Chapter 134
Chapter 134
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 134
Chapter Title: Untimely Winter (4)
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"Let's have a go."
Naviroje gripped the hilt of her sword and pulled. With a seductive metallic rasp, her flying sword Urusaga came into view.
One of Doron's masterpieces he was so proud of. The blade, forged from ten different ores, gleamed a deep green like her eyes.
Ronan stood there dumbfounded. He had no idea what was suddenly going on. Naviroje urged him on in an irritated tone.
"What are you waiting for? Draw."
"Damn it, I don't know what's happening, but..."
Tsking, Ronan drew his sword. Today's Naviroje was off somehow. Edgy and cantankerous, like a cat pricked by a rose thorn.
Shing! Lamancha's pitch-black blade scattered shadows. Imir remained sheathed at his waist.
"Not using the dagger?"
"No."
Ronan nodded. Half-assing it with dual-wielding would probably get him nowhere. Naviroje, assuming her stance, murmured lowly.
"Come at me with everything you've got."
Her voice was dead serious. Whatever the reason, she meant it.
Instead of replying, Ronan gripped his hilt tight. Whoosh! A dizzying crimson hue raced up the blade. For some reason, channeling mana into the sword felt much easier than before. Naviroje raised an eyebrow.
"I see. You've come that far."
"What do you mean by that?"
"You've formed a core. A real one of your own."
Ronan's eyes widened. Now that he thought about it, his heartbeat felt different from before. Like something hotter than blood was stirring within.
'Is this an aftereffect of what Haeju did...?'
Maybe this was why his body felt lighter. The two backed away to about thirty paces. Confirming Ronan's stance, Naviroje spoke.
"Here I come."
Ronan nodded. At that instant, Naviroje vanished from his sight. Boom! A green flash erupted, and sword aura shot from where she'd stood.
"Holy shit...!"
Ronan spat a curse. Two crescent moons hurtled toward him, crossing in an X-shape. The sword aura looked at least 30 meters long.
Focusing his mind, he spotted Naviroje charging right behind it. The moment he saw her, Ronan realized how much power she'd been hiding in class. Two years ago, he wouldn't have even reacted to that speed.
'This is fun.'
Despite the surprise, his blood boiled. This was the duel with the former Sword Saint he'd longed for. Thud! Trusting instinct, Ronan kicked off the ground and leaped.
'High...!'
His lighter body soared higher than expected. The sword aura was already upon him. Ronan flipped forward and swung.
Slash! The blade arced, bisecting the crossing point of the two auras. Split into four pieces, they flew past him.
Boom! They exploded against the wall. Mana remnants scattered like embers. Naviroje halted abruptly. Ronan spun once more and brought his sword down. A strike amplified several times over crashed toward her head.
"Hup!"
"That's...!"
Naviroje's face hardened. It resembled her spinning slash but was subtly different. Calm yet razor-sharp—it was definitely familiar.
Doubt flickered, but no time for that. Gripping her hilt two-handed, she countered. The blades clashed in midair.
Claaaaang!
Metal and air-splitting shrieks echoed. Windows shattered from the shockwave. Shocked by each other's power, they gritted their teeth.
"Nngh!"
"Grraaah...!"
Yet neither yielded ground. Ending the brief power struggle, they thrust again.
Clang! Clang! Lightning-fast swords beyond perception collided in chains. Red-green flashes bloomed with every clash. Suddenly, doubt crossed Ronan's eyes.
'Huh?'
Something was off. The unease grew with each exchange. No time to check now, so Ronan gripped tighter. Fwoosh! The crimson glow inside the blade surfaced.
"Going all out now."
"Cocky brat."
Naviroje twisted her lips. Thud! Ronan stomped his right foot with a short kiai. Glistening roots sprouted instantly, coiling around her.
"This is..."
Naviroje's eyes widened. As Ronan swung at the bound her—Crunch! A foot burst through the roots, slamming his gut.
"Gah!"
Ronan clenched his teeth. His innards felt scrambled. Bouncing back, he swung anyway. Boom! Crimson sword aura fired at her.
Not the usual crescent, but an organic splash like sea spray. At the long-awaited aura mutation, Ronan whooped.
"Fuck yeah!"
"You finally did it."
Naviroje gave a hollow laugh. The red torrent surged. She spun her sword lightly to defend. Kaboom! Liquid ki hammered Urusaga's flat relentlessly. Suddenly, a voice from behind.
"As expected."
The hairs on her nape stood. Naviroje whipped around. Ronan had circled behind, slashing horizontally. A swift strike trailed red.
"Kuh...!"
She spun to guard hastily. But the slash was already too close. At this range, Urusaga would rebound and hit her. Sensing she was a beat late, she gritted her teeth.
"...?"
No clash came. Lamancha halted just shy of her throat. Wrinkles furrowed Naviroje's brow.
"...What the hell are you doing?"
Ronan didn't answer. As he lowered his sword, Lamancha returned to normal. Her face twisting further, Naviroje growled low.
"I asked what you're doing."
"We'll go again once you're better."
Ronan said calmly. Snow leaked through the broken windows. Naviroje frowned.
"What?"
"You're not yourself, Instructor. Did something happen?"
A dreadful silence fell. After seconds of quiet, she spoke.
"...I'm not hurt."
"Damn it, then what the hell happened? Why no Mansha? Your movements have all this excess flab."
Ronan rattled off the anomalies he'd sensed. Naviroje's skill had regressed overall. Her ferocious momentum was fine, but that was it. He'd sensed something off during meditation, but not this bad.
