Chapter 315
Chapter 315
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 315
Chapter Title: Junior, and Heir (1)
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Lania van Trias.
Her name no longer simply signified a genius who had achieved remarkable feats at a young age.
"The Trias family has produced two heroes..."
"No longer seen as just a mage family, but as one devoted to the nation, and indeed to all humanity..."
"Hero, Lania van Trias."
Not a genius, but a hero.
Heroes capable of protecting humanity from calamity are few and far between. Even among the handful who had reached superhuman realms, few could drive back the disasters. Yet now, a mage had appeared to succeed the Ashen Mage.
The spear-wielding hero, Gallaheal, was dead.
The sword's superhuman, Kuntel, had long since fallen.
The sword demon, Draka, was out of his mind.
Even the madman, Kelrhalm, hadn't escaped weakening.
In the midst of humanity's forces dwindling, a new talent had emerged. One strong enough to face the calamities head-on. The world cheered at this fact. Thirsting for a new hero's birth, they shouted all the louder.
It didn't matter if she had no intention of stepping onto the battlefield.
The masses were thrilled simply by the existence of such power on humanity's side—proof they had an ace up their sleeve against the calamities.
Her beauty and enigmatic aura surely played a part in the fervor. And so, countless reporters churned out stories about Lania van Trias...
"Ah, this isn't it..."
Lania van Trias.
Her own daily routine hadn't changed a whit. Lania let out a long sigh. Nothing had changed at all. Ah, really, not a single thing.
She prepared for classes as always.
She assigned homework for her students.
If a class felt too short, she'd grab students trying to head out for lunch and extend the session.
'Any lacking ones, drag 'em along for makeup lessons.'
Just the usual routine.
Compared to a year ago, nothing was different. Ah, only the course name had shifted a bit. From Fundamentals of Mana Trading to Intermediate Mana Trading.
"You'll handle the second-year classes this year."
"Pardon? You're not doing them, Master?"
"Last time I checked, you had this rigid curriculum set up. Don't go adding special lectures and causing a fuss—just take them over. I'll handle the first-years."
It was originally Rosel's lecture, but the reason he'd handed it to Lania was simple enough.
"I'm scared to leave freshmen in your hands after what happened. Just teach the ones who were already behaving. I'll take the first-years."
Nightmares shouldn't be passed down.
Rosel had sensed something watching students drop like flies in Lania's classes. He intended to fully bequeath the title of Nightmare to his disciple.
"You do it."
Lania didn't bother refusing.
Flashing a bright smile, she took over her existing students, and the ones facing Aphria's Nightmare for the second year could only scream.
"Something's off."
As days of teaching second-years dragged on, Lania felt an inexplicable dissatisfaction. It was the kind too embarrassing to voice aloud.
Freshmen looked up to her in awe.
They were thrilled that someone like her was at Aphria, and she'd feel constant glances while sipping coffee at a café.
But what about the students she'd been teaching since last year? Despite all the buzz, their reactions were utterly lackluster.
'No, everyone knows, right?'
I'm someone this amazing.
This huge deal.
A little respect, looking up to me—it's fine.
I permit it.
With her official announcement as the full successor to the Ashen Mage's arts, and yet the students' gazes hadn't shifted a bit.
"Tch..."
Lania smacked her lips idly.
She hadn't expected dramatic reactions. Still, she'd thought for some response. Like, 'It's an honor to learn from Professor Lania!' or something.
"Sigh."
No such thing, so it felt lacking.
Lacking enough to keep sighing deeply.
As she sighed, someone knocked on the office door. Lania's head snapped around.
'Maybe...'
Maybe a student seeking her out?
Too embarrassed in front of others to ask, 'Is this article real? Really you, Professor?'—so coming privately.
'Yeah, it's weird no one's asked.'
Clack!
Lania set down her coffee cup with a beaming smile.
"I'll get it, Master!"
Rosel pinched his brow watching Lania dash off. Her intentions were all too transparent. Seeing his disciple bolt away with sleazy expectations, he shook his head.
"Ahem, hmm."
Lania cleared her throat at the door, lowering her upturned lips. Maintaining a blank expression, she opened it.
"Yes, what is it..."
"Professor Lania."
It was Chloe standing there.
The next hero candidate who knew her true identity. Internally disappointed, Lania dropped her forced blankness.
"What is it, Chloe? What's wr—huh?"
"Professor, Belnoa... Belnoa..."
Chloe was sniffling.
With a voice thick with moisture, Chloe cried out.
"I think Belnoa hates me...!"
What nonsense is this?
How many students cringe every time you two wander around Aphria?
"Uh... wanna come in first?"
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ 2.
Lania listened patiently to the sniffling Chloe. It was more like relationship advice than anything, leaving Lania utterly perplexed.
'Romance... what even is that?'
Lania had never experienced romance in her 28 years of life. Not even common romance novels—she'd never read one. Heart-pounding love? Never felt it.
'No, my heart's pounded plenty.'
Not in sweet situations, but when a slip-up meant death, yeah, it raced like mad.
'Does that mean I was in love with Ganikalt?'
Lost in such silly thoughts while listening, Lania's expression grew serious.
"Belnoa keeps looking away when talking to me."
"Uh..."
"Doesn't answer well even if I ask..."
"Mm..."
"Nods a beat late. Like they're thinking something else..."
Lania smacked her forehead.
'Fuck, this...'
She had a pretty good idea what the issue was. No way she wouldn't. Lania knew the ghostly woman sticking to Belnoa.
