After a few days of acclimatizing myself to the Academy life, I’ve now established my presence as nothing more than a background character of a typical novel.
Bland and unnoticeable to most.
Like the noise of rain or the howls of the wind.
I’ve now become one to my surroundings.
A stark characteristic to the current mission I’m in.
It wasn’t the typical mission where I go and find my target then kill them per say, this was in the lines of someone like my close acquaintance is better suited at.
The role of a mole or in other words, a spy.
Usually acting as an instructor would be an Inquisitor's role for this but this time around, they decided something different was gonna happen.
And I was the one that was chosen.
Yet even though Oracle made that decision, I don’t think I’m qualified to be doing this.
After all, I’m not proficient in espionage whatsoever.
But I don’t think I have any say to this as this was something very important.
And it all had to do with the Academy.
Since the founding of the Academy, the Order has been keen on having the educational institute as a neutral ground for nurturing the prospects for the Kingdom’s benefit.
Thus, Operation Cloak and Daggers was born.
The purpose of which heavily revolves around monitoring and observing the students fitting the criteria that is deemed by the Order necessary to be eliminated or dealt with.
Like a mesh that filters out threats to the Academy’s stability.
In a way, this was the Order’s method of ensuring that the Academy is keeping it in line.
Of course not everything goes according to what is intended, there were some instances of an Inquisitor abusing his authority and whatnot or lapses of judgement that resulted in inaccurate assessments…
Which is why Inquisitors that are planted among the ranks of students are tasked to make weekly reports about their findings about the Academy, from students to the state of affairs, back to their respective handlers.
A very repetitive and menial cycle yet necessary to maintain consistency…
Every so often, some lucky few who caught the attention of the higher ups are given a chance to be a part of the Order.
They go through a certain process of trials and if successful, they are then assessed by the council whether or not they are fit to become a member of the Order of the Clergy.
We call those people, ‘Acolytes’.
A student from the Academy that was scouted out by the Order.
But I’m no recruitment officer.
What I’m here for was not to be that, rather, I’m just here for someone.
Oracle prophesied the birth of a new hero.
The details about the hero’s whereabouts remained a secret to most Inquisitors except for a few.
My handler and I were the exceptions.
Obviously the implications behind it brings a great sense of urgency to the Order.
Who knows what’ll happen if someone else discovered the identity of the hero first…
All I have is my wits and grit, Oracle never told me what the hero looked like as the location was all that he could get out of his prophetic visions.
Still despite the pressure, my task of identifying the hero proved to be challenging.
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—Ting
As class was being dismissed, there was an interesting conversation brewing up.
“Apparently some greenhorn decided to challenge Venn.”
Rumors about a duel seemed to have spread to our department, so I decided to tag along with a bunch of my classmates to the Arena.
“What? Seriously? What department is the greenhorn from for him to be challenging that force of nature?”
“I heard he was a swordsman from the Combat Department.”
Now I’m kind of curious, who was this greenhorn?
One of them exclaimed, their reaction a bit too over the top.
“What?! He’s in that department and he’s challenging a magician!?”
“Cain, what do you think? Does the greenhorn have a chance against the strongest sophomore of the Thaumaturgy Department?”
“I’m not quite sure but I think the magician has an edge over the greenhorn…”
They all seemed to collectively agree with that notion.
A magician has the advantage of being a long ranged duelist, but not only is their distance a problem to a swordsman, their arsenal is significantly more capable than the latter’s disposal.
“You know what they say, a magician against a swordsman always results in a one-sided battle for the former.”
“I’ll be praying for that poor greenhorn, he needs it more than that…Monster.” He shivers as he says that.
While we were on our way to the Arena, gossip seemed to have spread like wildfire as the hall was packed to the brim.
What I got from them was this.
At first, the bout was nothing more than to settle an argument between the two, but the Dean of the Thaumaturgy Department provoked the other party, which was the greenhorn, to apologize rather than having a meaningless bout.
Infuriated and humiliated, the greenhorn of the Combat Department threw his glove to the ground right in front of the magician.
Not wanting to back out, the magician arrogantly scoffed at him and accepted.
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Making their would be bout into an official duel.
That’s the gist of it but rumors are rumors.
It’s not really known for being a reliable source of information.
Once we managed to squeeze into the Arena, we couldn’t help but stop for a moment.
“This is bigger than the Auditorium!”
“Look, it's them! Quick, let's find a spot before the duel starts.”
As they hurriedly scutter to an empty spot at the top, I took my time to observe the people around us.
Students from different departments and even some faculty members were present.
Usually, the Combat Department are the only ones to conduct sparring sessions with one another and vice versa to the Thaumaturgy Department.
The audiences that attended those sessions numbered few.
But thanks to the Order’s intervention under the pretense of diversifying their skills and utilizing the maximum potential of their talents.
It was decided that the two Departments would be engaging in joint exercises.
This in turn would attract a lot of attention.
It being the first official duel between a Combat Cadet and a Thaumaturgy Sophomore of this semester, this was a big deal.
“Hennings!” The voice was oddly familiar, I turned around to see who called me out.
Hair styled into a ponytail and that faded amber eyes, there’s no way I wouldn't know who this was.
“Fancy seeing you here, I take it that you are here to watch the duel.”
I nodded at her, “I’m here with my friends.”
She frowned at that.
“Oh, I was meaning to invite you but that would be rude I suppose.”
“Cain! Over here!” Ah, speaking of which…
I looked over at them and gestured that I was coming.
“Excuse me but I have to go.”
She sighs and reluctantly waves her hand.
Our brief encounter ended just like last time.
Just as I intended but there’s something that’s been bugging me.
