Surrounded by darkness, I felt no pain. My vision wasn't clouded, and I could see just as clearly as ever. When I tried to turn my head, I quickly realized I couldn't turn at all, nor could I look up or down.
Where am I? I wanted to ask, only to realize I didn't even have a mouth.
I watched as light slowly began to appear around me—at first gradually, almost imperceptibly, then faster and brighter.
A few seconds later, the castle where I had been born and raised appeared before me. In front of it stretched a semicircular training ground, while nearby, guards and knights stood chatting and laughing about something.
I slowly drifted closer to them, and soon I could make out fragments of their conversation.
"Did you see what the princes are doing on the training grounds right now?" one of the guards asked with a chuckle, glancing at the others.
The others cast looks toward the training grounds, but from that distance, they could barely hear or see anything, so they merely shook their heads.
"And what are they doing?" one of the knights asked, running a metal gauntlet across his armor.
I vaguely recognized him. Sir Dray? No… Sir Uland. Yes, that was it—Sir Uland. I remembered him teaching me swordsmanship.
"Prince Nreu is teaching Prince Aluric the style of the Kray Empire, but it seems the younger prince isn't very good at understanding his brother's instructions."
One of the guards laughed, and I noticed he was missing several teeth.
Memories gradually began surfacing in my mind. I recognized the place, the time, and most importantly, the day itself with increasing clarity.
It was the day Nreu wanted to show me what he had managed to learn.
"How long have they been out there?" Sir Uland asked, still glancing toward the training grounds.
The guard thought for a moment and started counting on his fingers, repeatedly losing track and starting over.
"Two… maybe three hours." The toothless guard shrugged.
I watched Sir Uland listen closely to what was happening on the training grounds. After a while, he decisively headed in that direction, but one of the guards grabbed his arm.
"Prince Nreu ordered that no one is allowed onto the grounds until he finishes teaching Prince Aluric the style of the Kray Empire," the guard said quietly, staring Sir Uland straight in the eyes.
Sir Uland leaned toward his ear and whispered something.
I couldn't make out the words, but the guard's face instantly turned pale, and he quickly released Sir Uland's wrist.
I slowly followed him toward the training grounds.
I already knew what I was about to see.
Reaching the fence, Sir Uland stopped and looked inside. I watched from behind his back.
Sir Uland opened the gate and stepped inside, and at that exact moment, we both heard screams—mine and Nreu's.
"You little rat, how can anyone be this stupid and fail to understand the basics of a style that has been passed down through generations of the imperial family?!" Nreu shouted, glaring at me with eyes crazed by fury.
And I was sitting on the ground, covering my face and chest with my arms, crying and calling for the emperor and empress, completely ignoring Nreu's words.
That only enraged him further, and he struck my leg with a wooden sword.
"You're a coward and a weakling, little rat, and you'll die the same way," Nreu hissed viciously before starting to repeatedly beat my legs and arms with the wooden blade.
Watching all this, I felt anger and rage rising inside me—directed first and foremost at myself.
It was true.
All that time, I had been weak.
I had no talent for either the sword or magic, yet I hadn't even tried to understand swordsmanship until Sir Uland took me under his wing.
Then came the test for magical talent.
Even back then, I had already suspected I had none.
But then Goddess Hes saw something in me and bestowed her power upon me, granting me a talent I hadn't even dared dream of.
Did I resist during that training match?
No.
I was certain my tormentors would manage just fine without my participation, and all that remained for me was to watch from the sidelines.
Could I have done anything and won that fight?
Most likely, no.
But I should have at least tried.
"Wake up."
I slowly opened my eyes, feeling pain throughout my entire body. My vision still hadn't fully recovered, but I could already make out the classroom ceiling.
Slowly sweeping my gaze across the floor where I lay, I found what I was looking for.
One of the swords was lying beside me.
At Professor Ni'lim's command, the stufons had begun attacking each other with magic and weapons. From the outside, it looked as though everyone was fighting for their lives.
Here and there, one could see a stufon collapse to the floor. Some already had burns all over their bodies, but even that didn't stop them—they continued beating each other mercilessly, each desperately trying to inflict as much damage as possible on their opponent.
This continued until the first loud scream rang out.
All the stufons instantly froze and turned toward the source of the sound.
And when they saw who had screamed, many felt an unpleasant chill run through them.
stufon Trey stood there with his right arm twisted at an unnatural angle. Summoned shadows still lingered around him, but the orc was unable to catch Professor Ni'lim.
