Chapter 441 - The Mindset of a Rogue and a King
I sprinted across the training ground, now empty after the match, heading straight for the gathering crowd.
There, my club members should have been wiping grime off their Magic Dolls, checking equipment before storage. After practice, this was routine. Even sturdy Magic Dolls developed faults if neglected—basic knowledge, something even a child would know.
By now, the three rival schools had probably finished packing and were huddled together in large groups, holding some kind of post-match review.
"Hmph. Just going to let them leave like that? I think not."
It was customary after practice matches for team captains to hear evaluations from the opposing advisors—a session known as the "reflection match." I always participated in these.
It made perfect sense. If you're going to reflect, you might as well hear the opponent’s perspective. Not that we needed their opinions—but they certainly stood to benefit from hearing my invaluable insights.
As I approached the group assembled beneath the western tower, a woman’s shrill, hysterical voice cut through the air.
I couldn’t make out the words, but it seemed like a scolding for their lackluster performance.
There was no way such rage could have any positive effect on students. Pathetic.
Well then. Let’s take a moment to enjoy the spectacle of their humiliation.
I closed in silently, then leapt effortlessly onto the top of the western tower. Leaning my elbows on the railing, I looked down at the gathering below.
Roughly two hundred people.
Before a neatly aligned formation stood two women, shoulders tensed, shouting. I couldn’t see their faces, but judging by their civilian clothes, they were likely advisors or coaches.
Glams Academy, one of the tournament favorites, stood slightly apart—its advisor, Nathaniel Parker, someone with whom I shared a minor grudge. She seemed lost in thought, not even listening to the hysterical ranting.
I’d been observing for about a minute.
Even though I stood in plain sight atop the high tower, it wasn’t possible for them to remain unaware of me forever—not unless they were complete fools.
When several students began pointing and murmuring, the woman who had been shouting with her back turned finally noticed me. She flinched. So did Nathaniel Parker.
"What do you think you're doing up there?!"
The first hysterical woman shrieked, her voice piercing. How annoying. She didn’t need to scream that loud—I could hear perfectly well.
I didn’t know her, but clearly, she recognized me. Good. That would make things easier.
"Reflection match."
I projected the words with magic, and the noisy crowd fell instantly silent. When you’re not shouting, you don’t need to raise your voice.
"Don’t the students usually hear evaluations from the opposing advisor after a match? Isn’t that the standard?"
I wasn’t saying anything objectively strange. Just stating a normal, reasonable practice within Magic Doll Club activities. The fact that they were flustered was what was truly bizarre.
Not that it mattered. Their thoughts were irrelevant. I came here for one reason: to say what I wanted to say.
Forget dialogue. I’ll speak my mind—unilaterally.
"I have a few things to say. First, keep your promises. Today was supposed to include repeated matches until sunset. 'Physical discomfort'? Don’t throw away agreements with such a ridiculous excuse."
After delivering that in one breath, the hysterical women twisted their faces in anger. Before they could speak, I silenced them again with a heavy surge of magical pressure.
Don’t think you’re on equal footing with me.
"Why did you run? Couldn’t win, so you resorted to underhanded tactics? And you call yourselves strong? You three schools colluding—such a disgraceful act—was that all you had? Did you really think I wouldn’t notice? Was it only when you realized there was no chance of victory that you fled? How low do you have to go before you’re satisfied?"
I’ll say it. We were the ones wronged—I can speak as I please.
"Y-You’re so annoying! We were just—"
"Silence."
I crushed the woman’s attempt to retort with magical intimidation. I hadn’t granted her permission to speak.
This time, I’d aim not at these useless advisors, but directly at the students—the actual participants. After all, reflection matches were meant to give advice to the opposing school’s students.
"Club presidents of the three schools—step forward. Now."
Three girls hesitantly stepped ahead. Whether from genuine obedience or fear of my presence, it didn’t matter. Either way, good.
I gave a slight nod, satisfied with their posture, and decided to bestow upon them my gracious advice.
"Answer me. Did you give your all today? Can you stand here and proudly say you fought with everything you had? You first—answer."
