Chapter 124
Chapter 124
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 124
Chapter Title: Chasing the Scream (1)
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"...What, why are there so many people here?"
Even though it was early in the morning, the kitchen was packed with familiar faces. He hadn't even told anyone, so how had they all shown up? Iril spotted him and shouted in a delighted voice.
"Ah! Ronan, you're awake!"
"Sis. What's going on?"
"Heehee, I don't know either. Everyone except your friends just showed up one after another."
Iril explained that they'd all arrived around the same time, separately. It meant no one had been invited—they'd each come because they were thinking of Ronan. Naviroje, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, spoke up.
"It's only natural. When your disciple heads off on a long training journey."
"To be precise, it's more like a purification than training. This is why swordsmen with muscles for brains... Gahk!"
In an instant, Naviroje's elbow vanished. Thwack! A dull thud echoed as Zarodin toppled over. Baren Phanasir, watching the scene, chuckled kindly.
"Haha, you two haven't changed a bit. It's heartwarming."
"Baren..."
"I heard it might be a long journey. As Instructor Naviroje said, attending a send-off like this is only natural."
Baren was hunched over to avoid smashing the ceiling lights. Just then, a boy who had been hesitating behind him approached Ronan.
"Th-thank you... for everything. Sorry it's late."
"Ah, Ballus. Doing well?"
It was Ballus, Ronan's old comrade from the Penal Legion and a former poacher. His neatened-up appearance almost made Ronan miss him entirely. Mumbling to himself, Ballus suddenly started tearing up.
"Hey, I asked if you're doing well—why are you blubbering? You're killing the mood."
"F-for the first time in my life... I feel like I've found meaning. I don't even know how to thank you..."
"Jeez... Baren, cut this weakling loose. What good is someone this soft?"
"Hoho, Ballus here is my top assistant. He's been a tremendous help."
Baren placed a hand on Ballus's shoulder. Ever since he'd started helping out, Baren's workload processing speed had nearly doubled, apparently. At any rate, it was a far better outcome than becoming a poacher and getting dragged into the Penal Legion. Ronan chuckled and patted Ballus on the back.
"Keep it up. You're doing great."
"Yes... I will!"
Ballus bowed at the waist. Around the hearth, meal prep was in full swing. Iril handed plates of food to Schlieffen.
"Schlieffen! Could you set these on the table? Careful, they're hot."
"Al... right."
Schlieffen stiffly took the plates from her. He was even wearing an apron—a truly ridiculous sight.
A masterpiece. The Empire's Rising Star, carrying plates at a commoner's woman's command.
Ronan thought it could fetch a fortune if printed via Didikan's machine. Marya, sleeves rolled up, effortlessly hoisted a massive pot of stew.
"Give me the pot, sis. I'll carry it."
"Wow, Marya, you're so strong...!"
Iril's eyes sparkled in admiration. Asel, Marya, and the rest of the elite adventure club members were naturally helping her set the table.
"I'm so glad Asel came too! Having neighbors here is the best!"
"Y-yes! Me too!"
Judging by their disheveled states, they'd probably arrived well before the professors. They were nosy like that—no need to ask. Ronan was about to pitch in.
"Huh?"
A familiar girl caught his eye. Her dark purple hair was messy, like she'd just rolled out of bed. Even as she levitated dishes with telekinesis, her gaze stayed fixed on Iril's face.
"To think someone prettier than Lady Adeshan exists in this world..."
It was Erzsebet, the noble lady of House Acalusia. The Dawn Spire badge from Awn Pila gleamed on her collar. Ronan waved cheerfully.
"Hey, long time."
"Ah, Lord Ronan...!"
Snapping to attention, Erzsebet shrank back. After staring at him for a moment, she hurriedly looked away. Memories of applying potion to his bare body were fuzzily resurfacing.
"...I just came with Lady Adeshan! I had no idea Grancia's eldest son would be here."
"Thanks for coming. Must've been tough getting up this early."
Ronan smiled warmly. Erzsebet mumbled like an ant, lips twitching.
"...I heard the news. Be careful out there."
Her ears peeked red through her hair. She turned back to the dishes. Then a voice came from right behind Ronan.
"You've got quite the harem."
