Chapter 184
Chapter 184
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 184
Chapter Title: Reflecting on Daily Life
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Ronan stood frozen for a few seconds after hearing the shocking news. Navardoje attending as a parent? It was a phrase he wouldn't voluntarily recall even if he relived his life ten times over.
"...When exactly is the entrance ceremony?"
"A week from now."
"Fuck... Does the Emperor know?"
"Probably not yet. Sigh... With the letter arriving like this, I can't even decide whether to report it to His Majesty."
Kratir pressed his forehead and let out a heavy sigh. He handed Navardoje's letter to Ronan with an expression like he was about to rip open his own guts to show them. Centered boldly on the crimson paper was a single line in flowing cursive script.
"Shit."
Ronan spat another curse. It didn't even seem like a playful note to a friend of twenty years. The real issue was that no one could object to her one-sided declaration.
Navardoje's visit was no small matter. Whenever she graced the Empire with her presence, the day turned into an impromptu holiday, no questions asked. Merchants shuttered their shops, and citizens stayed indoors, offering silent reverence to the Mother of Fire.
'Probably the closest thing to a god. Assuming gods even exist.'
Such a colossal figure descending on Phileon just to watch her son's entrance ceremony? Kratir's distress made perfect sense. Ronan bit his lower lip, a memory from his past life surfacing unbidden.
He'd never laid eyes on Navardoje himself, but he knew the legends weren't exaggerated. When she incinerated Duaru, one of the three giants, the blaze she unleashed was visible from thousands of kilometers away.
'Woke up thinking dawn had broken. Deep in sleep, too.'
The fire pillar ripping through the heavens had briefly banished night from the world. Imperial envoys sent to the dragon city found the giant charred to black coal, Navardoje collapsed in exhaustion, and countless dragon corpses strewn about.
But misfortune lingered—the giants numbered more than one. With Nirvana and Ahayute still standing, and Navardoje drained, she sat out the next battle.
Humanity paid dearly, losing not just the archmage Rorhon but a third of the continent itself, shredded away. They perished in the end. Kratir groaned and spoke up.
"Sigh... I'll handle this somehow for now. Brooding changes nothing. I need to consult my master."
"Your master... Lord Rorhon?"
"Yes. Can't decide rashly. Speaking of which, he messaged recently, asking after you all. Especially curious about Asel."
Kratir's face had brightened somewhat. He'd steadied himself. With a snap of his fingers, the space above the reception table warped, summoning teacups and snacks.
"Sorry for the wait. Let's catch up on the backlog."
"My tales aren't all sunshine. You sure?"
"With the Mother of Fire inbound next week, what's left to top it? Speak freely."
Ronan shrugged. Fair point, all things considered. He launched into a calm recounting of his Parzan ordeal.
****
The audience with Kratir lasted about an hour. Ronan had deliberately skipped anything world-ending, sparing Kratir a teacup-throwing meltdown.
Not out of concern for the old man's sanity—just waiting for better timing.
After a decently enjoyable chat, Ronan headed straight for the club district. The cloudless sky was stunning. Mulling Navardoje's visit, he nodded to himself.
'Good opportunity.'
He'd recoiled at first, but it could work in his favor. He'd planned to seek her out before time ran short anyway—her coming here simplified things.
'Might as well tip her off. About what's coming.'
Winning Navardoje over was a key goal for this regressed life. A dragon who'd torched a giant was invaluable. She might even know how to shatter the Star's Blessing.
The hitch? Zero ideas on how to even talk to her. What reason would that proud dragon have to chat with him?
'Piss during the ceremony for attention? Heard she's got a foul temper—what if she flames me for bullshit?'
Lost in thought, Ronan arrived at the club warehouse. A sudden roar of cheers exploded out.
"Welcome back from discharge!"
"Ah shit, you startled me."
The bellow echoed like thunder underground. Ronan's eyes widened. There stood Asel, Marya, and the rest of the elite adventure club, filling the vast training grounds.
"You guys..."
"R-Ronan. All better now?"
Asel stammered. His hair had grown longer, spilling over his shoulders. The white streak from the Winter Witch still gleamed in his bangs.
A month since reunion. They beamed, looking healthy as ever. Marya leaped up, latching onto Ronan's neck.
"Gurk!"
"You really okay? You slept forever. Like, forever."
"Was fine till now."
Her grip was monstrous still. Ronan's face drained blue from the choke. She released him, realizing too late.
