The Second Arrangement (2)

Banshees.

Unlike specters, ghost-type undead that fought at close quarters, banshees used magic. They were high-ranking undead on par with liches, at that.

And a Banshee Queen?

'She must have been a mage.'

After all, creating a banshee required a mage to die and be resurrected.

His destination was the Magic Department.

On the way, he looked at a lamp beside the path. His face was reflected in its glass.

'Just like with Baek Socheon.'

His name was Kern, but his appearance had been replaced with his own.

'Well, it's only my name that's changed to Kern...'

He took it in stride.

He stopped someone cleaning outside.

"Excuse me."

"... Yes? How can I help you?"

"Where does the academy teach mages?"

"Over that way, sir."

The cleaner cautiously pointed him in the right direction. Apparently, the academy uniform had prompted the man to mind his manners. Minwoo asked him one more question.

"Thank you. By the way, what do you think of necromancers?"

"... Necromancers? What are those?"

The cleaner tilted his head as though he'd never heard the word before.

Minwoo explained a little further.

"Are there any mages who summon undead and things like that?"

"... Summon undead? Is that possible? I'm not a learned man, but I've never heard of a mage like that."

Kim Minwoo tilted his head.

'Are there no necromancers in this world?'

There was something odd about that conclusion. Wasn't this the world where the Death Lord had run rampant?

The Death Lord was a necromancer. Naturally, he must have summoned undead in droves.

Yet there were no necromancers at all?

Two possibilities came to mind.

First, they had been so thoroughly exterminated in the past that ordinary people no longer remembered them.

He'd seen necromancers hunted down more than a few times, so that wouldn't be strange.

'The second possibility...'

Magic that summoned undead simply didn't exist.

In that case, perhaps the Death Lord was the first necromancer.

'If it's the first possibility, I can't use any of my skills.'

He looked at the cleaner.

"Then are there any mages who work with corpses, or use gloomy sorts of magic? Anything along those lines?"

"Uh... The mages of the School of Death do that."

"The School of Death?"

"Yes. I've heard they use corpses, curses, bones, poison, and such for their magic."

"Thank you. I'll be on my way, then."

He spotted a building in the distance.

Guards stood at the entrance. One noticed the badge on his clothes and asked, tilting his head,

"Swordsmanship Department? You should be in class right now. What brings you here?"

"Do you have a student named Merhen here? Professor Charles asked me to bring something back."

He dropped Charles's name.

The guard must have recognized it, because he approached the counter and spoke with the woman there without much suspicion.

A short while later, he returned.

"We do. But Merhen is in class right now..."

"I'll wait."

Minwoo nodded, then approached the woman at the counter.

"Excuse me."

"Yes?"

"Do you teach the School of Death here, too?"

"We do."

"Then is it possible to transfer departments?"

"... Transfer departments?"

"Yes. I'd like to become that kind of mage."

Since Merhen was here, he might as well transfer if he could.

Sticking close would at least help him figure out how to clear this trial sooner.

He'd questioned the cleaner earlier to find out whether there was a branch of magic he could work his way into.

At least the School of Death had curses in common with him.

It would be easier to transfer there than to study other magic he couldn't use at all.

"From your badge, you're still a second-year, Kern. You certainly can, as long as you pass the test."

"What kind of test?"

"For a death mage... One moment."

She checked some paperwork, then looked back at him.

"You'll need to be assessed by Professor Wellington. The test will examine your aptitude. His office is on the third floor. You can visit him once class is over."

"Thank you."

After a short wait, a bell rang.

The whole building grew noisy.

'Class is over?'

He headed up to the third floor.

[Professor Wellington's Office]

After reading the sign, he knocked.

"Who is it?"

"Kern, from the Swordsmanship Department. May I come in?"

"... Come in."

He entered the office.

A gaunt man wearing round glasses stared at him.

"What brings a swordsmanship student here?"

"I'd like to become a death mage."

"... But you're a swordsman?"

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

"No, not as such..."

Wellington tilted his head.

The School of Death was shunned even among mages.

By the nature of their studies, handling corpses all day was routine. Naturally, a stench permeated their bodies, and their magic wasn't pleasant to look at, either.

Were they exceptionally powerful compared to other schools, then?

Not particularly.

And now an aspiring swordsman, not even a mage, had come to become a death mage. Of course Wellington was puzzled.

... Well, if the boy wanted to do it, who was he to stop him?

Professor Wellington took out a pure-white crystal orb.

"This orb measures your aptitude for death. If you have an affinity for it, the orb will turn black. Place your hand on it."

Kern planted his hand on top.

Even then, Professor Wellington had no expectations whatsoever.

Every once in a while, the Swordsmanship Department produced a student like this.

Becoming a swordsman was hardly easy. It required grueling training all day long, swinging a sword until your hands bled.

After a year or two of that, students grew desperate to flee to another department. Especially those without talent.

Those students usually chose the Magic Department.

Each branch of magic required its own aptitude. If they were lucky enough to find a match, they could receive training to become a mage.

A profession that involved sitting at a desk studying must look easy on the body.

It was also as honorable as being a knight. But finding an aptitude was no easy matter.

You might examine ten thousand people and find just one. Even then, the color was usually too faint for them to be of any use as a mage.

'He must be looking for an escape.'

Most likely, he'd failed to find a suitable affinity and eventually worked his way down to death magic.

Then—

"...!"

Wellington's bored eyes widened as he watched the crystal orb.

The white orb had changed.

To pitch-black, no less!

"Oh, it really did turn black."

"M-my goodness!"

Wellington's hand trembled around the orb. He'd never seen or even heard of an aptitude like this. He hurriedly grabbed Kim Minwoo's hand.

