Academy’s New Guard is Unusual - Chapter 64

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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 64
Milo had heard many stories about the Rift from the members of Team 42.
The most striking one had come from Scarlet.
— If you ever enter the Rift, bite your own tongue. It’s the fastest way to escape.
Scarlet had emphasized it seriously, more than once.
The other team members had reacted similarly. It told him how horrifying the Rift truly was.
The Rift that Milo had experienced firsthand was indeed horrifying.
The High Knights who came rushing at him with broken jaws, grinning all the while—he feared they would visit his nightmares.
Such creatures packed the area in all directions. There were dozens of them.
Milo couldn’t even breathe freely—
“If you haven’t found them, go search again.”
Yet Grave had commanded them with complete confidence.
Milo knew Grave was no ordinary person.
Still, ordering the creatures around like errand boys was bizarre.
What was even stranger was that they actually obeyed, scurrying about with genuine zeal.
‘Am I just too stupid to understand what’s happening?’
Nervous, Milo glanced sideways at Andy. Andy’s face showed the same confusion.
Milo felt oddly reassured.
“This one says he’s seen her!”
“Pink hair? You’ve seen someone with pink hair?”
“Yes, I’ve seen a woman with pink hair, sir.”
“Where did you see her?”
“There, sir. At the Grand Chapel.”
The creature pointed toward a distant white building of considerable size. Even to Milo’s eye, it looked important and intimidating.
The real problem was the sheer number of people in pure white garments surrounding it.
He absolutely did not want to go there.
“I see. Well done.”
“Then I shall take my leave, sir—”
“Wait.”
Just as the creature turned to leave, Grave called him back.
Why again…? Milo bit back a scream that threatened to burst forth.
“Guide us there.”
“Yes, sir. This way, if you please.”
Grave followed the creature without hesitation, and Milo had no choice but to follow Grave.
When they reached the Grand Chapel, the crowd that had already been thick became even denser. There was barely room to stand, and the aura these creatures gave off was far more oppressive.
The ones they’d encountered before were at most mid-tier; these were experienced veterans of that same rank.
Such beings filled every available space.
The moment they were discovered, all of them would attack.
Milo’s hands trembled with tension.
Yet Grave, leading from the front, looked utterly unmoved.
No, unmoved wasn’t quite right.
“Cramped.”
He complained openly. The creature looked at him helplessly, as if to ask what Grave expected him to do.
Grave clicked his tongue and raised his hand. Holy Power flared brilliantly—even to Milo’s untrained eye.
Instantly, every creature in the vicinity turned to stare at Grave.
This was a situation where avoiding attention was already impossible, yet he’d drawn it deliberately.
Milo stifled a scream.
“Make way.”
Grave issued the command evenly. The creatures in front moved left and right, creating a clear path.
Grave proceeded down it as though it were the most natural thing in the world, his gait utterly dignified.
Milo found himself thinking, ‘Is he really a High Priest?’
He’d known Grave was bold, but not to this extent.
All Milo could do was keep as close to Grave as possible.
He glanced back at Andy, who appeared deathly pale.
“Are you alright?” Milo whispered.
Andy, who’d been staring blankly, startled and nodded hurriedly.
“Yes, yes. I’m fine.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you however I can.”
Milo spoke with forced casualness, offering what he hoped was a reassuring smile. Andy managed a weak smile in return.
It was then that Milo decided to ask something that had been nagging him.
“Grave, is your magical ability exceptional as well?”
“More than exceptional,” Andy said flatly.
“What do you mean?”
Andy’s voice hardened.
“He’s definitely a High Mage.”
Grave was a High Knight. But a High Mage too—?
It made no sense.
“You must have misread him. Grave’s a High Knight.”
“…What?”
“A High Knight, I’m telling you.”
Andy’s eyes visibly widened in alarm. His gaze sharpened, fixed on Milo with intensity.
“No, he’s a High Mage. How could he be a High Knight?”
“I’m not joking. I’m serious—I’d stake my father on it.”
“…Are you really saying he’s a High Knight?”
“I’m serious. I saw his sword technique clearly. You must have misread it.”
“No, sir. Magic can’t be misread. The amount of mana inherent in it differs dramatically. Such an Ice Spike would be impossible for anyone but a High Mage.”
Andy spoke firmly, and from his tone, this wasn’t idle speculation.
“So you’re saying…a High Knight and a High Mage both at once?”
“And just now, he demonstrated High Priest-level Holy Power as well.”
“…His Black Magic was also high-level.”
To sum it up: Grave was a High Knight, a High Mage, a High Priest, and competent in Black Magic.
Yet his official status was a newly enlisted member of the Security Corps.
It was the sort of thing that would earn him ridicule even at a drinking table.
None of it made sense, but one thing was certain.
“For now, let’s just follow behind Grave.”
“Agreed.”
Both nodded simultaneously.
Then Grave pushed open the door and stepped inside.
Within lay a magnificent and vast sanctuary.
Pure white windows, a golden dais, and inside them—so many figures in white that they resembled insects.
At least a thousand, surely.
Suddenly, countless gazes turned toward their group. Crazed eyes, and the pressure they exerted was crushing.
One wrong move and they would all rush forward.
Even Milo, standing at the rear, felt his mouth go dry. Yet Grave, at the front and bearing the full weight of their stares, remained composed.
