I Refused To Be Reincarnated Chapter 798: A Matter of Means and Ends

"This will make things easier." With Haldris’ wave, the hovering platform, stone tables and gardens faded like verdant pignts caught in a whirlpool.

Adam barely had ti to blink before he found himself in a hall of deep red walls. Lined on them were ancient portraits, their golden fras engraved with curves and swirls, glistening under crystal chandeliers.

Among them, he recognised Teacher Diane’s blond hair, but it was the rest that made him freeze for a mont.

She smiled, her intact left lip stretching smoothly to her cheek—no scars or disfigurent to tarnish her beauty. Like the other portraits, she wore a matching dark robe, pinned around her neck with a dallion that represented the familiar silver sword that pierced a serpent. And since they all bore the emblem of the House of Exorcism, it could only an these were students from before the two other Houses were established.

Were they now all teachers, though? And why did he feel as though Haldris had painted them himself?

The questions flashed through Adam’s mind as Haldris stopped in front of the painting of a black-haired girl. She held herself timidly, with her braids barely covering tense shoulders leaning forward, and her hands resting over her stomach as if she hadn’t known where to place them and had settled for this.

Yet sothing struck him like a hamr to the temple—her extravagant red glasses.

"Don’t tell ..." The words slipped out.

"Teacher Grimhilde, fifteen thousand years ago," Haldris said, a mysterious smile curving his lips. "Your conflict with her is no secret. But first, the Oozebloom Abomination remains."

Under Haldris’ gaze, Adam’s mana crate split open. Hundreds of archmage roots all vanished in a heartbeat, leaving a single, arm-sized one to land in Adam’s palm.

"College property—or consider it the cost of this private talk, if that helps you feel better. I’m sure you understand," Haldris simply said, but Adam continued to stare at Grimhilde’s portrait.

The change just hit him that much. How did such a vulnerable-looking girl turn into a sadistic madwoman who enjoyed whipping students? They just felt like two different people...

Eventually, he tore his gaze away from the portrait to look at his palm. "The price? Sounds good. It indeed helps not feel swindled," he snickered. "I guess you expect thanks for letting keep a piece."

"That’s what others would have done, but of course, not you," Haldris chuckled, "too proud, and for reasons. I was ready to teleport you and Desmond back when you stepped into the territory of the Lullivy. A chance it decided to toy with the two of you at the edges, likely out of boredom, allowing for your remarkable escape."

"I get it." Adam let out a weary sigh, raising his palms. "I hope the college will continue to protect every student from the worst. Now, could we talk about Grimhilde?"

"You make this discussion almost enjoyable." Haldris stroked his beard as he turned toward the painting. "At least, more enjoyable than when she asked to punish you yesterday."

Adam tensed as Haldris continued.

"Don’t worry. Two thousand points and the trashing she gave you are enough punishnt for your disrespect. But if you ca hoping for to waive them, you’ve just wasted both our ti."

With a relieved exhale, Adam shook his head. "I ca because of why I had to confront her."

"Ah, your sister?" Haldris interrupted. "I’ve seen the sweet child of Reverie ta a baby Pandarok instead of capturing souls. She’s got potential, but is too young, too naïve."

He turned back toward Adam, his single eye glowing with understanding. "You wish to protect her, as any brother would. But the world is cruel, and it will not hesitate to show her so. She needs Grimhilde’s harsh training for her will to bloom."

Adam clenched his jaw. "Grimhilde’s training is torture, not harshness. I won’t let her whip Quintella!"

"You’re mistaken." Haldris shrugged. "The pain and wounds serve to push students past their limits. Even though she enjoys it, she’s a teacher—a professional. Her whips silently heal damaged muscles and purge them of the acid produced during the effort to replace it with mana. She stimulates muscle developnt while limiting post-training discomfort. So, do you still believe her training is wrong?"

A sombre frown creased Adam’s brow. The answer went beyond yes or no to burrow into philosophy. Do the ends justify the ans? More specifically, does the healer’s malicious intent invalidate the healing?

"No," Adam reluctantly answered. "But I won’t accept holding her as she trembles in tears after each session." His voice fird as he locked eyes with Haldris. "I ca to negotiate a bet. I’ll train Quintella myself. If I can’t bring superior results than Grimhilde, she can punish however she wants. But if I succeed, you’ll write Quintella out of her class."

"You’d achieve our ends through your ans?" Haldris tilted his head, then laughed. "That’s a first from a student. Grimhilde would love to see you fail, and you’ll hate her punishnt. But you’re smart enough to understand it, so I’ll only ask once: are you sure?"

"I am." Adam nodded, his words echoing through the hall with finality.

"Very well. You have one sester to train your sister however you want. I’ll then assess her progress against other youths her age." Haldris waved his right arm between them dramatically. "I’m giving you this opportunity, so I hope you won’t complain if you fail."

Adam’s lips curved into a smirk. "And I hope Grimhilde will swallow her loss with dignity."

"You’re dismissed." Haldris rolled his eyes, and Adam began to fade from the hall.

He reappeared on the hovering platform, which had been deserted by the students during the conversation.

"How does he teleport like this?" he grumbled, genuinely confused by the spell.

If anything, the lack of fluctuation made him sure Haldris didn’t use the spatial elent. Did it even make sense? He didn’t know and preferred to focus on his small victory anyway.

Without Grimhilde’s class, Quintella virtually had an empty schedule. On the other hand, he had twenty-eight hours of classes a week, aning he would have to optimise her training. Not now, though. His first class with Teacher Louis Sol Zevrin would begin in half an hour—just enough ti to make a detour by the common hall to grab a bite.