Chapter 31
Chapter 31
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 31
Chapter Title: Reunion (1)
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Baren opened his mouth. His gaze remained fixed on Marfez and Sita.
"The one in the center is a vampire of the Warsaw bloodline, and the one on the right is an Atia fairy. They wield blood magic and have the ability to heal wounds, respectively."
"I can tell about Orse, but the others are unfamiliar. These are all the ones that could have influenced Sita, right?"
"That's correct. Its appearance mimics a black dragon, while its abilities resemble the other two. Assuming it was influenced by creatures rather than the environment... But... something feels off."
Baren finally looked at Ronan. The fur around his eyes, covered in golden hair, was damp with moisture. Ronan chewed on a cookie the size of a tray and asked back.
"What's off about it?"
"There are contradictions overall. First, the hatchling-like appearance. Black dragons aren't the type to enjoy polymorphing, and if one had passed near Marfez in its true form, there's no way it would have gone unnoticed."
Ronan nodded. It was certainly a valid point. Considering the timeline and location of Marfez's disappearance, the chances of dragon influence were virtually nil. Baren continued.
"Even assuming the appearance came from a dragon, the abilities don't add up. No dragon I know of can use both blood magic and healing magic simultaneously. Moreover, vampires are all but extinct within imperial territory, and fairies live far removed from civilization..."
"Hmm, so not much progress then."
"Unfortunately, yes. However, I've formulated a hypothesis."
"A hypothesis?"
Ronan blinked. Clearing his throat once, Baren pointed at Sita and said,
"What the dream bird absorbs before laying eggs... might not be mana after all."
"What do you mean by that?"
"As I mentioned before, dream birds are among the rarest of phantom species. There's scarcely any known information about them."
With that, Baren brought over a thick notebook. It was the record he'd kept over forty years of living with Marfez. He claimed it contained over eighty percent of all publicly known information on dream birds.
"The phenomena Sita showed even before hatching differ greatly from all known records. This incident might lead to groundbreaking new research on dream birds."
It had absorbed mana even in its egg state. And not content with that, it drank blood too.
Its behavior after hatching was utterly bizarre. Silent high-speed flight, blood manipulation magic, wound healing, and more. There couldn't be a more rootless creature.
"If not mana, then what does it absorb?"
"Who knows. I suspect it might be something more abstract. Emotions or souls... something like that..."
Suddenly, Baren let out a deep sigh.
"Hoo... Truth be told, it's all speculation. As a professor, I should be helping, but I only seem to reveal my incompetence more with time. I'll continue the research steadily, so please give me a little—"
"Nah, it's fine. We've already named it and everything. Time to have some fun raising it."
Ronan waved it off and whistled. Sita flew over to him carrying Marfez. Its arm strength still weak, it nearly dropped her several times but finally succeeded in placing Marfez on Ronan's knee.
-Piii~
"Mama!"
"That happy about it, you fluffballs?"
Ronan stroked the two dream birds. The feel of their black and blue feathers was quite nice. Suddenly remembering something, Ronan looked at Baren and said,
"By the way, the reports are still coming in steadily?"
About a month ago, Ronan had left a note in Baren's office while he was away on business. It contained a rough description and sketch of Sita, along with a message about contact with the poaching group Caribolo's Snare.
Baren nodded heavily.
"...Yes."
Ronan caught the momentary flicker in Baren's eyes. He was straining not to let his claws slip out even by mistake. Rummaging in his jacket pocket, Baren pulled out three or four crumpled notes.
"They were written in great detail. You've done something monumental."
"The leyline... I mean, the Penardo Spring incident didn't work out."
"No, no. Thanks to you, we contained it early. Here, take a look."
Ronan took the notes and nodded. They were intelligence reports from Valus, a low-level member of Caribolo's Snare.
The address Ronan had given Valus for sending intel was none other than Baren's office. The notes were packed with details on the movements and rosters of Caribolo branches, as well as major plans.
"That bastard Valus must've been scared shitless of me and Sita."
"The Imperial Forest Patrol is posting record results. At this rate, we might actually eradicate Caribolo from imperial lands."
Baren had forwarded Valus's intel to the capital's forestry office. The information was so precise it risked suspicion, but his position as a Phileon Academy professor dispelled any doubts.
