Ado Gilro was a diligent man.

His diligence was so highly valued by the notoriously exacting magicians of the Magic Tower that they entrusted him with the duty of “secret bodyguard.” What more needed to be said?

However, his peers, especially those who had competed against him for tickets to Earth, had different opinions.

“Diligence? Don’t make me laugh. The old geezers didn’t pick you as a bodyguard because you’re a magician. It’s because you’re a submissive dog.”

Unlike their seniors who had emigrated to the U.S. or France after graduating from the academy, Ado was a submissive dog who obediently returned to his hometown.

Ado did not refute their claims. Because they were right? No, it was because the reasons didn’t matter to him.

For the sake of his hometown, he could become a dog a hundred, a thousand times over if need be.

He could endure dating a senator’s daughter he didn’t like, sending the academy scholarship and the subtly offered elixirs from Earth back to his hometown…

He could endure all of it—for his hometown.

But even for someone like Ado, the latest order left him tilting his head in confusion.

[After your battle with Cheon Yeomyeong, submit a detailed report on the battle and the martial arts used.]
*[Note: Records should reflect combat close to real warfare, not a friendly sparring match.]

Cheon Yeomyeong? Wasn’t he the first-year who had taken the lead during the terrorist attack to save his classmates?

If not for him, the treasures of Ado’s hometown, the “Vessel” and the “Saintess,” would not have survived.

They should be thanking him, not extracting battle records. Why?

The order was incomprehensible, but Ado was a diligent man.

He prepared for the mission diligently. He gathered rumors about Cheon Yeomyeong, referenced his personal data, and crafted provocations designed to be impossible to ignore.

He purchased a small special-purpose camera to record the combat and even secured a necklace-type magical device imbued with recording magic, just in case.

The only problem was figuring out how to meet the first-year Cheon Yeomyeong…

Right on cue, the principal arranged a meeting between them, as if heaven itself was providing the opportunity.

Ado worried about burdening the principal, who had done much for his hometown, but he couldn’t let the chance slip away.

And so, half-expecting and half-worried, he finally faced Cheon Yeomyeong.

The moment he did, Ado realized something was wrong.

The Cheon Yeomyeong standing before him was nothing like the person he had imagined.

The aura of a hero who fought dragons to save Manchuria, the righteousness of someone who risked his life for his classmates—none of it was there.

The teachers’ assessments of him as a diligent student and the students’ rumors that he was preoccupied with romance—both wrong.

What Ado saw before him was…

“…A Border Duke?”

Comparing an Earthling to a hero from his hometown was as disgraceful and shameful as thinking of a Jewish hero when looking at Hitler. But he couldn’t help it.

The Cheon Yeomyeong standing before him was the very image of the Border Duke he had met as a child.

A young man who outwardly feigned composure and courtesy while hiding a blade-like sharpness beneath the surface.

If someone had introduced him as a descendant of the Border Duke, Ado would have nodded without a second thought.

“Surely not? No, that’s impossible.”

Studying Yeomyeong’s face closely, Ado swallowed his suspicion.

Though the atmosphere was similar, the details were different. His eyes were a darker shade than the Duke’s, and his hair was an entirely different color.

Most importantly, the Border Duke had been rendered incapable of having descendants due to the aftereffects of nuclear weapons.

A child, let alone an illegitimate one, existing on Earth was unthinkable.

“If there’s nothing more to discuss, may I take my leave now?”

While Ado was lost in thought, the negotiation between Cheon Yeomyeong and the principal broke down.

“…This is my chance.”

Clearing his mind, Ado acted according to his plan.

He hurled his prepared insults at Cheon Yeomyeong, provoking him into a fight.

As expected, Yeomyeong took the bait. Ado hadn’t even used half of his provocations.

“Good… Begin recording.”

The first thing captured by the special recording camera was Ado’s left arm soaring into the air.

…?

A question mark formed in his mind as blood gushed from the severed limb.

The last thing to arrive was pain. The agony of flesh and bone being simultaneously severed below the shoulder brought him back to reality.

“I’m going to die.”

It was the intuition of a superhuman trained over years of discipline.

He didn’t even have time to react before Cheon Yeomyeong snatched the sword and swung it.

The difference in skill was overwhelming. He wouldn’t be able to respond to the next attack, either.

“Sp-spare…!”

Before he could utter a full plea for mercy, Yeomyeong’s hand flashed again.

The blade moved so fast it was invisible. Unable to anticipate where it would strike, Ado clenched his eyes shut.

