“Allen, do you need some time to think?”
“No. I was just surprised for a moment.”
I didn’t expect them to ask such a question directly to me.
“Then, can you answer?”
“Yes.”
I quickly organized my thoughts and prepared my tongue.
At first, I considered using the excuse of not having enough time to solve the problem.
But whether that was true or not, I knew it would leave a bad impression on the interviewer.
However, I also couldn’t pretend to know the problem.
Since I had no idea what the question about John Armstrong was even referring to, any lie I made would be obvious.
I needed a reason why I didn’t solve the problem.
A reason that would prevent further questions about the problem itself.
I needed an answer that would satisfy all of this.
“I didn’t solve the question because I thought the topic of John Armstrong was inappropriate for the Hero Department.”
“Why is that?”
“John’s style of martial arts is a bland and characterless form of fighting that shouldn’t be taught to someone like me, a hero candidate.”
With a light but impactful statement, I drew the attention of the interviewers.
Instructor Charles, who had asked the question, raised an eyebrow.
Was he offended because I insulted John, even though he’s supposed to be the president of John’s fan club?
They say harsh criticism creates passionate fans, so perhaps Charles had become sensitive after dealing with so many of John’s detractors.
But I wasn’t being harsh just for the sake of it.
John’s martial arts really did lack individuality.
Individuality is a crucial element in martial arts.
Especially in fantasy worlds.
Even the combat style of the Price family had its own unique characteristics that matched their family’s physique.
But John’s style was designed to be usable by anyone, regardless of their body type, magical power, or even lack of magic or physical strength.
John was given the character of a knight who couldn’t become a hero and became a vengeful spirit after losing his wife, a character devoid of uniqueness to evoke sympathy from the audience.
To achieve this, during filming, I focused solely on the standard close-combat techniques used to train ordinary knights.
Though I mixed in elements from other countries, I thoroughly removed any distinctive movements and pursued only universal techniques that everyone could follow.
Ironically, that universality and lack of individuality have become a unique selling point, but it’s still true that the martial art was created by stripping away individuality.
Adding a gun to it doesn’t elevate it to the level of the visionary martial arts used by other heroes.
Without understanding the creator’s intent, Charles glared at me with burning eyes.
I wanted to shout, “I’m the creator!”
But unfortunately, standing here was not the creator, but Allen Price, a mere applicant.
And Allen needed to at least pass this academy, or else John or not, he might get beaten to death by his father.
Fortunately, Instructor Charles didn’t do anything beyond raising an eyebrow.
Taking that as a positive sign, I continued my explanation.
“John’s style of martial arts is certainly excellent.
It compensates for the weaknesses of long-range weapons, creating an unimaginable synergy between close combat and weapons.
It’s so brilliant that I’m not even worthy of evaluating it.”
The more I spoke, the more I felt like I was gilding my face, but it wasn’t John Armstrong standing here—it was Allen Price.
I was just a desperate young man trying to pass the academy at all costs.
“Moreover, it doesn’t seem to require any special magical power or physical traits, making it universal as if it was designed with everyone in mind.”
“From what I’ve heard, it sounds like something suitable for students to learn.”
“That’s what it seems like at first glance. But the problem is that it’s too perfect and too universal.
It’s so perfect that there’s no room for further development, and it’s so universal that it requires one to disregard their individuality.
But a hero should be a unique individual who uses their individuality as a weapon.
That’s why I thought John’s martial arts could be detrimental to a hero.”
Of course, half of what I said was complete nonsense.
John’s martial arts were created without individuality in mind, but that didn’t mean they killed off all individuality like some kind of demonic art.
The key point was that they could be used regardless of individuality, but some types of individuality could actually create synergy with John’s martial arts.
The prime example of this was none other than Instructor Charles, sitting right in front of me.
But, as they say, interpretations can be better than the original story itself. As a student, I was in the position of needing to come up with interpretations that didn’t even exist in the original work.
Even if my words sounded like nonsense to the outside world, in this interview room, they were valid opinions.
Besides, if half of what I said was nonsense, that meant the other half was legitimate.
“Allen Price can’t showcase his individuality with John’s martial arts, wah.”
After all, I was also a hero candidate, wasn’t I?
“I believe it’s unacceptable for hero candidates, who should be constantly developing and growing, to suppress their individuality and halt their progress. That’s why I chose not to solve that problem.”
Several of the interviewers reacted positively to my words.
However, Charles, the one I needed to convince, remained motionless with his eyes closed.
Just when it felt like suspenseful music from a reality show was ringing in my ears, Charles quietly raised both hands—
Clap.
He applauded.
“You truly understood John. I apologize for pushing you so hard.”
“No need to apologize. As a fellow fan, I knew where you were coming from.”
It would’ve been amateurish to act confused and say, “Huh?” at this point.
Instead, I kept my composure and responded confidently, as if this had been my intention all along.
Charles seemed pleased with that response as well, showering me with praise.
Looking back, his intense gaze hadn’t been anger but passion.
“By the way, Interviewer Garick, could you give this student full marks on the questions he didn’t solve? Personal beliefs shouldn’t be a measure of skill evaluation, don’t you think?”
“Hmm. I was thinking the same. Those were your questions, right, Charles? If you’re satisfied, I have no objections.”
Wow. Truly medieval.
Even though their technology and living conditions were close to modern, their civic consciousness was still stuck in the Middle Ages.
Given that their culture was still lingering in the medieval era, it made sense.
