1-Second Invincible Player in the Game

73. The Slave Revolution (1)

Saturday morning.

Once more, the lobby of the Shulafe Hall was as it always was.

Upperclassmen paced restlessly, their feet tapping anxiously against the stone floor, while the first-year students whispered among themselves, faces etched with worry, “What are we to do?”

Emmerich, a third-year from the Adel Hall and the representative of the Bürger Hall, clicked his tongue as he watched the return of the Evill group, who had vanished for half a day.

“You lot are probably the first in the history of Frost Heart to return from a beating at Shulafe Hall.”

“That’s quite the embarrassment. But there’s that new kid who took down Bidon, remember? And then he ended up as that guy’s lackey until the very end…”

Even a duo like that was an opponent that even Emmerich of the past would have doubted he could defeat.

“Emmerich, you turned a blind eye to those two’s antics, didn’t you?”

But that was all in the past.

Now, as a third-year, he could easily take on both of them at once.

Perhaps the duo was aware of this, for they had only moved within the bounds of provocation, careful not to stir the waters too much.

They must have instinctively realized they would lose if it came to blows.

“Funny, isn’t it? Have you already forgotten that I let you off because you claimed to have ties with Makdal?”

“W-well, that’s true, but still, if you can’t easily defeat them, what chance do we have?”

“Me, unable to win? Don’t spout nonsense. Even in my past, if it were a one-on-one, I would have crushed them without a doubt.”

The current Emmerich had grown strong enough to be mentioned as a candidate for the Ten Full, a title bestowed upon only the ten most outstanding students at Frost Heart.

With a seat snatched from under him, he tossed the book he held into the air, slicing it cleanly with a single swipe of his sword.

*Swish!*

As it was neatly severed, the Evill group’s eyes widened in shock.

“W-without a weapon, to produce such a sharp aura…”

The Bürger Hall folks knew only to wield aura with the strength within their bodies; few could project it outward.

And even among the Adel Hall, it was rare to find someone who could wield it with such finesse, as if it were a weapon in its own right.

“Yet, I cannot forgive the breach of hierarchy. Let me show you clearly. You slaves have no right to resist.”

The timing was just right.

The first-year students of Shulafe Hall, who hadn’t even taken the third exam, were about to enter dungeon practice.

Emmerich cast a malevolent gaze upon the Evill group.

“Gather all of Bürger Hall. I have instructions.”

This weekend, a storm was set to sweep through Shulafe Hall.

The seniors, always pressed for coin, I had come to accept.

The first-years, perhaps fretting over the dungeon practicals, were acting this way.

A month’s time was ample for those who had faced the third exam to inquire, out of curiosity, about the dungeons from the seniors.

Yet, as they caught sight of my face, their expressions brightened, and they began to swarm around me.

“Hey, Hessel!”

“It’s Hessel!”

“Hessel!!”

It seemed they had gone mad from hunger, foraging in the woods and eating any mushroom they could find, their minds unraveling.

Worry gnawed at me, and I asked them, “Have you all lost your minds?”

“N-no, it’s just that a truly maddening situation has arisen.”

“Speak plainly.”

“Ah, well, you see…”

As one senior stammered in fear, Atra stepped in, unable to bear it any longer.

“The Burger Guild has declared war.”

“War? What, are they coming to invade?”

I chuckled lightly, but Atra spoke with a grave tone.

“Honestly, that would be preferable. You know most here survive on commissions, right?”

A sense of understanding began to dawn on me.

The weight of commissions was divided: 10% from the professors, 30% from the Adel Guild, and a staggering 60% from the Burger Guild.

And recently, due to those brothers, Evil and Shuvil, friction had arisen with the Burger Guild.

“So they’ve declared they won’t give us any work.”

“Exactly. That’s why the atmosphere is so grim.”

This was serious.

Half of the money needed for survival was vanishing.

With my steadfast heart, I couldn’t help but feel pity for them; I couldn’t just stand by.

“Why didn’t you save up a bit?”

Well, I had offered my advice; perhaps it was time to seek out some food.

“Wait! You’re just going to leave this be?”

“Ah, if you’re the representative, it’s your job to handle it. Why do you keep asking me for help?”

“Not that, still…”

I cast a sidelong glance at Atra, who was being a nuisance, trying to ease my worries.

“This is just temporary. These folks have been pampered here for so long; how long do you think they can endure an uncomfortable life? Soon enough, there will be a rift from within.”

They were the kind of spoiled young masters and ladies who would spend coins even on trivial errands.

