Chapter 20

Chapter 20: Chapter 20

Once Rickart finished reorganizing the rankings, some things changed at Beringen Academy while others remained the same.

The greatest change was the disappearance of the so-called tribute payments. In other words, the culture of exploitation perpetuated by the higher-ranked students no longer existed.

What did not change was that newcomers still had to undergo initiation rites, lower-ranked students still had to step aside when encountering their superiors in the corridors, and Volka was still the students’ leader.

Once the exploitation disappeared, the students were finally able to stand on their own feet. Regardless of rank, everyone could work and sweat for their money, attend classes, and walk toward their future.

That was how the students of Beringen Academy lived, according to their own traditions and rules—even if their dormitory was little more than a chicken coop.

Whenever someone asked, Rickart generously shared his knowledge. He discriminated against no one, whether their rank was high or low.

After all, they all seemed more or less the same to him.

Volka worked harder than anyone. He lived a busy life, traveling back and forth between the dormitory and the city, while training even more diligently than before.

All he had ever needed was a sliver of hope—a reason to keep working hard.

Although Rickart hated hearing people go on about talent, talent undeniably existed whether he liked it or not.

And apparently, even Rickart could not accomplish the impossible.

"Why can’t you do this? Why?!"

Behind the chicken-coop-like dormitory, Rickart stood in the training yard with his eyes blazing, furiously slashing his sword through the air as he shouted.

Beside him, Boribori awkwardly held a practice sword and wore a dejected expression.

Rickart rarely lost his composure, but after trying to teach Boribori, even he had finally broken.

He could teach him all day without seeing any improvement whatsoever.

Everything from the top of Boribori’s head to the tips of his toes was wrong. Whenever Rickart corrected each mistake individually, Boribori would eventually get one part right only for another to become wrong. Then, once he corrected that side, the first side would become wrong again.

Boribori simply made no progress.

This was already the third day.

At this point, perhaps Rickart’s patience deserved some respect.

The ridiculous part was that the children watching Rickart teach Boribori learned merely by observing over his shoulder—and progressed faster than Boribori himself.

Everyone else found themselves blocked by the towering wall that was Rickart.

Rickart, meanwhile, found himself blocked by the low wall that was Boribori.

"Ah... Please, Bori. I feel like I’m going to die."

Rickart squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"S-Sorry. I’ll try harder."

"Trying is important, but please try to do it properly. The whole point is to try to get better. You said you wanted to become an adventurer, didn’t you?"

"...I want to be good at it, but I just can’t..."

Seeing Boribori so discouraged, Rickart immediately felt guilty again.

Right. It wasn’t as though Boribori was bad at it because he wanted to be. He probably wasn’t deliberately trying to frustrate him either.

"...Sorry for getting angry."

"N-No. I’m the one who isn’t good enough..."

Rickart looked at Boribori with an uncomfortable expression.

A thought occurred to him.

Whenever others called him a genius, Rickart had believed they were wrong. He thought he only surpassed others because of the experience from his previous life, not because he possessed any particular talent.

But that was not true.

He really was a genius.

He had been one even in his previous life.

In his former life, Ricky could grasp the essence of anything after seeing it only once. He reached insights quickly, understood how to refine existing techniques, and was creative enough to devise superior techniques and master them almost immediately.

Ironically, Ricky had never had the chance to recognize his own talent.

He had been thrown into life-or-death combat from the very beginning, without anything resembling a proper training period. His entire life had been spent fighting blood-soaked battles.

Kill or be killed.

Caught between those two outcomes, he had never had the luxury of considering whether he possessed talent.

Only now, after looking at Boribori, did Rickart realize that those qualities had been talent all along.

In any case, what was someone supposed to do if they lacked talent?

No matter how much Rickart thought about it, he could not come up with any particular solution.

"Let’s take it slowly. There’s no need to rush."

"Okay..."

"Let’s rest for a while."

"Okay. But I have to cut the grass."

Instead of returning to the dormitory, Boribori walked around the training yard. Beyond it lay an overgrown area behind the inner castle, which served as the Academy’s main building.

Beringen Academy stood on a flat expanse atop a rocky cliff. The grounds were far larger than expected, but more than half of them were covered in dense, forest-like vegetation.

As it was spring, plants had begun growing wildly, so the students needed to start cutting the grass around this time of year. Once summer arrived, it became an almost daily chore.

Such work was performed by the lower-ranked students and the so-called "lower class," who were not even considered part of the rankings.

Unfortunately, Boribori belonged to that lower class.

With so many people living together, there were always countless chores to perform—cleaning, washing clothes, cutting grass, and more.

Students were already cutting through the undergrowth with sickles. Those without sickles carried the cut grass away and threw it over the edge of the cliff.

Rickart rolled up his sleeves and joined them.

Despite being ranked first, he did not avoid dirty work.

At first, the other students had found it awkward. But with enough time, anything could become part of everyday life.

