Raised in Dungeon

Many people say that academies are only for nobles due to their substantial tuition fees and the high cost of required equipment. Furthermore, there are additional expenses associated with research and theses, particularly at the superius class later.

However, it is not unattainable for peasants or commoners to gain admission to the academy. Scholarships offer a pathway to entry. To qualify for these scholarships, one must maintain consistently high grades in the primarium and secunda classes. Nevertheless, it's essential to note that these scholarships are not rare; each year, at least 50 non-nobles secure a place in the praeterea class.

Receiving a scholarship implied that the student bore no financial burden and was exempt from tuition fees and academy expenses.

"What the heck? Why are you looking at me like that? Do you think you have the right to be angry at us? The one who is paying for your school fees?!" the noble student exclaimed.

That's right, even though scholarship recipients didn't pay directly, their expenses were still shouldered by the nobility, leading to a slight overspending of noble students' finances for scholarship programs. This implied that they could attend school due to the financial support provided by the nobles.

"You may think you're smarter than us, but in the academy, that intelligence isn't very useful if you're not at the top!" remarked another student, kicking his equipment and sending it tumbling down the street.

When Felicia saw them, anger welled up inside her.

"Those people! Why do people like them always have to show up?! We should call the guards!"

"It won't make a difference," said Allen, gently gripping Felicia's shoulder. "Look around. The guards are turning a blind eye, and most pedestrians seem indifferent. This seems to be the norm in this area."

"Then we're the ones who have to do something."

"Do what?"

"Of course we should-"

"Save him?"

The way Allen interrupted her left Felicia feeling uneasy.

"What do you mean? What are you trying to say?"

Allen let out a long sigh...

"I may still not understand human common sense, but something like this has happened in the past, and it never ended well. Are you sure that saving him today, will truly save that person?"

Allen had attempted to emulate Felicia, who always extended a helping hand to those in need. Yet, during his three years residing in Barkaley, he had encountered experiences that drew him into the grey side of moral territory.

For three years... he helped a lot of people... and as a result, everyone in Barkaley liked him. However, the whole truth was more complex.

At Barkaley, there were some person who couldn't bring themselves to forgive Allen. They were the ones whose lives had been pushed to the brink, those who had given up hope from the very beginning. These were the slum-dwelling peasants, and when Allen extended help as a form of "apology," many among them tried to exploit his kindness.

"Humans aren't all good, and doing good deeds for others doesn't always result in receiving the same in return," he wanted to say that to Felicia. But if he did that, then he would be defying the sense of justice that Felicia believed in.

Plus, there was still no assurance that Allen's perspective held the ultimate truth, and maybe will never be.

"I know what you are trying to say… But when people are in distress, how can I simply turn away?" Felicia replied, her determination unwavering.

Releasing his grip on Felicia's shoulder, Allen contemplated her unwavering commitment. 'You're indeed that kind of person,' he thought with a smile. 'Otherwise, I wouldn't hold such high expectations of you.'

As Felicia strode forward and began to yelling at those noble students...

"Stop, you wicked humans!"

Another figure stepped in, preceded Felicia, scolding them.

It wasn't human, but demi-human, distinguishable by its soft, fluffy, bright yellow and yellowish white fur—a member of the Samoyed dog family, standing resolute.

"Tch! Demi-humans don't need to meddle in human affairs. Go away, you filthy little dog."

The Samoyed demi-human remained steadfast, with a fierce glint in his eyes, "No, I won't. I'll rescue this weak from your wickedness, from all of you!"

A mocking scoff followed. "Evil? You think you have the right to decide who is evil here?"

"Of course! An evil person is one who oppresses others!"

The arrival of the demi-humans shifted the dynamics, capturing the attention of onlookers, including the previously unresponsive soldiers, who now began to take notice. The situation was no longer going unnoticed.

"It seems like they only care if there's an interracial dispute," Allen said. "Now you don't have to interfere."

"They're really just watching, not taking any action," Felicia said.

One of the noble students turned toward the gathering crowd, his voice cutting through the tension. "Behold, everyone! This demi-human is attempting to interfere in human affairs!"