Rei Von Del, she was someone that I was very wary of at first but upon further investigation of my own volition, I had uncovered her purpose in this Academy and the truth behind the friendship between her and the Saintess.
Based on what my handler told me, her family was involved in the escort business.
To elaborate, the Von Del family rented out their arms to those that needed their services.
Though instead of escorting merchants like what mercenaries do, the Von Del family specifically caters to Nobles who don’t have the capability of ensuring their own security.
This in turn made the Von Del family gain countless connections from other nobles.
Her family was nothing short of influential and that wide web of connections even reaches out to the Royal family and importantly, to the Church.
Most of the official gatherings that the Church attends employ the services of the Von Del family
Put two and two together and her motives are as clear as glass.
Either way, there’s nothing for me to worry about as Ezra is in safe hands.
But the question at hand is, why?
Why was she looking forward to meeting me?
And why does it seem…
—Desperate…?
I shook those thoughts away as I sat together with my clique.
All of them were sharing their opinions on the duel and whatnot.
“Cain, the duel is starting! Who are you betting on?”
Barely managing to get that, I cup my chin as if I paid attention to them but in reality, I was busy brainstorming some ideas on how to identify the hero.
When I briefly glanced back at my friend, I answered his question with a shrug.
He playfully smacks my shoulder.
“Come on, don’t you trust your guts? I have a feeling that Venn has it in the bag. So what is your gut telling you?”
My gut is telling me to get some grub.
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—Boom!
The arena was filled up with dust clouds as an explosion of magical energy shook the stage.
As the dust settled, the silhouettes of the duelist were still standing.
Yet upon looking further, one could tell that the greenhorn was worse off.
After all, taking that kind of spell at point blank?
The audience from the Academic Departments had to cover both their ears and eyes by how deafening and blinding the explosive flashes were!
It was powerful enough that it shook the platform they were fighting on.
“Tear him apart Venn!”
The magician pointed his wand at the greenhorn.
“Pay the price for your arrogance, mongrel.”
A small beam of magical energy escaped from the tip of his wand.
The greenhorn let out a loud grunt as he managed to maneuver himself away from the magician’s spell.
Being able to grip the heavy iron sword and maintain a solid stance after taking a blast…
That’s more than a feat.
“Arrogance? You think I’m doing this because of that!” The greenhorn adjusted the grip on his sword.
In just a matter of seconds, the greenhorn managed to close the distance, weaving through every spell that the magician was throwing at him.
The cadets of the Combat Department cheered for their own blood.
As if the greenhorn was carrying the weight of their pride.
Venn was visibly angered both by the cheers and at greenhorn as he struggled to land a hit.
With a roar, the greenhorn broke through the magician’s guard and quickly went to his blindspot.
But Venn was quick to retaliate, “Know your place!”
Before the sword could make contact and deliver a finishing blow, Venn let out his mana and repelled the attack.
Taken aback by this, the greenhorn tried to follow it up with another sword thrust but was met with a strong wind that swept him off his feet.
Prrt!
That whistle blow signalled the end of the duel.
A flag was then waved.
“What!? A draw?!” Venn fumes at the result of the duel.
The people who had their bets on Venn gasped in disbelief at the outcome.
Meanwhile, the Cadets of the Combat Department continued to cheer on to the greenhorn.
“You have violated the conditions of the duel, you were only permitted one type of magic spell, therefore you have forfeited your win.” The overseer reprimands the magician.
Venn stomped away leaving behind the incapacitated swordsman who was on the ground recovering from the injuries he sustained.
Before Venn could make it out the stage, the swordsman called out to him.
“A simple apology would be nice to hear…” The greenhorn despite the duel he just had, still stubbornly insisted on his request.
The magician clicked his tongue.
Venn glares at him and says, “Over my dead body.”
He then scoffed away.
Leaving the Arena like the arrogant sophomore he was.
As the swordsman slowly got up, he unwrapped his hands from the cloth beneath his gloves, revealing a very small odd sigil that was on the back of his palm.
No one seemed to have noticed it as they were busy being in shock at Venn's loss while some, mainly the Combat Department roared in excitement and was giving praise to their rising star of a rookie.
Even though the greenhorn didn’t win, just the draw alone was enough for them.
But to Cain who was watching all of this, he couldn’t help but feel the hair on his body rise.
After all, the sigil he just saw was the mark of a hero.
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The dawn bled a bruised purple over the city, painting the spires of the Academy’s Cathedral in a ghostly light.
Juniper, the custodian nun, shuffled through the echoing chambers of the empty mass hall with a broom in hand.
Dust motes danced in the first slivers of sunlight filtering through the stained-glass windows.
Each one was a vibrant tale– The Holy Mother weeping at the foot of the cross, a radiant Shepard blessing his flock of sheep, a stern-faced Saint slaying a dragon.
The priests, the nuns and all the churchhood had finished their rituals earlier before sun had risen, and now they had departed to consume their daily bread at the cafeteria.
As Juniper swept the floor, the arching doors of the Cathedral opened with a slight screech.
There a hooded man with the emblem of the Royal Academy stitched on his torso bowed as he to her as he greeted her.
“I’ve come to repent.” Juniper’s expression brightened upon the recognition of his voice.
She ushered him to come along and guided him to the confession room.
When Cain took off his hooded robe, he was no longer a Debutant of the Literature Department.
He was no longer Cain.
“Chide in me your troubles, oh weary Lamb.”
Abel placed his first two fingers and thumb together and formed a sign, then he crossed himself from right to left.
From his head to his chest, then to his shoulder to another.
He took a deep breath as he prepared himself to utter.
“The Heavenly Light’s Champion has been found.”