"Y-you're going to become a mage, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Good! An excellent decision! To think you've been holding a sword with talent like this. What a loss for the entire continent! You must study death magic!"

"So I can transfer departments?"

"Of course! Absolutely. By the way, how were your grades?"

"Last place, I think? That's what I was told."

Wellington broke into a broad grin.

'Getting him out won't be difficult, either.'

Sometimes, a student's original department made a nuisance of itself by objecting to a transfer. That usually happened when the student had excellent grades.

But this was different.

He was dead last.

'Come to think of it, I heard the Swordsmanship Department has a notorious troublemaker.'

A boy from a distinguished family who not only came last every time, but behaved like an absolute ass, too?

Rumors abounded that he'd used his connections to enter the Imperial Academy.

His name had been Ker... something.

"Your name was...?"

"Kern."

"Ah..."

"Why?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all. Go pack your belongings at your dormitory and come back here. I'll assign you a room immediately."

Wellington answered quickly.

None of that mattered.

What mattered most was that a formidable future master of the School of Death had just appeared.

Since he was a notorious troublemaker, transferring him wouldn't be difficult.

Or so Wellington had thought...

"As I've already said, Kern is the hope of our Swordsmanship Department. I absolutely, categorically refuse to accept his transfer!"

"... Pardon?"

"I said you can't transfer him!"

"I-I heard he was rather notorious?"

"Indeed he is! He utterly crushed a professor one-on-one!"

"...?"

"You haven't heard yet?"

"This is the first I've heard of it..."

The head of the Swordsmanship Department nodded.

"He overpowered Professor Charles in no time earlier today. Charles himself admitted it. Kern is unquestionably a genius for the ages."

Wellington's expression stiffened.

Professor Charles was renowned for his skill even among the Swordsmanship Department's faculty.

'This won't be easy...'

Only now did he understand why the department head was suddenly so vehemently opposed.

Even so...

"Well, what are we to do? I'm afraid we absolutely must have Kern transferred."

"Why on earth is the Magic Department so desperate to recruit an aspiring knight? Did you discover an aptitude or something?"

Wellington nodded gravely.

"His talent all but guarantees he'll become the next master of the School of Death."

"... What?"

The department head's expression stiffened.

All but guaranteed to become the next master?

Now he understood why Wellington was pursuing this so desperately.

He wouldn't want to let talent of that caliber slip away, either.

"Kern himself very strongly wishes to transfer! Surely you understand that the student's wishes matter most, Dean."

"Ahem... In the first place, I don't understand why Kern wants to transfer. I think we ought to hear his reasons."

"Very well. Let's call him in."

Wellington brightened as he spoke.

There could be any number of reasons.

Whatever they were, one thing was certain: Kern had come to the Magic Department of his own accord.

That put Wellington at no disadvantage.

Soon, Kern entered the dean's office.

"Hello."

"Welcome, Kern. I hear you'd like to transfer departments."

"Yes."

"Why, exactly?"

"Does it matter?"

"Your departure from the Swordsmanship Department would be a tremendous loss for the entire empire. I need to know why."

The dean spoke solemnly.

"There's nothing for me to learn."

"Nothing... to learn?"

"I can beat a professor. What more can I learn here? I don't intend to waste any more time. Let me go."

"... You seem to be mistaken about something."

The dean spoke as he slowly let his imposing presence rise.

"The Swordsmanship Department is vast, Kern. There are still plenty of people who can teach you."

"Then call them all in."

Kern picked at his ear indifferently.

"Let's see if they can."

* * *

Every student in the Swordsmanship Department gathered in one place. And with good reason: an enormous event had erupted.

The notorious troublemaker Kern versus the Swordsmanship Department's faculty!

All classes had stopped as the professors rushed over, allowing the students to watch, even if only from a distance.

"Good heavens."

"How many has he beaten now?"

Starting with Professor Charles, who'd challenged him again, then Professor Hammington and Professor Milanol...

One renowned professor after another found a sword at their throat in fewer than fifty exchanges. The same fate awaited Arnold, the dean, who stepped forward last.

He did manage a fierce spar lasting nearly a hundred exchanges, but even he couldn't escape the sword-at-the-throat ending.

"See? There's nothing for me to learn."

"Ha... Haha..."

Arnold laughed hollowly.

In his younger days, he'd been deputy commander of the Imperial Royal Guard Knights.

On top of that, he'd watched the earlier bouts against the professors, studying Kern's swordsmanship the entire time.

And he'd still lost.

He had no excuses left.

'To beat this boy...'

Wouldn't they need at least an active knight commander?

Retired and relegated to the sidelines, an old man like him couldn't possibly handle this youngster.

"Must you truly leave?"

"I truly must."

"Even if I could give you everything?"

Earlier, he'd merely thought he couldn't afford to lose such an excellent student. Now, it was different.

The thought of losing the genius swordsman before him filled him with agonizing regret.

His eyes grew pleading.

"That still wouldn't let me attend magic classes."

"Wouldn't let you?"

"Wouldn't I have to take only swordsmanship classes?"

At that moment, Arnold's eyes blazed.

"What you want is to attend another department's classes?"

"To be precise, I want to take only the classes I want."

He would take the same classes as Merhen. As long as he could do that, his department label didn't matter. He had nothing to gain from either magic or swordsmanship classes anyway.

"I see. So that's how it is..."

Arnold cast a scheming glance toward Professor Wellington in the distance.

'Looks like there's going to be competition.'

Pitting the two against each other might produce a decent result.

That was why he'd set this whole thing up in the first place.

Kim Minwoo smiled quietly.