Chapter 48
Chapter 48
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 48
Chapter Title: Wrapping Up
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I couldn't figure out what the hell was going on. Naviroje looked down at Dolan sprawled on the floor and spoke.
"First... bind this guy."
"Bind... him? Where... ugh."
The guards surrounding Dolan hesitated. His condition looked like meat slashed open to let the marinade seep in evenly. Only Ronan, who had gotten the vomiting out of the way in advance, was lost in other thoughts.
'As expected, Storm Sword. Not even complete yet, and that much power.'
He had originally been skeptical about auras, but his thinking had changed recently. He wanted to awaken his aura as soon as possible. If Storm Sword or something like Mansab could work on the giants, he might actually stand a chance in a real fight.
'But to do that, I need to lift this damn curse first.'
First things first, he needed to sense mana and learn to wield it. His thoughts naturally drifted to Hajoo. That's when Dolan hacked up a cough like he was about to keel over.
"Cough!"
"H-Hey! We can't just let him die!"
A few panicked guards rushed off to fetch potions. Their heavy armor slowed them down. Ronan scratched his head and said,
"Damn it, Sita. Just heal him enough so he doesn't croak."
"Ppya."
A healing magic circle appeared in front of Sita. Dolan was hauled away, clinging to life by a thread. With the situation settled for now, Naviroje—still in her pajamas—crossed her arms and stood before the two boys.
"Explain what happened."
"Killer outfit."
"Shut it."
Naviroje fixed him with a fierce glare. Ronan let out a subtle chuckle. Her pajamas were embroidered with a pattern of small, cute snakes.
"An escort knight who served in Grancia for four years betrayed us."
Schlieffen, having straightened his clothes, laid out the full story. The betrayal of escort knight Dolan, the nighttime raid on the dormitory... Naviroje's face hardened at the mention of Nebula Klazie.
"This is more serious than I thought."
"Yes. He's unlikely to be the last. I need to head back to the Grancia estate right away."
"Go. I'll inform the principal."
Schlieffen mounted his horse and departed for Grancia territory at once. The sound of hoofbeats faded quickly into the distance. Ronan clicked his tongue as he watched Schlieffen's retreating figure.
"Tch, that rude bastard. Doesn't even say thanks."
"It's that urgent a situation. Still, it was clever of you to pull Schlieffen in. Well done."
"Didn't want to come off as suspicious."
Ronan nodded. One word from Schlieffen would carry more weight with the Grancia Duke than a thousand from him. Suddenly recalling an event from his past life, Ronan rubbed his chin.
'Come to think of it, why did such a strong old man die?'
If his memory was correct, the duke would meet a mysterious end in a few years. Pale Lord vanished around then and wouldn't be seen again until just before the giants descended.
'No, killed by whom.'
Nebula Klazie seemed the most likely culprit. Of course, the chances of him being offed by a small fry like Dolan were nil, but what was truly frightening was not knowing how many more like him were out there.
If they could plant a spy as the duke's personal guard, they had undoubtedly seeded pull-strings everywhere else too. Possibly even here in Phileon.
Anticipating a long war, Ronan twisted his lips. Frustrated, he looked up at the sky—only for his gaze to catch on the smoke still rising from the dormitory.
"...So where the hell am I supposed to sleep now?"
The realization hit him suddenly. That damn Dolan had wrecked his room. He was pondering whether to just camp out when Naviroje spoke nonchalantly.
"Right, that was an issue. My place for tonight?"
"...Pardon?"
Ronan's body went rigid. For a split second, he thought Mansab had manifested. But she was in human form, not snake.
"...Your room, Instructor? For real?"
"Yeah. Plenty of space. Way more than I need."
He knew that. It was just simple kindness. But that hardly mattered.
Ronan instinctively scanned Naviroje and swallowed hard. He hadn't noticed before, but damn, southern girls. Even under those baggy pajamas, her figure made a strong statement.
