Chapter 17
“There’s no morning training today.”
At Deus’s sudden declaration, Uriel let out a strangled, confused noise — “Eh?”
It was the one day of the week when there were no morning lectures.
Most students used it to rest, review, or study what they lacked.
Uriel, however, spent that precious morning getting beaten half to death by her instructor.
Ah — correction.
It wasn’t sparring. It was a one-sided beating.
Before the merciless swings of Deus’s axe, she was nothing more than a log on the chopping block.
That was what awaited her every week — or so she thought.
“Instructor, really? There’s no training this morning?”
“Yeah.”
“But… I don’t have any classes today.”
“I know.”
“Then we’re really not training?”
Deus gave her a calm, steady look.
“Rest is an important part of training, too.”
Uriel frowned. “When that comes from you, the credibility doesn’t just hit zero — it digs straight into negative numbers.”
“If you don’t like it, we can go back to the usual schedule.”
At that, Uriel frantically waved her hands. She had no plans to tempt fate.
She wasn’t lazy — just tired. Her whole body screamed in protest from all the abuse it had taken.
Even with healing magic, her stamina was reaching its limit.
A single day of rest felt like a blessing from heaven.
“…You’re not going to suddenly call me out later, right?”
“That could happen.”
“Excuse me?”
“On the battlefield, the demons don’t give you notice before they show up.
If they attack while you’re eating, bathing, or sleeping — you run. That’s the rule.”
“…I see.”
So it wasn’t really a break — just another lesson wrapped in false kindness.
Still, thinking that way made it easier to swallow.
“Um, Instructor,” she began again.
“I’m listening.”
“That thing you said yesterday — about me learning magic. You were serious?”
“Would it be bad if I was?”
“You didn’t forget I’m a swordsman, right?”
A swordsman being told to study magic — if anyone else had said it, she might have taken it as an insult.
“Since you’re a swordsman, I know you’d have a lot of resistance to the idea.
But maybe, just this once, try setting aside your prejudice.”
“…Even if I wanted to, who would teach me? It’s not like I know any mages—”
“Then I take it you don’t actually want the morning off?”
“I’m going! I’ll go right now!!”
And that was how Uriel ended up walking through the academy courtyard that morning — not because she wanted to, but because Deus told her to.
A free morning, abruptly emptied of purpose.
That was when she crossed paths with a certain mage named Edgar.
The dull glaze in Edgar’s eyes flickered to life.
It was curiosity — the kind that, once sparked, would not rest until it found its answer.
If any of his peers from the Mage Tower had seen that look, they would have sighed:
“Here he goes again.”
Because once Edgar got curious, reason was useless.
‘She’s got swords on her hips… two of them, even.’
Two swords. A dual-wielding swords — already rare enough.
But that wasn’t what made him curious.
No, it was something else. Something faint and strange.
‘…Why is a swordsman leaking dark-attribute mana?’
It was weak, almost imperceptible — yet unmistakable to a mage of his caliber.
Dark affinity, hidden beneath the surface like a shadow.
‘Should I ask her directly?’
The thought crossed his mind, but pride stopped him.
He was a formal mage of the tower — a senior researcher.
A mage didn’t lower themselves to question a swordsman.
The swordsmen came to them. That was how the world worked.
“Don’t lose your dignity,” he muttered to himself.
He lasted exactly one minute.
And then, before he knew it, he was following her down the path like a lost puppy.
‘…Damn it. I know this is pathetic, but I can’t help it!’
Curiosity burned too brightly.
He needed to know why.
Why did she, a swords, radiate the mana of a dark mage?
Did she even know it herself?
Could she — possibly — be trained under him?
Then—
Thud.
“Oof!”
He’d bumped into someone. Hard.
Any normal person would have apologized.
But Edgar barely noticed — his eyes were still on Uriel’s back.
Until a calm, heavy voice cut through the air.
“You seem very interested in my student.”
Of course. Deus had expected this.
That was exactly why he’d given Uriel the day off.