"Senior?"
"And all beauties, too."
Ronan turned. Adeshan, apron-clad, beamed at him. Without dropping her smile, she spoke.
"Food's ready. Let's eat."
Ronan flinched. She was smiling, but it didn't feel like a smile. Her voice had a strange flatness, like she was angry.
"...You mad?"
"No. Why would I be?"
"Good. When I get back, let's go to that hill again."
Adeshan's eyes widened. After a silent pause, she replied in a much softer tone.
"...Yeah."
Her relaxed expression eased Ronan's mind for some reason. Naviroje, who'd been watching quietly, snickered.
"Some progress, huh."
With prep done, everyone gathered around the table. Ronan's seat was between Iril and Adeshan.
Seeing all these faces made him glad he'd moved to the dorms. They never would've fit in Nimbutton's house.
The massive pot bubbled with potato stew. Iril threw her arms wide.
"Ehehe, thanks for coming for my little brother. Eat up!"
"I'll... dig in."
The meal began with Schlieffen mechanically shoveling stew. He looked ready to polish off every scrap. The instructors went first, offering words one by one.
"Come back safe, Ronan. Don't forget our deal—double training when you return."
"Typical barbarian—threats instead of encouragement. If anything happens to your mana, I'll fix it right away, so go worry-free."
"Hurry back. We have club activities next. By the way, this stew is amazing—is it really just potatoes?"
Baren, Naviroje, and Zarodin gave encouragement laced with their unique advice. Next was Iril. Clearing her throat awkwardly, she faced Ronan.
"Ahem, Ronan. I heard it's dangerous, and I worried a lot... but I won't stop you. Can't hold my brother back as his sister."
"Sis."
"Just promise you'll come back. That's enough."
No trace of her usual smile on Iril's tightly pressed lips. It was her first truly serious face Ronan had seen. He nodded solemnly.
"I promise."
"Ehehe... Thanks."
Iril finally broke into a bashful grin, wiping her eyes with her sleeve before kissing Ronan's cheek. Then the club members, Erzsebet, Ballus, and Adeshan offered their words in turn.
"I'll be waiting here. Achieve what you set out for."
With Adeshan's final words, silence fell. Ronan's throat tightened; he figured he owed them a resolve speech to let them eat in peace. Swallowing his stew, he spoke.
"Uh, you know..."
He trailed off. So much he wanted to say, but it all escaped him. Eyes suddenly stinging like dust got in, he glanced at the ceiling before looking down.
"Thanks, everyone."
Ronan grinned. Nothing better came to mind, no matter how hard he thought. The meal resumed soon after. As expected, not a spoonful of Iril's potato stew remained.
After the simple send-off, Ronan headed straight for the purification. Only the elite adventure club members and Sita saw him off to the entrance of Sepharachio in Zarodin's office. Asel sniffled.
"R-Ronan... you'll be back soon, right?"
"You think? At least a month, minimum."
Ronan chuckled. Half-joking, half-serious. After such a grand farewell, returning in a day or two would be pathetic. Ruffling Asel's hair wildly, he addressed the group.
"Couldn't say it earlier, but thanks, everyone. Keep living strong."
"Don't... worry."
"Uhaha! You sound like you're off to die—save that talk!"
"Come back. Or I'll kill you."
"Mee...!"
Sita rubbed her face against his cheek. After Marya's suffocating hug, the goodbyes ended. Schlieffen was the only one who hadn't spoken. Ronan frowned.
"You gloomy bastard. You follow me here just to act cool?"
"I know you'll return. Just get back before your edge dulls."
"Unbelievable."
Ronan snorted. Hardening his expression, he strode up to Schlieffen, getting nose-to-nose before speaking.
"I don't ask much of you."
His sunset eyes flickered like flames. Despite the feral intensity that screamed murder, Schlieffen didn't flinch. After a pause, Ronan continued.
"Protect my sister."
"I swear it."
Schlieffen nodded gravely. Ronan clapped his shoulder and turned. Cheers from the club members echoed behind him. The dark hallway swallowed his silhouette.
"You're here."
"Sorry. A bit late."
Sepharachio appeared as soon as he exited the hall. The first thing that caught his eye was the far more intricate magic circle.
