Academy’s New Guard is Unusual - Chapter 3

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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 3
‘A Curse.’
I muttered, staring straight ahead.
Vicious curses writhed like thousands of serpents, converging on me. The sight was quite grotesque, yet unfortunately they couldn’t so much as touch the hem of my garment.
The moment the curses touched my pure white Holy Power, they scattered like dust.
Just as knights are weak to curses, curses are poison to the sacred.
‘What kind of man is this?’
People generally assume Dark Mages are madmen, but in reality, Dark Mages are ruthlessly calculating. This is because Dark Magic consumes life force, not mana.
The fact that a Dark Mage like this would touch a military train meant there was a backing so solid it could justify such reckless action.
I released my grip and moved toward the source of the curse.
Opening the door to the next car revealed suspicious figures.
Seven in total. Their faces were familiar.
The soldier who’d checked tickets, the one who saluted Leon at the station, and those waiting for the train with us—
‘The entire train was a trap.’
They appeared to be bigger players than I’d anticipated.
“Hmm? There’s a Priest here?”
The Dark Mage, seeing me, clicked his tongue. His reaction was surprisingly serene for someone confronting a Priest.
The reason became clear soon enough.
“Deal with it.”
The Dark Mage barked a curt order, and a man behind him drew a long Staff, leveling it at me.
A mage.
“Frost, bind the breath of our enemies.”
Cool air spread along the Staff’s length. My legs were engulfed in freezing cold.
Though my Holy Power had easily melted the curse, it offered no resistance to magic.
The remaining men drew their blades. Auras bloomed simultaneously from their weapons.
‘Men who’ve fought Priests before.’
A knight and a mage—at this level, most Priests would be helpless.
But unfortunately for them, I was no ordinary Priest.
I tapped the hilt lightly. Aura blazed from the scabbard, forcing back the frost.
“Aura—!”
The men who appeared to be knights gasped. The Dark Mage, by contrast, smirked.
“How pathetic. A half-baked Priest, truly. Fear not—it’s mere mimicry, a bastardized Aura and Holy Power combined.”
“You seem well-versed in Combat Priests.”
“Know them well. The Church State’s most foolish venture ever.”
The Dark Mage’s contempt was unconcealed.
The Church State had cultivated Combat Priests wielding both Aura and Holy Power to overcome type disadvantage. If one could use both, they’d hold superiority in every matchup.
Yet there was a problem.
Aura, which requires faith in oneself, and Holy Power, derived from faith in God, are fundamentally incompatible.
Thus, Combat Priests became neither true Priests nor true knights—something in between, and lesser for it.
‘That’s the official Church State narrative.’
The true reason the Church State abandoned the program lay elsewhere, though I had no interest in enlightening this fool.
“A half-baked fraud. Finish him.”
At the Dark Mage’s terse command, the men who appeared to be knights rushed toward me.
The one in front swung his blade at me straightforwardly, intending to crush my Aura with his own, just as the Dark Mage had advised.
I met his blade gladly. As the two Auras overlapped, he smirked—a crude, contemptuous thing.
“Fool—”
Crack! A sharp, violent sound split the air as the Aura shattered.
Of course, it wasn’t mine.
‘One.’
I watched the severed head float through the air, counting silently.
“Compressed Aura! At least a senior knight! Don’t engage alone!”
Another knight shouted urgently.
Senior knight? That was absurd.
I murmured a quiet joke and swung my blade at the next man.
“Tsk!”
He twisted his blade desperately. A decent reaction.
I torqued my hips, wrenching my shoulder with an impossible angle. My muscles tore from the unnatural movement, but Holy Power mended them quickly.
His swinging blade stopped mid-arc and became a thrust.
“What in—”
Horror flooded his eyes, then dimmed.
‘Two.’
I shouldered him forward. When his corpse sailed toward the next man, his teammate flinched—just barely, and only for an instant.
A heartbeat was sufficient, in combat.
“Three.”
I spoke to the Dark Mage.
Fear bloomed in his eyes—a beautiful sight.
Then, suddenly, his expression hardened with resolve.
“Fall back—!”
He shrieked the order sharply and flicked his wrist.
Blood sprayed like a fountain from his hand, hanging suspended in the air with an eerie stillness.
‘Surely not.’
My eyes narrowed to slits.
The Dark Mage pointed at me and cried out.
“Gaemun.”
The blood suspended in air rained back down. It reversed course, surging upward from the floor, beginning to boil and bubble. The floor, now covered in blood, melted away, revealing something dark and profane beneath.
A grotesque limb covered in coarse, bristling hair—a Demon’s Arm.
“Gaemun?”
“Impressive, you know of Gaemun. Then consider yourself fortunate—”
The Dark Mage spoke loudly, pride saturating his voice.
He had reason to be proud. Gaemun, the direct manifestation of a demon, was quite high-level Dark Magic.
The problem was that his power was not of that caliber.
“Tch. You forced the Gaemun open. How stupid.”
I clicked my tongue and brushed the dust from my hands.
My Aura and Holy Power scattered.
“Hahahaha! You’ve given up! Yes! Half-baked fool! Bow your head!”
The Dark Mage laughed loudly.
I held up three fingers toward him.
“If you seal the Gaemun while I count to three, I’ll give you a painless death. One.”
I folded down one finger.
“…What? You arrogant bastard, you’re truly insane!”
The Dark Mage laughed, spittle flying.
I folded another finger as I whispered.
“Three.”
Screech! A piercing metallic shriek erupted from all directions. Black Chains erupted from my right chest.
The Black Chains filled the train’s interior completely.
Concepts of speed became meaningless. As though the outcome had been predetermined, they struck the instant they extended.