The moment Edgar had stepped into the academy, he was supposed to meet the princess — yet he’d ignored that order and started tailing Uriel instead.
‘Can’t help yourself, can you?’ Deus thought, smirking inwardly.
‘The curiosity’s killing you, huh?’
He’d counted on it.
And the fact that Edgar specialized in dark magic made it even better.
Each mage was more sensitive to their own element than to others.
Uriel’s hidden affinity was stirring, growing.
Ordinary people couldn’t sense it — not unless they were trained, and no one here was looking.
Not her instructors. Not her peers.
No one, except the one mage in the entire academy who could notice it — Edgar Pawell.
‘So why all the trouble?’
Because mages were trouble.
They were geniuses and lunatics in equal measure.
Prideful, eccentric, and driven by obsession more than logic.
Deus knew that if he simply asked Edgar to teach Uriel, the mage would scoff.
A swordsman learning magic? Ridiculous.
But if Edgar’s own curiosity led him there first—
If he became the one desperate to teach—
Then Deus wouldn’t need to persuade him at all.
Hence this carefully staged “chance encounter.”
And the moment Edgar’s eyes lit up, Deus reeled the line.
“Deus,” he said, offering a hand. “Instructor at Teresa Academy.
And the girl you’ve been following? She’s under my personal training.”
Edgar barely listened. He was too busy craning his neck to keep Uriel in sight.
“…Later,” the mage muttered. “Busy right now.”
Deus didn’t stop him. Didn’t call Uriel back either.
He simply watched the mage scurry off after her like a moth to a flame.
‘Good. Take the bait, little fish.’
Both would get what they needed — a mentor and a student, each exactly suited for the other.
“Mages,” he thought, “are simple creatures. Give them something to obsess over, and they’ll give you everything in return.”
Time was short.
Uriel needed to awaken her magic quickly — not to master it, but to understand it.
The rest, she would build on her own.
Deus had seen it before — he knew what she could become.
“…Guess I’ll let her handle that for now,” he muttered.
“Besides, I’ve got another one to find.”
He’d delayed this long enough.
Originally, he’d planned to meet his next “candidate” sooner.
But the princess and Edgar had complicated things.
Now, finally, it was time to recruit his next key piece.
His tank.
“The Shield Line is essential,” he reminded himself.
One man alone couldn’t win a war — he needed a team.
And if demons were coming, then a shield was non-negotiable.
The one he sought was the perfect fit: loyal, selfless, steadfast.
A natural-born protector.
A hero.
Or so the stories said.
“HERO ENTRANCE—!!”
CRASH!
Glass shattered. Screams erupted.
Someone had just jumped out of a third-story window.
“What the hell—!”
“A hero never ignores those in peril!”
“Hero my ass! Clean up this mess!”
A furious student pointed to the shards scattered across the courtyard.
The culprit only laughed triumphantly, sunlight gleaming on her armor.
It was chaos.
“She was losing consciousness! The duel was over! It was my duty to step in!”
“We were still sparring, you idiot! She asked for the duel herself! Stay out of it!”
“Linne! Enough! That’s your fourth interruption today!”
Several girls ran up, grabbing the energetic one by the shoulders.
Not that it helped much — Linne wasn’t exactly easy to restrain.
“A hero cannot ignore injustice!”
“Then maybe try ignoring paperwork!” another instructor yelled, watching in horror as she tried to “help” carry a massive stack of documents — only to drop them everywhere.
Deus watched the spectacle, rubbing his temple.
‘Yup. Definitely the right person.’
Strong body, good instincts, absolutely no sense.
If Uriel was his “underdog heroine,” then Linne was her perfect opposite —
A walking disaster with too much energy and a dangerously literal sense of justice.
Linne Guardshield.
In the game, she’d been a nightmare — the only character who would ignore player commands if they weren’t “heroic enough.”
But once she was on your side?
She was a fortress. Unbreakable.
Deus sighed.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “You’re next.”