The fact that they openly discussed this in front of a student without any reservations showed that they didn’t see it as a problem.
Grateful for their special treatment, I rationalized it as ‘just going with the flow.’
A few days later.
A report card arrived at the hotel located somewhere on Hetairo Island.
“…Hey, I think I’ve been working too much overtime lately. Why do I see your name as the top student in the Hero Department?”
“Exactly. No matter how many times I check, it seems like a system error. What’s it called again? Underflower? You know, that thing.”
“Underflow, you idiot.”
“Well, whatever, same difference. Maybe there was an underflow.”
“I’ll ask the admin office.”
Thanks to Leon’s royal authority, the result came back instantly.
Amazingly, there was no error—I really was the top student.
Ranked 3rd in theory, 1st in practical, and 2nd in the interview. Overall, the top of the class.
The world’s going to hell.
“If there’s such a shortage of talent that someone like me can be top of the class, things must be dire.”
“I heard the academy’s standards have dropped recently… I should report this to Father immediately.”
Why did my self-deprecating joke hurt me more than anyone else?
Leaving Leon, who was seriously reviewing the agenda, I picked up a blank sheet of paper and a pen.
Along with my report card, I had received an additional letter. In summary, it congratulated me on becoming the top student and notified me that I needed to prepare a speech as the representative of the new students.
Kindly, the letter also included the speech that the headmaster would be delivering.
“Damn it…”
One day.
That’s how little time I had to write the representative speech.
I didn’t sleep a wink.
By the time I finished writing the speech and practicing it for the entrance ceremony, it was time to leave.
Why put so much effort into something as trivial as a speech?
Well, this was the world’s top academy, and I was part of noble society.
If I brought a lousy speech to the entrance ceremony or stumbled over my words, my future life as a noble would become unnecessarily complicated. There was no way I could relax.
Sitting slouched in the rattling carriage, I glanced to the side.
To my left was Leon, who was in the same situation as me. As the top student of the Political Science Department, he had half-melted into a zombie state.
If someone like me, from a mere count’s family, had to care this much about appearances, how much worse must it be for the prince?
We had stayed up all night reviewing each other’s speeches since the previous day.
Damn it.
If they were going to make us give speeches, they should’ve notified us a week in advance instead of sending the notice the day before.
Grumbling, I stared out the window at the quickly passing scenery.
“Ugh.”
Maybe it was the fatigue, or perhaps it was the nerves, but the shaking of the carriage was starting to shake my brain loose.
Congratulations. You’re the first carriage in the top student of the Hero Department’s life to induce motion sickness.
I leaned toward the driver’s seat—or should I say, the front?—and asked the driver, who was steering the carriage with something resembling a crystal ball, to lower the window.
“The dawn breeze is chilly,” Carlos, the driver and the only person in the carriage still in full control of his faculties, refused without even looking at me.
His reasoning was that the prince catching a cold right before the entrance ceremony was unacceptable.
“But are you sure you can handle that?”
“Pardon?”
“If the prince catching a cold is a low probability and me throwing up on you is a high probability, which would you prefer?”
Only then did he glance at the mirror.
Realizing I wasn’t in great shape, he reluctantly opened the window.
“Oh… I can breathe again.”
“Don’t stick your head out the window, it’s dangerous.”
“Me, or the stuff outside?”
“Obviously, I’m more concerned about the stuff outside.”
“That’s harsh.”
Carlos was Leon’s bodyguard.
I was also one of Leon’s bodyguards, but once we arrived at the academy, I would be in the Hero Department, and Leon would be in the Political Science Department.
Carlos had been chosen to guard Leon in the Political Science Department in my place.
Carlos Sandalphon – Nicknamed Carl.
His family was a prestigious magical household, with the head of the family serving as the head of the Imperial Magic Special Operations Bureau, directly under the emperor.
If my family traditionally held the position of knight commander, the Sandalphon family traditionally held the position of head of the Magic Special Operations Bureau.
Because of that, while Leon felt like a younger brother who had grown up with me, Carl felt more like a friend from the neighboring house.
Carl’s skills were unquestionable.
Although much weaker than me in a direct fight, that was only when comparing the two of us. When it came to protecting Leon, Carl was far superior, making him the perfect choice for the job.
For reference, the academy doesn’t train wizards.
That’s the job of the Magic Tower, not the academy.
So, there was no Magic Department at the academy.
Usually, wizards who came to the academy had one of two goals: either they had already been to the Magic Tower and were here to find a job, or they were trying to build up their qualifications to enter the Magic Tower.
Carlos belonged to the former group.
Despite appearances, he was an elite who had completed his studies under the head of the Protection School at the Magic Tower and had even become an elder.
Now, all that was left for him was to graduate from the Political Science Department and follow the court wizard track.
Come to think of it, didn’t the Protection School also teach healing magic?
Only now did I remember Carlos’s background, so I asked him for a remedy for my motion sickness.
However, after glancing at my condition, he immediately refused.
“Allen, your motion sickness is caused by fatigue and nerves. Your other bodily functions are normal, so even if I use Cure on you, the sickness will just come back.”
“Then what do you suggest I do?”
“Wouldn’t it be better to speed up and arrive faster?”
“Did you hear that, Leon? Are you okay with that?”
Nod, nod.
It seemed that even speaking was too much for him at this point.
Once both Leon and I gave our approval, the carriage, driven by an elite from the Protection School, started racing like a madman.
The carriage successfully delivered two corpses to the entrance ceremony.
Time to cook