—————————————————————–
Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Mod7
—————————————————————–
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Tia hurriedly pulled out a book next to “The Hero’s Secret.”
It was a seamless transition, as if she had been eyeing that book from the start.
“Tia Erze?”
“Oh my, Ethan? I didn’t recognize you.”
She stepped back, casually clasping her hands behind her back and hiding the book.
“What brings you here?”
Ethan almost felt sorry for her awkward attempt at nonchalance.
Why not just admit she was here to buy a book…?
“I’m here for market research. What about you?”
“I’m here to buy the entire series of the book I promised you….”
“Ah, I see. Well then, good luck.”
Ethan didn’t bother stopping Tia as she hastily turned to leave.
Tia tucked the purchased book into her bag.
Then, practically fleeing the scene, she returned to her dormitory room.
‘That was close!’
The thought of Ethan almost discovering her peculiar taste in literature sent a shiver down her spine.
She had been in such a hurry that she was out of breath.
Tia took a deep breath and retrieved the book from her bag.
Oh….
‘The Tamed Hero and the Fallen Bitches (Volume 1)’
That’s what the book cover proclaimed, complete with a “19+” sticker and a provocative illustration. The woman on the cover had a glazed look in her eyes, as if she had downed a gallon of love potion.
Just then, she received a message from Ethan.
―Hello, it’s Ethan. When would be a good time for me to give you the books?
The memory of their encounter at the bookstore flooded back.
“Ah… This… This idiot. Moron….”
Tia banged her head against the wall several times.
She was mortified.
Of all the books, why did she have to choose this one?!
“Idiot―! Moron―!”
The raven in its cage mimicked her words.
“Be quiet!”
Tia snapped, her voice sharp.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Tia hadn’t responded to my message.
She must have seen the book title by now, right?
I sighed, staring at the shopping bag on the table.
Well, I can always give them to her later.
I continued to stare at the bag for a while, lost in thought, before heading out of the dormitory.
It was time for my training session with Master Sylvia.
My training with Sylvia was progressing steadily.
Each session lasted two hours, starting with basic techniques followed by practice.
And sometimes, we sparred.
Sparring sessions were basically extended beatings.
Sylvia effortlessly parried my wooden sword with her own.
Even when using wooden swords, I couldn’t pull off my usual unorthodox attacks. I was too focused on incorporating the new techniques Sylvia was teaching me.
“Again.”
Thwack!
The wooden rod struck me squarely on the head.
I clutched my throbbing skull with both hands.
A subtle smile played on Sylvia’s usually stoic face.
“You must be conscious of every movement when wielding a sword. Only then can you break old habits.”
Until her teachings became second nature to me.
I had heard that phrase countless times.
It was proving to be incredibly difficult to overcome a decade of ingrained swordsmanship.
“It hurts, Master!”
“Does it hurt? My heart aches every time I strike you.”
Sylvia replied, placing a hand over her heart.
As if she truly meant it.
But she couldn’t quite conceal the amusement in her eyes.
I was convinced.
Sylvia was a sadist.
At least my training was showing results.
After a week of relentless beatings, the number of times I got hit had decreased significantly.
I had been genuinely concerned that I might end up brain-damaged.
“Master, am I doing this right?”
“Yes. Keep going.”
I had spent an entire week practicing basic stances.
Ironically, it felt like my swordsmanship had actually regressed.
I wasn’t even allowed to release my mana.
“You lack faith.”
“No, Master.”
“Hmm….”
Sylvia crossed her arms, her gaze fixed on me.
Eight days remained until the deadline she had set for me.
Would I be able to pass her test?
It was my biggest concern lately.
I absolutely couldn’t afford to be expelled.
Sylvia seemed to sense my apprehension.
“You seem troubled.”
“No, Master.”
“There’s no need to lie to me. I’ll give you a special reward if you pass this test.”
“A special reward?”
The mention of a reward piqued my interest.
What could it be?
Would she share some secret technique?
Perhaps a treasured scroll containing ancient swordsmanship secrets?
It wasn’t mentioned in the original story, which made me even more curious.
I stared at her, my eyes wide with anticipation.
“Yes, a special reward. I’ll wager a reward since you seem so discouraged.”
“What is it?”
“It’s a secret.”
Ah….
I had to control my expression.
I couldn’t show any disappointment.
“Wow, I’m really curious now.”
“You won’t be disappointed.”
Sylvia cleared her throat, adjusting her grip on the wooden rod.
It had started as an ordinary branch, but she seemed to have grown attached to it. She had even started treating it with oil.
“Now, let’s continue our training.”
“Yes, Master.”
That day, I got hit four times.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Time flew by.