How long could a bourgeoisie, used to riding in luxury foreign cars, truly endure a life on foot?

“And don’t think about just scraping by day by day. Get your act together. Join a club or start a business. Or at least focus on your studies enough to gain entry into that esteemed Bürger Hall.”

Having said all I wanted, I resumed my path.

But I couldn’t help but stop at Atra’s words from behind.

“The academy’s priority on weapon rentals. You know we’re at the bottom, right? Those Bürger Hall brats are stubbornly hoarding everything, claiming they need it. This is malicious. Everyone knows the first-years will be practicing in the dungeons soon.”

For a moment, my mind went blank.

The Bürger Hall kids had personal belongings funded by their living expenses, so they didn’t even need to rent equipment.

Thus, the only ones renting gear were the poor students from Schluafe Hall, and since the demand wasn’t high, the academy didn’t prepare much.

“Have you suggested anything to the professors?”

“Of course, I have. There was a brief meeting among them, but it yielded no results.”

I could easily picture them chattering around a desk.

They would have debated about what to do if students lacked equipment in the field, insisting it was the students’ responsibility to secure their own weapons despite having ample time to do so.

These were the same folks who would stand by while a student lost their life in a dungeon, prioritizing practical caution over student welfare, so it was only natural they wouldn’t intervene regarding the equipment students needed to procure.

Atra’s brow furrowed in anger.

“…I can accept that’s how professors are, but those Bürger b*stards. This is how they play it?”

“Well, they’ve certainly crossed a line.”

That was putting it mildly.

This was a game played with lives.

Among the first-years of Schluafe Hall, few had brought personal equipment.

Even those who had often sold their gear out of hunger.

And now, they were expected to practice in the dungeons?

No matter how skilled Rix was, the death rate would undoubtedly soar.

“Wait, pushing us to this brink means they must be demanding something in return, right?”

Thinking it over, from their perspective, the Schluafe Hall students were like slaves.

If they lacked something, it would be a loss for them, so there was no other way to interpret it than as a desire for some sort of agreement.

When I asked, Atra gritted her teeth and replied.

“Right, it exists. By tomorrow morning, all of Schlaphe’s crew will be begging on their knees in front of the castle’s stairs. Only in their undergarments.”

It sounded almost too cheap, yet it resonated well enough.

For these humans, such a thing was merely a part of daily life, so what did it matter?

With so many of them, a few missing wouldn’t even be noticed.

“This might turn out easier than I thought. Well then, everyone, go and beg well.”

“You’re included in that. Especially you, since you’re the instigator of this whole affair. They say the representative there should even lick the shoes.”

Yet, this was a brutal violation of human rights.

How dare they, beneath the same sky, trample upon another’s dignity?

······I could not bear it any longer.

“Senpai. Gather all the humans staying here.”

“Hmm? Oh, okay. But what are you planning?”

I replied in a cold voice.

“It’s a strategy meeting.”

“What? A strategy?”

“There’s a saying: the best defense is a good offense. Tomorrow, we strike at the throats of those Burger b*stards.”

Tomorrow will be etched in the history of Frost Heart.

It will be a monumental day when the slaves of Schlaphe overthrow the privileged elite and reclaim their rights—a day that will later be known as the Slave Revolution.

* * *

Sunday morning.

In the lobby of Burger Hall, Emeric sat on a sofa, reading a book.

Beside him, Eville fidgeted, his voice laced with concern.

“Do you really think it’ll be alright?”

“If it’s for survival, we have no choice but to accept it.”

“I hope so, but still, there’s that Hursel fellow.”

“Hursel?”

“I can’t shake the feeling that he might just come barging in.”

Emeric tore his gaze from the book and looked at Eville.

“I don’t think that will happen, Eville.”

“What?”

“That Hursel guy. They say he survived the breath of the beast, right? Do you really think that’s something to take lightly?”

Emmerich did not believe the tale; it was far too absurd.

“Ha, but it is true that he defeated Bidon.”

“Bidon, too, must have spun a wicked web to cloak it all. I heard he fell from the battlements? Perhaps he was pushed when he let his guard down?”

“No, there were more than a few witnesses. They say he had Bidon by the throat and slammed him into the ground!”

Emmerich shook his head, a look of disdain etched on his face.

“Why do you think such a wretch would go to the Shulafean?”

“That is…”

As Ebil stood dumbfounded, unable to respond, Emmerich voiced his thoughts.

“A false idol conjured by the Shulafeans. How dare they, mere slaves, conspire against us?”

