people to guard the festival on the day itself. Anyone interested?”
“Will there be extra credit?”
“Okay, you who just asked that question are now mandatory participants.”
PUHAHAHA—!
Amidst the cadets’ laughter, Kail recalled that something was bound to happen at this cultural festival.
Though his memory was hazy, he was certain that Diaros Academy was essentially an action game where fighting broke out wherever you went. Something was bound to happen this time too.
‘I don’t remember clearly… But, oh well, it doesn’t matter.’
In the past, he would’ve agonized over figuring out what happened, but now he didn’t need to.
He had an external memory device attached.
* * *
“—There’s nothing?”
“What?”
Sera, the external memory device, tilted her head in confusion.
She said there were no fighting events at the cultural festival.
I stared at her, convinced she was wrong.
“No, I’m sure of it. Diaros Academy is the kind of game where you fight wherever you go, right?”
“…Wait, don’t tell me. Did you pick fights with every single person you saw while playing the game?”
“Huh? They attacked back when I hit them. Weren’t they all enemies?”
“No, they weren’t! Diaros Academy is a god-tier game! You can attack allied NPCs too! You’ve been playing a completely different game!”
Listening to Sera’s outburst, I finally realized why the game’s difficulty had felt so unusually high.
‘If you’re picking fights with everyone you see, of course, you wouldn’t last long…’
In the game, I wasn’t fighting enemies—I was fighting the entire world.
That’s why Masters and everyone else kept dropping like flies.
Realizing this belatedly, a dry laugh escaped my lips.
