I Became the Academy’s Disabled Student

Before stepping foot on Scottish soil, I naturally thought about making a plan.

I mean, even a simple trip requires a carefully crafted plan. If I just wing it for something as important as this, I’d probably waste time if even the slightest thing goes wrong.

I left Shio-ram on Friday evening, meaning I have just over two days and 6 hours left to complete my assigned tasks.

If I’m feeling relaxed, I can return by Sunday evening. But if I’m pressed for time, I have to make it back by early Monday morning.

First, I’d hit the gate and set foot in Edinburgh, then take a train to Shiphna.

But, surprise surprise—there’s no direct train from Edinburgh to Shiphna.

Since Shiphna is relatively remote with tough terrain, I had to change trains multiple times.

That part was fine. In fact, I had planned to grab some hidden pieces along the way, so switching trains was set in stone.

And so, I hopped from train to train, eagerly searching for the hidden pieces I remembered.

Until it all went completely to hell.

“Fk.”

After arriving in Shiphna, I somehow managed to find accommodation.

Though I wasn’t used to wandering in unfamiliar lands, my spatial awareness made that fact relatively unimportant.

Just glancing over the information I picked up was enough to figure out the accommodation and the route to take.

Once I finished the check-in process and began shoving soup into my mouth at the café on the first floor, I felt my mental calculator go haywire.

No profits, just a bunch of negatives floating in my mind.

That number weighed heavily on my chest. I couldn’t bring myself to lift my head and ended up burying it in the table.

The cold surface pressed against my cheek.

“Ugh…”

I silently grunted. I was struggling not to let out a sound while swallowing my tears.

Profits… Out of the six hidden pieces I dug up, I found just one.

And the moment I got that one, it went and shattered into pieces.

Costs? Well, just trying to buy that single piece racked up expenses.

It was ridiculously expensive.

Part of it was my horrible perception of costs, but given that it was a monster byproduct, the price tagged along with it.

The horn of a Bicorn. Just thinking about it made my head boil.

“No way…”

Bicorn.

From what I knew, it’s a mythical creature that has been around since the Middle Ages in Europe… a fictional animal, but in this world, it definitely existed as a monster.

It falls under the standard hierarchy and is a sixth-tier creature, but considering various changes, it could soar up to the fifth tier potential.

And that was a monster byproduct. To top it off, it was the horn of a creature also known as the two-horned beast.

The price was steep.

Thankfully, quite a bit of time has passed since its defeat and its outer state looked a bit rough, hence the lowered price.

But usually, even with a stash saved for upkeep, I wouldn’t afford it at that price.

Such a high-priced byproduct… touched my hands and then turned to dust.

The horn of the Bicorn that turned into powder in the seller’s grasp. I wanted to grab his collar and shake him silly, insisting it wasn’t my fault…

“Ugh…”

Upon reflection, the issue seemed to lie with me.

What defines a Bicorn often revolves around pollution and chaos.

Its magical nature causes erosion and contamination. Because of this, wounds inflicted by a Bicorn are particularly difficult to heal.

On the other hand, a Unicorn represents purity and cleanliness. Their magic is pristine and carries a pure essence.

Perhaps due to that difference in magical properties, Unicorns fall under the gentler category of monsters.

Moreover, Unicorns and Bicorns are invariably intertwined creatures.

They are connected by the same mythology, but a larger reason is that when they encounter each other, they go berserk and charge like mad.

They can’t seem to tolerate each other’s existence, almost like meeting a blood enemy on a narrow bridge.

And even the peculiar way these battles unfold contributes to the rumors surrounding them.

Since their magical properties are not just different but at odds, intense repulsive reactions spark whenever their magic clashes…

Repulsive reaction.

Bicorn’s magic embodies pollution and chaos.

Unicorn’s magic is purity and cleanliness.

And my magic? Supposedly pure and clean…

Right from the moment I saw the Bicorn’s horn, I felt nauseous, even without having spatial awareness.

The moment I touched it, the horn radiated a force that screamed, “We can’t agree!”

I racked my brain. Little by little, I pieced together the scattered puzzles in my mind.

Rational doubt, or rather…

Instead of the hypothesis that the Bicorn’s horn is a defective product, the odds leaned more towards the guess that it shattered due to clashing with my magic…

“No way… How am I supposed to know that?”

I’m not some unicorn.

I felt totally wronged. Who would ever guess that just a slight touch would turn it to dust?

And right away? It crumbled? What kind of durability is that?

The Bicorn vs. Unicorn was a fight I often witnessed in the original works. Some people would capture them and pit them against each other for fun.

Those repulsive reactions were never this immediate and intense.

At the very least, it wasn’t fragile enough that contact would shatter it…

This was just an absurdity. The only thing I could denounce myself for was not bringing tongs when I felt repulsion.

With no help but my own excuses, I kept pushing food into my mouth.