Three months had already passed since Rickart enrolled. Born in April, he had now turned eleven.

He had arrived at the age of ten, immediately defeated every student considered strong, then even defeated the seventh-ranked student in a fight with real swords and claimed first place.

It was such an extraordinary debut that one had to wonder whether anything similar had ever happened in the Academy’s history.

From the students’ perspective, however, they were simply relieved that the current number-one student was easygoing and unpretentious.

Another student could serve as the leader, but the personality of the number-one student determined the overall atmosphere of the Academy.

Some ruled like tyrants.

Others squeezed the students dry like vicious feudal lords.

The students could not clearly explain what had changed, but they could feel it.

Many things were different now.

By the time they finished working, Rickart’s clothes were filthy with dirt and grass stains. The other students were no different.

Rickart roughly brushed off his clothes, swept aside the debris on the ground, and sat down to rest.

Boribori came over, fidgeted beside him, and held something out.

"Give me your hand."

When Rickart extended his hand, Boribori took something from his pocket and sprinkled it into Rickart’s palm.

They were crumbs made by finely crushing hard bread.

They were not ordinary breadcrumbs. Salt and wild herbs had been ground into powder and mixed with them, creating a kind of snack.

Rickart tossed the entire handful into his mouth and chewed.

The crumbs softened inside his mouth, while their salty flavor and subtle aroma stimulated his nose. They were reasonably tasty.

Boribori poured some of the snack into his own mouth and chewed as well.

Then he looked in a particular direction and frowned.

"Can’t you beat those guys up?"

Rickart turned his head and saw Ice’s group talking among themselves in a shaded corner.

Just as Volka had said, Ice’s group had no interest whatsoever in the Academy.

Whether students died, held a celebration, or watched Rickart become number one, they merely remained on the fringes.

But that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, was it?

"Why all of a sudden?"

Boribori did not normally swagger around like a fox borrowing a tiger’s authority, but he seemed to particularly dislike Ice’s group.

"It’s not all of a sudden. They’re bad."

"Based on what?"

Boribori leaned close and whispered into Rickart’s ear.

"They’re heretics. Heretics."

"What?"

"I happened to see them when we went into the city last time. They met with some bad people and did this. I saw them."

Boribori opened his hand and covered his eyes with the back of it.

Rickart had seen that gesture somewhere before.

Had Daisy’s mother done it?

"Isn’t that the Order of Judgment or something?"

"Exactly! That makes them heretics!"

Everyone had a different attitude toward religion. Boribori was not especially devout, but he seemed to have a deep aversion to heretics.

"Sorry, but I’m not an inquisitor."

"What if they rip out people’s hearts or livers while everyone is asleep? If they borrow some kind of evil power, even you won’t be safe, Ricky."

Rickart gave Boribori a pathetic look.

"You actually believe that? Where did you hear something so stupid?"

"My mother told me."

"...I suppose there’s no harm in being cautious. But going over there and picking a fight for no reason isn’t right. If you dislike them that much, go fight them yourself."

"Th-That’s..."

"Which is why you need to take your training seriously."

"Okay..."

Boribori answered dejectedly, his mouth still moving as he chewed.

Rickart roughly ruffled the bowl-cut hair of the boy who was two years older than him.

"Let’s wash up first. We need to wash our clothes too."

"Okaaay."

Rickart and Boribori went to the well in the courtyard.

Children had already gathered around it, taking off their clothes and washing themselves. Female students lived in another building, but there was little anyone could do about that.

Some of the boys had matured early and developed fairly robust physiques. Far from being embarrassed, they seemed to enjoy the attention of the female students watching from distant windows.

Rickart and Boribori also removed their clothes and pulled up a bucket.

A bucket filled with water was quite heavy, and hauling it up with a rope required a decent amount of strength.

Daily life itself was physical training.

The students regularly climbed the cliffside stairs and made the six-hour journey back and forth to the city.

As a result, not a single student at the Academy was overweight. Most possessed lean, muscular physiques.

Rickart was tall for his age at approximately 160 centimeters, while Boribori was shorter than average at 150 centimeters.

Volka, who was fifteen, stood somewhere in the upper 170-centimeter range.

Every student differed in height, weight, appearance, home region, and personal history.

But they all shared one thing.

Their families had abandoned them.

Rickart alone had come here by choice. Perhaps because he had been raised in a relatively good environment, he gave off a slightly different impression from the other students.

He had not consciously intended it, but perhaps the foundation of his character was influencing the Academy’s current atmosphere.

At least within the Academy, everyone was simply another student.

After washing himself thoroughly, Rickart hurried into the dormitory with the others.

The students who owned towels dried their wet hair and bodies, then lent their towels to friends.

Rickart simply used the clothes he was about to change into to dry himself, then put them on. A violet was embroidered on one side of the chest.

The weather was overcast that day, so the students lit a fire outside and hung the washed clothes nearby to dry. Several students remained behind to watch over them.

