I Will Kill The Author

As I made my way out of the training hall, I headed for our homeroom class.

I was still a bit shocked.

I became Leo Kurogami's disciple! Ahh, this would solve so many of my problems in the future.

The more I thought about it, the more I realised the potential benefits of this connection.

Finally, some positive developments were taking place.

It had only been three days since our departure from Global City for our trip, and we had returned just yesterday.

However, it feels like a long time has passed.

–"Hey, look! Isn't he from that class?"

–"Class 1-A-1! Yes, yes! Such a tragedy. I heard six cadets in that class died on their trip, which was supposed to be a reward for them."

–"Truly a tragedy. Even though that guy named Nero Dekrauf is in their class, they still suffered so many losses."

Continuing on my path, I overheard some whispers among the cadets discussing our trip in hushed tones.

While a pang of guilt gnawed at me for not being able to prevent the loss of lives even with my future knowledge, my attention was piqued whenever Nero's name was mentioned.

Nero's popularity seemed to be on the rise.

This is exactly what happened in the novel following their class's victory in the Mock War.

If I'm not mistaken, which I'm definitely not, within a week or two, the rumours about Nero would reach the entire world.

Moreover, during the King's Tournament, Nero will have to employ his Gift in front of a huge crowd as he would battle against the vampire soldiers sent to kill him.

Following that, the rumours will turn into undeniable facts, and the world will have no choice but to acknowledge Nero's godlike Gift.

Numerous cults will emerge, worshipping him. His name will become widely known, even among children.

Furthermore, there will be individuals who will attempt to end his life in order to possess his extraordinary gift.

Haa, in all honesty, it would be a drag. I did try to avoid this route, but as always, fate is a bitch.

"Fuu," while indulging in such thoughts, I arrived in front of our homeroom. "Okay, let's do it."

The second arc officially begins.

†

"....In conclusion, the reason behind the exclusiveness of the Elven language in invoking a magic chant remains unknown to us.

"According to the elves, the god used a sophisticated variant of the Elven language, known as the High-Tongue, to bring about the creation of the universe.

"So essentially, we can say that the entire universe is composed of the Elven language, like a computer program.

"And when we chant to cast magic, we effectively modify the program's code, thereby influencing our reality.

"That's why the elves hold the belief that they were the first intelligent race of the universe.

"They also believe that God personally taught their ancestors this language and named it after their race, or perhaps their race was named after the language.

"We don't really know for sure since, after all, it's nothing but a legend. We also have no way to confirm this legend since the elves were driven out of their homes by the race known as the Demons.

"Regardless of the authenticity of the legend, one important point to note is that the Kalis lack the ability to cast spells due to their unfamiliarity with the elven language.

"Additionally, they are also unable to use runes and perform hand signs since both practices are derived from the Elven language too."

Right at the clock struck 7:00 AM, our homeroom instructor, Liz Snyder, arrived promptly and started her lecture without so much as acknowledging the fallen ones.

It was as if their absence meant nothing.

The six vacant seats of the cadets who tragically lost their lives yesterday meant nothing at all.

The atmosphere in the classroom was suffocatingly quiet, filled with a mix of horror, disturbance, and a general sense of sorrow.

No one seemed capable of diverting their attention from the heavy weight that hung in the air, rendering Liz's words irrelevant to the somber minds of the cadets.

"Ma'am!"

In the midst of the heavy atmosphere, there were a few cadets who managed to maintain their composure, and I happened to be one of them.

So when someone raised his hand to seek clarification, my gaze instinctively shifted toward him.

It was Hugh Jass.

"And so— Yes?" Liz noticed Hugh and gestured with her chin for him to proceed with his question.

"We've observed, as you mentioned once, the striking resemblance between High Elven and the Latin language. Why is that? After all, Latin has existed on Earth for thousands of years, while our contact with the Elves dates back only to a little over seven centuries ago," Hugh inquired.

"Excellent question, Mr. Jass. However, we don't know the answer to that. Scholars have been tirelessly searching for an explanation, but the reasoning they have put forth is—"

"STOP! JUST FUCKING STOP IT!!"

Just as Liz was in the middle of answering Hugh's question, a sudden outburst cut through the air, startling everyone in the classroom.

Everyone whipped their heads toward the source of the noise and found the person responsible for the outcry to be Chase.

"Mr Woods, is there a problem–" Liz tried to confront Chase, but the latter started yelling again.

"Yes, there is a fucking problem! How can you simply resume your class like those cadets who lost their lives yesterday meant nothing? Show some respect and at least acknowledge their absence!" Chase's voice reverberated with frustration and anger.

Silence filled the air as the cadets started between Chase and Liz.

They all had the same thing on their minds, but none of them had the guts to stand up and speak about it like that.

After a few moments, Liz cocked her head slightly. "And what will that do?"

"...W-What do you mean by that?! Are you implying–"

"I'm implying that it doesn't make a difference. I do feel immense sorrow for those who are no longer among us today. They were children... Their untimely and unexpected deaths were deeply unfair. However, what purpose would it serve for me to display the grief I feel? Will shedding my tears magically resurrect them? If that is the case, then I am willing to weep an ocean or deliver a mournful speech in their honor."

The classroom once again descended into a heavy silence. A sense of uncertainty and unease permeated the air.

It was an undeniable truth. As cadets and soon-to-be soldiers, we understood that mourning was a luxury we couldn't afford.

Every instructor told us that the first day we came to this academy.

Moreover, I knew the harsh reality that more tragedies awaited us in the future.

In that sense, I could relate to Liz's perspective more or less. I know she must be sad about those six cadets too.

However, I also understood that shedding tears alone wouldn't miraculously restore what was taken away.

Hearing her answer, a conflicted look appeared in Chase's eyes. He averted his gaze to look away.

Ting—!!

Before any further words could be exchanged, the resounding ring of the class bell echoed throughout the room, indicating the conclusion of the lecture.

"...Well then, it's time for your Combat Art class. Proceed to the training grounds in an organised manner," Liz directed.

–""Thank you for today's class.""

With nods of acknowledgement, everyone rose from their seats, performing a brief bow while saying their greetings to Liz.

Storing my notebook, which was filled with rough work and doodles, and pen back in my smart bracelet, I too started heading for the class exit.

"Lucas Morningstar, Nero Dekrauf, and Anastasia Bigod. Please wait back. I have something to discuss with you three."

As we were making our way out, Liz called our names and asked us to stay back.

"Haa," I let out a sigh, knowing what was going to happen.