This offer wasn't half bad.
"In that case... if it's not too much trouble..."
Ronan put on his most sheepish expression and was about to follow her when—woong! The space in front of him warped, and a robed old man appeared.
"Late hour for all this trouble."
"Fuck, you scared me... Principal?"
"It's been a while, Ronan."
Stepping from the warped space was Phileon's principal, Krava Kratir. He turned to Naviroje.
"Just heard he's been locked in the underground cell. Looks like we'll need to ramp up security big time. An incident like this in the student dorms..."
"I agree. Oh, Schlieffen just left for Grancia."
"I know. Confirmed it. Was escorting him near the territory on horseback."
Kratir's face showed none of its usual leisure. The mana emanating from him alone spoke volumes about the gravity of the situation.
Kratir let out a sigh of relief only after confirming that the mana shield from the Magic Department's main hall had enveloped the entire grounds. He looked at Ronan.
"...Still, we can breathe easier now. Thanks to you and Schlieffen."
"No big deal. Just bashed the guy who barged in."
"Heh, you always play down the monumental stuff. Overheard something earlier. No place to crash? Come with me tonight."
"P? No, I've already..."
"No need to refuse. Let's go."
"W-Wait!"
Kratir grabbed Ronan's wrist. Before he could protest, space warped again. The two vanished. Naviroje, standing there dumbfounded, turned away with a mutter.
"...What a hectic night."
"The principal ruined everything."
"Hm? What do you mean?"
Ronan grumbled with a vacant stare. A night sharing a bed with a bronze-skinned beauty had turned into bunking solo with a century-old crone. He knew nothing would've happened anyway, but it was still a shame.
"Damn... forget it."
If the old coot weren't an 8-circle mage, Ronan would've lit his beard on fire. Glancing around, he asked,
"Anyway, where are we?"
A rocky clearing stretched out before Ronan. It looked like the summit of some lofty crag—not anywhere near the capital. Kratir stroked his beard with a smile.
"A spot I visit when I want some fresh air. Great view, isn't it?"
"Sure is."
Ronan nodded. He had to admit, it was breathtaking.
Overhead stretched a sea of glittering stars, while far below the sheer cliffs rolled a sea of pristine clouds. A roaring wind whipped their hair into a frenzy.
"Not much of a spot for sleeping, though."
"Sorry about that. There's something I wanted to discuss with you before turning in."
"With me?"
"Yes. First off, my thanks. From the Gran Cappadocia incident to tonight's raid, I hear you played a decisive role."
Kratir spoke while gazing out at the sea of clouds. He expressed gratitude for rescuing the underground artisans, bringing Nebula Klazie to the surface—and for thwarting the dormitory raid just hours ago.
"Truly grateful. Both as Phileon Academy's principal and as the man Krava Kratir. Your actions will change much going forward."
"Just did what I could. Oh, tell Asel and Marya they did great too. That bland guy as well."
"Heh, of course. I'll pass it along properly."
Kratir chuckled softly. He gazed proudly at the unprecedented freshman before him.
It felt like fate had orchestrated their meeting. The same emotion he'd felt as a snot-nosed kid when Grand Mage Rorhon offered to take him as a disciple welled up again. After a moment's silence, Kratir continued.
"That aside, I've noticed lately that worry clouds your face more and more. Some trouble on your mind?"
"Trouble? Hm... yeah, a bit."
"If you're comfortable, spill it. This old man will help however I can."
"Uuum..."
Ronan let out a groan. He hesitated—could he really share this already? He trusted Kratir, but the fresh Dolan fiasco had him on edge.
But playing it safe like this forever would change nothing. Soon resolved, Ronan met Kratir's eyes.
'Mana's clean.'
He'd checked earlier—no trace of Nebula Klagie's foul shimmer in the mana flowing from him. Still not enough. Ronan locked eyes and said,
"Principal. Mind repeating my words back exactly? It's crucial."
