Chapter 572: Continental Festival

Morning.

Quiet footsteps echoed through the Knight Department’s hallway, the one they called Oath Hall.

The stone floor carried every sound, so even Amelia Grace’s careful pace felt louder than it should have.

She kept her books close to her chest, brows drawn tight, a sigh slipping past her lips.

“Haah… I knew I should’ve spoken my mind…”

But now it was too late. Way too late.

Who would’ve thought that staying quiet for one meeting—one single meeting with her colleagues—would snowball into this?

She winced at the memory, the clinking of glasses, the heat of the wine on her tongue.

Who knew just a few sips of booze would be enough to make her nod along, agree to everything, even the things she never would’ve touched sober.

Not that teaching was something she hated.

No.

Teaching had once been her life—before she became the principal’s personal secretary, she’d been a professor in the academy for two full years.

Walking into a classroom wasn’t foreign to her.

But knowing the place didn’t make the weight any lighter.

Especially when the assignment was them.

The S-Class.

Every department had one for each year: ten students, handpicked, sharpened like blades, raised to set the standard.

Ten didn’t sound like much, but everyone knew the burden behind those numbers.

To teach them wasn’t just teaching—it was being judged, measured, and weighed with every word.

And with the academy’s heads and staff pushing new curriculums, reforms, and endless “innovations” to keep pace with a world that refused to stop growing, the pressure only climbed higher.

Change was inevitable.

But Amelia couldn’t shake the thought that she’d walked herself straight into the lion’s den.

The fact that she wasn’t a knight, nor a swordsman, nor even a martial artist who could properly guide the Knight Department students—that alone made Amelia’s stomach tighten.

She was a mage, through and through.

She knew better than anyone how devastating a sudden curricular change could be to a student’s progress.

And if it was rough for magic students to adjust, then for the muscle-headed knights? It would be brutal.

Honestly, what was the point of teaching knights about magic anyway?

Most of them barely scraped by the theoretical classes, let alone the written exams.

To Amelia, it felt like asking a bird to swim—it wasn’t impossible, but you could drown them before they learned how.

Still, none of that weighed on her nearly as much as him.

The moment her thoughts brushed against the memory of that student, a cold shiver crawled across her skin.

She could see it even now—those eyes. Icy, sharp, piercing blue, always carrying that same look that made her feel like an insect squirming beneath his gaze.

She shook her head sharply, whispering under her breath as though scolding herself.

“What are you doing, Amelia? You’re still a professor. He’s just a student. There’s no need to be afraid.”

Yes. Just a student. That’s all Riley Hell was.

At least… that’s what she tried to believe.

Because the truth was, even as a student, Riley was not someone ordinary.

He was someone the principal herself favored—Principal Leilah spoke of him with the kind of respect rarely given to anyone.

His backing stretched far beyond the academy walls: the Grand Duke, even the Emperor, both had ties to his name.

And if that wasn’t enough, there was the constant swarm of very important girls around him, as though orbiting his world was safer than standing against it.

Riley Hell wasn’t just a student. He was a walking controversy.

A storm wrapped in a boy’s body.

“How did Professor Yuki even handle such a classroom…” Amelia muttered as she walked, voice low, almost pleading for an answer.

She had asked Yuki about it, back when she first heard of her assignment.

And what did Yuki tell her?

Just a simple, infuriating, cryptic reply: “Ignore the unusual.”

Amelia groaned quietly. Ignore the unusual?

With Riley Hell in her classroom, the unusual was the only thing she could see.

Approaching the classroom door, Amelia swallowed her nerves.

She paused, pressing her lips together, and forced herself to inhale—slow, steady—then exhale, as though the breath could carry her doubt away.

Her fingers brushed the cold handle. No turning back now.

With a quiet push, she opened the door and stepped forward.

“Everyone… please take your seats,” she said, voice low, careful, almost a mumble.

Her eyes widened the moment she actually looked.

They were already seated.

Each one of them. Silent.

The Knight Department’s S-Class wasn’t rowdy, wasn’t clashing steel against steel, wasn’t shoving shoulders or trading insults like she remembered from her days teaching first-years.

No—ten students sat in place, evenly spaced out across the vast room.

The classroom was designed for fewer heads than it contained; the gaps between seats made it almost too easy to see them all clearly.

Even him.

Riley Hell.

Her gaze lingered half a second longer than she wanted before snapping away.

