Academy's Drunk Fighter-Chapter 39: First Crisis (End)

And during that process, they’d definitely discover that there was something seriously wrong with that cult leader.

On the bright side, she could also pin the entire situation on Yoon Siwoo.

Besides, she got a good item out of it.

[False Horned Mask of the Doomsday Followers]

[Rarity: Heroic]

[Info: You have now witnessed what lies beyond comprehension.]

[Effect: Grants a small permanent stat increase once per week. However, each use severely lowers Mental Strength. When worn with low Mental Strength, there is a high chance of brainwashing.]

The cursed mask she had ripped from the cult leader’s face.

Her Mental Strength was in shreds, sure, but not below the threshold. To her—someone willing to sacrifice flesh for bone—it was basically a stat-copying machine.

It was a tier higher than the regular mask she’d gotten before, with greater effects and even riskier penalties.

Honestly, she’d gotten lucky.

There were six types of stats she could receive from the mask. Only one of them was related to Mental Strength.

And there was also a chance the old man’s mask, despite looking different, would be recognized as the same item by the system.

That luck... she had no other explanation for it.

But the real problem still wasn’t solved.

One of the first goals she had set when coming to the Academy—

Getting rid of the alcohol poisoning built up in her body.

And right now, her body was showing exactly why she needed to do it.

“Ugh...”

More vomit splattered into the toilet.

Her body was shaking from the recoil of the movement.

It was her first time pushing it this far, and even if her Mental Strength had increased, her body couldn’t keep up.

Plus, she’d learned from the Academy’s recent medical checkup that her physical condition was deteriorating fast.

“I need... to find a solution.”

It wasn’t just the alcohol poisoning.

Every time she used Drunken Fist or any of her skills, her frail body broke down more and more.

The stat boosts from intoxication only activated when she reached a certain level of drunkenness.

And just like she feared—skills like Breaking Strike and Fa Jin, which had come to her so naturally earlier—wouldn’t activate now, even if she clenched her fists.

It was like her body had forgotten how to use them.

“My stomach...”

Fighting back another wave of nausea, she forced herself to gulp down the medicine she’d gotten from the Academy hospital.

It didn’t cure the alcohol poisoning itself, but it was said to settle the stomach and help regulate intoxication.

After about thirty minutes, the discomfort in her gut finally eased. Leaning back against the wall, she closed her eyes and rested.

‘What happened to Noah?’

She’d escaped in a hurry, rushing back to the dorm. She hadn’t been able to check on Noah, the security guard, or the other students who were supposedly still in ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ the Archive.

Not that it would’ve changed anything even if she had.

[EMERGENCY ALERT CANCELED]

[All 92 Gates in Central District A have been confirmed closed.]

[Gate grades confirmed: 5 A-Class, 47 B-Class, 40 C-Class.]

[Ground stability may be compromised. Citizens are advised to return home and remain cautious.]

Then came the notification confirming the Gates were gone.

Ninety-two Gates.

For that many to have spawned simultaneously in an area less than ten kilometers wide—it had to be intentional.

Even the Academy must’ve known that something about this wasn’t normal.

And if that woman was involved... even more so.

Still—

“That’s a relief.”

She was genuinely relieved that no one had died.

Watching someone she knew die... was never a pretty sight.

It had been an exhausting day.

The sky was still glowing orange with afternoon sun, but her body was begging for sleep.

“...I’ll think about it after a nap.”

For the first time since coming to this world, she could fall asleep without drinking.

Yeah—today had really been that fucking rough.

****

A conference room filled with Academy professors.

Even with the ones still on field missions or helping with cleanup, over fifty people were gathered.

But no one dared speak first.

They were all waiting—for the woman at the head of the table, the one with jet-black hair, to open her mouth.

‘She’s pissed.’

‘Yeah, she’s definitely pissed.’

Her face was smiling—but the crooked twist at the edge of her lips screamed irritation.

“Begin the report.”

The moment the Headmistress gave the signal, data about casualties and damages was projected before them all.

