The Academy’s Crude Pink-Haired Martial Artist

Splash- The sound of a gooey liquid soaking the bathroom floor. A muffled scream stifled by gritted teeth, a sound that couldn’t even be called a scream. The sight of her writhing in pain on the blood-soaked floor.

Always annoying, bothersome, prickly, and sensitive.

But confident, dignified, and cool, making her heart thump in a strange way—all as a fellow woman.

Eliaernes.

She was pouring blood from her entire body.

“Ah, ugh…”

Stella.

She couldn’t understand the situation at all.

Having returned to the Academy, she recalled what she did before rushing outside.

A reserved message. It was no different from a last will.

A message that absolutely should not be delivered.

So, she led her tired body into the bushes to search.

She found Eliaernes’ device and tried to cancel the reserved message.

But… could she just touch it recklessly?

It might contain her private matters.

Of course, she was curious…

She wondered who Eliaernes had been messaging, who she had been talking to.

But she couldn’t just open it as she pleased.

If someone thought of stealing her device, she would hate it, without a doubt.

Eliaernes would surely feel the same.

Let’s not meddle recklessly.

Having come to that conclusion, Stella decided to cancel the reservation in front of Eliaernes.

When she arrived at Eliaernes’ room, her door was slightly ajar.

She felt a presence inside.

Sounds of rustling and thuds echoed.

But no matter how much she knocked and called out, Eliaernes didn’t respond.

Had a thief broken in…?

Impatient, Stella opened Eliaernes’ door and stepped in.

And there she found her in the bathtub.

Naked, wrapped in a towel.

With a gag in her mouth, Eliaernes.

Not a thief? What was going on? What was she doing? Was this some kind of preference? Just as that thought crossed her mind.

Blood burst from Eliaernes’ face.

Bright red, dark red, black blood splattered everywhere.

It kept, kept, kept pouring out.

From every hole in her body, eyes, nose, mouth, ears—everything, blood poured out.

In that moment, time stood still.

Stella’s heart, which had been racing slightly, seemed to stop as she saw Eliaernes, and she found it hard to even breathe.

What was unfolding before her eyes was too horrific to believe it was reality.

“El, Elia… Arnes…?”

She called her name. No prickly response came back. Only a sound barely more than a moan could be heard.

“W-what… what do I do…? Th-this…”

Sounds. The splashing sound, the sound of bones tearing, the sound of skin bursting, veins bursting, her vocal cords falling silent as breaths escaped.

It continued.

It wouldn’t end. It was getting worse. Louder.

Now, no sound could be heard. The only thing she perceived was a noise that shouldn’t come from a human body.

The pouring blood soon reached Stella, who had crumpled to the ground. A horrific smell assaulted her nostrils. Her whole body trembled, and even when she wanted to move, she couldn’t muster the strength.

She forced herself to move. Whipping her powerless body into action, she bit her tongue to make herself move. Crawling closer, she reached for Eliaernes’ hand.

A blood-soaked hand. A hand that seemed to have lost its shape.

She couldn’t grab it.

Afraid it might break if touched. Afraid it might hurt. She couldn’t dare touch it.

“Ugh… Ah, what should I do…? What should I…”

Why, why, why was this happening suddenly?

Had she been fighting and it ended up like this?

The image of Eliaernes, who had previously seemed the same but had suddenly changed, came to mind.

She had become overwhelmingly strong, able to push an 8th Circle Mage to their limits in an instant.

She seemed like a different person.

There had to be a price for such power.

Then, what if this was the price for her abilities?

She had fought to save herself.

Because of me.

Had Eliaernes ended up like this because of me?

That thought, this tragedy, her own helplessness, and guilt pierced her heart like a sharp blade.

“Ugh… No, no…”

With trembling hands, she took out all the potions from her pocket. Opening the caps, she cautiously spilled them towards Eliaernes. It didn’t help.

“P-please… Please… ”

But instead, her blood-soaked body spat out the potion. With each instance, her writhing only intensified.

From that point, Stella could not follow rational thought. Afraid to touch the body she couldn’t dare approach, she unintentionally wrapped her arms around her.

Grabbing hold of Eliaernes, who was writhing in her embrace.

The body in her arms was small. Light and too thin.

The heartbeat felt weak. Breaths seemed like they could stop at any moment, and her blood-soaked eyes lacked focus.

What could she do? She couldn’t do anything.

All she could do was desperately wish for Eliaernes’ suffering to end soon.

How long had it been?

An hour? Two hours? Perhaps a lifetime.

She didn’t know.

“…Hey.”

From within her embrace, a cracked voice came through, barely understandable.

“…Stop, stop whining, just put me in the bathtub…”

Gasp- Gasp- Eliaernes said with a breath that seemed like it could end at any moment.

“E-Eliaernes! Y-you… suddenly, ugh… are you okay? Huh? Are you alive, alive? Oh… what should I do… Sob… I’m sorry, I… I’m sorry…”

“Damn… quit yelling, and just… put my body in the bathtub…”

“T-the bathtub? Ah… Okay… Ngh, uugh…!”