I pointed at the girl on the far left.
It wasn’t a complicated question. They should have been able to answer. Staring her down, she finally opened her mouth, as if resigning herself.
"...I believe we gave our all."
"Oh? That was your all? What about you next?"
"We fought with everything we had."
"Is that so. And you?"
"O-Of course, we gave our full effort."
That wasn’t what I was asking. They didn’t even understand that much.
With obvious exaggeration, I let out a deep sigh and spoke with clear disdain.
"You call that your full effort? Don’t make me laugh. 'Full effort' includes your strategy. Was that pathetic plan truly the best you could do? Are you serious?"
It would be one thing if they’d won—but losing while using underhanded tactics was just pitiful. At least they seemed to realize it, hanging their heads in shame.
Once again, the hysterical woman tried to speak, but I silenced her with a glare backed by magical pressure.
If you’re going to play the villain, you must win. Because losing as a villain is utterly disgraceful.
How can you break the rules—or exploit loopholes—and still lose?
Being evil requires both resolve and strength. Don’t casually pretend to be a villain for fun.
"If that’s what a top-tier school looks like at full strength, then I’m disappointed. Is that all you’re capable of, even in real matches? Look up—answer me."
"N-No! We wouldn’t do something like that in an actual match!"
"In a real match, of course we’d use appropriate strategies!"
"Practice and real matches are completely different, because—"
"Enough. Be silent."
Just as I thought. This kind of thinking is exactly why they did something so stupid. Even if their advisor suggested or ordered it, agreeing to a worthless strategy was their own failure.
"Today isn’t a real match? Just practice? There’ll be another chance? That’s exactly why you lost."
Unless you treat every practice like it’s the real thing, your training is meaningless.
Listen well. Today’s match was final. It’s precisely this childish, loser’s mentality that leads to results like today’s—losing disgracefully, then lying and running away. Let me tell you something special: the actual skill gap in Magic Doll operation isn’t that wide. So what separates Saint Emeralda Girls’ Academy from you? The answer is simple—resolve. Our determination toward battle is completely different from your half-hearted attitude. That’s where you lose. Remember it."
"W-We’re serious too—"
"Then never pull such a pathetic stunt again. If we ever face each other again, come at me with the intent to die. Show me that, and next time—I’ll praise you."
At the very end, I let my cold expression soften, offering them the faintest hint of a smile.
That should help the brats regain a bit of their spirit.
But then—my sharp ears caught a quiet murmur from below. Students in the back row were whispering.
"What’s with that woman? Some rich noble throwing her weight around."
"Saint Emeralda used to be past its prime, you know."
"We’re doing our best, and some rich kid shows up treating it like a game."
"But wasn’t that sheltered bunch’s strength unnatural? They must’ve cheated."
"Right? I thought so."
"You cheat yourself, so you assume others do too. Honestly, the worst."
"I heard nobles can influence referees, you know."
"Then the match was decided before it even started, wasn’t it?"
"Maybe they knocked out the flagship but it was ruled as not destroyed?"
"Not just possible—probably happens all the time."
So I’d been too lenient after all. I’d forgotten just how utterly pathetic some people could be.
While some students had taken my words to heart, others refused to accept them. With over two hundred brats here, that was only natural.
The frustration of a crushing defeat, followed by being screamed at by their advisor—mixed with envy and jealousy toward Saint Emeralda Girls’ Academy—spilled out as unbearable whining.
It might not have been their true feelings, just mindless complaints. But a certain number of them were genuinely foolish.
Those with rotten cores never reflect. They look for the cause of their failure not within themselves, but outside.
We’re not at fault. The opponent must have cheated. It has to be that. No—it better be that!
Strong school students must have put in considerable effort. When that effort goes unrewarded, escapism becomes tempting.
People naturally want their efforts to be met with fair results.
Not just their own efforts—but their friends’, their comrades’. Even strangers’ efforts, if known, many would wish for them to be rewarded.
Yet results remain harsh and unyielding, clearly showing superiority and inferiority.
Effort without efficiency doesn’t lead to rapid improvement or tangible results. Hard work alone isn’t enough. The quality of guidance plays a crucial role.