I’d ordered a decent dinner, but the menu was filled with fried foods.

Because of the climate, it was hard to get vegetables, so they ended up eating meat heavily due to the coastal geographic feature.

No wonder they said Scottish food tasted greasy; my taste buds had no way of knowing the truth.

It definitely looked greasy.

My gut told me it was time to look for a dungeon the moment I arrived in Shiphna.

Wasting time with zero rewards made me feel anxious.

But thinking rationally, I knew that wasn’t a wise move.

Right after finishing my match with Professor Atra at Shio-ram, I left, and aside from a brief rest on the train, I hadn’t had any real downtime.

I wasn’t completely drained, but mentally, I was worn out—more like a spoiled complaint.

However, where I was heading now was a dungeon.

Since Shio-ram had traps completely cleared out already, I didn’t have any solid information, nor did I have safety devices arranged by the vice-captain.

If things went wrong, I could genuinely die.

Even though my skills were reportedly advancing rapidly, when asked whether that meant I had enough confidence, my head would instinctively shake.

So, I decided to catch a bit of shuteye before heading out into the city.

Of course, I didn’t even manage to sleep for an hour and was jolted awake by a nightmare, ruining my mood, but somehow, I felt a bit better physically after getting some sleep.

– Drip.

The level 4 dungeon, “Echoes of the Abyss,” is located right in the middle of a valley.

Shiphna is surrounded by harsh terrain.

The city is encircled by mountains, making it quite isolated, and trains pass through less frequently.

I set off at dawn before the sun even rose.

I only had a rough idea of the location. Since this info was merely from a game, I planned to take my time searching.

As expected, it took some time to find the dungeon. Even with spatial awareness, it took a while; if I were hunting for it with just my eyes, I’d probably have run around for days without any luck.

“…….”

The Cataclysm dealt a massive blow to humanity.

Sudden dungeons sprung up, devouring the world people lived in, and monsters sprouted like cockroaches, attacking and consuming people.

For over a century, such disasters continued. It was an era where it was difficult for people to live like humans.

Now, things were different. It was the peace won through the blood of ancient heroes.

That peace might end in a few years, according to the original story, but… yeah, that’s how it is.

Because of that, people were inclined to call such professions heroes.

Heroes might have faded somewhat in status now, but back in the day, they were considered true heroes.

Those heroes reveled in such titles, proud of their deeds.

They regarded slaying monsters as noble work.

Battling dungeons that spawned monsters was also deemed honorable.

Because of this, there’s a culture from the old heroes that is hard to find today.

In the aftermath of dungeons that have been conquered, there exists a culture of marking their own presence or the memories of their kin.

“……”

The Echoes of the Abyss… the location it should be found.

An oddly conspicuous clearing in the middle of a long range of mountains.

In its center lies a somewhat damaged monument, along with names inscribed upon it…

───────

On a dark day, may this trace become a ray of light.

Georok Grass

Denis Bardon

Richard Carlyle

Artovan Maxwell

Trian Slade

───────

“Ah.”

One reason for my impatience was revealed.

Because this isn’t a game, and this area is one where hunters actively operate. Someone may have already found it; perhaps it’s been scouted out by others.

Naturally, my head tilted back.

The sky was out of view.

The wings of the sky draped over my shoulders hung limply.

“Fk.”

Maybe I shouldn’t have come.

What a sh*tty situation.

*

The dungeon that exists relatively close to Shiphna.

Deep within a dark cave, shadows flickered from faint light sources.

– Grroooar.

A monster satisfied after repelling all intruders let out a gratifying growl from its throat.

Even though the sound resonated only in its throat, the cave shook. The weak members of its kind stirred restlessly at their leader’s voice.

Red-haired dogs buried their heads into the meager remnants of flesh that remained.

As the monster watched this scene, it turned its body, suddenly feeling a sharp pain and checking its own body.

Though it was regenerating, many wounds were inscribed between the patches of fur.

The invader had been strong. Its limbs, seemingly gaunt with no claws, were laced with power.

Had it fought that invader head-on, even monsters would struggle to repel it.

So it hunted.

It pushed its weak kin to induce a false sense of security.

The intruder wasn’t very good at seeing in the dark, and it failed to check its surroundings carefully.

The monster, hiding in the shadows, held its breath, waiting for the perfect timing to kill the intruder it saw as its leader.

The invader was strong, but it lacked the same regenerative capabilities. The moment it was decapitated, it died easily.

The leftover small fry was easy and tasty prey.

– Grroooar…

The monster, large enough to be mistaken for a boulder, lowered its head.

The sky was nowhere to be seen.

For a monster that hadn’t been born long ago, the sky represented nothing more than a stony ceiling.

Just a gloomy rock made up the sky.

But at this moment, the monster’s eyes perceived something different being conveyed.

The consciousness of the surrounding space.

The space that granted it power whispered.

Soon, the sky would open up.

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