Chapter 111
Chapter 111
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 111
Chapter Title: Blood Soaks the Sand (2)
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"Yeah, you'll do nicely."
The club members' attention snapped toward him. Ronan's index finger was pointing at Schlieffen, who sat at the table sharpening his blade. Schlieffen, silent until then, finally spoke once he'd finished.
"Disappointing. Is that all you called me here for?"
"Hear me out first. It's a pretty decent trip."
"I can't anyway. I've got heir training scheduled over break. Take someone else."
"Heir training... I see. Too bad."
Ronan smacked his lips. Suddenly rummaging in his inner pocket, he pulled out a palm-sized sheet of paper.
"I've even prepared a little reward. Whoops, it slipped."
Ronan dramatically spread his fingers. The paper fluttered down like it was sliding right onto Schlieffen's sword. His eyes went wide.
"This is...!"
The paper bore a picture of Iril beaming brightly. But it wasn't like any ordinary drawing.
Though black and white with no color, it brimmed with lifelike vitality, as if a slice of reality had been cut out and pasted there. Schlieffen's pupils trembled rapidly.
"Anyway, got it... Have a good class."
Ronan reached to pick up the picture again, turning toward the other members. Suddenly, Schlieffen grabbed his shoulder and stood.
"Hold on."
His voice was utterly serious. Ronan desperately fought back a grin as he turned.
"What?"
"On second thought, broadening my horizons is part of kingly studies too. Time will only get scarcer, so this might be my last chance. If there are no other options, I'll cooperate."
"Wouldn't have it any other way. I'll give it to you when it's done."
The companion was decided. The members who'd dodged selection let out sighs of relief.
Considering the incidents Ronan had stirred up before, even two or three days with him was a lot—spending nearly a month together was unimaginable.
'Lucky break.'
Ronan felt relieved too. Recalling the events from two days ago, he curled his lips.
'Definitely a solid invention. Didikan.'
Didikan had surfaced to deliver Ronan and Adeshan's weapons. A machine hung at his waist—one that turned moments into eternity.
Ronan had invited him home, treated him to a meal, and asked him to take a few shots of Iril and himself. He hadn't planned anything specific then, but things had unfolded this way.
Either way, it was a win. This time, he really needed Schlieffen. Dainhar wasn't some casual spot where a greenhorn could tag along to gain battle experience.
Ophelia was somewhat better off, but the land of relentless blazing sun wasn't ideal for her to shine. Finishing his business, Ronan addressed the members.
"You all worked hard this semester. Things'll get busier, so rest up."
And so summer break began. Most members scattered to pursue their own goals. Asel headed to Nimbutton to see his parents, while Marya set off for distant Palchion in the east for long-haul trade.
Braum too headed to the empire's northernmost territory to visit family. Ophelia, the only one not leaving, had hunkered down in the clubroom entirely.
"Ophelia, you not going anywhere?"
"Nah... Mom and Dad would complain... And here, I won't run into Balzac..."
"True, that lunatic's around. Tough break."
"No... I'll hold down the fort here."
She yawned hugely and waved off his concern. Ronan and Schlieffen had two days to prepare before departing for Dainhar.
A nearly month-long journey required plenty. The meticulous Adeshan helped with packing.
"Get sleeping bags from the guild—they're best. Desert has huge temperature swings, so pack thick clothes too... Should've known ahead; I'd have made some."
"It's fine. Oh, sorry for burning the uniform you fixed up."
"Don't sweat it. I'll mend it again. Potions and scrolls all set?"
The two toured the island gathering supplies. The two days flew by.
A cloudless, clear morning. At Phileon's quiet main gate, Ronan said his goodbyes before departure.
"Alright, I'm off."
"Ppyeh!"
A backpack the size of his torso weighed on his back. Sita, perched on his shoulder, flapped its wings in greeting.
Sita was one of the trip's companions too. Concern laced Adeshan's smile.
"Yeah. Be careful. Dainhar... I'd stop you if I could, but you have your reasons."
"No worries. What about you over break?"
"Heading home with Dad. Gotta check on Mom and my brother. Then straight back to Phileon."
"Why? Stay longer since you're going."
"Heh... Gotta work twice as hard to catch up. My mana reserves are basically zilch now."
Adeshan scratched her cheek sheepishly. Her realm was still Sword User. Awakening shadow mana had burned away her old reserves.
'Seems soft at first glance, but she's tough as nails. Great potential.'
Ronan smiled. With ordinary talent instead of shadow mana, she'd have risen high already.
"Oh, right. Practicing with those weapons too, on the side. It'll feel weird at first."
"Ah, yeah. Freaked me out getting two. Longsword's one thing, but the other..."
Adeshan nodded. She'd received two weapons, including the longsword. The other one Doron made was utterly foreign to her sword-only life.
But judging by her abilities, wielded well, nothing could be better. After shaking hands, Ronan grinned.
"Catch you later. Hope you make some progress."
