Chapter 46
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 46
Chapter Title: The Master's Domain
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(6)
12.
"So, the finals at last."
The two facing off in the training grounds.
Ullan and Ivela. Edan grinned as he watched the two rising stars.
"Ullan, you first."
Meaning, pick the weapon she'll use.
Ullan headed silently to the armory.
A moment later, what he chose was a longsword.
It looked ordinary at a glance, but he'd picked it carefully. It suited Ivela's build perfectly.
"I'd recommend this one."
A gesture of consideration, letting her show her full skill.
After taking the sword from Ullan, Ivela swung it through the air a few times. Then a faint smile crossed her lips. She liked it.
"Ivela, your turn next."
"I'll take this one."
Ivela chose a longsword as well.
But it was a bit larger than the one in her hands. She'd picked it with Ullan's massive frame in mind.
'From our first meeting until now, Ullan has never once swung a sword.'
That didn't mean he couldn't handle one.
In the past, he'd given advice to Ivela when she hit a wall—proof of his deep knowledge of swordsmanship.
'So...'
She wanted to see it. Ullan's swordsmanship.
She wanted to etch his strikes into her eyes, feel the level of an advanced knight firsthand.
"Unexpected. Both picking swords."
Edan looked intrigued.
Probably because it was the final bout, they chose intact weapons. Finishing his guess, he rummaged in his pocket.
"No need to go over the rules again, right?"
No reply came.
Edan chuckled and pulled out a silver coin. Without hesitation, he flicked it with his finger.
Whirr!
The coin spun in the air.
The students' eyes followed the coin; Ullan and Ivela's eyes locked on each other.
And soon—
Clink.
The sound of the coin hitting the ground.
In that instant, Ullan and Ivela charged at each other without a word.
Clang! Scraaaape!
Their swords clashed fiercely. Gleaming blades bared their teeth at one another.
But the test of strength was brief.
'Wise choice.'
Ullan's power rivaled a giant's brute force.
Pitting raw strength against him was madness. The moment their swords met, Ivela realized it and smoothly deflected the blow.
'Against anyone else...'
Normally, they'd pull back here.
Probe a bit, then strike at an opening.
But Ivela was different.
She closed the distance instead. If there was no gap, she'd create one and thrust.
Shbbb!
Thrusts rained down like arrows.
Each one aimed precisely at vitals.
Ullan's eyes gleamed at the clean, efficient strikes.
'She's definitely improved since last time.'
The swordsmanship he'd seen in the forest hadn't truly followed its path before. Now it did, steadily.
The blade moved far more stably.
She'd truly surpassed her wall.
'But still immature.'
Ullan's eyes narrowed.
To him, Ivela was currently bound by her swordsmanship. Shackled by form, unable to unleash her true talent.
'Whereas the Sword Princess of my past life...'
She'd discarded every technique she'd ever learned.
Instead, she'd forged entirely new ones on the fly, tailored to the moment.
Creating martial arts from nothing.
That was the Sword Princess's true gift.
'Lack of real combat experience?'
He pondered the reason but found no answer.
It wasn't his role to find it. So Ullan stopped speculating. No need to rush.
'Immature or not, Ivela is Ivela.'
A being destined to become the Sword Princess someday.
He wouldn't presume to predict her path. Instead, a new concern circled his mind.
'Time to wrap this spar up.'
The fight looked intense at a glance.
But it was all Ullan making it appear so. He could end it anytime he wanted.
'However...'
One misstep, and the overwhelming gap might crush her fighting spirit.
So he hesitated.
Did she sense it? Ivela, mid-fierce assault, suddenly leaped back.
"...Ullan."
Her voice calm and steady.
Her eyes flashed sharply.
"Don't hold back. Fight me for real."
"For real?"
"Yeah. I want to see everything you've got."
Eyes shining with longing.
A blazing will to fight like roaring flames.
Facing it, Ullan realized he'd misjudged.
'Right.'
His worry was unfounded from the start.
The girl before him was the Sword Princess.
A warrior he'd acknowledged in his past life, destined to cleave abyssal horrors.
Her spirit wouldn't break over a mere spar. Ullan burst out laughing.
"Got it."
He nodded solemnly.
His scarlet eyes sharpened.
"Then I'll show you."
With utmost respect.
The realm he'd reached in this life.
Resolution firm, he—
Vrrrrm!
—activated every Spirit in his body.
Sure, using mana might be cheating, but Ullan didn't care.
That wasn't what mattered now.
'For my future comrade.'
For the warrior craving strength.
Showing her everything he'd built.
That was all that counted.
Crunch! Crackle!
Spirit surged through his body.
Soon, his flesh was reinforced to its limit.