Geometric patterns covered not just the floor but walls and ceiling. Secret, still in girl form, greeted him.
"No need. Being loved is wonderful."
Secret guffawed. He knew about the send-off. Ronan didn't deny it, nodding.
"Yeah, it is."
"Honest lad."
"So... you're putting that in my head?"
Ronan jerked his chin at the study center. A black mass like a demon heart hovered, pulsing.
It was the materialized curse Ronan had to purify this time. Secret nodded grimly.
"Yes."
"Same as before—slice the source of the curse and come out?"
"Exactly. You'll recognize it at a glance, just like last time."
Secret explained precautions for the purification. He'd improved stability, but emphasized the danger.
"The magic stones you brought are top-notch—no mid-process failures. Now it's all up to you."
"Always has been. I'm ready."
"Then, begin."
Ronan sat cross-legged under the mass. Secret placed a hand on his forehead.
Whoosh...! Brilliant light burst from the magic circle engulfing the study. The massive lump compressed, flowing into Ronan's head.
"Grrrr...!"
"We'll await your return."
A chilling sensation like dunking his brain in ice water made Ronan grit his teeth. A chant like song flowed from Secret's lips.
Consciousness faded. Overwhelmed by crashing sleep, Ronan closed his eyes. The final thread of reason snapped.
.
.
.
"Wake up, you filthy beggar!!"
A furious shout rang close by. Ronan opened his eyes. Wooden buildings lined both sides of his vision. Feather-like clouds drifted lazily across the narrow blue sky.
"Where...?"
He realized he was lying down. His back ached from lying there a while. The dim shade suggested a back alley in some city or village.
"No sword..."
He habitually checked his waist—both swords were gone. His hands looked slightly larger. Successful entry into the mental world? As he pondered, cold liquid splashed his face.
"Pft!"
Splash! Stinking muddy water invaded his eyes and nose. Caught off-guard, Ronan sprang up.
Dirt blurred his vision. Then something hard slammed his cheekbone. Crack! His head snapped back as a strong grip seized his collar. The same rage-filled voice roared in his ear.
"You filthy beggar! Didn't you hear me? This is our turf—get lost!"
"Ah... fuck..."
Ronan swept back his bangs and turned. A fat, grubby boy was shaking him by the collar. No denying it—he was a beggar.
Grime caked his wobbling jowls. Beside him, a scrawny kid so skinny he could've passed for a salted herring cackled.
"Puhahaha, look at him soaked!"
Both faces felt vaguely familiar. Where have I seen these punks? Ronan turned again. The pig-boy scoffed incredulously.
"Oh? Giving me the death stare? Do you even know who I—Gurk!"
As the pig threatened, Ronan's fist smashed into his mouth. Crunch! Shattering teeth flew like crushed shellfish.
"Eek...!"
The herring's face froze. Pig-boy clutched his mouth, staggering.
"W-wait... Hngh!!"
Thud! Ronan kicked his side, sending him crashing into the opposite wall and sprawling. No need for hands. Pockets in, Ronan stomped the pig.
"You little shit beggar. Am I your friend?"
"Squeee! M-mercy!"
"Even your squeals are pig-like."
"P-please...! My fault! Stop...!"
Ronan ignored him. Pig-boy foamed and passed out. Ronan finally stopped.
"Hoo... Talk about bad luck."
Muddy water and a beggar beating right on mental world entry—worst start ever. Pants down, Ronan pissed on the unconscious pig. A fleeting worry if this was humiliating him in reality too, but he shrugged it off.
Eh, Secret'll clean it up.
Head still fuzzy—needed to assess first. The herring stood petrified like a statue. Business done, Ronan turned.
"Got a smoke?"
"Hiiiiaaak!"
Herring screamed and bolted. Soon vanishing from the alley.
Both ends glowed bright. Hoofbeats clattered, crowds murmured busily.
"Let's see..."
Ronan pocketed coins from pig's pouch and walked out. Sunlight poured down as he exited.
"...This place."
He looked around. The village felt familiar. Pointed-roof wooden houses, wide roads, fancy carriages—all known.
Finally recalling, Ronan murmured softly.
"It's... the village where I turned myself in."