Chapter 80: A Depressed Kendo Player Possesses a Bastard Aristocrat

[-Explosion-][-Fire Wall-]

[-Frozen Field-]

—BOOOOOM!! Crackle…!!

A symphony of destruction echoed through the air as a barrage of magic tore through the ranks of the demon horde.

The ground trembled under a storm of fire and ice, explosions of mana painting the night sky in hues of crimson and azure.

—Thud! Splat!

Mangled limbs and chunks of flesh rained down upon the battlefield, a grotesque testament to the carnage unfolding.

The air reeked of burnt flesh and the metallic tang of blood, the stench of death clinging to the back of my throat.

The once pristine grounds of the Academy’s back gate were now a hellscape, a gruesome tableau of death and destruction.

“Haa…!”

—Slice!

I pressed forward, my movements a blur as I cut through the enemy ranks. Sorrow sang through the air, its azure blade reaping a grim harvest of demon lives.

I was a lone warrior, facing down an army of darkness.

But I felt no fear, only a cold determination to see this through.

I moved with a practiced grace, my body a weapon honed by years of relentless training.

Each swing of my blade was a masterpiece of precision and power, severing limbs and crushing bones with ease.

—Crunch!

I stomped down on a stray orc skull, the bone-shattering under my heel.

“Haa… Haa…”

It had been an hour since the attack began. An hour of relentless fighting, with no end in sight.

…I must have killed at least a thousand of them by now…

But for every demon I cut down, two more seemed to take its place. The sheer number of enemies was overwhelming, their ranks seemingly endless.

Thankfully, the guards had managed to regroup and were now putting up a valiant fight alongside me.

I clicked my tongue in annoyance as I reached into my bag, scattering another handful of scrolls into the air.

[-Muscle Strengthening-]

[-Swift-]

This time, I opted for enhancement magic.

The scrolls burst into light, bathing me in a warm glow as runes of power etched themselves onto my skin.

—BOOM!

I launched myself forward with renewed strength, my movements faster than ever before.

My blade danced through the air, a whirlwind of silver and blue, cutting down any demon foolish enough to stand in my path.

—Shhk! Shhk! Shhk!

Blood splattered across my mask, the warm liquid a stark contrast to the cold porcelain.

…Damn it…

My movements were starting to slow, my body screaming in protest.

My lungs burned, my muscles ached, and a sharp pain throbbed in my side.

I spat out a mouthful of blood and gritted my teeth.

I’m running out of time… And scrolls…

My supply, once seemingly endless, was dwindling at an alarming rate.

According to my calculations, I should have been wrapping things up by now. But the reality was far from ideal.

…Not even close.

I laughed humorlessly as I surveyed the battlefield.

The demon horde stretched out before me, a seemingly endless sea of claws and teeth.

I was exhausted, my body pushed to its limits.

But I couldn’t give up.

Not now.

I took a deep breath, focusing my mind.

I could feel my grip on Sorrow faltering, my arms heavy with fatigue.

But I forced myself to press on, pushing past the pain and exhaustion.

I was about to charge back into the fray when a series of familiar voices reached my ears.

“Holly Spear!”

“Wind Cutter x3.”

—BOOOOOM!!

Blasts of holy energy and razor-sharp wind blades tore through the air, obliterating the demons in a shower of gore and viscera.

I turned towards the source of the attacks, my heart soaring with relief.

Familiar faces were gathered there.

The students from the Disciplinary Committee, the Saintess, and Allen's heroines, including Margaret.

They were the reinforcements I had been waiting for.

“You’re alright!”

Margaret called out, her voice laced with relief.

“We felt a surge of demonic energy coming from this direction, we feared the worst!”

“We’re not out of the woods yet!”

“There are too many of them!”

“Form up!”

Margaret commanded.

“We can’t let them break through the gate!”

The students fanned out, their magic and weapons blazing as they engaged the enemy.

I finally allowed myself to relax, lowering my sword for the first time in what felt like hours.

“Haa… Haa… Fuck…”

I let out a string of curses, my body trembling with exhaustion.

I had been fighting alone for an hour, holding back a horde of demons.

It was a miracle I was still alive.

But the battle wasn’t over yet.

Not by a long shot.

We had reinforcements now, but the demons still outnumbered us by a significant margin.

We needed to hold out until Korn arrived with the rest of the Academy’s forces.

“Alright, everyone!”

