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Chapter 131

Chapter 131 Freshman Talent Show (2)

High mountains and deep valleys, a desolate battlefield. We march forward through the falling snow.

Young spirits are lost in that moment, the wounded pines have forgotten how to speak.

Comrades, can you hear it? That furious voice.

Comrades, can you see it? Those determined eyes.

-Military Anthem, “Marching Forward”-

As the audience’s age group changed, their evaluations gradually shifted. Professors who had previously regarded the freshmen’s talent show as mere child’s play began to speak earnestly.

“…This military anthem is truly touching. It feels like it’s reading my soul.”

“Reminiscing about the last front lines before the Empire was unified 50 years ago.” Many people died back then. Junior Lieutenant Big Pressure, Sergeant Wiseharp, Corporal Uphem, and Private Ryan… “I’m missing you all.”

“Old comrades, I apologize for surviving alone all these years. Please don’t resent me for living on behalf of all of you.”

Retired military veterans, who had spent half their lives on the battlefield, began to moisten their eyes.

Even the young professors and teaching assistants who had experienced war, big or small, were suppressing their emotions with alcohol.

Veterans understood the emotions conveyed in the rugged songs of veterans and resonated with them. For the young puppies, it was an unfamiliar but powerful song filled with deep sorrow.

…Do they understand?

Just a moment ago, a newcomer from a different timeline held a memorial for them.

Meanwhile, in the same room, Tudor and Sancho, now roommates, watched Vikir and scratched their heads.

“What’s up with him? Why is he singing a military anthem like an old man? Hey Sancho, you said you were a mercenary, right? Have you ever heard such a military anthem?”

“This military anthem is not from the Northern regions. It has a great spirit. I’d like to learn it too.”

“Does anyone in your family serve in the military? He should be around the same age as us. Oh, by the way, wasn’t that guy the one who ranked first in the written exam?”

“Hmm. He’s quite enthusiastic for a bookworm. To think he’d plan to sing a military anthem in the talent show.”

It seemed that the young aspiring heroes didn’t quite empathize with the sentiment of the military anthem.

At that moment, someone interrupted Tudor and Sancho’s conversation.

“Hello. Excuse me, but are you members of the Cold Department? If so, may I ask if you know the person who just sang the military anthem?”

A short-haired girl with a subtle smile.

SinClaire, passing through the Cold Regiment’s OT venue and walking down the hallway, had taken an interest.

“No, we’re from a different unit. Why?”

Tudor and Sancho shook their heads, curious about SinClaire’s inquiry. She glanced at Vikir and Figgy, who were now far away.

She had actually been watching this scene for a while.

She observed how Figgy, when his name was called, was trembling with anxiety, and how Vikir, with his rough hands, comforted him.

“…Just curious.”

Sinclaire nodded with a faint smile.

“I think he seems like a nice person, so I want to get to know him.”

* * *

Vikir returned to the gathering after finishing his performance at the talent show. Some senior professors approached him even before he could sit down.

“Is your father a military veteran? We’ve never heard such a military anthem. Is it from the old country?”

“What? Did you compose it yourself? Impossible! Such a magnificent song!”

“At our Academy, we occasionally hold military anthem competitions. You should definitely submit this!”

“Hey, would you consider taking my composition class as an elective?”

Vikir felt somewhat embarrassed but didn’t decline the drinks recommended by the professors.

After all, he couldn’t refuse the drinks offered by the faces of those who had once been his commanding officers, protecting their subordinates, leading them into battle, and falling heroically on the battlefield.

This academy was a place where heroes from the past, present, and future converged, and as such, Vikir encountered many people from his previous life.

After accepting and downing all the drinks recommended by everyone, Vikir returned to his seat. However, at that moment, he halted for a moment.

Bianca Usher of the Usher house, A family prominent in military and divine bow skills, was standing in front of Vikir, blocking his way.

Vikir tried to pass by her quietly, but Bianca spoke up, “Rooftop.”

Vikir stopped momentarily but then continued walking without turning back.

Thud, thud, thud… Vikir maintained his pace, seemingly oblivious to her words, and continued on his path.

Bianca recognized the scent of rum emanating from Vikir. It was the same scent she had smelled during the rooftop chase earlier, She couldn’t catch up with ‘someone.’ much less a guy in the same year as her.

Even though she had never lost in terms of speed before, this was the first time she experienced such a crushing defeat. Bianca couldn’t identify the identity of that elusive person despite her best efforts.

She furrowed her brow and called out to Vikir, “Hey, wait! You were definitely on the rooftop earlier!”

