Chapter 161: Even Demons Shed Tears Seeing It

Chapter 161: Chapter 161: Even Demons Shed Tears Seeing It

Upon returning to the academy, Griffin was unsurprisingly absent.

He had stated beforehand that he wouldn’t show his face until the final exams, so he definitely wouldn’t. The classroom of Class 659 remained exactly as they had left it — his magic chair facing away from the window, a thin layer of dust covering the teacher’s desk, and not a single note left behind.

All five were exhausted. Twenty days on the island, plus the final battle dragging to the last minute, had drained their last ounce of strength. No one had the energy for gossip; the moment they stepped out of the teleportation matrix, everyone went their separate ways, returning straight to their respective rooms.

Jeremy finished showering, collapsing onto his bed before even drying his hair. He intended to nap for a bit and then treat the cut on his cheek. As a result, he slept straight through a whole day, and when he opened his eyes, it was already the morning of the next day outside his window.

It wasn’t until that day that he went to the Isle of All Things to retrieve the batch of storage artifacts that had their seals removed.

The mage in charge handed him a black wooden box. Inside, the categorized items were neatly arranged, accompanied by a handwritten inventory list.

The majority consisted of currency — human gold coins, bone-forged coins of beastkin, and several magic-pattern-engraved metal ingots Jeremy had never seen before. Next were various magic potion scrolls and miscellaneous magic tools. Lastly, a bunch of beastkin items — refined beast fangs, spirit-energy-dyed feathers, a few bottles of medicinal ointment so pungent it stung the eyes upon opening — things that were hard to buy with a thousand gold pieces on the human side.

Precious. But not exactly priceless.

Jeremy hadn’t placed high expectations from the start, so he wasn’t much disappointed. He scanned the inventory list once, paid the remaining fee, and stored everything into his spatial bracelet.

On the third day, he received the special first-place reward for the Cat and Mouse match from the Student Council, right on time without an hour’s deviation.

The passcode was sent via a letter sealed with silver wax. Opening the locker at the Anima department’s parcel point, inside lay a metal card engraved with the Student Council’s emblem, resting on a stack of sealed accumulated points.

Besides the accumulated points, it came with a privilege — the right to join the Student Council, with no time limit, valid for the duration of his academy life.

Jeremy twirled the card in his hand twice before storing it in the innermost compartment of his bracelet. He wasn’t much interested in that thing. Shelved for now.

He initially thought Griffin’s absence also meant a holiday.

But on the fourth day after the match concluded, Class 659 collectively received a notice from the academic affairs office, accompanied by a thick stack of schedules.

Roughly speaking, it instructed them to follow the instructors of other classes for a month. Afterward, based on each person’s condition, an individualized training course would be designed.

The signature at the end of the document was Griffin. The signing date was before the Cat and Mouse match began.

Meaning he had arranged everything beforehand prior to leaving.

The five naturally had no way to refuse, having no choice but to carry their bags to the neighboring class.

The other party consisted entirely of Holy Covenant holders. The group was certain the difficulty of that class’s second half of the semester would skyrocket compared to what they had glimpsed at the beginning of the year. Leon even specially exchanged for a few more recovery potions before the first day, mentally preparing himself to be battered.

But by the end of the first week, Leon had returned those potions to the store.

The instructor of the neighboring class was a gentle middle-aged man; every practical combat session began with a fifteen-minute warm-up and ended with a fifteen-minute cool-down. There were breaks in between. Minor injuries were sent straight to the infirmary.

Leon, sent to the infirmary for the first time due to a scratch less than two knuckles long, sat on the hospital bed in a daze for half a day.

A month passed. All five felt as relieved as if they had just enjoyed a full thirty-day vacation. Even the dark circles under Phoenix’s eyes noticeably faded, and his hood was no longer pulled down to his nose.

It could even be said that the month was nothing short of a holiday for them.

But for the following month and a half, they were thrown back into hell-tier living.

