The Academy’s Ankle Reaper – Chapter 11

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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Vine
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I sensed the vultures circling the moment I entered the training grounds. Charles, after his humiliating defeat, was undoubtedly plotting revenge. He wasn’t even trying to hide it, boasting about his plans to anyone who would listen.

“Seymour went the other way. She won’t be coming here.”

River, flustered after our spar, had taken a different route back. It would take her longer, but at her speed, she would have reached the dormitory by now. There was no reason for her to return this way.

“Wh-whoa! It’s a little person! Do little people live at the Academy?”

“All sorts of creatures live in the deep forest… Or does he work here?”

They pointed and snickered, their words about my height making my blood boil.

Little person?

They didn’t even see me as human anymore.

One.

I was irritated, but it was tolerable. A mental tally mark.

“You pathetic excuses for humans, ganging up because you’re butthurt over losing a one-on-one duel. Aren’t you embarrassed?”

“Ha! I wouldn’t have lost if she fought fair! She cheated! The duel is invalid! I demand a rematch!”

“What cheating? Moving faster and attacking more precisely than you? If you lost, train harder instead of whining.”

“A little person who can’t even hold a longsword properly, what do you know about a Knight’s duel?!”

Two.

Still tolerable. One more strike, and they were dead. They were from somewhat influential families, so a beating would suffice to deter them from bothering River again. It wouldn’t escalate too much.

But Charles seemed to have a death wish.

“Hey, little person, do you know who I am—?”

Three.

-Crack.

My fist connected with his face.

“Gah!!!”

He crumpled to the ground, his face a bloody mess.

“Wh-what was that for?!”

His previously passable face was now ruined, his nose broken, blood gushing out.

“You’ve crossed the line.”

Something snapped inside me. I had been patient, but I’d reached my limit.

“Just die.”

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Future Atlas would deal with the aftermath. For now, I had to teach these brats a lesson.

“A sneak attack… how cowardly…!”

Charles, ignoring his bleeding nose, scrambled to his feet, drawing his longsword.

“Get him! Take him down!!”

“Ugh, I hate dealing with men.”

“Now’s not the time!”

A faint glow enveloped the sword of one of Charles’ companions, Eddie, a fellow recommended freshman. Aura Blade, a technique that enhanced a sword by coating it with mana. He was also a low-level Sword Expert, having received an A on the practical exam. He saw this request as a fun diversion, due to his close ties with Charles’ family.

“This technique isn’t meant for little people, but…”

He sliced through a nearby tree, demonstrating the power of his Aura Blade. The thick oak tree fell in two.

“I’ll just take an arm…!”

The Aura Blade, capable of cutting through a tree trunk like butter, swung towards Atlas. Even if he blocked, his sword would be cut in two. If he didn’t, he’d be bisected like the oak tree.

Yet, Atlas remained motionless, longsword pointed towards the ground, waiting, just like during our spar. Like a serpent waiting for its prey. The moment the Aura Blade entered his range, he struck.

A flash of something flew through the air. Was it Atlas’s flesh, or the attacker’s? The onlookers couldn’t tell. It landed with a thud in the leaves, revealing its owner.

“Aagh! My… my wrist!!!”

“I’ll just take a hand.”

It was Eddie’s hand, still gripping the sword. The faint glow of his Aura Blade vanished. He could manifest it, but his control was rudimentary. Atlas hadn’t used Aura Blade. It was a simple technique, a psychological tactic any Knight could employ. Eddie, relying on brute force, hadn’t anticipated such a move. His family must have force-fed him resources to achieve this level.

“Why are you so arrogant and disrespectful? Is it because you’re tall?”

“Surround him! Stab him…!!”

Charles, seeing Eddie writhing on the ground, yelled frantically. In a one-versus-many situation, the key was to avoid individual confrontations. They moved quickly, experienced in ganging up on others. But it wasn’t enough. Atlas was faster.

He lunged forward, slashing with his longsword, taking down one opponent with a cut to the thigh. He spun around, severing the fingers of another who attempted to strike him from behind with an axe. A third charged, wielding a shortsword and a small fireball. The fireball, as slow as a child’s throw, was easily dodged. He blocked the shortsword with his crossguard and sliced through the attacker’s shoulder. The mage attempted another fireball, but Atlas was too close. A wide swing of his longsword cleaved the mage’s right hand in two.

When the dust settled, Atlas was the only one standing.

“Wh-what… You think you can get away with this?!”

Charles, scrambling backwards, yelled at Atlas. Six opponents, one of them a low-level Sword Expert. Enough to take down any A-rank student at the Academy. How did this happen?

“Is it over already?”

“Ugh…”

“My… my hand… my hand…”

“The bleeding… it won’t stop…”

One strike each. Six opponents incapacitated, writhing on the ground, clutching their wounds. None were dead. Atlas had mastered the art of inflicting non-fatal injuries, a skill worthy of a doctoral thesis.

“Time for the usual.”

He muttered to himself, raising his longsword. The six figures on the ground saw the unsettling glint in his eyes. This Atlas was different from the one they’d first encountered.

“Perhaps you’ll understand how I feel when you’re my height. I made this longsword the same length as me.”

The tip of his sword touched Charles’ ankle. He measured him, as if surveying construction materials. Placing the hilt against Charles’ head and the tip at his ankle, he made a small cut, marking the spot like a carpenter preparing to saw. He raised his sword.

“Here. Remember this. From now on, this is where your feet begin.”

“What?”

-Slice.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!!!”

Charles’ scream echoed through the hills. Something rolled towards the remaining five.

-Thud.

A shoe. With an ankle attached. Charles’ ankle.

“?!”

“Why are you being so loud?”

Atlas’s voice was calm, his face splattered with Charles’ blood.

“You won’t die from this. Don’t worry, I’m kind enough to bring you back even if you do. Even though losers have no rights.”

Their faces drained of color. They were terrified. He had seemed approachable at first, but this… this little person was a monster. They saw the bloodstained longsword approaching, but they couldn’t run. Five more screams echoed through the twilight.

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Located on an island, the Academy provided housing for both faculty and students. While students lived in dormitories, faculty members had the option of individual housing on campus. Andy was lucky enough to secure one, inheriting it from the previous instructor. The previous occupant must have been a skilled Knight, judging by the various weapon marks throughout the house.

“Phew… I managed to get through today…”

Andy, dressed in comfortable clothes, suddenly paled. Despite his earlier bravado, the Royal Knights’ training was too harsh for students. He had to start teaching next week… What was he going to do?

-Knock, knock, knock.

Someone was at the door. Who would visit so late? He hoped it wasn’t trouble. He opened the door, but no one was there.

“Senior, if you don’t want to die, duck your head and listen carefully.”

He looked down to see Atlas, covered in blood.

“Aaaaaaaaagh!!! What… what the…!! What happened?!”

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