The elf who was supposed to assist with healing was nowhere to be seen, while another elf's shadow began falling apart right before the eyes of the other stufons.
The stufons shifted their gazes back to Trey.
They watched as he slowly began stepping backward before collapsing to his knees. Supporting himself on the floor with one hand, he tried to rise.
When he finally managed to stand again, though hunched over in pain, everyone saw his left arm bend at an unnatural angle as well.
Another scream of agony rang out.
Many stufons covered their ears and turned away, unable to continue watching the torture.
Out of the corners of their eyes, they could only catch glimpses of Trey trying to move backward, only to trip over a sword and fall into a half-sitting position.
Then everyone who was still watching saw Professor Ni'lim lean toward him, whisper something, and then grab him by the head and slam his face into the floor with force.
Those who hadn't managed to look away began trembling all over at the sight of the monster known as Professor Ni'lim.
For several seconds, she stared at Trey as though evaluating the results.
Then she gave a barely noticeable nod to her own thoughts, turned toward the rest of the class, and smiled.
The stufons who saw that smile felt genuine fear at the thought that they might be next.
"Did I give the order to stop training?" Professor Ni'lim asked, slowly sweeping her gaze across the entire class.
The stufons quickly shook their heads and, with trembling hands and breaking voices, resumed attacking one another.
Professor Ni'lim merely smiled.
Unlike the previous class, the elite class was performing considerably better.
What she had done to Trey didn't bother her in the slightest—she was curious to see what he was truly made of.
The fact that he screamed while she was breaking his arms didn't seem like anything bad to her.
On the contrary, it said a lot.
He hadn't tried to pretend to be fearless, hadn't attempted to save face in front of the class, nor had he begged for mercy like most other stufons usually did, desperately clinging to their image.
Still smiling, she continued observing the elite class's training.
To some, the professor gave brief advice.
To others, she demonstrated more effective and alternative ways to apply certain techniques.
Meanwhile, thoughts began circulating among the stufons about why the professor had been so intent on beating Trey specifically.
One of the stufons fighting not far from Trey's body noticed movement.
He slightly turned his head, and upon seeing Trey rising, froze in place—only to immediately be struck by a magical attack that sent him flying backward.
The stufon paired with him began grumbling in annoyance at his bad luck and headed toward his newly launched opponent, only to come to an abrupt halt midway.
"T-Trey?.." he asked in a trembling voice as he watched Trey hold a sword in both broken hands and slowly walk toward the professor.
Gradually, all the stufons stopped fighting and now watched only him.
Swaying from side to side, Trey moved toward Professor Ni'lim.
One of his eyes was almost completely shut, while the other remained fixed solely on the professor.
Thin streams of blood flowed from his nose and mouth, staining his uniform.
Professor Ni'lim watched as stufon Trey slowly advanced toward her, and a smile spread across her face.
This was unexpected, but she was pleased.
He undeniably possessed the spirit of a warrior.
She also slowly began walking toward him.
Ni'lim could clearly see that in his current condition, Trey wouldn't be able to properly strike with a sword, so she continued forward without the slightest hint of caution.
The stufons watched in silence, their eyes locked on their classmate as he drew closer to the professor with every step.
When Trey reached striking distance, he suddenly swung his sword.
And at that moment, something strange happened.
A small clump of darkness burst from the blade and shot directly toward Professor Ni'lim.
She was visibly surprised, but still managed to dodge the attack.
In the very next moment, she was already beside Trey, who had begun collapsing forward.
A dull sound echoed through the room.
The wooden sword slipped from his hands and struck the floor, while Trey's broken arms hung limply at his sides.
"You and you—take him to the medical department," Professor Ni'lim ordered.
Not a trace remained of her previous playful mood.
Like any academy, this one also had a medical department where injured stufons were sent after sustaining various wounds during training.
The named stufons quickly rushed over to the professor and Trey.
One grabbed him from the right side, the other from the left, and together they hurried toward the medical department.
Professor Ni'lim slowly swept her gaze across the class.
For many, what had just happened was a genuine shock.
The fact that their classmate had managed to regain consciousness after all that and, despite his mangled body, still attempted to strike left a powerful impression.
As for Professor Ni'lim, she was already anticipating the headache to come, mentally imagining herself having to endure criticism from the headmaster and the deans.