Perhaps there was some truth to his words, as Ebil muttered softly, pondering the possibility.

Emmerich glanced at the pendulum clock and closed the book.

“Time is running out. Soon, they will raise the white flag.”

No sooner had he spoken than hurried footsteps echoed through the air.

The one who appeared was Shubil, his face wrapped in bandages.

“Senpai! The Shulafeans are down by the stairs, lying in their undergarments!!”

Ebil grimaced, his expression twisted in disdain.

“…So he truly was a fraud. I must devour that one to quench my fury.”

“Once things are settled, you and your brother can do as you wish.”

As Emmerich rose from his seat, students from the Bürgervan began to swarm into the lobby.

“Seems everyone has heard the news that they’ve tucked their tails between their legs.”

A fortunate turn of events.

It was the representative’s duty to firmly instill the notion of hierarchy in all.

Of course, the Bürgervan held the upper hand.

“Follow me.”

Emmerich led the students out of the stronghold.

* * *

A thick fog hung heavily in the air.

Emmerich strode ahead, cutting through the morning sunlight.

The Bürgervan students trailed behind, but due to their sheer number, they had to file out in two lines.

Beside him, Ebil scoffed at the sight of the Shulafean slaves kneeling below, clad only in their undergarments.

“Look at that fog. Even the sky seems to pity those b*stards. It’s like it’s trying to hide them, don’t you think?”

In contrast, Emeric narrowed his eyes, scanning the mist for any sign of movement.

Clad only in his undergarments, he remained unfazed by the biting cold.

And towards the snowy peaks, the air was clear enough to reveal the massive rocks jutting out.

‘Why is the fog gathering only around them?’

As his eyes adjusted, the shapes of the prone figures began to sharpen into focus.

Suddenly, Emeric’s eyes widened in realization.

“It’s a trick!!”

Those were mere illusions crafted by shape-shifting magic, nothing more than convincing fakes.

Dolls painted with dirt, dressed in nothing but undergarments.

If that were the case, the fog was likely conjured by magic as well.

“What, what? A trick?”

Others, like Evill, echoed his disbelief.

It would take a few seconds for their minds to catch up.

But the moment was already slipping away.

Bang!

At the heavy sound, he turned to see a giant forcefully barring the gate of the fortress.

From within, the rough thuds of fists against wood and the bewildered voices of the students from the Burger Hall spilled out.

“What, what’s happening? Why is the door closed?”

“Open it! Open up!!”

Emeric squinted at the muscular giant, a cord tied around his head.

‘Is that ornament a sign of a barbarian?’

Now that he thought about it, he had heard whispers.

A barbarian had entered the Schlaphe Hall, they said.

“…Are they trying to scatter our forces?”

That could only mean one thing: an ambush.

How dare those slaves declare war against the Burger Hall!

Emeric’s heart raced as he caught sight of the giant’s massive shield strapped to his back, a sense of foreboding washing over him, and he shouted loudly.

“Subdue that barbarian at once!!”

The troops charged forward, weapons drawn.

The barbarian, as Emeric had feared, blocked the door with his back, thrusting a massive shield into the ground.

Crack!

The entrance was sealed by the shield, and the exit was barred by the barbarian himself.

Yet, no matter how deeply it was lodged, a shield could be pulled free with enough effort.

It was just as six sturdy men were nearing their destination.

At the sound of a shout, Emeric was startled once more.

“Now!”

From the snowy fields surrounding them, the slaves of the Shulafe clan emerged, lifting a white tent that draped over them like a shroud.

Most wore ragged armor, and what they wielded were pitiful wooden swords that looked as if they had been whittled by hand.

Some even used branches sprouting leaves as makeshift wands, their equipment a testament to their dire circumstances.

And at the center stood a man with a familiar face.

“Makdal…”

Makdal pointed at the barbarian, commanding the slaves.

“Protect Asley!!”

The forces that had aimed to subdue the barbarian were swiftly overwhelmed by Makdal and a dozen slaves.

Emeric moved to take matters into his own hands.

Then, from among those guarding the barbarian, Makdal stepped forward.

“It’s been a while, Emeric.”

“You’ve lost quite a bit of weight since I last saw you. But tell me, who devised this strategy?”

“It all came from Lord Hursel’s mind.”

So, he’s not just an ordinary conman after all…

“Indeed, a good con requires a sharp mind. It seems that arrogant brat is cowering in a safe place, then.”

As Emeric let out a light scoff, Makdal’s eyes flared with intensity.

