A Guide to Raising Snake Spirits - Chapter 27

Usually, during combat class, young and hot-blooded Sentinels like Winter and Yeran were itching for a fight, eager to see who could land an extra punch on the other. The competitive nature of a Sentinel was practically written into their DNA.

This time, however, Winter looked completely dejected, staring at Shiraishi Haru with an incredibly resentful expression.

Shiraishi Haru: “What’s wrong?”

“You have no idea. While Teacher Mizuki was on leave this past week, you were probably off enjoying a Guide’s gentle paradise,” Winter said, sounding incredibly salty. “All our piloting classes were turned into combat classes. We’ve been fighting from morning until evening. Even a Sentinel can’t recover that fast.”

Yeran stood nearby with his arms crossed. “That’s just your own poor physical stamina. Don’t drag the rest of us Sentinels into it. The Class Rep and I are doing just fine.”

Winter grabbed him by the collar. “How can you say a Sentinel isn’t ‘doing fine’!”

Yeran let out a snorted laugh. “Whether you’re ‘fine’ or not isn’t something you prove by shouting.”

Winter looked ready to prove his “stamina” to Yeran through physical force right then and there.

The Class Rep chimed in, “Still, Winter, you really do need to step up your training. Midterm testing is right around the corner.”

At the mention of “midterm testing,” the fire in Winter’s eyes vanished instantly, and he slumped like a defeated quail, letting out a dejected “Oh.”

“Midterm testing?” Shiraishi Haru was hearing the term for the first time.

“Right, I forgot to tell you.” The Class Rep slapped his forehead and explained, “Shiraishi, you missed the orientation at the start of the semester. Every semester has midterms, which are split into curriculum exams, psychological tests, physical fitness tests, and spiritual tests.”

Yeran added, “Yeah, curriculum exams are usually just in-class tests, the time is set by each subject’s teacher. The other three are scheduled by the Tower in batches.”

Winter clasped his hands together and shook them in a desperate prayer. “Brothers, please have mercy. If anyone sits next to me during the classroom exams, you have to save me…”

Shiraishi Haru: “…”

Shiraishi Haru: “How do the other tests work?”

Class Rep: “The psychological test is mainly for Sentinels. As you know, we Sentinels aren’t exactly the most stable bunch. Those who tend to get stuck in their own heads or have aggressive personalities have a higher chance of going berserk.”

Yeran said dryly, “For example, certain people are textbook cases of being prone to berserking.”

Class Rep: “Quit it, I’m explaining here.”

“It’s not like there aren’t psychopathic Guides, but they are naturally more emotionally stable. Usually, their psychological test is just a formality.”

Yeran: “And even if a Guide has some dark thoughts, their destructive power isn’t nearly as strong as a Sentinel’s.”

Shiraishi Haru: “I see.”

“The physical test measures your fitness level. You should be fine,” the Class Rep said, a bit wistfully, recalling how Shiraishi Haru routinely wiped the floor with him in combat class.

The Class Rep secretly teared up. He really wanted to find an opponent he could actually beat for once, otherwise, it was just too damaging to a Sentinel’s self-esteem.

Shrugging it off, the Class Rep continued, “The spiritual test mainly relies on equipment. You just sit down and wear a helmet. The unique part is that the spirit animal is also included in the spiritual test.”

Shiraishi Haru: “Spirit animals can be tested too? I thought regular people and machines couldn’t detect them.”

The Class Rep nodded. “In theory, that’s true. So, the Tower sends teachers with high spiritual levels to act as proctors. The test content is benchmarked against the average standards of that animal species in the real world.”

“Hey, Shiraishi, what is your spirit animal? We’ve never seen you release it.”

“Maybe he has released it and we just can’t see it.”

“I don’t release it often. It’s an Anaconda, it’s too big.” Shiraishi Haru didn’t mind letting them know what his spirit animal was.

“I feel you.” The Class Rep patted Shiraishi’s shoulder in total agreement. His spirit animal was a gentle brown bear, which he also rarely brought out.

Most spirit animals released in the school buildings were small or medium-sized.

For instance, Winter’s Corgi… which was currently wagging its tail excitedly and circling their feet.

