The Academy is Doomed

Chapter 54

An outcome that was anticipated early on.

With a single flap of the King Wyvern’s wings, the mercenaries were thrown to the ground. When it let out a terrifying roar, they wet themselves and fled in terror.

Honestly, even Amon would bolt if faced with an Elder Drake of equal strength to the King Wyvern—unless his mission to protect the potato fields was at stake.

‘How reckless they are, going against such a powerful monster.’

The only fortunate thing was that the King Wyvern, seemingly having already filled its belly, did not seem intent on outright killing the foolish mercenaries.

However, it also didn’t appear to be letting them off easily.

“Ahhhh! The King Wyvern is rolling me over!”

-Creeeeech!

It was a scene reminiscent of a cat toying with a mouse, even the ordinary wyverns stood by at a distance, seemingly unwilling to steal the toy from their leader.

Amon watched the unfolding chaos from a safe distance and reflected.

‘But this won’t last long.’

Cats don’t intend to kill their prey, but size matters.

A frog can die from a stone thrown in jest, and a bear’s playful swipe can crush a human skull.

Moreover, the King Wyvern was bound to grow bored eventually.

‘Hmm, I need to save them somehow. Any good ideas?’

The most immediate solution was to draw the King Wyvern’s attention himself.

Though he didn’t have his favorite axe from the estate, plenty of weapons were scattered nearby. If he hit the King Wyvern hard enough, it would shift its focus to him.

But then he thought:

‘Why should I? Seriously, why?’

Hadn’t he warned Maitre repeatedly about the danger posed by the King Wyvern?

Who ignored those warnings?

‘I did nothing wrong!’

Thus, Amon decided to sit back and observe.

‘I’m sure the King Wyvern means no real harm. It’s just having a bit of fun.’

Amon even found himself defending the creature.

‘Now, do I have something to snack on while I watch? Oh, the vice principal’s backpack should have something.’

As Amon approached Brestle, who was still tied to the wagon, and reached for her backpack—

“Don’t leave me behind!”

“Gah!”

“Wait… you didn’t leave me behind?”

“Huh?”

She had assumed she’d been abandoned. It seemed her memory had cut off when she passed out, falling behind the group the day before.

Sensing an opportunity, Amon seized it.

Knowing he would have to manage the vice principal later, he decided to earn some points now.

“Ahem. Of course, I wouldn’t leave you behind. When I saw you collapse, I came back for you. Naturally.”

“I see.”

She sighed in relief before realizing she was still tied up.

“Why am I tied up, though?”

“Oh, you were thrashing a lot in your sleep.”

“I’m usually a peaceful sleeper…”

“Must be the unfamiliar sleeping arrangement.”

“Hmm…”

Though skeptical, she nodded and wriggled her feet.

“Anyway, could you untie me?”

“Sure.”

As Amon untied her, he deftly slipped some jerky from her backpack.

Once free, Brestle stretched and grumbled.

“Ow, couldn’t you have tied me more gently? My stomach hurts.”

“Oh, I tied it gently, but the mercenaries probably tightened it for safety.”

The truth was, Amon had tied it tighter.

Just as Brestle was about to scold the mercenaries, she finally noticed the situation.

The King Wyvern flapping its massive wings, mercenaries being tossed like dolls—

She gasped.

“My oil!”

“Whoa.”

She was focused on the King Wyvern’s oil? Amon silently admired her determination.

But then Brestle began taking off her backpack, as if preparing to act.

“What… what are you doing?”

“This is our chance! While it’s distracted, we can slay the King Wyvern!”

“Huh?”

Amon, stunned, repeated incredulously:

“We?”

Since when were they a team?

But Brestle, unfazed, declared confidently:

“Yes! Together, we can defeat it!”

“…What nonsense.”

“No, I’m serious!”

Realizing something, Amon muttered:

“Oh, I get it. You’re offering yourself as bait to dive into its mouth.”

Even a full-bellied King Wyvern would salivate over a plump, well-fed dark elf.

“Perfect! When it devours you, I’ll launch a surprise attack!”

“What nonsense are you spouting!”

Brestle shouted, then calmed herself with a deep breath. She smoothed her silvery hair and began to recite:

“The night is the time of the duke.”

“Huh?”

“When shadows stretch across the land, you shall arrive.”

“…What?”

“One, one, one, two.”

Amon starred as she muttered cryptic phrases.

‘She’s lost it.’

He thought she was showing signs of schizophrenia, mumbling gibberish.

But just as he was about to sneak away—

Boom!

From beneath her feet, shadows surged like an inverted waterfall.

Amon’s eyes widened as Brestle finished her chant:

“I beseech you, heed the call of this lowly servant who offers her blood. Set foot upon this land.”

At that moment, Amon realized:

‘It’s…dark.’

Even though the sun had set, the surroundings were excessively dark.

Amon instinctively looked up at the sky.

