The Academy is Doomed

Chapter 53

Turning back the clock to late at night.

The Silver Sword Mercenary Corps had finished preparing for departure to the King Wyvern’s nest.

“Are the two clients ready to depart?”

“Yes.”

“Good. But our schedule isn’t exactly generous.”

Maitre looked seriously at Amon and Brestle, offering advice.

“We’ll be moving quite quickly, so you’ll need to keep up. If you fall behind, we won’t be able to wait for you.”

At this stern warning, Amon replied with a bored expression.

“Yes, understood.”

“…I hope you really got that.”

Muttering to himself, Maitre turned around, raised a hand to the mercenaries, and called out.

“Alright, Silver Sword Mercenary Corps! Move out!”

“Yeah!”

With a resounding cheer, the Silver Sword Mercenary Corps left Amur’s gates.

Amon spoke with an irritated face as he looked at Maitre.

“Is it okay to go this slow?”

“…Excuse me? Slow?”

“I mean, why are we walking so leisurely when we could get there much faster by running?”

Maitre furrowed his brow.

The ‘Amol Mountains,’ where the King Wyvern’s nest was located, was at least a two-day journey by horse without rest.

The Silver Sword Mercenary Corps’ mobility meant they’d arrive within a day, yet here Amon was, complaining about the pace.

‘What’s his game…? He’s acting suspicious. Just like when he hit the vice-principal. Could it be…?’

Maitre’s eyes gleamed coldly.

‘Maybe he’s not really from Amonis Academy. Could he be an outsider planted to shake things up internally?’

There were plenty of possibilities.

He could be a spy from another academy, or perhaps even a debtor running from creditors.

‘With all my years as a mercenary, my instincts don’t lie. No one would dare treat the vice-principal that way otherwise.’

While maintaining his guard, Maitre smiled with a calm face.

“Haha, please bear with us for a bit longer.”

“Hmm…understood.”

Amon moved to the rear of the group while Maitre chuckled quietly.

Meanwhile, at the back of the line, Amon grumbled.

“Honestly, I don’t understand why we’re moving so slowly. Right, Vice-Principal?”

“Munch, munch…I know, right?”

“…Are you eating again?”

Brestle, pulling dried meat from the bag strapped to her front, answered.

“As you can see, jerky.”

“…Why now?”

“A foolish question. I’m eating because I’m hungry.”

“You were eating a loaf of bread as big as a head earlier, and you’re hungry again?”

From her bag, which was almost child-sized, Brestle kept pulling out food and eating non-stop.

Amon stared blankly at her.

“Nom, chew, chew.”

“…….”

“Gulp… ahh… delicious.”

“……….”

Her enjoyment was so infectious that Amon, though not hungry, started feeling peckish.

“Um…”

“Chew?”

“Could I have a piece of jerky…?”

Brestle suddenly recoiled, glaring sharply as she growled.

Not metaphorically—she actually growled.

“…Ah, never mind.”

Losing his appetite due to her dog-like reaction, Amon turned away.

After walking for a while, Brestle, now finished eating, caught up with him, speeding up.

“Ah, that hit the spot.”

“…….”

“But you’re right—it’s definitely slow. If it were just me, a Dark Elf, I’d have been there by now. Tsk.”

“…….”

Watching him walk in silence, Brestle quietly slipped a piece of jerky over his shoulder.

Catching it with his mouth, Amon replied.

“Munch, munch… yeah, they’re planning to attack during the day because wyverns have good night vision. But wouldn’t it be better to arrive quickly and rest longer?”

“Hmm…”

Brestle, chewing thoughtfully, remained silent, prompting Amon to suggest,

“Shall we go ahead?”

“…Shall we?”

“You think you can keep up?”

Brestle scoffed at that.

“Ha! Maybe some weak, pale elf like Anar’el would struggle, but you’re underestimating me, one of the night folk.”

“I’m not underestimating… So, you’re in?”

“Of course.”

“Alright then, let’s go.”

Amon lowered his stance and stretched, then leapt forward, streaking through the night sky. Brestle followed close behind like a shadow.

Meanwhile, the rearguard of the Silver Sword Mercenaries turned to check on Amon and Brestle.

“…Huh?”

Noticing their absence, one of them rushed to report to Maitre, who grumbled in annoyance after hearing the news.

“Tch, they were complaining about going slow and now they’re lagging behind?”

“What should we do, Captain?”

“What do you think? I told them we’d leave anyone behind if they couldn’t keep up. We keep moving.”

“Understood.”

After some time, however…

“…Huh?”

Ahead, they found Brestle sprawled on the ground.

She had lost track of Amon and was left behind.

Amon, now near the Amol Mountains, stood atop a towering tree, staring intently at something.

In his sight was a massive structure in the heart of the Amol Mountains.

“…Is that the King Wyvern’s nest?”

Normal wyverns build nests from branches, trunks, and stones, forming tall, pillar-like structures.

They lay their eggs at the top and protect them.

But the King Wyvern’s nest was beyond extraordinary in scale.

