Regressor of Yandere Academy – Chapter 33

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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: FusionX
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The low-ranking dorm students’ rebellion. A term coined by Egenir, it was now spreading through the academy.

“What?! They have a 97% pass rate?!”

Almost all the low-ranking students had passed the exam, far surpassing the elite students from the upper-class dormitories.

The Royal dormitory had a 90% pass rate, the upper-class dormitory 81%. The 97% pass rate was a testament to the low-ranking students’ unexpected skill.

Then came the rumors:

‘Egenir was involved.’

He’d offered some last-minute advice, and a Sword User had emerged from the low-ranking dormitory. The upper-class students and the noble factions were dumbfounded.

“He turned a swordsman into a Sword User with a few words?”

Shelton had simply accumulated enough experience to become a Sword User, but they, unaware of this, attributed it to Egenir’s miraculous coaching.

The Sieve usually eliminated half of the low-ranking students. And…

“We have to go train!”

“Grab him!”

“We’re not letting him go today!”

The students who’d passed grabbed Egenir and dragged him to the emergency shelter.

“You crazy bastards! You’re kidnapping me?!”

“He’s so tempting…No, wait, you brat!”

They’d somehow managed to procure roasted duck, a whole roasted pig, beer, wine…

“These damn…”

The broke bastards had spent all their money on this feast.

“To today’s MVP, Egenir!”

Shelton raised his beer mug.

“Celebrate your own success! Mine was a given!”

Egenir, ever the tsundere. But his advice had helped most of them pass.

“Our top instructor, Egenir! Any more words of wisdom for us?!”

“I’m not an instructor, I didn’t get paid…”

They quickly filled his mug with beer.

“Fine. This better be worth it.”

He grumbled, raising his mug. They all filled their glasses.

“Listen up, you losers. You’ve heard me say ‘hone your fundamentals and train your body’ until you’re sick of it. Let me explain.”

They all listened intently.

“Don’t try any fancy tricks! Some of you almost failed because of that.”

Those who’d barely passed looked sheepish.

“Save the tricks for when your basic swordsmanship is so ingrained that you can do it in your sleep. Any stance should become the perfect stance.”

“How do we know when we’re ready?”

One of them asked.

“Need me to dumb it down further?”

He looked at Shelton.

“When you can land a hit on him. Any Sword Users here?”

A few raised their hands.

“When you can beat them, then you can start showing off. Until then…”

Advice for the Sword Users.

“Break your sword.”

“Break our wooden swords?”

He almost had a stroke.

“Forget the basics. Learn advanced techniques, spar like your life depends on it, steal other people’s techniques, or deconstruct your basic swordsmanship.”

“Deconstruct?”

“How do you think advanced techniques are created?”

He glared at the inquisitive student.

“I don’t know?”

“…They all start with the basics. Strikes, thrusts, swings…they all originate from the fundamentals.”

They all nodded in agreement.

“Create your own style. There’s no faster way.”

“Why is that faster? The techniques passed down by our ancestors are more reliable.”

“What about a style tailored to your body? What if the techniques you’ve learned don’t suit your height, weight, or physique?”

“…”

He shook his head.

“Learning advanced techniques is fine. But you’re all newbies who only know the basics.”

The foam on his beer dissipated.

“When are you going to learn advanced techniques and adapt them to your own bodies? Deconstructing means breaking down the techniques that don’t suit you and rebuilding them to fit.”

“Ah…”

“Basic swordsmanship is balanced. Which also means…”

“It has many weaknesses?”

Shelton interjected. Egenir, surprised by his insight, nodded.

“Yes, it’s a starting point for finding your own style. You idiots. Congratulations on becoming Sword Users.”

He raised his mug.

“It’s simple! Faster! Stronger! That’s a swordsman’s duty! Understand?!”

“Yes!!!”

Egenir, the unofficial instructor of the low-ranking students, had given them advice no teacher could offer.

They’d struggled to improve, their progress limited by their lack of talent, their inability to fully utilize Dragon Swordsmanship.

[Break your swordsmanship.]

He’d lived by that principle, and now these broke bastards, raising their mugs, vowed to follow his path.

“Fill it up!”

They refilled his mug enthusiastically.

“Hey! You’re trying to kill me!”

“Drink! Don’t let his glass get empty!”

They swarmed him, pouring him more beer. These guys…Their eagerness to be acknowledged, their desperation…He could sense a hint of sadness beneath their cheerful facade.