Even on weekends, I diligently trained, honing both my physical and swordsmanship skills.
I could have just endured Sepia’s atrocious behavior and continued my life as a servant.
But I couldn’t just laze around on weekends when my very existence was at stake.
Tia still hadn’t responded to my message.
Did she buy the books herself at a different store?
Or was she too embarrassed to reply?
Probably both.
I was curious, but I barely had the energy to worry about Tia right now.
And so the second week of “Fundamentals of Resistance Acquisition” began.
When I entered the classroom, a creature stood at the front.
A harpy, half-human, half-bird.
A siren.
Sepia was sitting in the back corner of the classroom.
What was she doing here?
Confusion filled my mind.
She must have changed her schedule or added this class.
Sepia rested her chin on her hand, her expression bored.
Cassia took her position at the podium.
“Today, we’ll be practicing mental resistance,” she announced.
She clapped her hands together, her usual enthusiastic demeanor on full display.
“We’ll be listening to the siren’s song and learning to resist its effects.”
The siren’s song.
Contrary to its popular image of being a beautiful and enchanting melody, the siren’s song in “The Strongest of the Dragon Academy” inflicted severe mental damage. The moment you heard it, hallucinations would manifest, and your mind would be assaulted by nightmarish visions.
What kind of nightmares? The worst kind imaginable.
“Alright, everyone, get ready!”
The siren started humming.
Half of the students immediately stumbled, their bodies swaying.
My head spun.
Listening to nails scratching a chalkboard would have been preferable.
This siren was determined to give a full-blown concert, complete with verses, choruses, and an encore.
“You must persevere, no matter what nightmares you encounter!”
The scene before me shifted.
It was me, holding a single rose.
About to confess my feelings to someone on a college campus.
It was Rose Day or something.
No! Stop it!
I was handing the rose to a classmate.
Stop this flashback!
But the me in the vision had no intention of backing down.
Drinking alcohol and serenading someone in the name of drunken honesty!
‘Maybe I am a bit drunk.’
I was belting out a love song.
You idiot! If you’re drunk, just go home and sleep it off!
My trembling voice echoed through my ears.
‘Sorry. I… I like someone else.’
My classmate rejected me, her words sharp as a knife.
‘And I hate that song.’
Argh! Damn it!
I felt like I was having a seizure, my body convulsing uncontrollably.
The scene changed again.
This time, it was the military boot camp.
I was eating spicy chicken stir-fry.
Disgustingly bland chicken stir-fry.
My eyes were glazed over.
And then came the army flashbacks.
‘When I woke up, I was greeted by the unfamiliar ceiling of the boot camp.’
The scene shifted again.
A buzz-cut soldier wearing a private’s insignia appeared.
I was holding a phone receiver in a phone booth.
‘Honey… Let’s break up.’
Tears streamed down my face as I listened to the words on the other end of the line.
‘No! Stop it! Make it stop!’
I slammed my head against the desk.
Argh!
The scene continued.
I was writhing in agony inside the phone booth as I received devastating news.
And then came the nightmare of re-enlistment.
‘I’ve already been discharged!’
‘We apologize for the administrative error….’
I saw myself crawling through mud during military training.
Shivering in the bitter cold of a winter exercise in the mountains.
And then I was back in my own world, plotting to bury that author alive.
‘Deceiving readers? I can’t let that stand.’
I was writing a scathing post on an online forum.
Stop! Don’t touch him! You idiot!
You’re just setting yourself up for a life of regret and suffering!
When I finally regained my senses, I was drenched in cold sweat.
And tears streamed down my face.
Why am I crying?
I wiped the tears from my cheeks.
The siren’s singing had stopped.
In the novel, people succumbed to the siren’s song, their minds shattered by nightmarish visions, driven to madness and death.
Now I understood why.
How could anyone endure such a barrage of horrifying memories?
“Alright, everyone, an hour has passed. Take a ten-minute break, and we’ll continue with the second half of the class!”
It felt like ten years, not one hour, had passed.
I’d rather drink poison than endure another two hours of this mental torture.
I glanced around the classroom.
Our protagonist looked like he had aged ten years.
I probably looked just as bad.
I checked my skill window.
My “Mana Control” skill had leveled up after last week’s “Elemental Studies” class, and I had also acquired “Hand-to-Hand Combat.” And to think I had acquired “Mental Resistance.”
It had been a horrifying experience, but at least it was effective.
I glanced at Sepia.
She was sitting in the corner, her fists clenched, her body trembling.
Our eyes met.
She stood up abruptly and stormed out of the classroom.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
gotta wonder what her dreams were
Cut ties, please.
Yeah, that sucks…