Demon King’s Academy

✦ Chapter 10 ✦

「Translator – Creator」

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

Erna took the lead, stepping forward.

As she entered the swordsmanship training ground, she gripped the wooden practice sword they’d been issued; that worthless thing, so battered and chipped it could hardly be called a proper sword. Its balance was abysmal, and the handle felt like it had been carved by an amateur.

Erna clutched it while fixing Kindeman with an unwavering stare.

*Swoosh—*

A subtle shift.

Only then did the other students begin to move.

Roberto spoke up first.

“I won’t lose.”

“Watch your tone.”

“I… won’t lose, sir.”

He too stood holding his issued practice sword, equally worthless, as the others gradually began to form a circle around them.

This was Terran — known as the cesspool, the bottom of the barrel.

Students clashing with each other was commonplace here, and confronting teachers was simply the Terran way; though freshmen, the Class-A students were well-versed in Terran’s history and traditions – some had even sought them out.

“Kindeman? What’s he to us?” Erna spoke, “At the end of the day, he’s just a skeleton.”

Her words struck a chord, igniting the suppressed frustration of the students.

The peaceful academy life they had hoped for was nowhere to be found, and the headmaster had been replaced by a Demon King.

Hero Rayze, who should have been hunting the Demon King, sided with the headmaster, who seemed to take pleasure in pitting students against each other.

Their anger had already reached its peak.

Kindeman? Great Swordmaster? Skeleton?

What did any of that matter?

If a confrontation was inevitable…

“Then we charge, we’ll fight.”

That was their duty as Terran students.

“This is madness.”

Though students who had studied The History of Heroes knew just how insane this was…

Swoosh—

But none of them dropped their swords either.

Though Kindeman might have been a Hero in the past, now he was merely the Demon King’s Number One. Hadn’t he just shattered someone’s shoulder for laughing? Even if there were no wounds to show for it.

It had to be done.

If they didn’t, they’d all end up on the ground, weeping miserably.

*Swoosh—*

Of the last two remaining, Chris stood up.

“……………”

As a commoner practically sold to Terran, this situation was overwhelmingly burdensome for him, but…

‘I must pass the test.’

He needed to prepare for the nightmare that would come in a month.

Now for the last one…

“Heeeng…”

“Can that one even stand?”

Rato, who had been speaking in Tomejo’s tongue.

“Seems he can stand, if barely.”

“They’re allowing him to attend classes? How absurd.”

The final student struggled to his feet, adopting an awkward stance as he held his sword.

One shaky skeleton stood before them.

Though rarely seen in common places, these lowest-ranking Undead were a frequent sight near the Demon King’s domain or in graves thick with evil energy.

Even a commoner with basic military training could easily defeat them, and even an untrained farmer with enough grit could triumph over what was simply known as a skeleton.

The crimson glow in their eye sockets was a mark of their status—at the absolute bottom of the Undead hierarchy.

Yet here were ten of Terran’s finest students, surrounding such a low-ranking skeleton.

Nevertheless…

*Creak—, Creak—*

It was the students, not the skeleton, who felt the pressure.

In that eerie atmosphere, the sound of bone against bone echoed.

*Creak—, Creak—*

The skeleton’s index finger bone moved again.

An unmistakable provocation.

“You bastard!”

The first to snap was Roberto, who had long endured Erna’s relentless bullying.

He lunged, fueled by raw frustration.

And the result…

“AAAARGGHHH!”

Was an agonized scream that filled the air.

☩

Ten students moved with desperate determination to hunt down a single skeleton.

Roberto may have been the first to fall, but true to his nickname, “Mad Dog,” he refused to stay down.

“I’ll kill you-!”

Even through searing pain, he forced himself back onto his feet and charged again.

*Creak—*

The skeleton moved languidly.

*Creak—*

The skeleton barely shifted.

And yet…

*CRASH—!*

That was enough.

Two students collided.

“Urrrgh.”

“What are you doing!”

When the skeleton dodged, they had tangled and crashed into each other.

Even as the two students blamed each other and quarreled, the others continued their assault on the skeleton, on Kindeman.