Some were crying drunkenly, while others encouraged them to drink more.

‘Just like before.’

His friends from his zeroth turn. Most of them had failed the exam, the mood somber.

[Hey…you alive?]

He stood before the Balrog, looking at his fallen comrades, their broken swords scattered around them.

Bloody, battered, dying.

He looked at the Balrog, the corpses of his friends surrounding him.

[Damn it…]

[I like your spirit.]

The Balrog spoke.

He shifted his sword from his broken right arm to his left.

[I’m taking your head for them. What do you think?]

[Brave, but…]

The Balrog’s fist slammed into him.

[Those are empty words without the strength to back them up.]

The Balrog sneered.

[Ha…Sorry, guys…I’m…just a useless bastard…]

He thought he was going to die. The world, once bright, turned red. That was the day his friends from the low-ranking dormitory were wiped out.

The next turn began, and he’d avoided them. Perhaps that was why…They admired him, followed him, despite his attempts to distance himself.

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“Ha…”

He sighed.

Shelton was the only one left. He was rambling about something…Egenir had already heard his story in his zeroth turn.

The usual…He couldn’t hear him clearly, but it was the same tired story.

He’d lost his parents, he had to take care of his younger sibling, he’d come to the academy hoping for a better future, but he felt lost, aimless.

“You idiot.”

In his zeroth turn, Egenir had helped Shelton, his roommate, who’d become one of the strongest among them.

In subsequent turns, he’d ignored him, letting him fail The Sieve. It was the right thing to do. Better than a meaningless death.

“I know you’re lonely, with no one to rely on.”

He refilled Shelton’s glass.

“Become the person you want to be, someone others can rely on.”

The same advice he’d given him in his zeroth turn.

“Like you…?”

The only words he could understand from Shelton’s drunken rambling.

Shelton, head bowed, continued to mumble. The others had passed out. Egenir watched as Shelton slumped over, falling asleep.

“…”

Shelton had done the same thing during the Balrog fight in his zeroth turn.

He’d shielded his comrades from the Balrog’s attack, dying without a word. His sleeping posture mirrored his final moments.

“I…”

Egenir had avoided the low-ranking students. They were the reason he’d become a loner.

“…I’m a useless bastard.”

He filled his own glass and drank. He’d acted strong, guiding them, showing them the path to power, and he’d been the last one standing.

And he was supposed to be someone they could rely on?

‘A joke.’

These idiots who’d foolishly trusted him. The reason he’d mastered the sword. And the reason he’d abandoned it for magic and alchemy.

“Go to sleep.”

They were all asleep, and he was left alone, the pathetic survivor.

“…”

The night sky was clear.

“Can I have some?”

“This is the girls’…”

“It’s the emergency shelter. Anyone can come here.”

“Right…”

He looked at Ella.

“Why are you here?”

He offered her a glass.

Why now?

“I felt like I should come.”

“That makes no sense.”

“You’re crying.”

“I haven’t shed a single tear.”

He grumbled, but he filled her glass.

[We have to save them!]

He’d yelled. And Ella had said,

[We can’t divide our forces.]

A firm refusal.

The corpses scattered around them.

Was this a memory from his 3rd turn? Or a recurring nightmare from his failed attempts to befriend Ella?

“You…”

“…”

He thought he saw a flicker of guilt in her eyes. She seemed to be apologizing for something he couldn’t even remember.

The sight infuriated him.

“I know, I know. To save the many, you have to sacrifice the few…You’re the Hero, you’re always right…”

“What are you talking about?”

“When I was trying to save them…Never mind…Ha…”

He downed three glasses in a row, trying to wash away the bitter memories.

“What can I say to someone as noble as you…So…”

He glared at her, his words slurred.

‘Anger…no…’

Ella saw the resentment in his eyes.

“If you’d helped me…just once…this wouldn’t have happened…”

He closed his eyes, falling asleep. He woke up much later.

“…”

An unfamiliar bed. A clean, fresh scent.

“Hmm?”

A tidy room. He’d never been here before.

“The girls’…dormitory?”

He turned his head.

“…”

Ella, sleeping peacefully beside him.

“Holy…”

She’d brought him to her dormitory.

“Sh…”

He covered his mouth. The girls outside would hear him.

‘I’m screwed.’

Nothing ever went his way.

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