Chapter 135
Chapter 135
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 135
Chapter Title: Untimely Winter (5)
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"...That crazy old man's out of his mind."
Dirty wide. That was Ronan's first impression. The new clubroom far exceeded his expectations.
A stone field stretched out before him. The ceiling and walls were covered in flawlessly flat stone without a single curve. It looked less like a training ground and more like a runway for takeoff and landing.
It felt like five of the First Arena where he'd just been sparring with Naviroje had been smashed together. No joke—if the ceiling were higher, a small dragon could live here.
"This is disconcerting."
Ronan muttered as he drew Imir from his waist. Kang! He channeled mana and struck the floor, but the blade only left a faint scratch before bouncing off.
"Ha."
Ronan let out a hollow laugh. He hadn't expected his request for it to be "wide and sturdy" to be taken so literally. As he dazedly looked around, a booming voice echoed through the space.
"Haha, I bet you're surprised!!"
Ronan turned toward the sound. In one corner of the training ground, Marya was waving enthusiastically. Behind her stood the wooden building they'd used as their old base.
"How the hell did they move that thing?"
It had to be Kratir's doing. In front of the building was a long banquet table laden with food. Delicious aromas wafted from the dishes spread across it.
"Heh heh, in over seventy years of teaching, this has to be one of the most dramatic scenes."
"You're back."
"My word. Ronan."
Familiar faces were gathered around the table. All the club members, plus the people who'd been there two years ago to see him off.
Ronan walked over slowly. Kratir approached first and offered a handshake.
"Ronan. Long time no see."
"Principal."
"The academy's in quite a state since you returned after so long. I have no face to show."
Kratir gave a wry smile. The wrinkles on his face had deepened noticeably. His dark circles suggested he hadn't been sleeping well amid the heavy workload.
He was undoubtedly the one suffering the most from the Winter Witch crisis. Shaking off his fatigue, Kratir patted Ronan's shoulder.
"So, what do you think of the new clubroom?"
"...Is it really okay to build something like this under the school?"
"Heh heh, we're lucky we finished before winter hit. Considering your achievements, I could make two more."
Kratir stroked his beard and laughed. Though fatigue lingered, it was a kindly chuckle.
He smoothly explained the new club's features: its durability, complete training facilities, and the secret passages scattered throughout. Ronan bowed his head.
"Thank you. I'll put it to good use."
"Good, good. You can return straight to third year. I've already arranged it."
"That's skipping a lot... No exams or anything?"
"Force of habit. What meaning would that hold for you now? Just know the remaining time will be very busy. You'll have to cram everything you missed."
At least he wouldn't have to call Asel or Marya "senior." Suddenly jumping to an upper year wasn't a bad deal considering his improved abilities.
No bird regrets time spent in the egg. Kratir glanced at his pocket watch and smacked his lips.
"Well, now that I've seen your face, this old man should get going... Sorry I can't stay."
He clearly had more work. Parting immediately after reuniting was unavoidable given his position. As they shook hands farewell, Ronan spoke.
"I'll make things easier for you soon."
"Heh heh... That sounds ominous somehow. Anyway, have a good time."
Wooong! Space warped, and Kratir vanished. Staring at the spot without turning, Ronan spoke.
"Does Professor Jarodin need to just say hi and leave too?"
"I have time for a meal at least. You've grown a lot."
"Right? What's changed besides that?"
"Don't get cocky just because you have a core. You haven't forgotten the mana cultivation method I taught you, have you?"
He was hopeless when it came to mana. Ronan chuckled and turned. Professor Jarodin, now in his were-jabborle form, stood there.
"...Jarodin?"
His sunken cheeks could double as wine glasses. His wrists peeking from his sleeves resembled chicken bones. Ronan asked in a voice laced with unease.
"Please tell me it's not because of your wife."
"Sunya's doing very well. She even opened her eyes recently."
Jarodin gave a soft smile. Sunya was progressing slowly but surely. He excitedly described her condition before sighing.
"It's just... a lot of work."
"That's a relief."
"Indeed. Compared to losing her again."
