Raised in Dungeon



The school began with a comprehensive skill test

Led by the student executives, everyone was ushered onto the specially designated field within the dungeon – an arena tailored for the fighter faculty. The field, resembles a modified dungeon rest area. And the light coming from the crystals on the ceiling made it look like daylight, even though it was underground.

"Let's start with archery. We'll be calling out your names individually," announced one of the student executives.

"Excuse me, are we going to do it in these clothes?" asked one of the students to a senior.

"Oh, my apologies. You can shed your outerwear. Seniors will provide hangers for you," assured the senior.

Without hesitation, Sharik discarded not only his outer garments but also the underskirt he wore. "Ah, finally free from these cumbersome clothes. Wearing this stuff only results in my fur getting tangled!" It wasn't just Sharik; other demi-humans with dense fur followed suit, choosing to strip down, except for the female one.

"You only need to aim for the target. If you miss, it's perfectly fine. Keep in mind; this is primarily data for the faculty, and there are no special points assigned for this exercise. However, exceptional performance may pave the way for point bonuses in the future."

The first name was called.

"Rasheeda el-Malakooti, please step forward."

Rasheeda, a tall dark elf with captivating black skin, moved gracefully to the designated spot. Despite being an elf, her ears remained concealed beneath a makhfi al'udhun, a veil draping her head. Only a portion of her face and the hair framing her bangs peeked through the veil.

-SHOOT

Rasheeda's arrow found its mark, piercing the chest of the target with impressive precision. The onlookers erupted in applause, acknowledging her skill. Rasheeda's stellar performance set a high bar, and a subtle tension settled over the rest of the participants. However, the crowd refrained from jeers, because it could be that those who had poor accuracy were just not good at using arrows.

Until next, the name was called out.

"Next is Akiyama Basilia Northam."

Akiyama Basilia Northam, it was obvious that her first name did not match her family name. The girl was the one other than Allen, who the surrounding students always noticed. Her presence also caught Allen's attention several times. She sat at the very back and seemed to be the type of person who tried to be inconspicuous.

"Aren't you trying to make friends with her?" Allen asked Geirhild, and the reason why Allen was asking was that Akiyama's hair color was the same as Allen's hair color. Deep black, with dark-brown eyes, an other-worlder.

Geirhild sighed, reminiscing, "I tried. She was quite renowned back when she was in secunda, but she declined my invitation. Did you notice it when you looked at her? It seems like she's intentionally keeping others at bay."

"Quit the chatter, pay attention!" Sharik interjected, his excitement evident. When Sharik showed enthusiasm, it usually signalled the recognition of some intriguing "power" that he admired.

All eyes were fixed on Akiyama. Unlike her peers, she didn't hastily draw her bow. Instead, she gracefully rose, lifting the bow with slowness but gracefully. After raising it, she looked left and right as if ensuring no one would be inadvertently affected by her demonstration. Everyone who saw her knew that what she was doing was an art in archery, a skill likely imported from another world. And then, with a decisive release:

-SWUNG

The arrow exhibited a subtle bend, yet its trajectory remained unwavering. It pierced the thick, five-centimeter wooden target provided by the senior.

"I-INCREDIBLE! This target is five centimeters thick!" exclaimed someone in astonishment.

Akiyama, unfazed, let out a sigh, placing the bow back on the table. "Thank you."

A round of applause erupted once more, surpassing the earlier ovation for Rasheeda, underscoring the extraordinary nature of Akiyama's display.

The moment arrived for Allen.

"Next up, Allen Boldenville."

Boldenville, the surname Allen had adopted upon becoming a knight of Felicia, marked his connection to his noble benefactors. Knights not of noble birth, like Allen, would typically inherit their master's surname. What distinguished them from the nobility was that they were not allowed to put their mother's name as their middle name.

"Allen Boldenville! Isn't he here?"

Allen, oddly quiet, seemed lost in thought. Sharik roused him from his reverie with a gentle tap on the shoulder. "Allen, it's your turn."

"Ah!" Allen snapped back to attention and swiftly took his place.

'Her stance is so magnificent. She reminds me of Theobauld's sword-soil stance.'

Contemplating Akiyama's technique, Allen grasped the bow, attempting to mimic her movements. 'If I'm not mistaken, she did it like this.'

Sharik, observing Allen, wagged his tail in excitement. 'ALLEN! Are you trying to imitate Akiyama's archery?!' Sharik thought.

Silence enveloped the scene once more. Allen, oblivious to his surroundings, focused solely on replicating Akiyama's actions. His intense concentration seemed to magnetize all eyes toward him. Even Akiyama, previously indifferent, lifted her head, her gaze fixed on Allen with widened eyes.

'The stance, the movement of hand muscles, fingers, and then... right, she also turned her head to look around.'

Allen closed his eyes, exhaling deeply until he felt the rhythmic pulse of his heartbeat.

At the zenith of concentration, he released the arrow.

Akiyama keenly observed; Allen's arrow mirrored her own, gracefully bending upon release.

-WOOSH

However, it veered off course, missing the target and sailing to the far end of the room. The resultant murmur of disappointment filled the air.

"Fyuh, just a kid trying to imitate."

"Poor accuracy."

"He must be seeking attention by imitating her."

While some spectators dismissed Allen's missed shot, a few discerning individuals recognized a more intriguing detail.

"The arrow reached the end of the room," contemplated the chief executive.

"If it hadn't missed, it would have obliterated the target," pondered Rasheeda.

Akiyama, unflinching, averted her gaze, feigning indifference.

Allen inspected his hand and admitted, "This is tough; my grip slipped in the middle."

"Too bad, Allen," Sharik consoled.

Geirhild, intrigued, inquired, "Did you and Akiyama study at the same place?"

"No, I just found her moves beautiful, so I thought I'd try to imitate them."

"I-imitate, you say?" said Geirhild, surprised. 'Wait a minute, maybe they knew each other in their previous world? There's no way she really copied him in one look.'

You managed to mimic that well in just one attempt! Amazing!" cheered Sharik.

"Amazing? Didn't you see that he missed?!" protested Francis from behind.

"Can you do archery too?!" Sharik asked Francis eagerly, prompting a sudden retreat from the once confident Francis, intimidated by Sharik's sparkling enthusiasm.

"Umm... y-yeah, quite a bit."

Finally, the moment came for Francis

"Francis Ismenia Wildenhall."

Imitating Allen and Akiyama's motions, Francis went unnoticed. However, his actions lacked the finesse displayed by the previous participants. Surprisingly, his arrow found the target's left abdomen, a result that even he found astonishing.

"See, I can do it too!" he proudly declared. However, his accomplishment went largely unnoticed amidst the aftermath of Allen's attempt.

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