The two knights, the mage, and the Demon’s Arm were impaled without even a chance to resist.
The Demon’s Arm thrashed as if trying to escape, but the Black Chains burrowed deeper.
It wasn’t combat. It was one-sided consumption.
“Gaemun?! How can someone using Holy Power—”
The Dark Mage stammered, his eyes wide with terror.
“Impossible! A Demon’s Heart transplant! How insane—!”
The Dark Mage trembled as though he’d seen a ghost. It was an implantation, technically, though not in the way he meant—and explanation seemed unnecessary.
As I approached, the Dark Mage quivered.
“You, you didn’t count two!”
“Two is silent.”
“Si—silent?”
“Never mind the details. You. How did you manage Gaemun? Your pathetic level makes it impossible.”
“I—I won’t answer you! I walk the path of Inverted Destiny! Pain is my joy, and curses are my blessings, you fool!”
The Dark Mage spoke with unfounded confidence.
Dark Mages were notorious for their terrible endurance. This was why torture was said to be useless against them.
“Everyone says that at first.”
I flicked my index finger. Pure white radiance bloomed along it.
Fear, genuine fear, appeared in the Dark Mage’s eyes for the first time.
“Using Holy Power to threaten me?! Sacrilege! It’s forbidden by Church State law!”
His invoking Church State law was somewhat amusing, but he wasn’t wrong.
The Church State strictly forbade the use of Holy Power for torture.
“It’s fine.”
I whispered into his ear.
“I’ve been excommunicated.”
The Dark Mage’s face twisted grotesquely.
* * *
‘The Table of Truth.’
I brushed the dust from my hands.
The Table of Truth was an organization composed of Dark Mages from among the Ten Imperial Enemies—heretic servants of Outer Deities, in reality.
While other Dark Mages sacrificed 1 life force to gain 3 power, the Table of Truth sacrificed 3 of their own plus another’s 10 to gain 5.
This was how that Dark Mage could use Gaemun.
A question arose simultaneously.
‘Why would the Table of Truth target Leon? Were they planning to replace the faculty?’
In the original story, Leon lost an arm but still became a professor.
How could he survive an ambush involving a Dark Mage skilled enough to use Gaemun?
“Where’s the enemy—?!”
Then Leon appeared, shouting loudly. Blood trickled from his lips—he’d bitten his tongue.
Such a curse wouldn’t break from biting one’s tongue alone.
‘Ah, he has talent for Dark Magic.’
Leon apparently possessed latent potential in Dark Magic.
That’s why the curse broke quickly and he escaped the trap. Faced with this unexpected variable, the Dark Mage must have panicked and fled—
Piecing the situation together, I understood how Leon managed to survive as a one-armed man and become a professor.
“Where’s the enemy!! I, Leon, have arrived!!”
“Quiet.”
I spoke tersely, and Leon’s eyes went vacant.
“Why informal speech?”
“Captain Leon.”
“Why are you—”
I drew an Insignia from my chest. Golden radiance poured from it, flooding the train car.
Bathed in light, Leon’s eyes went dull and empty.
“…A star?”
Leon’s face turned corpse-pale.
* * *
‘The 444th Unit.’
Leon’s throat constricted as he stared at the numerals inscribed on the Insignia the man held out.
There’s a saying at the Front Line.
Mediocrity gets dragged to the Front Line, the exceptional move to the Command Center, and among those, the very best are stationed at the Frontmost Line.
And beyond even that Frontmost Line, there exist those who operate in hell itself—
Units bearing repeated numerical patterns, created to hold back the Curse of the Archdemon.
The 111th Unit, the 222nd Unit, the 333rd Unit. And—
‘The 444th Unit.’
The numerals etched on the man’s Insignia.
“Respect to the Empire—!!”
Leon offered the salute reserved for generals, desperately and with every fiber of his being.
‘I’m done for. I’m done for.’
Leon wanted to bite off his own tongue. The cascade of disrespect and impropriety he’d shown the man came flooding back.
Just then, the man accepted the salute with practiced ease.
“Captain Leon.”
“Yes!!!”
“I’m carrying out classified orders under the Commander’s directive. Report this as your doing.”
Stopping a Dark Mage’s assault was an immense achievement.
To hand such glory to Leon—
‘What an incredibly cool person!’
Of course, this was the legendary 444th Unit. A hero worthy of the name would hardly hold a small discourtesy against Leon.
“Yes!! I understand!!”
Leon exhaled in relief.
Then the man called to him calmly.
“Captain Leon.”
“Captain! Leon!”
“Oh, still standing?”
The man asked as though genuinely curious.
Still standing? What did that—Leon belatedly grasped the meaning.
‘He’s telling me to prostrate myself!’
Leon hurriedly slammed his head to the ground. He hit it hard enough to hear a bang, but given the circumstances, he felt no pain.
“Now we’re on the same level.”
At the man’s measured voice, Leon squeezed his eyes shut.
‘He totally held it in.’
He’d spoken informally to a general of the 444th Unit. This was no mere military career derailment.
‘I’m never getting to the Academy.’
Never going back to the battlefield either—Leon made an internal vow.
“So, the Academy it is.”
“Yes? Yes!!! That’s!!! Right!!!”
“There’s one thing I need to ask of you.”
His tone belied the casual phrasing, yet Leon could only nod with his head pressed to the floor.
“Say it! Anything!! I’ll do it!!!”
Leon cried out, his voice raw enough to draw blood from his throat.
“Anything?”
The man’s voice sounded like a demon’s whisper.
Leon desperately wanted not to nod.
Yet he had no choice.
“Yes!! Anything!!”
The corners of the man’s mouth rose savagely.

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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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