He lacked the courage to face death.

“Sister, I’m sorry.”

As Ado recalled the face of the one he was sworn to protect, someone grabbed him by the nape of his neck.

At the very moment Yeomyeong disarmed Ado and seized his sword, Corvus and Lime moved almost simultaneously.

Lime, leaping from outside the break room, grabbed Ado by the nape of his neck.

It was a precise decision. The blade, after severing Ado’s arm, had been on course to strike his face.

Without hesitation, Lime yanked Ado away from the blade’s range, narrowly saving him.

“Are you insane? Were you planning to kill someone in the academy?”

Though Lime shouted as she pulled Ado back, the response was not words.

Thud!

The sound of a heavy impact, like metal being crushed.

The source was Corvus. Having transformed into her massive beast form, she had kicked Yeomyeong in the side.

Yeomyeong was flung into the air but regained his posture mid-flight, landing lightly.

Tap.

For the force of the attack, the landing was unnervingly soft.

Dusting off his clothes with a calm expression, Yeomyeong addressed Corvus.

“Corvus. What are you doing?”

Clicking her beak sharply, Corvus replied.

“What are you doing? You nearly killed someone.”

“….”

Yeomyeong said nothing, pressing his lips with a clenched fist before furrowing his brow deeply.

“…Am I not allowed to kill?”

The gleam in Corvus’ black pearl-like eyes dimmed.

“Of course not.”

“They provoked me first.”

“…No one on this Earth should die simply because they ran their mouth. If that were the case, half the world’s population would be gone within a week.”

“….”

“Cheon Yeomyeong. Look into my eyes.”

Their gazes locked, and Corvus seemed to discern something hidden beneath Yeomyeong’s golden eyes.

Sighing deeply, she spoke.

“Do you remember when I asked about your martial arts lineage?”

“…Yes, you asked if I followed Zhugashvili. As I said, I have no connection to that school.”

“You’re wrong.”

Cracking her shoulders audibly, Corvus continued.

“In the past, Stalin and the communists were obsessed with efficient martial arts—styles designed to kill stronger and faster.”

“….”

“By focusing solely on killing, they created martial arts devoid of philosophy or ideology. It was so deadly that even knights from other dimensions feared it…”

Yeomyeong cut her off. “I’m not interested in a history lesson.”

Corvus waved dismissively and continued.

“Martial arts aren’t something you can just mass-produce. Naturally, their martial arts came with side effects…”

“Side effects?” Yeomyeong’s confused gaze fell on Corvus’ beak.

“Since it focused solely on cultivating murderous intent without learning to control it, those who practiced it became inclined to kill indiscriminately. At first, only their enemies. Then, anyone who annoyed them. Finally, anyone they saw.”

At that moment, Yeomyeong frowned slightly, as if understanding something.

“The Zhugashvili school was created to suppress that murderous intent. Though now it’s nearly obsolete… Do you know why I’m telling you this?”

“…I can guess.”

“Yeomyeong, your current state is no different from those pre-Zhugashvili communists. You’re on the verge of being consumed by your own murderous intent.”

Yeomyeong didn’t respond. He simply clenched and unclenched the hand holding his sword, listening silently to Corvus.

“There are many possible reasons, but here’s my guess: some of the martial arts you’ve learned are designed solely for killing your opponent.”

Without needing anyone to explain further, Yeomyeong recalled the martial arts of Destruction—techniques that emitted hazy mana to enhance the body and created a simplified sword energy through shockwaves.

“You likely used them recklessly because they were efficient… but you probably didn’t understand their true essence or didn’t care to. When your emotions boiled over, instead of releasing the pent-up murderous intent, you bottled it up.”

“….”

“Am I wrong?”

Yeomyeong couldn’t think of anything to refute. It was all true.

While he remained silent, Corvus wrapped up her point with conviction.

“If left unchecked, that murderous intent will consume you, just as it consumed those superhuman communists of old.”

Yeomyeong glanced at Ado’s severed arm lying on the ground and the sword in his own hand, then bit his lip.

“…What should I do?”

“There’s actually a surprisingly simple solution. I’ve decided to become your teacher, so let me show you.”

Cracking her knuckles and neck, Corvus loosened up her body. She bounced lightly on her legs before suddenly speaking.

“First, we need to bleed off some of that murderous intent.”

Before Yeomyeong could ask how, Corvus leapt into the air.

The massive crow beast soared high above him and then plummeted toward Yeomyeong.

“By beating it out of you.”