Was the moon hidden by clouds?

No, the moon hung bright in the pitch-black sky…but only for a moment.

Dluk-!

The moon in the sky slowly rolled away.

It soon became clear that it wasn’t the moon—it was an “eyeball.”

Realizing this, Amon’s jaw dropped in shock, and Brestle quietly muttered.

“Duke of the Night, Crescent Night.”

“Is this spirit magic? I’ve never heard of a spirit of the night before…”

Brestle shook her head.

“No, it’s a form of black magic.”

“…What!?”

“It calls upon a portion of the power of the great Duke of the Night, Crescent Night…”

She couldn’t finish her sentence as Amon had struck her neck with a sharp hand chop.

“Kegh!”

“How can an elf, the vice principal of an academy, use black magic?”

“Cough, cough! It’s not even forbidden, so what’s the big deal!”

“It’s not technically forbidden, but do you know what kind of reaction black magic gets? Using black magic—you’d think you were a dark elf…”

He wasn’t wrong.

Still, rolling her eyes in search of a rebuttal, Brestle yelled.

“Is that important right now? The mercenaries are about to be wiped out—no, the wyvern’s oil is at stake!”

Brestle, appealing to compassion! But Amon was calm.

“That is fate.”

Brestle clenched her eyes shut.

‘He’s crazy, too.’

Fully aware now, Brestle wracked her brain for a way to persuade Amon.

‘How can I ensure I get that wyvern oil…Oh!’

Her eyes lit up, and she shouted.

“If we do nothing, we won’t even get the remaining payment!”

“…What?”

“The mercenaries are about to be annihilated. If they all die, we might have to pay compensation out of the remaining balance! It’s not written in the contract, but that’s customary!”

It wasn’t entirely accurate, but it wasn’t wrong either.

Telling the grieving families, “Your mercenary failed, so pay us for breaching the contract,” wouldn’t end well.

Especially if a teacher from an academy said it.

“So…”

“What are you doing?”

Amon, now holding a battle axe from a fallen mercenary, had a resolute expression.

“Let’s go take down that evil wyvern.”

“…Pfft!”

They clasped hands as an alliance of desperation was formed!

“Aaaargh!”

–Screech!

Maitre, rolling on the ground from the wyvern’s wing strike, coughed blood.

“Damn it…”

He had confidence in his skills.

Yet his sword, swung with all his might, couldn’t even pierce the wyvern’s wing membrane.

‘Amon was right.’

The wyvern was beyond what the Silver Sword Mercenaries could handle.

But regret always comes too late.

The wyvern, seemingly tired of playing, extended its claws toward him.

“Huff, huff… Is this how I die?”

Maitre squeezed his eyes shut.

‘If only I’d listened to the director…’

Regret mingled with resentment.

‘Why didn’t he convince me harder!? I would’ve listened!’

As pointless blame filled his mind, Maitre reopened his eyes.

He saw the wyvern’s claws approaching and shut his eyes again.

‘So, this is the end.’

He braced for death.

One second, two seconds, three…

‘…Why hasn’t anything happened? Am I already dead?’

Feeling no pain, Maitre cautiously opened his eyes wide.

“What the…!?”

The wyvern was trembling, entangled in a dark shadow.

–Grr…?!

Its mouth sealed by the shadow, the wyvern twitched and convulsed. Maitre hastily stood.

‘W-what is this…?’

As he stood frozen in shock—

Boooom!

A crimson flash descended from the sky.

A hallucination?

The light slowly, leisurely imprinted on Maitre’s eyes.

‘That’s…’

The young man who introduced himself as the Head of Academic Affairs, Amon, falling from the sky, wielded a battle axe, aiming for the wyvern’s crown.

He moved so fast that the battle axe heated, glowing red, resembling a streak of light, like a meteor.

Then—

Boom!

The massive impact as Amon’s axe collided with the wyvern’s head swallowed Maitre whole.

“Guh…”

Maitre and the other mercenaries were thrown into the air from the shockwave.

They crashed into the ground as Amon, panting, discarded the shattered battle axe remains.

“Damn it…”

He grumbled, tossing the weapon aside.

“Stubborn thing.”

Even after unleashing his most powerful strike, the wyvern stood unscathed.

–Grrrr…

Its eyes bloodshot, the wyvern’s feral growl echoed, clearly enraged.

‘But…’

If it’s angry, it means it felt something.

Compared to the Elder Drake that didn’t care about his attacks, this was progress.

Which meant…

Clank.

Picking up a sword lying on the ground, Amon glanced at Brestle.

“Can you bind it a little longer?”

He planned to finish it off while it was immobilized.

But Brestle, pale, shook her head.

“No.”

“Ugh.”

At that moment—

Boom!

The wyvern violently shrugged off the shadows binding it and roared skyward.

–Screeeeeech!

The air trembled with an ear-splitting scream and Amon instinctively realized.

‘I’m screwed.’