*Swoosh—! Swoosh—!*

Wooden swords were swung with reckless abandon.

*Swish—!*

One blade thrust forward with deadly speed.

*Whoosh—!*

A mock greatsword, unwieldy but intimidating, carved the air as it bore down on its target.

Every attack trajectory converged on Kindeman.

It seemed impossible for him to evade these attacks pressing in from all directions.

*Tock—*

A sound pathetically inadequate for what transpired echoed through the air.

“………..!”

“Impossible.”

“Insane…”

Reality dawned, leaving the students speechless.

At the center of it all stood Kindeman, his stark-white ribcage raised like a shield. He had blocked every single attack with nothing more than his bones.

*Shiver—*

The strangely entangled swords trembled, as if unable to find an escape route.

*Creak—*

With an eerie laugh, Kindeman pulled his arm back.

*Thud—!*

The students, their balance disrupted, tumbled helplessly to the ground.

*Rattle—, Rattle—*

As if amused, Kindeman let out another bone-rattling laugh and moved closer to one of the fallen students.

Lowering a rib bone toward the student’s side, he grinned wickedly.

“AAAARGGHHH!”

And once again, a scream as if experiencing hell itself tore through the air.

At this sight, the students who had been charging relentlessly retreated with hesitation.

Such was human nature.

The younger they were, the more fragile their resolve.

The more precious they were, the faster they faltered.

When faced with an unfamiliar threat, it’s easy to feign courage or act recklessly. But once you’ve experienced it, even just once—

“Insane… h-how strong is he?”

Fear inevitably takes hold.

“How is any of this even possible?”

Kindeman moved slowly.

In every measurable way, he matched the standard of a lowest-ranking skeleton.

Save for one or two exceptions, the Class-A students could claim to be faster than Kindeman.

Yet none could catch him.

As for raw strength? The strength of a lowest-ranking skeleton has clear, defined limits.

Did Kindeman possess some extraordinary strength?

Not particularly.

*Clash—!*

The students could feel it each time their weapons clashed against his bone—it was nothing remarkable.

Every advantage lay with the students.

Yet paradoxically, Kindeman proved stronger.

“How…?”

As everyone searched desperately for answers…

“Acceleration.”

A voice cut through the chaos.

It was Callige, the golden-haired prodigy.

In a flash, he darted toward Kindeman like a bolt of lightning.

His speed was astonishing—unbelievable for a mere first-year student.

The gap between them vanished in an instant.

From a perfectly calculated distance, Calige had already extended one hand, thrusting his sword toward Kindeman.

“It’s going to…”

“He did it!”

The students watched, believing this would end it.

Surely…

*Whoosh—*

Kindeman’s hand moved, but matching Calige’s speed seemed impossible.

*Thock—!*

Calige’s sword tip met Kindeman’s shoulder bone with a dull sound.

“It… worked!”

Just as Calige spoke with satisfied laughter…

*Rattle—*

Kindeman’s skull twisted into a grotesque smile, his hollow sockets almost mocking.

And then…

*Crack—!*

A sickening sound came from Calige’s head.

“Ugh…”

Unlike the screams before, Calige’s cry was brief and faint.

But as he collapsed to the ground…

*Shudder—*

The sight of him foaming at the mouth struck all who witnessed it as profoundly disturbing.

The students looked at Kindeman again.

At first, they had thoughtlessly assumed—

‘Land a hit.’

That would end this lesson.

But they were wrong.

*Rattle—, Rattle—*

The enemy was a skeleton.

An Undead that wouldn’t stop with just one or two broken bones.

An immortal being that required either its skull to be shattered, all joints broken, or holy power to banish it from existence.

*Creak—! Creak—!*

Kindeman’s joints moved.

Now he was advancing toward the students.

☩

“Gack… *gagging*“

“It hurts… It hurts!”

The swordsmanship training grounds had descended into a scene of pure chaos.

Most of the students who had boldly charged at Kindeman now lay sprawled on the ground, their spirits seemingly broken.

None among them had managed to exchange more than two moves with him.

One parry was all it took before they collapsed.