With a bold stride, the student who had been shouting advanced a forceful kick aimed at the victim of the bullying. "You really troubling us now," he bellowed as he delivered the kick.

"I told you to stop!" the demi-human yelled as he pushed the student.

Receiving the blow from demi-human, the noble student yelped in an exaggerated manner, dramatically propelled backwards until his body collided with the unyielding wall behind him.

"OUCH! My hand! I think it's almost break!"

"Oh my, what happened to you?!"

"LOOK! That demi human is trying to attack him!" cried out another noble student. "He's already violated academy rules!"

Panic painted the demi-human's face as he stammered, "N-no, I merely gave him a nudge-"

"Your strength is clearly beyond human limits! You ought to know that!"

Gasping for composure, the bullied student gathered himself, his voice trembling but defiant. "Ukh, as the victim, don't we have the right to defend ourselves? Attack that dog!"

"WAIT!" shouted demi-human while making a ready-to-fight stand.

The soldiers began to move towards them, but before they could do anything, two flying bowls suddenly whizzed through the air, finding their mark on the heads of the three students with pinpoint precision.

"Akh!" they exclaimed in pain.

"Who did that?!" one of the students barked at the bewildered crowd, his hand nursing his throbbing head, but no one offered a response.

"Are you okay?!" Swiftly, Felicia was already making her way toward the distressed victim of the bullied. Allen, reluctantly drawn from the crowd, trailed after her.

'Geez, why did you chase him?' thought Allen.

"Hey woman! You're the one who hurled those bowls!" the student shouted, his voice accusing. It was actually Allen who did that.

"If I am, so what! You're royalty, right? Aren't you ashamed of doing this in public?" shouted Felicia.

"Of course not; why should we be? He's a burden on the academy! Peasants who don't contribute anything!"

"Of course not! Why should we be? He's nothing but a burden on the academy! Useless peasants!"

Felicia couldn't hide her disappointment. "You imbeciles. I thought you had a legitimate reason, but it seems you're just venting your anger. Nobles who can only prey on the weak are truly a disgrace. It's embarrassing to think that you represent the Wildenhall kingdom's nobility."

"What did you say?!" The three students drew their swords, advancing with hostile intent towards Felicia.

"You're seriously bringing out your swords to fight your fellow man?!" shouted the demi-human.

"She attacked us first!"

Before the situation could escalate further, Allen acted swiftly. With remarkable agility, he intercepted the three aggressors, rendering them powerless by striking their necks, disabling their legs, and disarming them.

"GUAKH!"

In the blink of an eye, all three were incapacitated and fell to the ground, their swords clattering as they hit the cobblestone path.

The spectators, a mix of students and onlookers, watched Allen's swift and precise actions in stunned amazement. Whispers of awe rippled through the crowd as they marveled at his extraordinary skill. The demi-human, a bright-eyed Samoyed with a fluffy coat, observed the scene with wide-eyed admiration, offering an enthusiastic, "C-Coool!" and flashing a wide grin.

"Allen, you didn't break their bones, did you?" said Felicia.

"No worries, I won't make you use your blessing on them."

Despite the pain surging through their body, the injured noble student gradually regained consciousness. His anger remained as fiery as before, and he glared at Allen and Felicia, his voice trembling with rage.

"Do you think I'll just let this slide? Do you have any idea whose son I am? Huh? I'll make sure to make your time in this school unbearable!"

He didn't stop there, hurling profanities and insults at Allen and the others. The onlookers began to regard the student with disdain, their patience wearing thin. Curiously, the soldiers stood still, seemingly preparing to intervene, but not taking immediate action.

In truth, they were not indifferent. They were waiting for someone.

Then, a male voice cut through the growing commotion. "What's all this racket? Who's causing trouble now?" As he spoke, the crowd quickly parted to make way for him.

The man was dressed in academy attire, even on a day off. On his left chest, an emblem bore the image of a harpy eagle clutching a shield, the symbol of the academy's disciplinary commission.