Two branches had already been dismantled, and clues to their central headquarters were emerging. Out of nowhere, Baren bowed his head deeply.
"I don't even know how to thank you. Ronan... no, student. Ever since meeting you, my life feels like it's changing. This favor, I must repay it somehow..."
"Ah, enough. We'll talk repayment later. Remember what I mentioned last time? About the club."
-Bang!
Ronan was just bringing up their previous conversation when the office door flew open, revealing a familiar figure.
Dark green uniform. A massive odachi slung diagonally across her back—the flying sword, Urusaga—caught the eye. The woman who spotted Ronan spoke.
"There you are. Ronan."
"I-Instructor Naviroje? What brings you here..."
Baren's eyes widened. Naviroje strode forward and grabbed Ronan's ear without warning. A scream like a monkey whose tail had been stepped on burst from Ronan's mouth.
"GyaAAaah!!"
"Pardon the intrusion, Professor Baren. We'll be off."
Her grip was so strong it felt like his ear might tear off with the slightest pull. Naviroje bowed politely.
"Wh-what in the world..."
Baren stared back and forth between them, at a loss. Ronan flailed and shouted,
"Damn it, let go! Baren, help me out here!"
"Quiet. Follow me."
"You damn were-lion! Act your size! Aaa! Don't twist it!"
Naviroje dragged Ronan out by the ear. Thud! Even after the door closed, Ronan's agonized screams echoed on.
Naviroje only released Ronan's ear upon reaching Gallerion Main Hall. Ronan staggered back like he'd been burned, clutching his ear and yelling,
"What the hell was that for, out of nowhere! Damn, do you have to cripple one of your students?"
"Why haven't you come to me? I told you to start lessons as soon as your weapon was ready."
Her voice was icy. Her green eyes, evoking a jungle, blazed. Ronan realized she was suppressing her anger.
'...Mess this up, and I'm really dead.'
He'd momentarily forgotten. Though he had no memory of meeting or even hearing her name in his past life, Naviroje was a former Sword Saint and swordmaster. At his current level, she was an unbeatable powerhouse.
'If she cuts off my limbs and tells me to lick her toes... I'd have to do it crying.'
Realizing the gap in strength sobered him. Ronan calmed his agitated voice.
"Ah, my weapon isn't ready yet... Can't bring it if it's not done, right?"
"Is that toothpick on your belt some kind of splinter?"
"This is just a temporary blade. I was gonna come the moment a real weapon was ready, I swear."
"Even buying one in the artisan city of Rodium would've taken less time. Did you commission it from Gran Cappadocia or something?"
Ronan's eyes widened.
"Huh? How'd you know?"
"Now you're lying too. As if you'd know what that even is."
Naviroje reached out. Ronan clamped both ears with his palms.
"Fuck, not the ears! I really know! Your odachi was made by that old man Doron or whatever too!"
"...How do you know that?"
Naviroje paused. Ronan summarized his experience in Gran Cappadocia.
The rundown forge and elevator to the depths. Dwarves navigating stalactites. With each detail, Naviroje's eyes wavered.
'No way it's a place just anyone can enter.'
Commissioning personal work from Gran Cappadocia was extremely stringent.
Only those who'd already distinguished themselves in a field, or luckily proven their potential, could entrust requests to the underground artisans. And Doron was among the very best smiths there.
'Someone else saw his talent besides me.'
Naviroje smiled faintly. Staring at Ronan quietly, she turned away.
"...Understood. Just follow quietly."
His resistance had long crumbled. Ronan meekly trailed her. They walked the grand corridor for a few minutes.
Eventually, a massive door appeared—one he'd never seen before. It seemed wide enough for any walking race to pass. Naviroje placed her hand on it and said,
"Training Hall 1. Remember it. My lessons are always held here."
With a slight push, the door slid open smoothly like flowing water. What unfolded wasn't a classroom but an arena. The clang of metal echoed through the enclosed space from all sides.
The vast stone-floored arena hosted dozens of students sparring in groups. Most were strangers, but some familiar faces were there too.
"Haaap!"
"Good power, but still too slow, Braum!"