His workload had multiplied since winter arrived. There were several people here who might actually die from overwork if the Winter Witch wasn't dealt with soon.
"That monster... no, Naviroje. Has she recovered any?"
"Yeah, seems like it. She saw potential in me, apparently."
"Good. At least I won't have to see her like that anymore. Zaifa's one thing, but she worried about you so much."
He said Naviroje asked about Ronan once a day. Why hasn't he woken up? Does he not need food? What if he wakes up an idiot? Etc.
After losing to Zaifa, he'd had to drink with her twice as much. Jarodin patted Ronan's shoulder with a deep sigh.
"I guarantee she's the one who cares about you the most. Treat her well."
"Got it. She's just so affectionate."
"Not true, Professor Jarodin. There's the student council president."
A refined young lady interjected. Her upturned cat-like eyes looked familiar. She tucked her dark purple hair behind her ear and continued primly.
"Sister Adeshan wrote letters almost every day. Even family wouldn't do that."
"Impressive devotion. Good thing she doesn't take after that monster while working as TA."
"If not for the Winter Witch, she could've written without missing a day..."
Jarodin nodded in agreement. The girl listed Adeshan's non-achievements indignantly, clenching her fist. Ronan stared, then tilted his head.
"Erzsebet?"
"Ah, long time no see, Ronan."
Erzsebet finally turned. She'd fully blossomed into a young lady.
Her poise and speech exuded nobility, befitting House Acalusia. Ronan frowned as he examined her face.
"What's that scar?"
"Ah, you noticed right away..."
Erzsebet's eyes widened. A red blotch marred her neck.
Ronan, experienced in injuries, knew it was a frostbite scar. She touched it with a wry smile.
"A memento from the witch."
"You keeping it on purpose?"
"Hehe, sharp as ever."
She'd been utterly defeated by the Winter Witch at last year's entrance ceremony. Even the flame magic taught directly by Aun Pilla couldn't melt the witch's ice.
"I look at it whenever my resolve wavers. It works pretty well."
"Tough."
"I won't treat it until this winter ends. I'd love a rematch, but now she's holed up in that shell..."
Erzsebet bit her lip. No chance for a rematch while the witch was encased. After a moment's thought, Ronan spoke.
"Hey, want to come with me this time?"
"Pardon? Come where?"
"Was planning on just Asel, but one more should be fine. So..."
Ronan briefly outlined his plan. Erzsebet's eyes widened. She grabbed his sleeve with both hands.
"I'll go. Take me, please?"
"Sure. But on one condition."
"Condition?"
"Join our club."
Ronan put on a stern face, no compromises. He'd had his eye on her talent for ages—no way he'd miss this chance. Erzsebet blinked, then tilted her head.
"I'm already in your club, Ronan."
"Huh? Since when?"
"Not long after you left. Sister Adeshan gave me daily lessons—it was so enviable. I joined on a whim..."
Erzsebet scratched her cheek. An honest reason. Like a guy buying flowers he doesn't like daily to woo a florist.
"Well, then..."
"Hehe, a promise is a promise?"
The deal wrapped up anticlimactically. Then a familiar woman emerged from the club building, holding a turkey fresh from the oven.
"Eri, can you take this?"
"Senior?"
"Ah, you're here, Ronan."
Adeshan smiled warmly. Erzsebet telekinetically moved the turkey to the table and nuzzled her, whining.
"Student council work is tough enough—how can you carry something this heavy? You didn't cook this yourself, did you?"
"Eri worries too much. I enjoy it."
Members bustled in and out, carrying food and drinks. More dishes than on the table were coming. Ronan shrugged, feeling a pang.
"No Baren?"
Weird. Secretive or not, he'd never miss this. Adeshan clapped as if remembering.
"Ah, he said to apologize—he's swamped with new potion development."
"Potion development?"
"Yeah. Like a mass-produced version of the eternal snowflake pearl... A cold resistance potion anyone can use."
Everyone in the capital knew about Lion and Dream Bird Workshop now. Baren, steadily researching, partnered with Marya's Karabel Merchant Group to distribute his special potions continent-wide.