“Watch your tongue, Emeric. That man is not someone you can belittle.”

“The leader hides like a rat, never showing his face.”

“You’re rambling. Enough talk; let’s begin.”

Makdal raised his staff high.

At that sight, Emeric couldn’t help but exclaim in admiration.

“Oh, so you intend to face me without even a Bidon?”

In truth, the outcome of whatever scheme they had concocted was already set in stone.

The main gate was barred, yet soon enough, even through the windows, the severed half of the forces would converge.

With the numbers currently at hand, they could easily sweep aside those wretched Shulafe b*stards.

“The second and third years of Shulafe are already proven vermin. Among the first years, there are some whose skills remain unknown, but the Evil crew will handle them with ease.”

Even if they were raw stones, they were still first years.

It would be a stretch to defeat a third-year from the Bürger Academy.

Emmerich gripped his sword, still sheathed, and aimed it at their strongest force, Magdal.

“First, I’ll take you down to break their spirit.”

“Go ahead, if you can.”

“Indeed, I shall show you. All tactics become useless before the absurdity of raw power.”

As Magdal swung his staff, eyes coalesced into a snowman.

A doll formed from the elemental wind magic, compacted and chilled.

Moreover, it was a puppet controlled by a curse-based spell.

Emmerich grinned as he watched Magdal manipulate over thirty snowmen simultaneously.

“Seems you’ve improved quite a bit while I wasn’t looking.”

“Well, there were circumstances.”

Emmerich swung his sword, shattering the snowman that had thrown a punch at him from the side.

* * *

Evil raged at the man with the wild hair.

“You b*stard… I thought I was going to starve to death locked up in that prison all day.”

Rix blinked in confusion.

“They must have fed you, right?”

“Do you think the food that scum like you eat would suit me?”

Evil shouted, casting a glance at his group.

“What are you doing! Take him down now!!”

His brother, Shubil, was the first to grasp his staff.

Rix seized the moment, swiftly drawing a spell to bind Shubil’s wrist with chains.

Adding a weight to it, Shubil couldn’t bear the burden and let his arm droop.

“Ugh.”

As the knights, who had merely been watching, surged forward, the legion behind Rix began to stir.

“I’ll support from the back, so fight without worry.”

Rix surveyed the overall situation, meticulously adjusting the formations one by one.

“Binrel! You’ve drifted too far right. Center yourself a bit more to maintain the line. And Hapal, aim your electric orb at the one on the left, not the right.”

Just by holding their positions, they formed a barrier that deterred the enemies from launching a reckless attack.

As for personal strength, Rix wasn’t quite sure, but the numbers were heavily in favor of the opposing faction.

Sensing the difficulty of the battle, Rix’s gaze fell upon Klave, who had blended into the shadows.

‘…Is that really Klave?’

He appeared somewhat translucent, making it hard to identify him precisely.

Yet, the way he quietly prepared his electric magic without drawing attention from either ally or foe confirmed it was indeed Klave.

Rix couldn’t help but smile bitterly.

‘Surely, he’s grown bolder since coming here. Has he been influenced by that fellow…?’

As Klave completed his incantation, the illusion magic that had cloaked them dissipated.

In an instant, Rix swung his staff, rendering Klave invisible once more.

Then, like roots bursting forth from the earth, the electricity struck only the enemies.

Crackle!

“Ahhh!”

“W-where? Where did that come from!!”

As the foes lit up with fury, scanning their surroundings, they stumbled upon Klave.

But Rix had already sent forth the eagles he had conjured, and they began to peck at the enemies mercilessly.

“Ahhh!”

“W-what is this!”

‘Good thing I prepared. The illusion magic doesn’t completely erase presence.’

As Klave managed to slip away safely, Rix assessed the battlefield.

The tide was favorable.

Though pushing through with numbers was quite a headache, his friends were of higher quality than the enemy.

Reluctantly acknowledging it, it was indeed true that they had grown stronger thanks to Makdal.

Then, suddenly curious about how Makdal was faring against the representative of the Burger Clan, Rix turned his head for a moment.

‘Is Makdal doing well?’

Rix’s eyes widened.

“He looks like a first-year, but impressive nonetheless. With just a bit more time, he could have defeated the Evil faction. But this is where it ends.”

Right before him, Emeric loomed, dragging Makdal’s hair as shadows enveloped him, the energy drained from his form.

“Where is your leader now?”

The outcome had been decided in less than a minute since the battle began.

No matter how fiercely he struggled, he could not overcome the formidable Makdal…