To compare me—a teacher like that fool—to me? Absurd. But these sheltered brats couldn’t possibly understand.
I’d gone out of my way here to rekindle their fighting spirit, after all.
What should I do? Some listened sincerely. Should I just accept that and leave?
No. Unthinkable. Underestimating me and Saint Emeralda Girls’ Academy—thinking whispering behind our backs makes it forgivable?
From atop the tower, I remained silent, gazing down.
I didn’t need to say anything. Beings like me need only stand in silence, expressionless, and others instinctively feel fear.
Across the underworld of both eastern and western continents, no one was unaware of the name Yukarinowe Nijoofashii.
How many fools had I crushed? How many cowards had I made surrender without even drawing a blade? My mere presence radiated proof—no words necessary.
Even without knowing who I was, their bodies and souls would instinctively tremble.
You’re all like frogs staring into the eyes of a snake.
Just by projecting that aura, the whisperers fell silent. Those who felt my gaze paled.
The silence that now gripped the area was dominated by my unhidden displeasure. Everyone present felt an indescribable terror. The weaker ones were trembling uncontrollably.
Just feeling this atmosphere, they’d probably never dare speak insolently toward me again.
Compare your screaming advisor to me—silent, watching. Which one is clearly superior?
Which advisor’s guidance would actually lead you to victory?
Imagine it. The strength of Saint Emeralda Girls’ Academy under my instruction. You couldn’t possibly think it was due to cheating or luck.
You’re all far too soft. Recognize that, and forge yourselves stronger.
Even without being stared down, the perceptive ones understood why the atmosphere had changed.
This tension was the result of blaming others instead of facing their own inadequacy. I hadn’t done anything—but they’d now learned the foolishness of provoking a dangerous person’s anger.
Angering the wealthy or powerful brings no benefit. Learn that while you still can. I respect the spirit of defiance, but recklessly provoking someone is just stupidity. Without a strategy, it’s meaningless. And against me? There’s no winning. Fools.
In any case, this is all I’ll do.
No matter how satisfying it is to weaken the enemy, excessive meddling benefits neither side.
Whether they become worthy rivals who push us forward—that’s up to them now.
"Nathaniel Parker-sensei. You understand, don’t you? With this kind of performance, you couldn’t win even if victory was within reach."
"I don’t need to be told. Yukareed Evilbanshee-sensei, I apologize for failing to uphold our agreement."
"I didn’t ask for an apology, but I’ll accept it. I’ve intruded enough."
With that, I gracefully leapt from the tower and vanished at a speed too fast for the eye to follow.
Running at full speed, a few hundred meters took mere seconds. In that brief span, I reflected.
Nathaniel Parker—whom I expected to argue back—had apologized. And with nothing more than a stern look, she’d kept others from speaking. That earnest attitude was slightly unsettling. But no matter.
"Welcome back, sensei."
"Are the preparations for departure complete? How was it over there?"
The president and vice president of the club had waited faithfully, refusing to board the bus without me.
"Oh, just as expected. Their advisor was furious, the students were demoralized."
"So you stepped in? As expected of Evilbanshee-sensei."
"Mildree. I’m the visiting advisor from a participating school. Why on earth should I hesitate to greet them? I gave them a firm wake-up call."
"No, it’s just… 'gave them a wake-up call'…?"
"It’s still early. Let’s head back and start practicing right away."
"Yes, let’s go."
The three of us boarded the bus, and held our own post-match review during the ride.
We’d thwarted the enemy’s scheme and won—but there were still many areas needing improvement.
Most importantly, minimizing exhaustion while efficiently striking the enemy. In today’s match, the enemy flagship’s position had become easier to track once they panicked. We should have identified that much sooner.
I listened to the reflections of the members who’d fought, then shared my observations as their advisor. Unlike regular practice, matches offered rich experience. We needed to hold more of them.
Just because we’d seen a pitiful enemy didn’t mean we could slack off in training.
The students of Saint Emeralda Girls’ Academy understood that without needing to be told—something I deeply appreciated.
Yes. Their mindset was truly excellent.