"I see. He's made it big."
Seemed like yesterday he was tearing out his mane over club records. Life's unpredictable. Ronan rolled up his sleeves and headed to the kitchen.
"I'll help. What needs doing?"
"Ah, just rest. You must be tired after waking up today."
"Two years is plenty of rest."
Ronan chuckled. Prep didn't take long. The welcome party for his return lasted until dawn.
Contact from Rodolan came the next morning. A dog-sized Cita delivered the letter. Ronan knocked on Asel's dorm door and barged in, waking him.
"Wake up, Asel. Let's go."
"Ughhh... Where?"
Asel rubbed his eyes, buried in bed. His hair was tied in pigtails, dangling limply.
Ronan had tied it last night; he'd crashed upon returning to the dorm without untying. Come to think of it, he hadn't told this guy.
"Rodolan."
"...Huh?"
Asel froze like a statue. Ronan left with a threat: five minutes or he'd dress him in a frilly gown.
"First club activity in two years."
Ronan slipped the pre-written club activity application through Baren's office door. An exorbitantly expensive griffon airship became their ride.
Whatever Naviroje said, no supervisor was needed. After hours of butt-splitting pain, a massive shadow loomed over Dawn Sea's horizon at daybreak. Rodolan, the world's largest reef and Fortress of Screams.
"Damn, what's the difference from a prisoner wagon?"
Landing was smooth. Kiiik— Savage sea winds tousled their hair as they disembarked. Ronan, first out, inhaled and exhaled deeply.
"Yeah, this is more like it."
Ronan's lips curved up. The salty wind carried spring's warmth. The Winter Witch's curse hadn't reached Dawn Sea. Asel, following, trembled.
"R-Ronan... Is this really okay? We can still—"
"Dude, I brought you to make up with them. Don't be like that. It's the witch's notoriety—the greatest mage of our era. You might get some magical inspiration."
"He's right, Asel. Show some dignity as Magic Department's top student."
Erzsebet, last out, chided him. Asel stared at Rodolan like he might jump into the sea. Ronan whistled at the crowds.
"So damn many people..."
All sorts milled about the reef doubling as a pier. All here to solve the Winter Witch problem.
Ships lined the cliffs below—few small ones, mostly luxury liners or warships. Some even lashed together into structures.
Hard to tell if this was a prison or tourist spot. Ronan frowned at an approaching ship.
"Whose ship is that, all flashy?"
A crimson-hulled galleon cleaved the waves. Four masts on a super-sized vessel—big enough for all Rodolan's prisoners.
As they headed for the fortress, a familiar voice cut through the sea breeze.
"Phileon folks, over here."
All three turned. An old man in black uniform stood with hands behind back. A terrifying beak mask dangled from his waist.
"Naviroje contacted us. Said you might peel off the witch's shell."
"Yeah. We'll know once we try."
An acquaintance. Ronan grinned at the familiar face. The old man tilted his head.
"Hmm? Have we met?"
"Two years ago. Inquisitor Karaka."
"...Ah! That boy from then!"
Karaka's eyes bulged. He beamed and shook Ronan's hand like an old friend.
"Grown so handsome I didn't recognize you. Village girls won't sleep tonight."
"Hope so. How's Cirilla?"
"Haha, doing great. With so many fanatic comrades joining, she gets less attention than before... But we care for her steadily with love. Ears cut and regenerated over twenty times now."
Two years since Gran Cappadocia, still tortured. Asel covered his mouth. Karaka pointed to the fortress.
"Come in. We'll provide coats inside if needed."
"Coats?"
"Gets freezing near the witch. Follow me."
They followed. Whooo! Chilling wind poured from the opening gates, mingled with eerie screams and sobs that chilled the bones.
"Arghhh! N-No, stop!"
"C-Cold...! Please, let me out now!"
"My legs, my legs...!"
Isn't it ecstatic? Karaka muttered, donning his beak mask. The jovial mood flipped. He turned to them.
"Welcome to Rodolan."