“As of now, we’ve confirmed eleven injured students, three wounded guards, and one fatality.”

“...One?”

There were several layers to the Headmistress’s voice—but the implications were clear:

‘I expected at least ten... only one?’

‘But why just one?’

“Yes. It was near impossible to avoid casualties entirely given how sudden and widespread the Gates were... but that thing significantly minimized the damage.”

The staff member’s gaze turned toward the massive divine barrier stretching out beyond the sky.

“That... who cast it? One of the magic professors?”

“No, actually, we’re not sure. Based on the timeline, it seems the barrier was deployed within about 15 minutes of the incident starting. You all know what that means.”

The Academy spanned nearly eight square kilometers.

To deploy a defensive barrier not just over that vast range—but one tuned specifically to exclude only Gate-spawned entities—and do it in just fifteen minutes?

Not even the most powerful magic professors in the room could pull that off easily.

“So we assumed... it was you, Headmistress.”

The Headmistress could have pulled it off herself—but at the time, she’d been preoccupied with something else.

A flimsy excuse, maybe—but compared to the incident, what she was working on was, in her judgment, even more important than a terrorist attack.

Still, the fact remained: the barrier had drastically reduced the damage.

“So then... who cast it? Don’t tell me it was that Mage Tower successor—”

“No student has stepped forward to claim responsibility. We asked Hellicia, but she said it wasn’t her.”

“Can’t you trace the mana signature?”

“Well... It appears to have been done using a recorded magic formation, not personal mana. No traceable signature was left.”

“Recorded?”

That was something even she had deemed inefficient and removed from the Academy’s curriculum long ago.

Creating an ultra-large-scale magic circle through the recorded method required immense time and effort.

In other words—it meant someone had been preparing for this long before the Gate attack even began.

‘Who the hell would do that?’

Which made it even harder to grasp.

Recorded magic and computational magic.

If you had to choose one kind of mage, everyone would pick a computational-type. They could react to situations faster—and they were stronger.

But from a purely magical theory perspective, recorded-type mages held much more academic value.

“Sigh... Let’s table the mage talk for now. Let’s go back to casualties.”

“Yes, ma’am. Most of the wounded were from the outer perimeter. They were injured while fighting monsters.”

“And the fatality?”

“A student died at the A-Class Gate that opened near the outer archive. A security guard stationed there was also injured.”

“The outer archive guard...?”

“Yes. That man.”

“...Didn’t see that one coming. How bad are his injuries?”

“Both arms were severed. We managed to stop the bleeding in time, so there was no blood loss fatality.”

The Headmistress pressed her fingers to her temples, trying to piece together how this had even happened.

“Is it treatable?”

“The left arm was cut cleanly enough for regeneration to be possible. The right arm...”

“...Prosthetic, then.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Sigh... Alright. For now, prioritize restoring the damaged facilities... and stabilize the wounded students as much as possible.”

That was her way of saying you’re all working overtime. But no one in the room voiced a complaint.

Not out of some childish heroism—but because every single one of them owed her a debt they could never repay.

Clack.

At that moment, someone opened the door and walked in.

“...”

The Headmistress raised her eyes—her gaze fell on a student.

“Yoon Siwoo?”

The student who, more than anyone else in the Academy, drew attention—yet acted like none of it mattered.

And the one everyone silently agreed would soar higher than the rest.

He was here.

And in his right hand—

A short old man was being dragged across the floor, limp and silent.

“...And who exactly is that clinging to your leg—wait.”

Ruuummmble...

Suddenly, a crushing pressure filled the conference room.

“Haha... Don’t tell me it was those mutts that pulled all this shit?”

“H-Headmistress... please, calm down...!!”

“Yup. She’s pissed.”

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“Shit, should’ve just stayed home today...”

Her pupils glowed brightly, her face fixed in a radiant smile.

“Yoon Siwoo... tell me. Where did you catch it?”

Not him.

It.

But no one dared to object to the word.

And in that razor-sharp silence, Yoon Siwoo finally opened his mouth to speak.