Yeran reached his limit. “Put that stupid dog away, its drool is about to get on my shoes.”

Winter said reluctantly, “What does it matter? It’s not a real dog.”

“To us, it’s basically the same as a real dog!” Yeran took two steps back to avoid the Corgi that was still trying to rub against his leg.

Winter’s spiritual level was the lowest among the four of them, so the other three could easily see his Corgi.

Even though Yeran and Winter were basically “frenemies,” judging by the spirit animal’s behavior, Winter actually liked Yeran quite a bit.

“Hey, look at this.” The Class Rep pointed at his terminal.

On the system schedule, “Introductory Combat” had been replaced with “Basic Piloting Techniques.”

Walking into the room was the black-haired Guide who had just taught them the day before. “Teacher Akisui gave me my classes back, so it’s me again today. Happy?”

Before some students could even celebrate the lack of combat class, the Guide added, “I’m the kind of person who is, well, a bit lazy.”

Mizuki Nozomi perfectly embodied the type of teacher students hated most. He said leisurely, “For the midterm, I don’t feel like writing questions or grading papers. So, we’re doing a practical test, I’ll grade you on the spot.”

“Good lord, Teacher Mizuki, you can’t be serious.” Winter was praying desperately in his heart, a true “maiden’s prayer.”

The Guide ruthlessly crushed his hopes.

“No time like the present, and the timing is about right. Let’s just do the test today.”

Wails of despair filled the room, but the black-haired Guide remained unmoved.

Shiraishi Haru was one of the few who sat calmly amidst the sea of crying students.

He just watched Mizuki Nozomi on the stage.

Even though Nozomi was acting perfectly normal, Shiraishi could sense a subtle difference. The Guide seemed a bit distracted.

If he were to use wavelengths as a metaphor, the Guide’s mood usually stayed at a high frequency, with some fluctuations, but generally remaining in the high range.

Today, the Guide’s mood had dropped overall. It only spiked slightly when he mentioned the surprise test, then quickly sank again.

If Winter knew what Shiraishi Haru was thinking, he’d probably cough up blood.

He was practically dying from the teacher’s surprise exam, and Shiraishi Haru was actually concerned about why the Guide didn’t look happy enough when hearing their cries of despair? This guy definitely prioritized his Guide over his friends.

The students were tested one by one according to the system’s order, and Mizuki Nozomi went through them one by one.

“Right, use a little more muscle, see if you can pry the steering rudder right out of the screen.”

The black-haired Guide sat with one leg crossed over the other, arms folded, leaning back comfortably in his chair while the student next to him was drenched in sweat.

“Turn left.”

Under Nozomi’s watchful gaze, the poor student’s hand shook with nerves, and he accidentally hit the right turn signal instead.

Mizuki Nozomi: “A beautiful feint.”

“Does this student have a hobby of stir-frying?”

The student: “Huh?”

Mizuki Nozomi: “Your hands are moving so frantically over the console, it’s like you’re tossing a wok.”

“Good thing this is a simulator,” Nozomi said darkly. “Otherwise, you’d be spending the rest of your life paying back the Tower for that move.”

Mizuki Nozomi: “What are you looking for down there?”

Student: “Looking for the power mix control.”

Mizuki Nozomi: “Oh, I thought you were looking for your way home.”

Student: “Teacher, I really can’t find it.”

Mizuki Nozomi: “Then why don’t you stick your head under the floor and look there?”

The students were fuming but didn’t dare speak up.

After finishing, Winter whispered a fake sob to Yeran, “I was wrong. Bring Teacher Akisui back. I’d rather roll around the training room three more times.”

Fortunately, even though Teacher Mizuki was in a bad mood, the grades he gave out weren’t bad.

After Winter saw his score in the system, he clutched his passing grade, even though he’d stalled the engine three times and teared up. “Shiraishi Haru, I’m sticking with your Teacher Mizuki. Teacher Mizuki is great, Teacher Mizuki is wonderful.”

Yeran glanced at Shiraishi Haru’s expression and quickly covered Winter’s big mouth. “Have you lost your mind? Stop talking about ‘choosing’ this or that.”