"Hm? Sure."
"The coming of the star is the day it meets starlight."
"The coming of the star is the day it meets starlight?"
"Ahayute, you son of a bitch."
"Ahayute... you son of a... bitch...?"
Kratir parroted him with a baffled look. No signs of his head swelling or exploding. Ronan finally exhaled in relief and got to the point.
"Perfect, Principal. I'm under a curse."
"A curse?"
Kratir tilted his head. From his reaction, he hadn't heard from Secret. Ronan explained his plight matter-of-factly. Kratir's eyes widened at the mention of nine curses.
"Well... that's something. So that's why you couldn't handle mana."
"Yeah. Major issue. I figure once I can use mana, I could beat Schlieffen with my toe."
"Toe might be a stretch... but no one else comes close to the Empire's rising star in talent."
"Appreciate you saying so. Which brings me to my request, Principal."
"Anything within my power, granted."
Ronan grinned. He needed to talk to Kratir to get shit done properly anyway—perfect timing. Clearing his throat, he said,
"I want to start a club."
"A club?"
"Yeah. A special one, so I need your approval. Oh, advisor's Professor Baren Phanasir—he's on board."
"Baren...? What kind of club?"
Kratir asked, intrigued. Ronan laid out the plan he'd hatched even before enrolling at Phileon. Kratir's expressions shifted through a rainbow as he listened.
"This'll stir up a storm, no doubt..."
"Too much?"
"No, go on. Fascinating."
The two seas flowed steadily overhead and underfoot. Ronan explained right up to dawn why he had to roam blood-soaked in uniform, slicing through perilous swamps and such.
The next morning dawned. Though early, Phileon's grand plaza buzzed with students. They wanted to see the monster who'd raided Navardoje Hall being escorted to Rodolan.
-Pyuoooo!
A griffon-drawn transport vehicle waited in the plaza. Soon the crowd parted, revealing Dolan surrounded by guards.
Having lost his right arm, left eye, and two fingers, he wore the same rags from yesterday, bound in thick iron chains. Ronan whistled as he watched the handover.
"Dolan heading to Rodolan. Rolls off the tongue nice, huh?"
"......"
"You'll have fun there. Karaka that pervert geezer will dote on you. Cylira's ears are probably gone by now anyway."
Dolan just glared without responding. Masked jailers loaded him into the vehicle. Right before the door slammed shut, Dolan's mouth opened.
"...You know nothing."
"Huh? What'd you say?"
Bang. The door closed. The transport lifted off and vanished into the sky. Students watched with eyes full of awe and fear.
"No joke... gotta live right..."
"Hey! Grab that griffon feather quick!"
Ronan frowned, mulling over Dolan's parting words. You know nothing. What the hell did that mean?
'...Hope it's just bullshit.'
No point dwelling; answers wouldn't come now. In a few days, interrogator Karaka would relay whatever screams pulled out.
Ronan headed straight to Baren's office. Seeing the escort lightened his steps. Knock knock. A familiar voice from within.
"Come in~."
The were-lion who could rip a buffalo's neck barehanded was brewing tea with Dream Bird Marfez perched on his shoulder. Baren Phanasir beamed at Ronan.
"Oh, Ronan. Doing well? Perfect timing—I just brewed some."
"Pass on the tea. Time to keep your promise, Baren."
"Promise...?"
Baren tilted his head. Fair enough; enough time had passed to forget.
Ronan smirked meaningfully and pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket. Baren and Marfez read it together.
Club Name: Special Adventure Club Advisor Professor: Baren Phanasir
[A group for accumulating real-world experience through proactive external activities, undergoing additional training to cultivate talents who contribute to the Empire.]
Signature: Krava Kratir
"Club creation permit... Special Adventure Club... advisor professor... Baren Phanasir?"
-Pii?
It read as such under Kratir's signature in the 'Reason for Club Creation' section.
For now.