"Ronan..."
"Be straight with me. What's wrong?"
For the first time, he resented Adeshan. Healthy my ass. The regression screamed critical injury to a swordswoman's key parts.
Arm or leg, probably. Lying to ease his mind. After long silence, Naviroje spoke heavily.
"...I lost to Zaifa."
"Pardon?"
"Exactly that. Early this year. Couldn't keep my composure."
Naviroje sighed. She'd challenged Zaifa again for the Sword Saint title but lost.
No physical wounds, but losing a rematch was the issue. Ronan frowned.
"Wait, hold on—so no injuries? Not even one?"
"Yeah. I've been saying that."
Naviroje nodded, as if he'd been rambling. Swallowing a throat-full of curses, Ronan sighed in relief.
'Damn, scaring people.'
Felt ten years older. Adeshan hadn't lied. Brushing back his bangs, he spoke.
"Shit, glad you're not hurt. Thought maybe an arm got chopped and replaced with a prosthetic."
"Who knows. Might've been better that way."
"Huh?"
"This fight confirmed it. I'll never beat that cat in my lifetime."
That battle made her realize her limits. For Naviroje, who'd only ever lost to Zaifa and the white-haired man, it was devastating.
Not just failing her full power, but sealing her aura Mansha too. She gave a wry smile.
"Childish attitude. Sorry to show you something embarrassing."
"Instructor."
Ronan's lips twisted. He'd never imagined the unbreakable woman like this. Gazing up at him quietly, Naviroje spoke.
"Still... it's better now."
"Huh?"
"Unlike me, a promising disciple appeared."
Ronan looked down. Her face was brighter. Sheathing her sword, she patted his chest.
"Grown to the point it's embarrassing to compare to before... What the hell happened in those two years?"
"Just took some time to reflect on myself."
"One awakens aura, you make me happy like this."
She seemed genuinely happy. The shadow on her face had lifted a bit.
"Can't be a shameful master either."
A natural teacher, forgetting her pain through her disciple's growth. They exchanged recent updates briefly.
"Met Adeshan before coming? She didn't tell you about my state?"
"Nope. Said it had to come from you."
"Such a good kid. Not even my assistant anymore."
"I agree. Uh, Instructor. Got a favor."
Naviroje tilted her head. Ronan spoke. Hearing he wanted to go to Rodolan, she shrugged.
"Rodolan. To meet the Winter Witch?"
"Yes."
"Knew it. Jumping into the vortex right after returning."
Ronan scratched his head sheepishly. Stroking her chin, she nodded.
"Got it. I'll contact Interrogator Karaka."
"Thanks."
"But no reckless stuff. Sword Festival's soon."
"Eh, what would I do?"
"You've done plenty. All flashy ones."
They chuckled facing each other. Naviroje picked up a fallen canteen, shook out the rest, and spoke.
"Ronan."
"Yes?"
"Glad you're back."
She turned away. Her steps quickened like fleeing. Odd what embarrassed her. Watching her back, Ronan smiled faintly.
"Me too."
The sun had set, yet the sky was murky. Wailing winds howled irregularly. Whenever moonlight pierced the clouds, the snow on the ground shimmered faintly.
Naviroje said Rodolan's reply would come by tomorrow at latest. Finishing with her, Ronan left Gallerion Hall immediately.
To find the new club building. He'd planned later, but Marya insisted today—no choice.
"Definitely here..."
Reaching the north campus, Ronan looked around. The garden once blooming with flowers and trees was a white expanse. No suitable club building in sight, even rubbing his eyes.
'Damn, wrong info?'
Clenching his pipe, Ronan cursed. Endless snow made lighting tough. Then, a familiar voice nearby.
"R-Ronan! Over here!"
"Huh?"
Ronan turned. A mouse-sized guy in furs shivered. His tulip-red hair stood out more than the lantern in his hand.
"You were there."
Shaking his wet pipe, Ronan approached. Asel was freezing solid into a snowman. Ronan frowned.
"You okay, man?"
"H-Heh, thought you'd get lost... came out..."
"Tch, so damn foolish."
Ronan brushed snow from his hat. Behind Asel stood a small building. Barely warehouse-sized, plain and unassuming—white walls and snow-topped roof hid it. Ronan frowned.
"That old fart Kratir tricked me."
"N-No... You'll be surprised inside."
"Yeah, sure."
Griping, Ronan entered. Wind died as the door shut.
A small lantern flickered overhead. The rectangular space brimmed with thick firewood stacks.
"Impressive. Firewood bed."
"I-It’s all illusion. Stairs appear suddenly—watch out."
"What?"
Ronan tilted his head. Asel stepped forward without hesitation. Seeing his legs pass through the wood, Ronan's eyes bulged. The firewood was all intangible hallucination.
'They put real effort in.'
Advanced technique from Dawn Spire's library. Parting fake logs, stairs downward soon appeared.
Steep and deep. Delicious smells wafted from somewhere. Descending, Ronan asked Asel.
"Why today of all days? Plenty other times."
"Th-That’s..."
Asel scratched his cheek, averting eyes. Threats of pigtails wouldn't budge him—clearly hiding something.
Finally, the stairs ended—vision opened wide. Asel shouted.
"B-Brought him!"
"Ah, finally."
Ronan's eyes widened. People crowded the space.
All familiar, nostalgic faces—but surprise beat joy now. Seeing the new club's setup, Ronan burst a hollow laugh.
"...That crazy old bastard."