The manually muted Winter: “Mmph mmph mmph!!”

When Shiraishi Haru entered the office, he saw the Guide sitting in his chair with his knees pulled up to his chest, his head buried in his arms.

Shiraishi Haru: “What’s wrong?”

The black-haired Guide looked up from his seat. “Huh? Oh, nothing. Just got a headache from being annoyed by your class’s piloting.”

As the Guide said this, he didn’t blush or stammer. He looked directly at Shiraishi with calm eyes and relaxed limbs, showing no sign of evasion.

It was a perfect lie.

But Shiraishi Haru knew, with absolute certainty, that it wasn’t true.

That was what the Sentinel was thinking, but what he asked was, “Then how was my performance? Was the teacher satisfied?”

Mizuki Nozomi smiled. “What do you think? Are you satisfied with yourself?”

He had smiled many times in class today, but most were cold or superficial smiles.

Shiraishi Haru: “I think it was a performance that should have made you happy?”

**

After Teacher Mizuki kicked off the midterm season, the teachers of other subjects began to ramp up the intensity as well.

Yeran grabbed Winter by the neck and shook him frantically, screaming, “Aaaaah, you stupid dog, you’ve really screwed me over this time!”

Winter, knowing he was in the wrong, didn’t struggle, just letting himself be shaken until his tongue hung out.

Class Rep: “You two…”

“Some students, relying on the fact that they’re Sentinels with good eyesight, think they can just secretly copy answers.” The old Guide teaching the Situations and Strategy course pounded his wooden cane against the podium, making a loud thwack-thwack sound.

“But when you copy, can you at least show some respect for me, respect for the student you’re copying from, and respect for the exam questions? Look at the question numbers, and maybe change up the answers a bit?”

“You copied an entire column into the wrong rows, you even copied the wrong answers.”

The Class Rep couldn’t even bear to watch.

The true culprit was currently lying “dead” in his seat.

The victim was still struggling, scrolling through his terminal to find a way to clear his name and just send the “stupid dog” off to his doom.

The old Guide ended with, “Come see me in my office after class. If I have to drag you out myself, it won’t just be a failing grade,” before stomping out with his cane.

Next up was the physical fitness test. The events included a ten-kilometer weighted run, a five-kilometer cross-country race, shot put, grip strength tests, and more.

The Sentinels sweating on the field looked like wild monkeys swinging through the mountains, though perhaps a bit more refined in their movements.

Shiraishi Haru’s results in every event were miles ahead of the rest, firmly placing him in the S-class fitness category.

The Class Rep clutched the physical score sheet, sighing deeply. “I didn’t lose for nothing in combat class.”

Shiraishi Haru politely took his leave. “I’m heading out first. The Tower sent me a notice for the psychological test.”

The psychological testing room was decorated very warmly. It used beige as a base tone, with soft sofas, harmonious colored blankets, and the white noise of bubbling water, all working to create a relaxing atmosphere.

“Please sit down, Shiraishi Haru.” The psychological examiner sat in a rattan chair, wearing a white dress. Her aura was very similar to Akisui’s, but even less aggressive.

“I’m going to ask you a few questions and then have you fill out some forms,” the therapist said softly. “Aside from that, would you mind releasing your spirit animal?”

The therapist’s spirit animal was a sleek Ragdoll cat, cute and soft, with its fluffy paws resting on the wooden table.

“I can, but we might need a bigger room, or we’ll need to remove some furniture.” Shiraishi didn’t resist, merely making a reasonable request.

After the extra sofas and tables were cleared out, the Anaconda was released.

The Anaconda showed no particular preference for the room, which now easily accommodated it. It used its snout to scent the living beings in the room.

Cold-blooded animals weren’t like other large predators. With tigers or lions, even if you knew they were fierce, they still had a fluffy, beautiful exterior that people could appreciate.

The Anaconda’s pitch-black eyes, the distorted patterns on its body, and the rippling muscles along its spine as it glided across the floor were enough to make anyone’s skin crawl.

The therapist sat with her hands clasped over her knees, her Ragdoll cat curled in her lap.

“First, according to your records, you don’t remember your past, is that correct?”

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