The individualized training course designed by Griffin was terrifying to the point of being inhumane, tailored entirely based on each person’s flaws.

He even forced the school to open special privileges, reserving an entire training island exclusively for their use. The island had no dormitories, no dining hall, only a stone-paved training ground, a magical beast forest, and a stone room used as a theory classroom.

Phoenix was weak in close combat, so two-thirds of his schedule was close combat. Every morning he was dropped into a ring with three magic puppets programmed with the combat styles of his three remaining teammates. No long-range magic allowed. No barriers allowed. Only hands, feet, and his staff.

Leon tended to neglect observing the overall situation and his mentality was easily shaken, so over half his course consisted of illusions and team coordination training. There were sessions where he was trapped in an illusion for six straight hours, emerging pale-faced and hands trembling, yet not saying a word about what he had seen inside.

The intersection between these two was quite small.

As for the remaining three, both their close combat and long-range combat were at a standard level, so they received... a hybrid training course.

Meaning everything was included. And a lot of everything.

Ten hours a day in a state of actual combat. Five hours of theory. Three hours of magic potions and array formations.

Leaving exactly six hours to rest. From those six hours, time for eating, showering, and self-bandaging had to be deducted.

There was a week where Evelyn fell asleep right on the array formation table, her forehead pressing onto an undried blueprint. The next morning, she woke up with half a magic array printed backward on her face, and no one in the group dared to laugh out loud.

It could be said that even demons would shed tears seeing it, and enemies would feel their hearts lighten seeing it.

Despite this, until all final exams concluded, Griffin still hadn’t set foot back in the academy once. All directives came via messages, brief to the point of not having a single superfluous punctuation mark.

The five’s final exam results weren’t bad. Theory still ranked first in the entire grade. Practical combat ranked first in the Anima department, second in the entire academy.

Because Griffin had declared the cancellation of all holidays, when the others dragged their suitcases in droves to the teleportation terminal, they could only stand on the dormitory corridor watching them leave.

Lomita sent Jeremy a three-paragraph message, two of which were cursing Griffin, and one reminding him to eat properly. Jeremy replied with exactly one word, "yeah", then opened his array formation book to continue reading.

It wasn’t until the second day of the holiday that Griffin slowly dropped a message.

[Gather at my place.]

His place?

Phoenix, Evelyn, and Leon all had no idea where he lived. In the entire academy, the number of people who had set foot there could probably be counted on one hand.

Jeremy and Lucius had been there once — the night Griffin collapsed in the forest behind the dormitories, covered in blood, it was the two of them who dragged him back. Thus, they took on the task of leading the way.

The path through the forest behind the dormitory tower was exactly as remembered. Reaching the ancient tree with the half-moon carved mark, Jeremy stopped, placed his hand on the trunk, and channeled a thin stream of magic power into it.

The space rippled like a water surface.

Just as they were sucked in by the magic array, the group saw Griffin sitting on the long chair in the middle of the room, completely drenched in blood, pouring bottles of magic potions over his body to treat his wounds.

The wounds were deep to the bone. The exposed flesh was corroded into a dark red mush, emitting a cloying metallic stench. Beneath his feet, a pool of gradually drying blood had spread on the stone floor.

If that pile of wounds were on a normal person, they would have grown stiff long ago.

Jeremy noticed a pattern: every time Griffin returned from the outside, he almost always had injuries. Last time it was a hole in his stomach. This time it was his entire upper body.

He opened his mouth intending to ask.

But Griffin never gave them that chance. Seeing the group enter, he didn’t even look up, merely casually pulling a teleportation scroll from his robes, pumping magic power into it, and tearing it open.

A door opened in the middle of the room.

"C-rank area this time. The magic array will throw you to the ruins from the other day. I’ll be right there."

Before the five could reply half a word, they were entirely sucked into the teleportation door like a black hole.

In the moment the world turned upside down, Jeremy only had time to think exactly one thing.

Griffin sometimes truly resembled an NPC where simply stepping close would trigger a quest.