But Bianca couldn’t finish her sentence.

“Alright, freshmen! Cheers!”

“Drink up! Drink up! Drink up! Drink up!”

“Let the alcohol flow~ All the way~”

Intoxicated seniors made a ruckus, clinking glasses and blocking Bianca’s path.

Clank, clank, clank, clank… Glasses clashed, and drops of alcohol splashed everywhere.

Amidst the noise and chaos created by the jubilant seniors, Vikir was hidden from Bianca’s view as he walked on.

“Wait, where did he go…!?”

Bianca turned her head around, but the bustling crowd prevented her from finding Vikir.

She stopped her attempt to follow him, realizing that there were many people and many scents of rum in this place. The smell was strong, but she couldn’t confidently say it was the same scent she had detected on the rooftop earlier.

‘Did I imagine it?’

Bianca furrowed her brows slightly.

The strong scent of rum that seemed to emanate from Vikir had completely vanished now.

Instead, the overwhelming smell of various cheap liquors around her overwhelmed her senses.

She started to doubt whether the scent she noticed on the rooftop earlier was really the smell of rum.

Maybe the whole intuition itself was a mistake.

‘…Yeah, it must be just my imagination.’

‘ Bianca turned her attention away from Vikir.

She couldn’t see any reason to be concerned about a guy who sang some unknown military song.

On the other hand, Vikir, who had been tracked by Bianca, was standing on the opposite side.

‘She’s got a good sense.’

The rum scent he had on him from the skirmish with mercenaries outside the academy seemed to have lingered.

Fortunately, with so many drunken seniors and peers around, he could easily hide the scent.

‘Can’t ignore them just because they’re kids.

I need to be more careful from now on.

‘ The Seven Great Clans – Baskerville (Sword), Morg (Magic), Quovadis of the faith (Healing), Donquixote (Spear), Usher (Bow), Ruthless Reviadon (Poison), and Industrial clan Bourgeois (Money).

Even though they were just puppies, they were descendants of these seven great families.

He needed to be more cautious of them.

Vikir sighed.

At that moment, he noticed another gaze that was still fixed on him, avoiding Bianca’s line of sight.

Dolores!

The student council president of the academy and the head of the newspaper department.

She was staring at him with a strange expression.

‘What’s going on?’

Why does that kid look so familiar?

Dolores had a clear expression that seemed to reveal her thoughts.

Vikir quickly adjusted his glasses and made sure to lock the door to his heart, preventing her from reading his soul.

He tried to act as harmless as possible, blending in with the crowd to avoid being noticed by the saint.

Fortunately, Dolores’ gaze disappeared after a few seconds.

She was being distracted by professors and department heads who were praising her.

To prevent Dolores from discovering the true identity of the “Night Hound,” Vikir did his best to stay away from her line of sight.

‘I’ve had enough.’

I should go back to the dorm.

‘The curfew was approaching.

Some drunken juniors were leaving the dormitory building.

Vikir also planned to go back home a little earlier thanks to this atmosphere…

However, just as Vikir was about to disappear from everyone’s sight, something grabbed his attention.

“Hey, you! You had a pretty funny expression during the talent show earlier, didn’t you?”

“Do you want me to ask your roommate about it?”

“Are you a parasite?”

“Hey, are you refusing to do what your senior asked you to do?”

“Do it quickly!”

“Hey, freshmen! Piggy is going to sing now! Everyone listen carefully!”

They started mocking him and calling his piggy.

It was a scene where a group of rowdy second-year students had surrounded figgy.

Figgy was sitting down, looking very dejected and sobbing.

“S-Seniors.”

Sniff!

“I-I’m not good at at it, I’m shy.”

Sniff!

With a face reddened by weak alcohol and tears streaming down, he was crying.

However, the second-year students were mocking Figgy and laughing heartily.

“If you’re not good at anything, doesn’t that mean your school life is over?”

“Try dancing, you were dancing so well earlier?”

“Even though you were just swinging your fists and kicking your legs like you were lacking something.”

Hahaha!

“If you can’t do it, then you should drink!”

Come on, if you finish this, we’ll consider it!

A real man takes it in one shot!

“Hey, guys!”

“Piggy says he’s going to show us something now!”

Pay attention!

They acted as if they had caught a plaything that could provide them with fun and were ready to manipulate it as they pleased.

Cruelty, harshness, ruthlessness, malice.

The glances of the second-year bullies directed at Figgy were full of that kind of violence.

And Vikir, who stood a bit away from them, was also observing the second-year bullies with a similar look in his eyes.

There was one difference, though.

…Vikir wasn’t smiling.