‘That thing’s as tall and wide as a fortress tower!’

The nearby dense forest couldn’t even reach halfway up the pillar.

‘I’ve seen King Wyverns near our domain plenty of times. But I’ve never seen a nest like this in the Arma Mountains…Is this a regional behavior difference?’

It was a mystery he wouldn’t solve as a non-monster scholar.

Staring intently at the King Wyvern’s nest, Amon nodded to himself.

‘Hmm, fortunately, the King Wyvern isn’t here right now. In that case…’

Amon smirked slyly.

‘I’ll take this opportunity to hunt some regular wyverns to make up for the losses.’

Since the Silver Sword Mercenary Corps hadn’t arrived yet, it was the perfect chance to monopolize the spoils without worrying about others’ eyes. Amon leapt forward and, upon entering the Amol Mountains, struck the ground hard with his foot.

BOOM!

The sudden roar startled the wyverns, causing them to rise from the trees like a flock of mountain birds.

Screeeech!

As the wyverns, initially panicked, regained their composure thanks to their keen night vision, they spotted Amon and swooped down at him like arrows, eager for unexpected prey.

Just as the first wyvern lunged to take a bite—

CRACK!

Amon’s punch landed squarely between its eyes, smashing the wyvern to the ground with a dying shriek.

Screech!

The other wyverns jeered as they watched one of their own fall to a mere human’s punch.

Cack-cack-cack!

How feeble must it be to succumb to a human’s fist? Disgraceful for a wyvern!

Spurred by the sight, the rest charged at Amon—only to fall beside the first, one after another.

‘Hmm, that’s three down.’

A broad smile stretched across Amon’s face, already savoring the profit from the four wyverns he had taken down.

‘This could make me a fortune.’

The sky was teeming with wyverns. Every part of a wyvern fetches a high price.

‘Even in our territory, we caught quite a few, but it wasn’t enough for our people’s equipment and tools. Supplies were always lacking.’

Even tools made from wyvern bones broke within days due to the harshness of the Arma Mountains.

‘But here’s a different story. I can sell everything! And with so many merchants around, I can get top prices!’

With most of the monsters around the cities hunted to extinction by the Empire’s military might, now was the perfect time for a windfall. Amon bellowed:

“Come at me, wyverns!”

Any aggressive wyvern should react to such a shout and charge. But surprisingly, the wyverns flinched and flew higher.

“…Huh?”

Why? Confused, Amon hurled rocks at the wyverns, but they merely circled higher in the sky.

“Why aren’t they attacking?”

Are these just mountain birds, not wyverns? He continued to provoke them desperately, but they only ascended further.

Amon realized something.

“No way…”

Glancing at the three wyverns lying beside him, he muttered.

“Only three?”

Amon wasn’t a monster scholar, but he wasn’t wrong about wyverns being aggressive. However, a group led by a King Wyvern prioritizes safety. Seeing three fall in quick succession, the remaining wyverns decided it was wiser to wait for their leader.

“You cowards! Don’t run! Fight me!”

Cack-cack-cack!

“Don’t run! Fight me!”

Unaware of their motives, Amon continued to shout in frustration.

At the predetermined campsite, Maitre blinked in surprise.

“…Huh? Isn’t that the Director?”

A despondent Amon, seated in despair after realizing no more wyverns would come, turned sluggishly.

“You’re finally here?”

“How did you get here? I thought you fell behind…”

“I overtook you because you were too slow.”

“You overtook us?”

Maitre, who hadn’t sensed Amon passing, was baffled.

‘I’m a high-level Sword Expert. How did I sense nothing from this man?’

Amon’s presence here, and the three wyverns he had already killed, raised suspicions.

‘This strength…something’s definitely odd.’

Maintaining his vigilance, Maitre said,

“Well, then. We’ll set up camp here and rest until dawn before we advance.”

“Got it. What about the Vice Principal?”

“There.”

Maitre pointed at a wagon where Brestle lay.

‘…I’ll leave her be.’

Amon retreated to the prepared tent for rest.

The next morning, Amon brushed his teeth, glancing at the King Wyvern’s nest.

“The commander?”

“…Yes?”

“The King Wyvern isn’t here yet.”

“I can see that.”

“What’s the plan?”

“…Wait.”

At noon, while eating, Amon stared at the nest.

“Still not here.”

“I know.”

At sunset, Amon quietly eyed Maitre, who gritted his teeth.

“I know already.”

“I haven’t said anything yet.”

“…”

As Amon watched the sun set, he asked,

“Did it move its nest?”

“Stop jinxing it.”

Maitre grumbled, standing up.

“You rest. Understood?”

“…Hmm.”

Amon glanced at the darkening sky when suddenly—

WHOOSH!

A deafening sound sliced through the air, and he saw it: a massive shadow enveloping the blackened sky.

The King Wyvern had arrived.

“…It’s here.”

Maitre smirked.

“I know.”

Currently…

“Help! Someone help!”

“It’s too strong!”

Watching the Silver Sword Mercenaries scream in terror, Amon sighed deeply.