Chapter 64
Chapter 64
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 64
Chapter Title: Evaluation End
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A red line appeared across Schlieffen's chest, blood spurting out. At the same time, a slashing strike that twisted its trajectory came down on Ronan's neck.
For a split second, his vision went dark, then bright again. Bam! The hard floor slammed into Ronan's back.
"Kuhk!"
Ronan exhaled the breath he'd been holding. He couldn't quite grasp what had happened. His mind was still adrift in the storm Schlieffen had conjured.
Ronan slowly steadied his breathing. His blurred vision gradually sharpened. A dizzyingly high ceiling came into view, along with the massive bell hanging right in the center.
"This is..."
It was the bell Naviroje rang to get the students' attention. The feel of the floor against his back felt familiar too. Suddenly, deafening cheers erupted from all around.
"Wooooaaah!! He's back!"
"Who came in first? Did anyone see it clearly?!"
"They got teleported at almost the exact same time, right?"
The cheers came from every direction, impossible to pinpoint. Ronan realized he'd returned to Phileon. Suddenly, a burning pain engulfed his entire body, like he was being roasted alive.
"Ugh... fuck..."
Only then did Ronan realize the extent of his injuries—severe enough to warrant classification as critical. Glancing at his arm, he saw it covered in countless large and small cuts. That's when a familiar voice called out from nearby.
"Ronan!"
"Adeshan...?"
"Oh my god, look at all this blood. Over here!"
Adeshan rushed over and knelt in front of him. She called for the medical team in a voice on the verge of tears. Ronan chuckled at her over-the-top fussing, which didn't suit her at all.
"I'm fine."
"Don't move—the wounds are opening up. Quick, stop the bleeding...!"
"Never thought I'd hear you say that."
It was the exact opposite of his past life, when he'd been the one staunching the Grand General's wounds. Adeshan tilted her head.
"Wh-what's that supposed to mean?"
"It's a long story. Anyway, who won?"
"You're worried about that right now? You're unbelievable..."
"I'm curious."
"...From what I saw, it was a draw. The instructor couldn't call a winner, so he's double-checking now."
"A draw?"
Ronan's eyes widened. He'd been certain he'd lost. Suddenly, the memory of their final clash flashed through his mind.
'It definitely shouldn't have reached.'
His memories were fragmented. The only clear recollection was that his sword had fallen just short of Schlieffen.
Soon, three healing mages clustered around Ronan. As spells were chanted, a pale green glow enveloped him.
'Impressive. I wonder if Cita will ever get this good.'
As expected from professionals—the recovery speed was on another level. Even wounds that might have scarred healed in seconds.
That explained Naviroje's confidence in running such a insane exam. One of the healers muttered in admiration.
"Incredible. To sustain injuries like these without triggering the return spell."
"Pardon?"
"I watched you fight. You didn't hold back, yet you dodged or blocked every lethal blow that would have activated the bracelet's magic. How do you even make those moves?"
"Just did it. But how'd you see me fighting?"
The elderly healer explained that the exam had been broadcast to the arena. Ronan's face twisted in annoyance.
"Damn it, so that's why everyone was staring like I was some monkey in a zoo."
"Think of it as looks of envy. I've been part of Instructor Naviroje's exams for years as medical staff, but you're the first—and the Empire's Rising Star the second—to pull this off."
"Speaking of, where's that bastard? Did he croak?"
"Getting treated over there. Not as many wounds as you, but they're all deep. Probably take a bit longer."
"Serves the idiot right."
Ronan snickered. The treatment didn't take long. Confirming all his wounds had vanished without a trace, he let out a sigh of relief.
"Whew, pros really are different. How's it look, Senior? All good?"
Ronan stood and showed Adeshan his back. Beneath his torn shirt, not a single scratch marred his skin. Seeing his beast-like muscles, Adeshan stammered.
"Y-yeah... all healed. H-here, your coat..."
Adeshan had been wearing his overcoat the whole time. Ronan shook his head, stopping her as she tried to take it off.
"Nah, give it back later. You haven't changed yet either."
"Still... you're basically shirtless right now..."
"What's a guy going bare-chested? Just wear it."
"O-okay then..."
Adeshan nodded and adjusted the collar. A faint blush colored her cheeks, making her look uncomfortable. That's when familiar faces pushed through the crowd.
"There you two are."
"What?"
It was the third-year top student, Eyoun, and his bald cronies. Next to them stood the girl who'd bullied Adeshan—Kacha or whatever—looking utterly deflated. Ronan scowled.
"What balls do you guys have showing up here? Need another beating?"
"C-calm down. We're not here to pick a fight."
"Then why?"
