A Returner’s Magic Should Be Special - Chapter 11

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 11. Academy Life (4)

Dezir Armang counted it a blessing that she seemed to enjoy his company, even if he couldn’t fathom why her face had flushed so deeply.
“Why not drop the formal speech with me, Fram?”
“No, Dezir. I’m more comfortable this way.”
“We’re the same age. We’re equals.”
“I don’t like it. I want to keep speaking formally. I want to call you Dezir.”
Fram was oddly resolute about it.
‘She’s stubborn about the strangest things,’ he thought.
What could he do? People should be called as they wish to be called.
Dezir decided to let the matter of honorifics and speech patterns rest where it was.
“Wait—is it already this late?”
He hadn’t noticed while they were talking, but the clock’s hands now pointed to one.
Lunchtime. The first aid was finished, and it was time for him to leave.
Just before Dezir opened the door to step out, Fram moved in front of him and bowed her head.
“Thank you so much for today. I will never forget this kindness.”
“I only did what anyone would do.”
The two of them stepped outside the Infirmary.
“If there’s anything I can help with, please let me do it. You can ask me for anything, anytime.”
“Help with something……”
Noticing the change in Dezir’s expression, Fram pressed him.
“Ask me for anything!”
Anything.
Dezir’s eyes lit up.
“Fram, if you haven’t joined a Circle yet, would you join mine?”
Fram’s eyes widened at the sudden proposal, but she soon smiled brightly and answered.
“Of course, Dezir!”
And so Dezir’s Circle was complete.