He kept his back perfectly straight, his stride unwavering.
He resembled nothing so much as a protagonist making a grand entrance at a banquet.
Watching Grave’s back, Milo had a thought.
Even simply following behind him was no easy feat.
* * *
‘Hmm.’
I took a seat in the front row of the sanctuary. A worshipper had been sitting there, but he vacated it hastily once I radiated my Holy Power.
The Holy Empire made such things convenient.
‘But where is Evangeline?’
I scanned the sanctuary slowly.
Evangeline’s hair was a bright pink. Among all this white, it should have stood out unmistakably—but I didn’t see her among those seated.
“Glory! Glory! Glory!”
Then a thousand voices cried out in unison. Their synchronization was so perfect that it sounded like a single voice.
The organ erupted with a thunderous Pam-pam-pam-boom!! filling the sanctuary.
Soon a portly, bald-headed man ascended the dais. He had the typical appearance of a kindly priest, his face warm with a practiced smile.
“We shall begin the service. Glory!”
“Glory!!”
“Let us pray first.”
Typically a priest would raise a scripture, but this man produced a dagger instead—pure white, with a razor-sharp blade.
The bald man drew the blade across his own arm.
Blood sprayed forth like a fountain.
“Oh, glory! Glory!”
“Glory!”
The bald man grinned widely, pressing his wound with his other hand.
The fervor, tainted with madness, grew ever more intense.
Then—Thud!—the bald man collapsed.
“Martyrdom! Martyrdom!”
“He is a martyr!!”
The fanatics cheered. A few of them rushed forward and dragged the bald man away.
All of them were smiling radiantly, as though they’d just witnessed the most glorious of rites.
‘Damnable fanatics.’
The service continued.
Next came a gaunt woman. She recited the usual platitudes in the manner of a sermon.
The problem was that once her sermon ended, she set herself ablaze.
As the flames consumed her, she laughed—a high, delighted laugh.
The fervor of the service grew white-hot in response.
Then a man in an ornate mask ascended the dais. It was a golden mask, adorned with stag-like horns.
When the man raised his hand, the once-cacophonous sanctuary fell instantly silent.
His authority was clearly considerable.
“The Saint has descended upon us.”
…A Saint?
An ominous feeling washed over me.
“Come now, Saint. Show yourself.”
The man gestured toward the rear. The crowd’s gaze shifted backward.
There was pink hair. Evangeline, without her glasses.
Evangeline craves attention. When she receives attention beyond measure, she loses herself in it.
Just like now—
“Who am I?!”
Evangeline burst onto the dais like a professional wrestler.
It was hardly fitting for a Saint, but the fanatics paid no heed.
“The Saint!”
“Do you believe?!”
“Glory!”
Delighted by their fervent response, Evangeline bounded about the dais. She even attempted a handstand—and immediately fell.
Still, the fanatics roared their approval.
“E-Evangeline as a Saint? What blasphemy is this?”
Andy muttered in shock, then—a mage, no less—actually crossed himself in distress.
Milo followed up flatly:
“At least she seems unharmed.”
Unharmed…?
Quite the opposite. This was the worst possible scenario.
The Holy Empire prides itself on offering sacrifices to God.
That was why the man had cut his arm and the woman had set herself ablaze.
The most precious offering the Holy Empire knew was a Saint.
That was why they fawned over the Saint so extravagantly.
The process of offering up a Saint occurred in stages, and the mildest of these was immolation.
They set the Saint alight while alive, then flood her with Holy Power so she doesn’t die. The screams that tear from her in that moment—those are their hymns.
I needed to get Evangeline out before the immolation. The problem was that once the service ended, the Saint would be taken for sacrifice immediately.
In other words, every fanatic in this sanctuary served as her guard.
Even I could not push through them all and extract her.
“Who am I?!”
“The Saint!!”
…Hmm. Do I really need to save her?
Watching Evangeline in her element, positively glowing with joy, I considered it seriously.
* * *
Evangeline had always been certain of one thing: her destiny was misfortune.
Most of her life had been wretchedly unhappy.
But not here.
Everyone called her a Saint and revered her.
They hung on her every word, and the moment she gestured, they scrambled to provide whatever she wanted.
Which was precisely why Evangeline felt uneasy.
‘Things never go this well for me. Something’s wrong.’
Evangeline was certain something had gone terribly awry.
Then someone suddenly stood.
A tall man in a golden mask.
He was distinct from everyone else here in a way she couldn’t quite articulate.
He possessed a certain nobility.
A presence so commanding that everything else seemed mere decoration by comparison.
There was only one person she knew with such an insufferable aura.
‘…Grave? He came to rescue me!’
Evangeline’s hand shot up eagerly.
“Glory!!”
The crowd responded in kind, their voices rising in unison.
Then Grave’s gaze found hers. Behind him, brilliant pure-white light erupted.
Holy Power so resplendent that even Evangeline, a nonbeliever, felt momentarily entranced.
The sanctuary erupted in commotion as everyone stared at Grave.
Grave remained impassive, as though their attention were his due.
Truly, a remarkable man.
Grave pointed directly at Evangeline.
‘Help! Help me!’
Evangeline gestured desperately.
Then Grave spoke, his voice steady and clear.
“That Saint is a fraud.”
Wait—how did he know?!
Evangeline’s indignation erupted.

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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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