"Hmm..."
Lania swallowed dryly.
Chloe looked at her and asked.
"Did I do something wrong? Something to make them hate me? Feels like I might have..."
"Uh, Chloe?"
Chloe was practically digging a hole in the ground.
Lania forced her mouth open.
"I-it's probably not what you think. Belnoa's not like that."
"Still..."
"It'll be fine, really. Don't worry."
Comforting Chloe, Lania glanced sideways. Just then, in the square outside the window, Belnoa was strolling. Belnoa walked with ears plugged, and someone was perched on their shoulder.
'Ah, eye contact.'
The Shadow Dragon Lord on Belnoa's shoulder waved at Lania. Lania waved back reluctantly.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ [Contractor, what is this place called?]
"Aphria. Aphria."
[And this?]
"Flowers, I guess."
[Don't flowers have names? Nothing is nameless. What is this yellow and red one's name?]
"No idea."
[And this?]
"A tree, probably. No idea the name."
[You know nothing. Ignorant man.]
Belnoa sighed inwardly.
The god they served was excessively chatty, and the problem was they couldn't ignore the voice.
"My ears keep ringing constantly. How do I make it stop?"
[Ears ringing?]
"Your voice is really distinctive. Like whispering right in my ear..."
[I am whispering, aren't I?]
Suddenly, she thrust her face close, smiling. Belnoa averted his gaze from those sucking eyes and sighed.
"It echoes. How do I stop it?"
[Hm, wait.]
She cleared her throat a few times.
Then spoke again.
[Better like this?]
"Much better."
[So, Contractor.]
"Yes."
[What's this one's name?]
"No idea. Why so curious about everything? You're like a god."
[Hardly a god now. I've fallen long ago. No real form like before.]
She smiled bitterly.
[Wondering why I keep asking names?]
"Not really."
[...What?]
"Not really... I mean, yes, curious."
Unable to withstand the glaring eyes, Belnoa backpedaled. Only then did the Shadow Dragon Lord shrug and continue.
[I have no name.]
"Why not?"
[Lost it. No reason to keep it.]
She laughed.
[No more children of mine on this land, no Shadow Dragons. So no reason for me to exist... or bear a name. Forgot it eventually.]
The blowing wind was dry.
In the parched breeze, the Shadow Dragon's master laughed.
[That's why I keep asking. Maybe some names from this reborn world cling to blooming things.]
A name.
"I don't know these plants' names, but..."
Belnoa slowly opened his mouth.
"I'm Belnoa."
[I know. You said last time.]
"Means 'abandoned child.'"
[That's what it means?]
"Yeah. Not a name I like. Parents who named me are all dead. No, my own son named me—abandoned child? What kind of name is that for a father giving names?"
Grumbling, Belnoa sighed.
"Still, it has meaning, somehow."
Hated name, but it carries weight.
Belnoa looked at the fallen god beside him and asked.
"Did your name have meaning?"
[It did.]
She smiled nostalgically.
[Probably. But I forgot.]
"Memory's not great, huh."
[Live long enough, it happens.]
Belnoa chuckled and stepped forward.
"Trial's coming up soon."
[Trial?]
"Yeah, in a weird space... Probably facing someone named Belial."
[How, when the dead are dust?]
"No clue. Hard to explain."
Anyway, Belnoa said.
"Before that, tell me a story."
[What about?]
"The Black Storm, Belial. The one who made the second contract with you."
The Shadow Dragon Lord chuckled.
[Sure, why not.]
She looked up at the sky.
Gazing at the stars, she murmured.
[Up to where that prickly child allows, I'll tell.]
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ 3.
Rak van Grace closed his eyes, recalling.
What came to mind was the figure from the holy site.
The figure's name was Grace.
The one who formed Rak's family name, symbol, everything. Facing the trial, Rak recalled reuniting with that figure.
"A superhuman of the sword, but I never much liked swords. Axes suit my hands better."
A crumbled statue.
Where light flowed like streams of water.
There, Grace told Rak.
"Yet Master taught me the sword."
"Said I had talent."
"That whether sword or axe, the teachings would prove useful."
He drew his sword.
Aimed the drawn blade at Rak.
"He was right."
"What Master taught wasn't wielding a sword. It was cutting what you will cut. Toppling what you will topple. That's what he taught."
He tossed the sword aside.
"I'll show you too."
"How a man unsuited to swords became a sword's superhuman."
Then gripped the air again. Not a sword—what formed was a crude axe.
"Starts here."
He laughed.
"We Northerners don't fight people. Born fighting nature. Swords for men wouldn't fit."
Grace was the North's guardian.
The North always battled nature.
"What I faced was always nature."
"What blocked me was nature."
"I don't cut people. If I must cut, it's nature itself."
Rak recalled what he unfolded gripping the axe.
When it reached its peak, he'd seen it via greatsword too. Rak couldn't fully mimic the latter yet. But the former.
With a familiar axe.
One form, he could unleash completely.
"......"
Rak quietly closed his eyes, envisioning it.
Tracing the motion in his mind, he drew the axe from his belt. Exhaled shortly, swung his arm.
Galatrik Style, Dog (?).
First Form: Initial Sight Kill.
Rak's axe traced a bizarre arc.
Then—crack!—splitting sounds, thud!—something toppling, rang out in succession. Rak opened his eyes.
"Whoa."
Rak let out a short exclamation.
He'd carved out a section of the dense forest. Sunlight, once blocked by branches, now blazed sharply on his axe blade.
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