* * *

Dezir, Romantika, and Fram arrived at a door in the hallway.
A nameplate on the door read Bridgeit Pahelib.
As they opened the door and stepped inside, a spacious, well-organized room came into view. Four tea cups were already arranged on the table, as if she had known they were coming.
Dezir, Romantika, and Fram sat across from Bridgeit.
“Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule.”
Bridgeit smiled warmly at Dezir’s words.
“Not at all. Don’t give it a second thought.”
With that, Bridgeit brought the tea before her to her lips and drank.
Dezir watched her intently.
He knew her very well. She was the one who, when he was young and living in the Orphanage, had recommended him to Hebrion Academy and made his enrollment possible.
Had it not been for her, Dezir would have lived a far harder life. In that regard, he was genuinely grateful to her.
Bridgeit set down her tea cup.
“You were truly magnificent during the entrance exam, Dezir.”
Bridgeit was the very picture of elegance. Her gaze was keen, and her skin was fair and luminous.
She was a woman whose fashion sense shone through—refined dresses, jewelry that was understated yet immaculate and tasteful.
“In all this time, I’ve never seen you perform like that.”
“Hah, did I really?”
“Yes. That was the first time I’d ever seen you handle and apply magic with such skill.”
“……I wouldn’t say it was quite that impressive.”
“You beat Azest, one of the strongest favorites for the championship, and you’re being modest about it?”
Bridgeit’s eyes crinkled with amusement.
“When I was teaching you, you said you couldn’t do it even if it killed you. Yet you displayed magic so brilliantly that I almost felt betrayed. Heh.”
“……”
Dezir said nothing. A chill ran down his spine.
Bridgeit spoke to Dezir, whose words had caught in his throat.
“I’m only joking. Drink it before it cools—these leaves were quite difficult to procure from Heidna.”
“…Yes.”
Dezir Armang lifted the cup to his lips. His hand trembled faintly as he held it.
Romantika watched him with barely suppressed laughter, her shoulders shaking. She’d never imagined anyone could get the better of Dezir with words alone.
When the tea had emptied halfway, Bridgeit surveyed the room. An unreadable light flickered across her eyes.
“So these are the party members you’ve gathered.”
She studied them in turn—Romantika, Fram, and Dezir Armang.
“What’s your reason for establishing a party, Dezir?”
It was surely a question about the party’s founding purpose. On that point, Dezir Armang held firm convictions.
His reason for creating this party from the beginning.
“My goal is to lead them through the Promotion Exam and secure advancement to the Alpha Class.”
“That’s an ambitious objective. You’re aware of that, yes?”
“Of course.”
Fram, who had been listening in a daze, slowly raised her hand.
At Bridgeit’s nod, she spoke.
“What do you mean by us advancing to the Alpha Class?”
“Ah, it seems the official notice hasn’t reached you yet. Our Academy operates a system called the Promotion Exam.”
The Promotion Exam.
A test that determined the year-by-year rankings of students enrolled at Hebrion Academy.
It was the Academy’s defining institution and served as its midterm evaluation.
Class reassignments occurred based on rankings, and if the Beta Class performed well enough against the Alpha Class, advancement to Alpha was indeed possible.
The Promotion Exam began with a tournament bracket, from which the top thirty were selected.
Those thirty participants then entered the 5-Level Shadow World and were ranked through a battle royale format.
The top nine survivors of the battle royale earned the title of Single Ranker.
“Moreover, by ‘advancement,’ Dezir doesn’t mean simply entering the Alpha Class—he means placing in the top nine to earn the title of Single Ranker. That’s correct, isn’t it, Dezir?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“What!? What are you saying?”
Romantika, who had been listening in stunned silence, bolted from her seat.
“It’s impossible enough to place in the top thirty of the tournament, but even if we did, we’d be immediately targeted as a Beta Class party!”
“She’s right.”
Bridgeit nodded in agreement, her expression grave.
“The top thirty are nearly all elite members of major parties. Last year, the Blue Moon Party sent fifteen, the Red Dragon Party sent nine, and the remaining six were all Alpha Class parties. Not once has the Beta Class ever placed in the top thirty.”
Fram spoke with measured caution.
“Naturally, the Alpha Class won’t look favorably upon Beta Class competitors, and we’d face concentrated interference.”
“Precisely.”
The weak become everyone’s prey.
Dezir Armang’s party was not only from Beta Class but also a small, understaffed faction—at best only three members even if they all placed in the top thirty.
Yet Dezir Armang’s expression remained utterly confident.
“Which is exactly why we must aim for the Single Ranker title.”
The Academy’s current perception of the Beta Class was utterly worthless.
Since all Beta Class students were commoners, the faculty looked down upon them.
The outcome was predictable.
Rejected by everyone, Beta Class students lost motivation and abandoned their studies.
What began as mere prejudice became the genuine ruin of Beta Class’s future.
But there was another path.
“Consider this, Professor. If a Beta Class party—dismissed by all as worthless, consisting of merely three members—had every single one survive and earn the title of Single Ranker, what would people think?”
“That would…”
“‘We won’t teach Beta Class because they lack talent.’ Such excuses crumble to dust. And that becomes a signal—the herald of a system about to collapse.”
The tea still steamed with warmth.
The fragrant aroma rose with the vapor, rich and alive.
Gulp.
Dezir Armang swallowed.
Bridgeit blinked slowly.
In the held silence, she spoke with absolute certainty.
“Very well. I’ll authorize your party.”
“Thank you, Professor.”
“But there’s one thing I must confirm first.”
Bridgeit turned her gaze toward Fram and Romantika.
“I need the consent of Fram and Romantika.”
Fram and Romantika drew in deep breaths.
“You must decide firmly. By joining the party that Dezir leads, you are agreeing with his views. In other words, you are in the same boat. You must obey the party leader’s commands and conform to his direction. To belong to this party while accepting such constraints, what matters most is your own resolve.”
Fram showed no hesitation whatsoever.
“I will join Dezir’s party.”
“Then sign here on the registration form, please.”
Scratch, swish.
The pen moved without a moment’s pause.
Bridgeit picked up the document.
“Now we have one person left.”
With those words, all eyes turned in one direction.
Romantika rested her chin on her hand, lost in thought.
She was wrestling with a decision.
Was entry into Alpha Class truly possible? To rank in the top nine of this academy, where the world’s finest prodigies gathered—was it really within reach?
She was merely a Second Circle Mage.
Looking at Sword Mage Azest, counting those stronger than herself—it easily surpassed nine.
Honestly, Romantika believed even her own entry into Alpha Class was impossible.
‘If only I were alone… then again.’
Romantika looked toward Dezir.
He was utterly composed, his expression suggesting absolute certainty of success.
Looking at that face, the scene from the entrance exam came flooding back—the day her magic had been completely overwhelmed.
Such overwhelming, inventive Mana Control. It was as though there existed another sky above the sky itself. That day she had tasted that other sky, and never again allowed herself arrogance.
Romantika felt certain that Dezir—that if it were him, something remarkable might indeed become possible.
“…Sigh.”
Romantika drew a long breath, then spoke to Bridgeit.
“Where do I sign?”

Radiating outward from the central main building were six distinct zones, spaced so far apart that one needed to ride a Mana-powered bus to traverse between them.
Each zone bore a name reflecting its purpose—the Living Zone where dormitories clustered together, the Research Zone where studies of Magic and the Shadow World were conducted, and so on.

Before the station stood a statue of a swordsman carved from ivory-colored marble. Beyond it loomed an enormous structure of such towering height it seemed to pierce the very heavens.
Dezir’s party entered the Training Zone.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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