Braum's greatsword traced a destructive arc. A mana-clad rapier surged fiercely, exploiting the opening. It was Braum and Nasdo, first and second of second year.
"Working hard today too... Hmm? That guy's here?"
Ronan raised an eyebrow. In one corner of the arena, Schlieffen knelt with eyes closed. Unlike his peers, he wasn't sparring—just holding his sword still. Ronan frowned.
"Everyone else is sparring, what's that punk doing alone?"
"He's circulating mana. No student can match him anyway, so I just check his form occasionally."
Naviroje said. She was convinced Schlieffen would one day surpass her.
His talent for awakening aura at eleven was impressive, but his obsession with strength far exceeded normal bounds. Examining Schlieffen's core, Naviroje nodded.
"Excellent. When you learn to wield mana later, emulate Schlieffen, Ronan."
"I'll try. Even if I don't get what that means."
"You have potential. As your instructor, I won't let you waste it."
Naviroje's expression was as serious as ever. She thought of the two boys who might become her successors and the one girl stuck below sword expert for years.
"There are far too many in this world who suffer for lacking it..."
Her murmur was so quiet Ronan didn't hear. He was engrossed in watching the spars. Novel techniques he'd never seen flashed before him.
"How about a clean sword-beam duel?"
"Sounds good. Raise a barrier."
Some dueled purely with sword beams. Seeing their differently colored neckties, Ronan easily pegged them as third-years or higher. Naviroje said,
"Originally, only students at sword expert or above could take my class."
"Not anymore?"
"No... since last year."
Shing. Naviroje suddenly drew her odachi and fired a sword beam at the ceiling. The crescent-shaped beam struck the massive bell overhead.
Dong-!
The resonant toll swallowed all the clamor. Students naturally halted and turned. Naviroje spoke in her usual tone.
"Assemble."
Students gathered. Some had shed jackets, others shirts, but Naviroje didn't comment on attire. Hands behind her back, she continued.
"From today, he'll join the class. Ronan, step forward."
Ronan scratched his head and advanced. Eyes locked on his first-year red necktie. Whispers rose from upperclassmen except second-years.
"That's him? The new first-year runner-up? He's good-looking."
"His eyes rub me wrong. Cocky."
"Don't sense anything special... Did Instructor Naviroje grab the wrong guy?"
Loud enough without straining. Ronan glanced at Naviroje, signaling with his eyes,
'Can't you just pinch 'em a bit?'
Naviroje shook her head. In her calm voice, she asked,
"Ronan. What combat subjects have you learned at Phileon so far?"
"Uh? Well... Imperial swordsmanship, imperial spear arts, basic shieldwork..."
"Stop. Demonstrate each here. Weapons and shields are provided."
"Alright."
A show of skill. Understanding, Ronan drew his sword. Shing! The longsword from Doron gleamed white.
'Still amazing no matter how many times I see it. Can't wait for a few days from now.'
Incredible for a practice piece. Calming himself, Ronan drawled,
"Well, here goes."
Ronan began swinging as taught. Nine sword styles, over a hundred forms unfolded before the seniors. Bored reactions shifted to awe, then awed silence.
"That's... talent?"
"...Speechless."
"Damn, hope they didn't hear me."
Naviroje watched impassively. She knew nothing beat a display of skill to quash hazing. Then the arena door cracked open, and a tall girl rushed in.
"S-sorry, Instructor! I stayed for remedial lessons..."
"It's fine. More importantly, watch that student's movements. What do you think?"
Naviroje nodded at Ronan. He was midway through the second form of imperial spear arts. The girl covered her mouth in awe.
"Wow...! Who's that? Red tie means first-year, but that form..."
"Can you spot what's impressive?"
"Of course. Power distribution is perfect. Common mistake with spears is losing balance... Huh? Is he not using mana right now?"
The girl pinpointed exactly why Ronan's martial prowess shone. Sharper analysis than most instructors. Naviroje quirked her lips wryly.
'If only her skill matched half her insight.'
Only then did Naviroje look at the girl. A height difference forced her to tilt up.
"One of the world's rare lucky ones. Watch closely. He'll rocket past what you can see in no time."
Black hair like night, snow-white skin, high nose bridge. Naviroje murmured her name softly.
"Adeshan."