I shouted, raising my voice so that it could be heard over the din of battle.

“We just need to hold them off for another thirty minutes! We can do this!”

I sheathed Sorrow, my gaze sweeping across the battlefield.

The worst was over, but I couldn’t afford to let my guard down.

Not yet.

Thirty minutes.

That’s how long it would take for Korn to reach us.

Thirty minutes to protect these students.

Thirty minutes to ensure that no one else died.

I had failed Master during the field trip.

But I wouldn’t fail them.

I drew Sorrow once more, the blade humming eagerly in my hand.

***

Meanwhile, in a secluded part of the forest, not far from the Academy’s back gate…

A lone figure stood amidst the skeletal trees, his ragged cloak billowing in the wind.

He was a man of indeterminate age, his face hidden beneath a hood.

His clothes were old and worn, stitched together from mismatched scraps of fabric.

A single spear was strapped to his back, its blade glinting menacingly in the moonlight.

—Whoooosh…

The wind whispered through the trees, carrying with it the scent of blood and death.

The figure remained motionless, his gaze fixed on the distant battle raging at the Academy’s back gate.

As his cloak shifted in the wind, a flash of crimson could be seen beneath his hood—a single, malevolent eye, burning with an unholy light.

“…Not bad…”

“Not bad at all.”

He cracked his knuckles, a cruel smile spreading across his lips.

“This is getting interesting…”

He reached behind him and unsheathed his spear, the metal screeching as it left its scabbard.

“Looks like I’m needed after all.”

With a sinister chuckle, he turned and melted into the shadows, his presence as fleeting and ephemeral as the wind itself.

Recus, the Spear Demon.

A harbinger of death, drawn to the scent of blood and carnage.

***

High atop the roof of one of the Academy’s auxiliary buildings…

A young man leaned against the railing, his golden hair glinting in the sunlight.

His skin was tanned a deep bronze, a stark contrast to the pale faces of the other students. His eyes, a piercing shade of blue, watched the battle unfolding below with an air of detached amusement.

—They’re breaking through on the left!

—Hold the line! Don’t let them through!

—Behind you! Watch out!

The sounds of battle echoed up from the courtyard below, a chaotic symphony of screams, shouts, and the clang of steel against steel.

The young man watched it all with an unreadable expression on his face, his lips curved into a faint smirk. Sᴇaʀᴄh the ɴøᴠel Fɪre.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of nøvels early and in the highest quality.

“There’s nothing quite like a good brawl.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bag of popcorn, munching on the fluffy kernels as he surveyed the scene below.

The Academy was under attack from two sides—the main gate, where Korn and Allen were leading the defense, and the back gate, where the masked swordsman and his students were desperately trying to hold off the demon horde.

Both battles were impressive in their own right, but it was the fight at the back gate that truly captivated the young man’s attention.

“Wow… He’s good”

he said, nodding his head in approval.

The masked swordsman was a whirlwind of death and destruction, his movements so fast they were almost a blur.

Every swing of his sword sent demons flying, their bodies ripped apart by the sheer force of his attacks.

“He fights like a demon himself.”

The young man chuckled, tossing another handful of popcorn into his mouth.

His eyes, now glowing with an eerie blue light, seemed to see past the mask, peering into the very soul of the swordsman.

“Interesting…”

The tide of the battle seemed to be turning in favor of the Academy’s students, but the young man knew better.

He could sense it—a dark presence lurking in the shadows, its power far greater than anything he had ever encountered before.

A shiver ran down his spine as a wave of cold, malevolent energy washed over him.

“This… This is bad”

He muttered, his eyes widening in alarm.

He had never felt anything like it before.

This was no ordinary demon.

This was something else entirely.

“Can they handle it?”

He wondered aloud, his gaze fixed on the masked swordsman.

A slow smile spread across his face, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of excitement and apprehension.

The Golden Boy, as he was known, thrived on chaos and destruction.

He had intervened in the last attack, his motives shrouded in mystery, but there was no guarantee he would do so again.

He was an observer, a spectator to the grand play that was life and death.

The fate of the Academy, the lives of his fellow students…

None of it truly mattered to him.

“But…”

“If they make this interesting enough…”

He stood up, his gaze never leaving the battle below.

“Maybe… Just maybe… I’ll give them a round of applause.”

And with that, he settled back against the railing, his eyes gleaming with anticipation as he waited for the show to begin.