Those indifferent, apathetic eyes of his didn’t burn or glare this time—they merely glanced her way, casual, uninterested.

Somehow, that cold detachment unsettled her more than outright hostility.

She quickly turned her focus elsewhere, pretending she hadn’t noticed at all.

Were Knight students always this… disciplined? she wondered.

Her memory painted a very different picture: half the time, the so-called “muscle-head idiots” couldn’t even sit down without starting a fight.

Yet here, silence filled the air like a heavy curtain.

Even Kagami—the one built like a thug straight from a battlefield, broad shoulders and scarred hands—carried himself with a strange calmness, his atmosphere oddly gentle in contrast to his brutal appearance.

Amelia cleared her throat and straightened, clutching her books a little tighter.

“Good morning, everyone. My name is Amelia Grace. I’m sure some of you are surprised to see me here, but starting from the third month of this semester, I will be this class’s supervisor. From now on, I hope we can all get along.”

A hand rose from the back. Antony—blonde, broad-smiled, always quick to speak.

“Professor Amelia… what happened to Professor Yuki?”

Amelia adjusted her round glasses, a small habit whenever she needed a moment to think.

“She’s currently been reassigned to a different advisory.”

A low murmur rippled through the class.

“Hm?”

“Why?”

“Did something happen to her?”

Amelia let their questions play out, listening in silence before offering her reply.

“As you all know, the academy is undergoing strict changes to the current curriculum. My presence here might seem sudden, even temporary, but please don’t be worried. Every change being implemented has been carefully reviewed with your workload—both academic and training—in mind. After all, you are the dazzling gems of the academy. It is only natural that the academy works to refine the system surrounding you.”

She forced a small smile as her words settled into the silence.

The students stared back, unreadable, each one a sharp presence in their own way.

Amelia straightened her back further.

“From now on, everything you’ve learned so far will probably become… useless,”

Amelia said, her voice wavering slightly before she caught herself.

She adjusted her grip on the books in her arms, forcing her tone steadier.

“Since I come from the Magic Department, I understand how strange this must feel for all of you. I’m sure you have plenty of questions about such a decision, but don’t worry—I’ll answer all of them today.”

A hand rose near the front. “Professor, is the Magic Department in the same situation as us?”

“Yes,” Amelia replied with a firm nod. “Not only the two main combat departments, but also the General Department and even the Specialized Courses are undergoing similar changes right now.”

A murmur passed through the room. Someone in the back leaned forward, whispering,

“Then… perhaps Professor Yuki got assigned into the Second-Year S-Class?”

Amelia nodded again. “That’s right, although I’m not sure which exact class she’s been placed in.”

The tension eased just a fraction. Amelia could almost feel it in the air—students shifting in their seats, shoulders dropping a little. Good.

The atmosphere was settling, the rhythm of their questions giving her a better sense of how to handle them. Yes… I can set a framework from here.

“Professor!”

Kagami’s voice boomed through the room like a war drum.

Amelia nearly flinched, eyes darting toward him.

His massive frame leaned forward, eyes locked on her with unsettling sharpness.

“Yes?” she asked, trying not to sound startled.

“You said something about change and whatnot,” Kagami rumbled, “but that doesn’t explain why all these sudden reforms are happening. Is there a main reason behind it?”

Amelia hesitated. The silence pressed in on her from every direction. She adjusted her round glasses, a nervous tick, avoiding Kagami’s piercing gaze.

“Y-yes. That’s right. I’m glad you asked, student Kagami…”

Her voice stumbled at first, but she forced herself to continue.

“While the official explanation speaks of refining the system, I think you all know already that flowery words don’t get us anywhere. The truth is… the material I’ll be teaching you doesn’t perfectly align with the path of a knight. It may even feel like it pulls you off course.” She paused, exhaling lightly. “But trust me when I say—it’s for your own benefit.”

“Benefit?”

“Yes,” Amelia said, firmer this time.

She hesitated, then sighed, realizing there was no point in dragging it out.

“I wasn’t supposed to reveal this until after today’s first class. But since it’s already out in the open… I may as well tell you.”

Every pair of eyes was fixed on her now.

Even Riley’s.

“This whole curriculum isn’t just about change or refinement. It’s preparation.”

She let the word hang in the air, let them lean closer in silence.

“Preparation for the upcoming Continental Grand Festival.”

Her words dropped like a stone into still water, ripples spreading through the room.

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