Chapter 5
Chapter 5
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 5
Chapter Title: Cowardly Asel (3)
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Academy? What the hell is that bullshit?
Asel nearly blurted it out.
"Uh... Ronan, I'm really freaking out here. What the hell is going on right now?"
"I'm writing the first line of the revised edition of Ronan's Chronicles."
"What the...?"
"On the first of next month, we're heading to Valon."
"Valon? You mean the capital Valon?"
"Yeah. The Imperial Phileon Academy's there. The entrance exam starts on the third, so it's a bit early, but it'll give us time to settle in."
Ronan's voice was dead serious. Asel realized he wasn't joking and froze solid. Even a country bumpkin like him knew the prestige of Phileon Academy.
Phileon? That Phileon Academy?
The City of Hundred Towers, where the continent's finest talents gathered. How could commoners like them possibly get in?
But Ronan was already executing his plan behind the scenes.
"I've already talked to your parents, so don't worry about that."
"Y-you met our parents? When?!"
Asel shot up from his seat. Ronan, still lounging, waved him down.
"Sit. You're gonna capsize us."
"Hoo... wait... huu..."
Asel took deep breaths and sat back down. Ronan continued.
"Day before yesterday. They were thrilled. 'Our only kid getting into Phileon—what better bragging rights?'"
"Wait, hold on! Fine, Ronan. Let's say everything you're saying is true and you're dead serious!"
"I am."
"Okay! You might actually have a shot with your insane martial arts talent. But why me? My skills are shit. You know that!"
"Asel. You happy with your life right now?"
Ronan suddenly sat up and faced him. His eyes, sharp as a bird of prey, bored into Asel.
Asel hung his head. He couldn't even lie about it. Days of faking thug life to avoid bullying flashed before him.
"...No."
"Don't you want to change your life? Mage talent isn't something just anyone has."
"But I'm... not strong like you. I'm cowardly... timid..."
"Yeah, you're a fucking idiot. Scared of bullies, picking on kids like a pathetic pussy. Think you got out of it unscathed? You were so damn pitiful, they didn't even think you were worth hitting."
"Th-that's..."
"But that's all minor shit. Stuff you can fix easy."
A sudden memory hit him, and Ronan lit his pipe.
The boy before him reminded him of himself—wasting brilliant talent out of boredom, immature and foolish. For Asel, it was weakness instead of ennui, but the pattern was the same.
"Make excuses and waste your talent, you'll regret it later. I guarantee it."
Ronan hadn't dragged Asel along just for a telekinesis mage. He didn't want Asel repeating his own regrets. Smoke billowed out, mingling with the river breeze and vanishing.
"Whatever. If you're not into it, say so. I'll drop you off somewhere."
"...No."
Asel looked up. His hazel eyes gleamed in the moonlight. Ronan grinned at the resolve on his face.
"I want to go too. To Phileon."
"Good call."
"Yeah. Tell me what I need to do."
"What you need to do... hm..."
Asel stared expectantly, ready for any order. Ronan stroked his chin, reviewing his plan, then said flatly.
"Larceny?"
The raft reached its destination at dawn. It was a rocky spot perfect for hiding. The boys tied it behind a large boulder and disembarked.
"Keep your voice down from here. Follow close."
"Got it."
They left the riverbank and entered the forest. An eerie wind whistled through the trees. Soon, a red glow flickered in the distance.
"That’s... what you mentioned..."
"Yup. Got your pack?"
Asel nodded. They crept toward the light and discovered it was a massive bonfire.
Before long, the surreal scene made Asel bite his lip to stifle a scream.
-Kurrrgh! Pukagak!
-Piyuuu...
Dozens of pointy-eared, pointy-nosed dwarves sprawled around the bonfire. They weren't dead or injured—just deep asleep. Ronan grimaced in disgust.
"Fuck me, my morning shit looks better than those."
"Wh-what are they?"
They resembled 'goblins,' but something was off.
They were hugely bulkier, uglier, and unlike typical goblins in loincloths, they wore proper armor.
The key difference: their skin. Not the usual green, but a sallow, golden hue.
"Luna Goblins. Monsters that hoard shit."
Ronan explained. Luna Goblins were a rare breed he'd encountered wandering. They collected shiny things like crows and held festivals under full moons.
"How'd you find these?"
"Ways and means."
Ronan recalled his chat with a merchant three days back.
