Chapter 38
Chapter 38
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 38
Chapter Title: A Rotten Stench Emanates (3)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Aphria Academy is a place where talented mages gather. Though their talents vary in magnitude, every student possesses their own unique gift.
Whether it's mana,
depth of magical scholarship,
or an innate intuition like instinct—each one has at least a single outstanding trait.
And that talent shines brightest amid crisis.
"This way."
In the Combat Magic Department, Lina points out the direction.
Originating from a noble's hunting hounds, she possesses exceptional talent for tracking traces.
"This is the way out."
Even in the darkness, she pinpoints the path with precision.
"Got it."
She shows the way, and Rak draws his axe. He leaps into the midst of the magical beasts blocking the passage. The students run along the trail he carves open.
"Belnoa?"
"Rak?"
Rak, slashing through the beasts, comes face-to-face with Belnoa. Belnoa, drawn out by the commotion, scans her surroundings.
"...".
In the slums, swift judgment of the situation means survival. Belnoa's instincts, forged there, act with speed.
Grasping the circumstances at once, she draws forth her shadow.
She takes position beside Rak.
No words pass between them.
"I'll clear the front."
"I'll back you up."
Rak charges ahead.
Belnoa elongates her shadow thorns, pursuing close behind Rak. Beasts crumple at a blistering pace. The horde occupying the central academy hall thins out.
From the third floor down to the first, arriving at the entrance hall.
Rak no longer needed to swing his axe.
"...".
No magical beasts remain on the first floor.
More precisely, none alive.
The only things prowling about are the summoned creatures under one student's command. Wolf-like summons with beast flesh caught in their jaws.
"Ah."
She turns to Rak.
A girl with pale lavender locks.
Summoner, Resti.
She points toward the door.
"Let's go."
They don't battle every beast. Some prove too formidable for students alone.
Sometimes they hide. Sometimes they lure them away with Resti's summons to clear a path.
When flight or concealment fails, Belnoa snaps her fingers. Rak barrels in, hand axes clashing. Resti's summons provide support from behind.
In this way, they press forward little by little.
"Students sighted."
"Requesting support."
At last, knights spot the students.
Having cleaved through the beasts, they stand guard beside the students, escorting them to the safe zone.
"Are you Young Master Rak?"
"Within Aphria, I'm just Rak."
One knight recognizes Rak.
He had seen students clashing with beasts from a distance and hurried over.
He surveys the assembled students.
As expected, they're exceptional.
Among them, three shine brightest.
Battle Mage, Rak.
Shaman, Belnoa.
Summoner, Resti.
Is this truly a party made of just three mages?
The balance is so perfect it begs the question.
Frontline and rear switch with fluid ease.
To the knight's eyes, their formation held its own against even his own knight order.
Impressive.
With a brief murmur of admiration, the knight takes the lead.
Soon, they reach the central spell training room, where students and professors have gathered.
"...".
The instant they step into the spell training room.
"Hm."
Rak mutters abruptly.
"A rotten stench emanates."
2.
Combat Magic Assistant Professor, Kelt.
He is a professor from the ranks of soldiers.
Once a battlefield grunt, he retired due to wounds sustained. Along with the knight he served, McHart.
And at some point, Kelt became a traitor.
Kelt himself cannot clearly pinpoint why he turned traitor.
Jealousy toward geniuses?
Resentment from his battlefield injuries?
Or because that utter bastard McHart refused to promote him to full professor, leaving him stagnating as an assistant for years?
Probably all of it.
At this point, it hardly matters.
Kelt followed the Prophet and became a traitor.
The Prophet declared that soon his army would overrun the capital. That no humans would survive.
That only traitors like him, who had betrayed humanity, would endure.
And he offered rewards.
Endurance had been bitter, corruption sweet.
After a life of nothing but bitterness, he had no reason to refuse sweetness. Thus, Kelt became a traitor.
Power incomparable to before.
Now, he felt he could crush that bastard McHart's skull with one hand. Kelt let a sinister grin curl within as he sized up the magical beasts.
Already, many beasts lay dead.
They were dying at an unnaturally swift rate, but it made no difference.
Not the objective, after all.
His goal was to buy time for the Prophet. To draw eyes away, allowing the Prophet to act.
The beasts were mere diversions.
Faster than anticipated, but no issue.
About time.
Kelt fondles the "altar" fragment tucked in his robe pocket. Detonating it here would complete his mission.
Then, I can join His side.
Discard this frail human flesh for a wholly new body.
As such thoughts crossed his mind.
The moment Kelt reached for the fragment.
-Creeeak.
The door creaks open.
A thick reek of blood floods in. Blood mingled with foulness, yet amid it, Kelt detects a faint aroma.
The altar's fragrance.
The scent of demonic energy wafting from the altar.
He lifts his gaze to the door.
A lone girl stands there.
"Ah."
She draws something from her robe.
Kelt's eyes bulge. The altar. The one hidden deep within, now clutched in her grasp.