The entire ordeal had taken less than ten minutes.

“Urrgghh!”

Even Roberto the Mad Dog.

“Aaaagh!”

Even Erna the Mad Woman.

All lay equally on the ground, crying out in shared agony.

“Heeeeeng!”

Yet Kindeman remained standing; though he was not alone just yet.

“Hah! Haah! Haaah!”

Harsh breaths escaped the black-haired youth with striking, delicate features.

Yuri, who had awakened the Sword Demon‘s trait during the Hero Academy’s test.

He alone had managed to exchange two moves with Kindeman.

And there was one more.

“…………..”

Chris with his crimson hair stood there too, his eyes filled with incomprehension.

Thus three figures remained standing in the training grounds.

Kindeman slowly observed the two standing students and twitched his index finger once more.

An invitation to approach.

“I had my doubts,” 

Yuri spoke, moving his feet deliberately.

“Whether you truly were that Great Swordsman, Kindeman.”

His face bore a gravity that surpassed all other students.

He who bore the Sword Demon trait.

No, even before that, he had been deeply versed in swordsmanship.

— House Testia, the sword family of the Eastern Choisen Kingdom.

Though they never quite reached the ranks of the continent’s greatest houses, House Testia had once approached the threshold of legendary sword houses.

And Yuri was the firstborn son of House Testia.

Yuri Testia.

The men of House Testia were born grasping swords, trained with swords, grew up with swords, and died with swords.

They walked the path of the swordsman, distinct from that of knights.

*Step—*

They were those who wagered their entire lives on the sword.

“I ask your pardon for my earlier conduct,”

Yuri spoke, standing face to face with Kindeman.

“May I humbly request one lesson from you?”

His manner, respectful and courteous.

For the first time, Kindeman’s crimson eye-light flickered.

Had he sensed something?

“Thank y—”

As Yuri began to express gratitude in the eastern manner.

*CRACK—!*

A sound like a drum bursting erupted from Yuri’s head.

And what followed was all too predictable.

*Gurgle—*

Yuri collapsed without even a scream, foaming at the mouth.

*Creak—! Creak—! Rattle—!*

Kindeman’s skeletal frame rattled, as if he found the scene absolutely delightful, his eerie laughter filling the air.

“Uuugh…”

Chris, the last one standing, was on the verge of tears.

Now he alone remained.

‘Please.’

And so Chris prayed desperately within.

‘Please don’t let it hurt too much!’

But having witnessed everything, he could already imagine what pain awaited.

*Rattle—*

Kindeman fixed his gaze upon Chris.

Though Chris stepped back, already gripped by fear…

‘I must.’

Slowly, he began to channel strength into his sword’s hilt, gripped in both hands, his hands trembling slightly.

It wasn’t an unyielding resolve to stand his ground, but at least a flicker of determination to face Kindeman, even if only once.

And then…

*Ripple—*

Kindeman’s eye-light flickered once more.

Something was different this time.

“…………..?”

Kindeman’s stance remained unchanged, his skeletal hands gripping the sword just as before, and his grinning skull unyielding in its eerie expression.

And yet, Chris found himself unconsciously drawn into that sight.

*Whoosh—*

Wind ghosting through his hair.

*Whisper—*

His hair swaying in the gentle current.

And in that moment, Chris sank into a sensation he had never experienced before.

The passing breeze moved with impossible slowness.

His raised hair refused to settle gently back down.

*Ripple—*

The flickering of Kindeman’s eye-light stretched languidly.

His hands, his legs, his sword’s tip.

Everything became so clearly visible that…

‘Slow?’

Time itself seemed to flow like honey.

Chris lost himself momentarily in this strange sensation.

A wonderful feeling, like those childhood days lying carefree in the courtyard, savoring time’s gentle passage.

When the dazed Chris finally came to his senses…

*Clash—!*

His sword met Kindeman’s.

And then…

*Rattle—! Rattle—!*

Kindeman laughed.

Not with the contemptuous sneer or maniacal laughter he had shown before.

*Rattle—*

But with a smile of satisfaction.

END σϝ CHAPTER

☩

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