'Damn it. Another caravan hit. What are the soldiers doing?'
'Again? Wasn't there one before?'
'Yeah. Third time now.'
'Bandits?'
'What’s a kid like you gonna do with that info?'
'Old man, answer the damn question. If I wasn't in a rush, I'd have torched your cart. Ten coppers for this shitty pipe?'
'Ahem...! Ahem! That temper...'
The merchant spilled everything. Attacks only at night, no survivors. Ignored gems and weapons, even left spices untouched.
'And this is prime info: footprints around weren't human!'
Ronan pieced it together: Luna Goblins. Too quick and cunning for non-experts to track.
That explained why nine deaths went unsolved. But Ronan had the expertise to hunt them.
"One slip and we're dead, Asel. See that?"
Ronan pointed at the bonfire. Animal bones littered the ground—human ones too.
Nearby stood a crude altar of branches and bones, piled high with goblin loot: weapons, ornate jewelry.
While the goblins slept off their festival, Asel would telekinetically snag the gold. That was Ronan's grand scheme. Asel stammered, trembling.
"R-Ronan... do we have to go this far? Can't we make money some other way...?"
"Sure, a couple options."
"Th-then let's do one of those! This feels wrong."
"Fine. Pick one. First: we become Luna Goblins. Hit merchants at night, steal their gold. Resist? Punch holes in their guts. Sound good?"
"...Second?"
"Sell you to a brothel. Perverts love pretty boys everywhere. Short night: 10 silvers. Long night: 30. Blowjob: 7. Tuition's what, a month grinding and we're set till graduation?"
Asel froze. Ronan slung an arm around him and crouched.
"Listen up, man. This ain't for shits and giggles. Know what Phileon is?"
"Uh, what? An academy?"
"Right. The academy. Where continent's top young nobles flock. Think they'll befriend stinking peasant shit like us?"
"...No."
"Only way we get respect is results. Phileon's the cream of noble crop too. Bet they've honed talents since diapers. One way to surpass 'em: real combat experience."
"Real combat...!"
Ronan glanced at the altar. Over twenty Luna Goblins sprawled between it and them.
"Yeah. Real combat. Young masters fall, maids rush with sweets and bandages. Us? Ugly goblins with clubs. I swear, one bout like this beats ten years of their training. If we don't die."
Ronan stood slowly and patted Asel's back.
"Man up, Asel."
"Ugh..."
Asel wished he could turn back time—even swim to Nimbuton, he should've jumped ship. Too late now.
He breathed deep, steeled himself, and aimed a shaking hand at the altar. A low chant escaped his lips.
A dagger on the altar floated up gently.
"Fuck yeah! That's it, Asel! You got this!"
A necklace sailed through the air into the sack. Ronan pumped his fists in triumph. The fat sapphire alone would fetch thirty gold.
"Hoo... huuu...!"
"Fill this sack and we bolt. Good work."
An hour into the heist, night deepened toward dawn. Asel had filled seven and a half sacks already.
"Invisible... Hand."
He maintained unprecedented focus. Ronan hated to admit it, but combat pressure proved his theory right.
One drop and they'd be goblin chow—this do-or-die honed Asel's telekinesis brilliantly.
Two heavy maces lifted from the altar—heavy, ornate ones fit for holy knights.
"Ooh, those'll fetch a price."
Ronan felt a new joy: not just his growth, but watching a comrade's. Asel had smarts and potential the Penal Legion idiots lacked.
Everything perfect. He'd planned for goblins waking midway, but Asel's pace meant no swordplay needed.
'No wasting energy on goblin trash. Just tires you out.'
Plenty of grind ahead—easy wins now and then were fine.
The maces approached steadily. Heavy, so they wobbled slightly, but high altitude kept them safe.
Or so it should have.
"Catch those fuckers! You chickenheads!"
"Damn it! Grab 'em before they hit the river!"
Sudden shouts boomed from the forest—not theirs. Birds scattered; sleeping Luna Goblins screeched awake.
-Kieeek!!
-Kyao! Kyao!
"Wha—what?!"
Startled, Asel flinched. The spell on the maces broke.
Kwajik! The plummeting mace smashed a rising goblin's skull. Blood and brains splattered nearby goblins.
-Ki, kieeek?!
"No!"
Asel clutched his head and turned to Ronan. He sighed, gripping his sword hilt.
"Figures it'd go too smooth."