Her body wouldn’t cooperate. Nevertheless, Stella forced herself and, with great effort, lifted Eliaernes’ body…

“Ah…”

Thud-

She dropped her. Eliaernes’ blood-soaked body was too slippery, and overwhelmed with emotion, Stella’s grip went completely weak.

“AAAAAH! N-no!!”

*

“…Hey. If you’re gonna cry, go to your own room to do it.”

“Sniffle…”

The recoil had ended, and all the wounds had healed.

Condition wasn’t too bad. If she slept like this, she could probably run around in no time.

Though fighting might still be a stretch.

Still, it was a relief that the backlash was less than expected. Maybe it was because her body was in good shape?

It hurt far less than the backlash she had experienced in her previous life and ended much more quickly.

For a brief moment, she thought she might drown after falling into the bathtub, but Stella pulled her by the hair just in time to save her.

Stella’s assassination attempt had been way riskier than Samaela’s manifestation. She was really on the verge of dying.

Anyway.

She had revealed a side of herself she didn’t want to show.

Why did she have to show up then?

Stella had said while crying it was because of the reserved message, that she didn’t feel right opening it alone and had come to find her.

So when she arrived at the front of the door and found it ajar without a response, she thought maybe a thief had come in and stepped inside.

And thus, she witnessed that scene.

She had known it for a while, but she was unnecessarily diligent.

Regardless, it took a long time to soothe Stella.

Upon asking if she intended to kill her, she looked as if she’d pass out hearing her curse; it was pitiful.

Her complexion was pale, shaking uncontrollably, and since she hardly seemed to be breathing, Stella was genuinely worried she might die.

So she comforted her for almost three hours.

Only then did Stella regain her composure and hugged her tightly.

Her naked body.

It didn’t matter that they were both women… it was just a bit embarrassing.

“…Damn it.”

Thinking that she showed that sight to a young girl felt shameful.

“I’m sorry… Sniff… Cough…”

“Why do you keep saying you’re sorry?”

“Because, Sniff, this happened because of me, right…? Sob…”

“Why does it matter? I’ve told you it’s not your fault several times… This is ridiculous. Fine. You can think what you want.”

Sighing deeply, she sat up.

The backlash was gone, but the pain remained, as if she were still being tanned.

But this much was bearable.

“So, the reserved message. Did you cancel it?”

“Y-yeah… I… I did. Cleaned the bathroom… and also cleaned the room…”

“Good job.”

“I… I showered too…”

“Why do that in my room? And why the hell are you mentioning it?”

“Because you… you don’t like it…”

“…Okay. Good job. You’re the best.”

Laying her healed body on the bed, Stella had gone above and beyond to clean the bathroom and her room very neatly.

The girl who barely even cleans herself had made her room spotless. It was funny.

“Now you can go to your room. I’m going to sleep.”

“G-go back…?”

“Yeah. I’m tired.”

With puffy eyes and lips trembling, Stella nodded and stood up.

“Are you… really okay now?”

“I’m fine. And it’s not your fault that this happened. Stop thinking unneeded thoughts and just go.”

“…Okay.”

That was the last word, and Stella trudged off. The sound of the door clicking shut signaled her departure, and Stella slowly stood by the window.

Her head was… complicated.

It wasn’t just that she felt weird about showing Stella such a scene.

Cherry blossoms.

She gently caressed the cherry blossoms quietly placed on the windowsill.

She recalled the illusion she saw when she touched them in my grave. It wasn’t a long illusion. It was very short and quiet.

But it was horribly intense.

Vivid and clear.

Smells, textures, sounds—everything was like reality.

Indeed, that was no illusion.

“…Reality.”

That was reality.

In that illusion, in that scenery, were Luna and Paulo.

Luna.

With her right arm severed, scars covered her whole body. These weren’t ordinary scars.

Sacred. Holy marks.

They covered her entire body.

No blood flowed. Instead, pure white divine power flowed like blood. Her skin was pale, her remaining left hand icy, and there was no vitality in her face.

Paulo.

A sword was pierced through his chest.

It was also no ordinary sword. Humble. The Sacred Sword.

The Sacred Sword pierced through Paulo’s chest. There was no light that had once erupted with each swing. The sword tip was broken, with cracks running through the blade.

And, following those cracks, Paulo’s body had cracks too. Cracks that looked like they could break if touched.

At that moment, seeing those idiots, wondering why on earth they were doing that, I instinctively understood.

The owners of the holy relic.

Hero and Saint.

The sealed Demon King.

As payment for that.

“…Damn idiots.”

Luna and Paulo sacrificed their bodies to seal the Demon King. They weren’t dead. They were definitely breathing, clearly existing.

Why? Why were those idiots doing that?

I couldn’t dwell on those questions for long.

There was no time to bask in sentiment, no time to sort through my thoughts.

With a click, the previously closed door opened.

Who could it be? How did someone open the locked door, to begin with?

I turned my head.

“Elia… Arnes…? What’s going on?”

There stood Stella. In one hand, she clutched a pillow, in the other, she held a lunchbox and the key to my room.

With a look of shock, Stella rushed over, her face pale.

“Why are you crying…?!”

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