She squeezes it tight.
Crunch—the altar begins to warp.
Kelt instinctively thrusts his hand toward her. How precious that was, and she was mangling it like...
And then.
"Ha."
She lets out a laugh.
"Found you."
3.
Found you.
That single phrase made Kelt swallow hard.
The distance is vast. Professors' barrier stands between them. The professors need time to reconfigure it and let her through.
Plenty of time to flee.
Yet the instant he met those blue eyes.
Kelt felt his entire body freeze solid.
Cannot escape.
His instincts screamed the warning.
Unconsciously, he steps back one pace.
And that grants Lania certainty.
Crunch.
The girl kicks off the ground.
Cracks spiderweb across the spell training room floor, designed to withstand advanced spells. The gap closes in a blink. The barrier impedes her, to no avail.
-Crack.
Something gleams.
The professors' barrier shatters helplessly.
Fragments scatter in shards.
Through them, the girl advances another step.
Fast!
Kelt thinks.
Is there a way out? Fleeing on foot is impossible.
He decides.
Doesn't matter as long as He reclaims my soul.
This body is expendable.
With resolve, Kelt extends his hand. He aims to seize the student beside him.
Hostage. Buy time.
Stall with a hostage act until He recovers the soul. Intent on this, Kelt lunges for the student.
The traitor Kelt moves swiftly. The student doesn't even register his reaching hand.
I'm faster.
By approach speed and distance, he'll collar the neck first.
And the math holds true.
The girl closes to arm's reach, hand outstretched. Yet Kelt's grasp proves a hair quicker.
I was faster!
Thus.
"Ah?"
Kelt was wrong.
⚡ SKILL ACTIVATED ⚡ Smite Crunch!
The fingers poised to snatch the student's nape snap. The arm whips skyward. An invisible shockwave wrenches it with a sickening crackle.
A spell.
Completed in an instant too swift to detect, it demolishes Kelt's arm. No time even to groan in agony.
The hand closes in before his eyes.
Crunch!
It clamps Kelt's skull.
"U, uwaaaaaaaaagh!"
Agony of his head being crushed wrings a scream from Kelt. The girl pays it no mind. She slams down her airborne foot.
Boom!
The spell training room floor caves in.
Even so, momentum doesn't fully bleed off. Her shoe screeches across the surface.
Twirl.
Inertia spins her body once. Kelt, nape gripped, whirls along.
"Hey."
A whisper for his ears alone.
"Clench your teeth, you mangy cur."
Kelt faces the girl's visage.
Through gaps in her fingers, her eyes peer.
Vivid blue irises.
Those blue eyes bore straight into him.
Chilling orbs. The raw malice within tightens around his throat.
The stare lasts but a moment.
His body lifts into the air.
A sensation of weightlessness. Balance crumbles. Direction lost in the tumble.
Lost bearing.
Her grip imparts it.
Hurtles down from above.
How?
Skull in vise.
To where?
The floor.
He knows, yet resistance eludes. Kelt's eyes flare wide. Death's intuition sharpens every sense to the brink.
Tsskt, tsskt.
Sparks fly from the fingers crushing his skull.
Tiny embers. Her five digits ignite.
At length, the spell erupts.
Even Kelt, witnessing up close, cannot discern what spell, in what manner, or how many activate.
Light flares.
⚡ SKILL ACTIVATED ⚡ Multi-Casting 🛡️ SPELL-REINFORCE 🛡️ Active ⚡ MAGIC BOOST ⚡ Cast Speed Enhanced Kelt reflexively summons his demonic energy.
Enshrouds his body for protection.
🛡️ ANTI-SPELL 🛡️ Deployed 🛡️ ANTI-SHIELD 🛡️ Barrier Erected Futile.
As if anticipated, successive light bursts strip the barriers away. All unfolds in a flash.
And the girl's palm meets Kelt's brow.
💥 SMASH 💥 Impact Primed The grip on his head glows.
The reinforced spell radiates light.
Crack, crunch-crunch.
Kelt's skull slams the ground.
An instant's affair, yet to Kelt, it drags eternally slow.
Neck vertebrae shatter.
Skull fractures.
And then.
A beat delayed, ashen mana surges in.
KABOOOOOM!
A deafening roar births a shockwave. Professors tumble before the gale. Knights burst through the door at the training room's tremor.
"Wh-what happened?!"
Dust billows.
"What in the world..."
As dust settles, the first sight seizes the eye: the spell training room floor.
Specially forged to test spells.
Now deeply cratered.
Shattered chunks litter the area.
Next comes the man embedded in the depression. Black blood oozes from him. Proof of a demonic-cultivating traitor.
"Ah."
Finally etching into view.
"...".
The girl stands at its epicenter.
Wind gusts through the open door.
Rustle.
Her signature ash-gray tresses sway on the breeze. Her expression remains, as ever, impassive.
"...Professor Lania?"
Someone voices her name.
Others do not.
They murmur it within.
Lania van Trias.
Aphria Academy professor.