"S-Sorry. Strength control's off lately. Ahaha..."
"It's fine. Anyway, weren't you on club business? Something about griffons, right?"
"Yeah, wrapped up early. Bet you'd freak seeing how strong our little cutie got."
Marya bear-hugged Asel from behind. His face flushed hair-matching red. That flustered reaction? Romance still stagnant. Braum behind boomed a laugh.
"Wahaha! One month feels like years. Sword Tournament any good?"
"Eh, solid enough. Details'd kill the vibe—next time. Shield work improved?"
"Ha, why ask? No graduating senior's pierced my Bram yet!"
Braum thumped the greatshield on his back—the one fitted in Gran Cappadocia.
He'd even named it; clearly treasured. Ronan's lip quirked at the swagger.
"Yeah?"
"Wait...!"
Ronan yanked his hilt. Braum's hand snapped up reflexively. Clang! Sparks flew midair with a metallic crash.
"Oh."
"Wa-Wahaha...! See? Blocked it!"
Ronan gaped in mock awe. The white blade halted against the shield. A casual swing, but he'd never expected it to hold.
"Not bad, Braum."
"Still a terrifying quickdraw. Who'd think I'd parry the Ronan's blade? Thrilled!"
Braum threw his head back, roaring joy. His pure delight made the bad news sting more. Ronan scratched his head awkwardly.
"Uh, sorry."
"Wahaha... Huh? For what?"
"Next shield, skip other smiths—ask Doron direct. Your skill's good enough; he'll craft it."
Braum blinked in confusion. Then—a white line slashed vertically down the shield. Clang! It split neatly, halves clattering to the ground.
"Nooooo! Bram!"
"Sharper than I figured... Gotta watch it."
Ronan eyed Ramancha's blade. Already elite cutter, now savagely enhanced post-holy sword evolution.
"Uwoooo! Why must my partner endure this? I, I...!"
Braum's wail filled the grounds. He dropped to his knees, cradling the shards. Tears streamed like he'd lost a lover.
Suddenly, his shadow stretched long beneath him. A familiar sight. Moments later, a silver-haired girl tore free from it.
"Braum... Loud."
"Hrk! S-Sorry. Woke you?"
"Yeah. You."
Phileon's sole vampire, Ophelia. He'd wondered where she'd vanished—napping inside the club building, apparently.
She gently stroked Braum's neck. Pale fingers circled his carotid teasingly.
Braum froze, mouse-still before a serpent. She turned to Ronan, waving hello.
"Hey, Ronan... Stronger already. What's the trick?"
"Pile up the bullshit. You—that rock..."
Ronan pointed. A smooth white stone wedged at her hip. Unmistakably familiar. Marya's eyes bulged.
"Ahh! There it is!"
Asel whipped around, paling. Only the three—Ronan included—knew its truth. Ophelia petted it fondly.
"Lately... My pillow rock. Pretty... Mana vibes nice."
"...Pillow?"
Ronan frowned. She had no clue it was once an elf elder. Nightmare material, yet no issues so far. Divine justice? Pondering, Ronan blocked Marya from snatching it.
"Why stop? That's..."
"I know. But pillow for a cutie? Blissful, right? Ages match up, too."
"...Lunatic."
Marya shot him a withering glare. Ronan held firm. For stone-Saranthe, it was a happy end.
"Speaking of, where's the lizard brat?"
"Lizard? Oh, Itargand's back in Adren prepping enrollment. Says he'll return day before or on ceremony."
"Gotcha..."
Ronan chuckled dryly. Her casual tone meant no clue about the plus-one.
Anyway, great to see them. Ronan belatedly realized he'd missed these kids. Felt it even in the penal legion—humans can't go solo. He said:
"Glad you're all good. Long time no see—catch me up on academy buzz."
"You bet. But first: spar with us. For real."
Marya pressed. Ronan shrugged at the curveball.
"Spar? Sure, but..."
"Body's 100% now, right?"
"Sudden urge?"
"Hit me—no spars since curse broke. We've grinded hard."
Marya's tone dead serious. Ronan scanned the members. Steely gazes locked on him.
Their eyes swirled with tension, fear, burning rivalry...
Ronan smirked, nodding.
"If that's what you want."
Solid hires, every one. He tapped his hilt. Sunset glow seeped from the sheath like an eager reply. His nerves frayed anyway—sometimes, this hit the spot.