With that, Ronan turned away. Leaving the island's south gate, he soon spotted Schlieffen waiting, arms crossed. Two bluish ghost horses stood statue-still beside him.
"You're late, Ronan."
"I'm right on time. You just came early."
"Load up the gear. We need to clear the southwest checkpoint before sunset."
"Aye aye, little duke."
The bickering pair donned goggles and mounted the ghost horses. Sita, trounced in the last race, opted for the backpack over competing.
Bang! The ghost horses shot off the moment they yanked the reins. Destination: Carlyle, the village closest to the Red Desert housing Dainhar.
The road to Dainhar was long and convoluted. Even on ghost horses, it took serious time—proof of the vast distance.
The path to Carlyle at least had proper roads for mounts, but after? To cross the Red Desert to Dainhar, it was shanks' mare all the way.
"Damn, this is why I hate the south."
"Ppyaaah..."
Ronan cursed at the drastically changed weather. The farther south, the lower the sun felt. Sita, panting in the heat, retreated back into the pack.
They reached Carlyle on the fifth day's afternoon. Crude buildings dotted the haze-shimmering wasteland.
Having most supplies already, they took a brief rest before pressing on. The ghost horses, sick of the heat, bolted the instant they were returned.
"Not even a backward glance. Ungrateful bastards."
Ronan chuckled dryly at their almost cheerful gait. Escaping this swelter must feel like freedom from hell.
And so the duo plus one began their overland trek. Walking beside Schlieffen, Ronan suddenly frowned.
"Not hot? Drop the pose and wear one, man."
"I'm fine."
Ronan wore a wide-brimmed round hat. That's how he endured the inferno without going mad. Removing it felt like sunlight would spear his crown and boil his brain.
Schlieffen's head, meanwhile, was bare. Striding under the scorching sun, he looked like sugar ready to melt. Marching silently, he murmured entranced.
"I'm... fine."
"Fuck's sake. Adeshan packed an extra for you. Ten seconds to decide. Ten... nine..."
Pulling another from his pack, Ronan counted down quick. By two, Schlieffen silently took it. They resumed walking.
"How long to Dainhar?"
"About six days. Two in the desert. You got the sleeping bag and leather clothes like I said?"
Schlieffen nodded. Good they'd packed the rest. They walked without pause, thanks to inhuman stamina training. Surveying the surroundings, Ronan murmured nostalgically.
"Man, it's been forever. Southwest."
Memories of his wandering boyhood flooded back. Desert landscapes weren't varied. Sparse, knee-high scrub dotted the barren earth.
Blue skies, yellowish soil and plants—green only peeked near rare water sources. Suddenly, Schlieffen spoke.
"That the new weapon you got? From Master Doron."
"Huh? Oh, this."
Schlieffen eyed Ronan's right hip. A new scabbard hung there. Ronan nodded. Sensing the aura leaking from it, Schlieffen furrowed his brow.
"Guess Dainhar really is dangerous. Enough to warrant something like that."
"Yeah."
Dusk crept in unnoticed. The muggy air chilled rapidly; winds picked up. Confirming the sun gone, Ronan halted.
"Camp here tonight. I'll take first watch, so get some shut-eye. Keep your sword within reach."
Ronan urged solemnly. Sensing inexplicable veteran poise, Schlieffen raised a brow.
"Fine. Monsters prowling?"
"Nah. Worry about them once we're in the desert. But this area's crawling with losers."
"Losers?"
"Yeah. Idiots who challenged Dainhar and washed out. Hyena scum."
Recalling his past journeys, Ronan clicked his tongue. Just thinking of them soured his mood. Adventurers who'd bet everything, failed, clung to get-rich dreams, and turned bandit.
Preying on fresh challengers to Dainhar. Schlieffen nodded slowly at the explanation.
"I see. So killing them's no issue?"
"Huh? 'Course not. Grind 'em to dust."
"Got it."
Sching! Suddenly, Schlieffen gripped his hilt. Before Ronan could react, he slashed into the darkness. Whoosh! A crescent blade beam arced through the air, vanishing into the distance.
"What the hell, man?"
Schlieffen didn't reply. Soon, an explosion echoed afar. Boom! A whirlwind erupted under moonlight, shooting skyward. Panicked screams scattered.
"...Gaaah!"
"...Run!"
"Shit... mo... move...!"
Ronan's eyes widened. Sound-wise, they were far off. Schlieffen fired three more beams without explanation.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Explosions birthed three more whirlwinds. Gazing that way, Schlieffen muttered.
"Not bad for bandits. Dodged plenty."
"Crazy bastard. You sensed them from here?"
"Mana extension makes it possible. They're coming."
Only then did Ronan catch the malicious presences and footsteps. Whoosh! Ten or so light clusters bloomed in the dark.
Torches, he realized quick. Good call bringing this guy. With that thought, Ronan gripped both hilts.
"Perfect timing. Was curious about the performance anyway."