Rickart had recently moved to an upper bunk near the middle of the dormitory. There was no particular reason other than its distance from both doors.

The constant traffic became irritating whenever many students came and went.

"I’m telling you, it really was the swordsmanship professor! I was on my way to work when I saw him coming out of the pigsty, so I asked what he was doing in there. Then, covered from head to toe in manure, he said this!"

No matter where one went, there was always someone who fooled around and made everyone laugh.

One boy stood naked, eagerly gesturing with his hands and feet as he told the story. The thing between his legs swung freely with every movement.

The surrounding children gathered around and listened with amused smiles.

"Strange. I drank last night, but I’m certain I made it home. I saw a pale backside, so I thought it was my wife’s, but..."

Whether the story was true or not, the boy’s imitation of the professor’s solemn voice and manner of speaking was hilarious.

"Wahahahahaha!"

Sure enough, the children burst into laughter. One of them clutched his stomach and rolled around on his bed.

"But I don’t think he was drunk."

"Then what?"

"He went in there on purpose."

"Eww."

"Is that story really true? I’m going to ask the professor!"

A short distance away, Rickart lay backward across his bed, smiling as he watched the others chatter.

Scenes like this always reminded him of his days in the army.

Whenever people gathered together, they were all essentially the same.

Suddenly, the children’s boisterous laughter and chatter fell silent.

Ice’s group had entered the dormitory.

They had never particularly tormented the other students, but the atmosphere surrounding them naturally had that effect.

The students were also watching them more carefully because the balance of power had changed only recently.

The problem was that Boribori was returning from hanging up the laundry on the other side of the room.

The crowd gathered in the middle had apparently prevented them from seeing one another from afar, and Boribori ran directly into Ice’s group.

Ice silently looked down at the shorter Boribori.

Then Rickart heard his voice for the first time.

Ice and his companions were always whispering among themselves, so Rickart had never heard him speak before.

"Move."

Contrary to his delicate appearance, he possessed a deep, masculine voice.

Boribori flinched in surprise and hurriedly started to step aside.

Then he stopped.

Instead of moving, he spoke.

"N-No. You move."

From the perspective of the wider world, it might have seemed insignificant.

Within the Academy, however, it was the most serious situation imaginable.

Children had a world of their own.

When Boribori refused to move, Ice raised his gaze and looked at Rickart, who was watching from the top bunk a short distance away.

Neither glared at the other.

They merely looked at each other.

Yet neither seemed willing to avert his gaze, creating a strange atmosphere.

Tension flowed through the room.

One second passed, then two.

With every passing moment, the situation seemed to grow uncontrollably more serious.

The dormitory, which had been unbearably noisy only moments ago, became so quiet that one could have heard a mouse breathing.

Then Ice was the first to look away.

He stepped aside.

For a member of the lower class who did not even possess a rank.

Once Ice actually yielded the path, Boribori did not know what to do.

Moving stiffly and awkwardly, he pressed himself tightly against the opposite side and slipped past. His expression was utterly dazed.

Even an outside observer could have practically seen how hard Boribori’s heart was pounding.

He sat beside Rickart with the same bewildered expression, seemingly trying to calm his racing heart.

Rickart waited for Boribori to settle down before speaking without allowing any personal emotion to influence him.

"Bori."

"Y-Yeah?"

"You’re my dearest friend. I love how innocent you are. I don’t care if you can’t fight, and I don’t care whether you’re useful to me. But rules are rules. From now on, you’re the one who steps aside."

His words sounded affectionate, but his tone was firm.

There was charisma in it.

Rickart did not judge people according to their rank, but he believed order and rules were important when living as part of a group.

The dormitory was so quiet that everyone had heard him.

Only then was one fact firmly engraved in the minds of the Academy’s students.

The balance of power had changed.

Rickart was number one.

"Okay..."

"Come here. It may be a chicken coop, but it’s nice that we can all stay close together, isn’t it?"

"Okaaay."

Boribori answered dejectedly.

Only then did Rickart smile.

"Come to think of it, I saw you drawing on the ground the other day. You’re pretty good. So what if you have no talent for fighting? Having a talent for drawing is enough. I was actually jealous."

"Really?"

"Yeah. If I were good at drawing, I could draw my mother and look at her whenever I wanted."

"Should I draw her for you?"

"You’ve never seen my mother."

"I can draw her if you describe what she looks like. The most important thing is making the picture beautiful anyway. Even if someone is ugly in real life, they can still be handsome or pretty in a drawing. Everyone likes that."

"Is that so?"

There seemed to be something strange about Boribori’s reasoning, yet it also made a peculiar sort of sense.

As Rickart and Boribori began chatting together, conversations between friends resumed around the other beds as well.

Before long, they heard the sound of rain falling outside.

Still, one thought lingered in the children’s minds.

What would have happened if Ice had refused to step aside?