"Well..."
Eyoun waved his hands as Ronan clenched his fist. Seeing how they'd recovered from a total beatdown proved the medics were top-notch. After hesitating, Eyoun and the baldies bowed deeply.
"Sorry. I jumped to conclusions."
"Huh?"
"I listened to rumors and judged you both unfairly. Especially you, Adeshan—I want to apologize."
"To me...?"
Ronan and Adeshan stared blankly at the bowing group. Their faces reflected off the three shiny bald scalps like crystal balls. Kacha, bowing behind them, mumbled.
"Sorry. I must've been jealous without realizing it. But you are tall and pretty..."
"Wh-what's with everyone all of a sudden? Did the instructor say something?"
"No. After you hit me, I did a lot of thinking. You did the impossible, Adeshan."
Eyoun confessed he'd replayed his fight with Adeshan even while getting treated. It made no sense.
Adeshan, stuck at Sword User and without standout physical prowess, had exploited his openings and even triggered his aura. That shocked him more than getting wrecked by Ronan without resistance. Eyoun continued.
"No one will look down on you anymore. At least not in third year."
"I..."
"Just wanted to say that. Rest up—we're going."
With their apologies done, Eyoun and Kacha turned away. Adeshan stood there dumbfounded, speechless. Ronan, arms crossed beside her, nodded.
"Hear that, Senior? Have some confidence."
"I-I have no idea what's going on..."
"No need to be so humble. Didn't the instructor say anything? That was a seriously good attack."
"It wasn't that great..."
Adeshan rubbed her wrist bashfully. Ronan saw her reaction as natural. No one but Adeshan could have pulled it off.
Anyway, it was good news. As a repeater, she'd faced subtle ostracism, but this incident would wipe it all away.
"Oh, my memory's hazy, but what happened at the end?"
"Huh?"
"My sword definitely didn't reach. So how'd it end in a draw?"
Ronan muttered uneasily. As Adeshan opened her mouth to reply, the crowd parted again, and Naviroje strode forward.
"Ah, Instructor."
"Treatment's done, I see. Good work."
"You sure know how to plan a crazy exam."
"One reason my classes aren't popular."
"Still fun, though. What's that?"
Ronan raised an eyebrow. Naviroje held a sealed scroll.
"A prize for the winner only."
"Winner? Did I take first?"
"Joint winners. Rewatched it dozens of times—the teleport timings matched exactly. You two are weirdos."
Naviroje smiled faintly. Ronan clicked his tongue.
"Damn, was gonna fold that smug prick's nose three times over this time."
"Same complaining even in victory."
"Well, at least Senior got second. Congrats, Adeshan."
Ronan grinned warmly. Adeshan, standing quietly, shrugged. Watching them with interest, Naviroje handed the scroll to Ronan.
"So what's this? A scroll?"
"My letter of recommendation."
Naviroje explained it would grant access to most organizations in the Empire—even the Mage Tower, historic guilds, and the Imperial Knights. Ronan's jaw dropped at the unexpectedly huge prize.
'Was just wondering how to get close.'
Ronan accepted it politely. He'd find a use for it soon. A strangely excited tone crept into Naviroje's voice.
"So, you've finally learned to handle it, huh."
"Pardon? Handle what?"
"Sword energy. You finished with that, right?"
Ronan's eyes widened. A submerged memory surfaced. The thin wave that shot along Ramancha’s trajectory.
'Wasn't seeing things.'
He'd thought it a hallucination from his dazed state. Had he finally mastered it? Ronan drew his sword and slashed the air. Whoosh! It was fast, but no wave shot out.
"Damn, not working."
"Try to stay calm."
But no matter how many times he tried, same result. Only innocent dust scattered in the sword wind. Naviroje twisted her lips.
"...It was faint, but definitely sword energy. Any precursors before manifesting it?"
"Precursors?"
"Yeah. You must've felt mana."
Come to think of it, he remembered a lightning-like shock piercing his body. A fleeting, deeply unpleasant and eerie sensation.
'That was mana?'
Suddenly, Ronan recalled his first demon hunt. Like the itchy eyes before he could see mana, it might've been a sign of the curse weakening or lifting. His heart raced. Naviroje continued.
"Looks like your senses just opened up, so you can't grasp it yet."
"Huh?"
"Happens sometimes. Rapid progress in dire situations like yours. Need to recover that sensation to teach you sword energy, but tricky."
Naviroje eyed him with worldly frustration. Ronan tilted his head. He'd brushed death countless times even before regressing.
As he opened his mouth to speak, Naviroje cleared her throat irritably.
"...I'll refer you to someone. Useless normally, but has real skill with mana."