'Next...'
He raised his presence.
Drawing from past life's experiences.
Will to fight, aggression, killing intent—
All compressed to pinnacle density. At last, a master's aura formed. It infused his sword fully.
Preparations complete.
Ullan stepped forward.
Thud!
From here on, it was master's domain.
None below that realm could even witness it.
And now, here—
No one saw Ullan's movement.
Not a single soul.
"...!"
Edan, watching the spar, eyes bulged.
Not just him. Every student gaped without exception.
Silence hung over the training grounds.
Time itself seemed frozen.
Finally, Edan stammered,
"Wh-what... happened...?"
He didn't remember blinking.
He hadn't looked away, eyes fixed on Ullan the whole time.
'...Then why.'
Is Ullan over there?
Just a second—or less—ago, he was eight paces from Ivela?
But that wasn't all.
Ting!
Sword fragments hit the ground.
Ivela's longsword.
Cleaved clean in half, the cut as smooth as if sliced by a blade.
'Meaning...'
Ullan swung.
But Edan hadn't seen it.
Not him approaching Ivela. Not the swing. Not severing her sword. Nothing.
His eyes churned wildly.
He swallowed dryly.
Edan's face hardened like stone.
Movements too fast for an expert like him to track. Only one implication.
'...Master's domain.'
Unbelievable realization.
Murmurs rose among the students.
"What? Why'd they stop?"
"Who won?"
Ivela holding the broken sword.
Ullan silently setting his down.
As all tilted heads in bewilderment, Ullan spoke.
"She fainted."
"Wh-what?"
"Ivela lost consciousness."
Just as he said, she stood rigidly, out cold. A nudge, and she crumpled softly—proof.
'Looks like...'
She couldn't handle a master's aura yet. Ullan caught her falling form and turned to Edan.
"I'll take her to the infirmary."
"...Uh? Oh. Yeah."
Edan nodded blankly.
But a beat later,
"Wait! No need to come back. Class ends here anyway."
"Understood."
Ullan nodded and departed.
Edan did the same.
Ending class abruptly, he turned with a grim face. Destination: Military Studies headquarters.
'Must report to His Excellency at once.'
And revise all prior intel drastically.
He wasn't just some barbarian heir—he was a monster who'd reached master's realm at seventeen!
That evening.
The Imperial military was thrown into uproar.
13.
Ruben Empire Central Command.
In the deepest sanctum, where generals tread lightly, lay a forbidden chamber.
Central Commander's office.
Here sat the empire's sole five-star general, military apex, wielder of all army command.
Grand Marshal Barca Erkazan.
Current head of the Erkazan ducal house, he hummed cheerfully now.
"Hm, hmm hmm."
Two reasons.
Quitting time neared.
And his youngest daughter, commissioned as Eastern Front officer last year end, was home on her first leave.
"Thirty minutes left."
He wanted to bolt, but held firm. Urgent reports could come anytime.
Not likely, but.
Then improbability struck Barca.
"This...?"
His brow twitched.
A report in hand—from Arsen Academy, on a Grade 1 watchlist subject.
After reading fully,
He crumpled it.
"What a ridiculous joke."
Scoffing in disbelief,
Barca glared at his aide.
"A barbarian tagged Grade 1 last week is actually a master-level powerhouse? You expect me to buy this?"
"I thought the same, Your Excellency."
Calm reply done,
The aide pointed to the report's end.
"Until I saw the seal."
"...?"
Blue seal stamped.
From former Imperial military commander, now Arsen Military Studies dean: 'Berze Erkazan.'
Its mere presence skyrocketed credibility.
Barca groaned low.
"Ngh, Father's seal sure, but a seventeen-year-old master...? Come on."
Still couldn't believe.
Empire had but five masters. Youngest over thirty.
A frontier barbarian, youngest ever in history?
Barca refused.
Then the aide spoke.
"Additionally, Arsen attached proof materials with this report."
"Proof?"
"Shall I read them?"
Should've mentioned sooner.
Barca nodded. Aide recited.
"First, entrance ceremony: Subject, as freshman rep mid-speech, knocked out over a hundred students and faculty with mere shout."
"...What?"
"Just a roar."
What nonsense?
Barca blanked. Aide continued flatly.
"Same day, touring Mana Spring, subject swept into rapids with two classmates, went missing."
"M-missing?"
"Yes. Subject escaped via hidden ancient ruin in Mana Spring, 'Hero's Trial.' There, faced 'Blood Golem.'"
Blood Golem.
Barca's face stone-hard. Moments later, rubbing furrowed brow,
"The Blood Golem you mean—is it the one I'm thinking?"
"Desert heretics' weapon? Yes. Subject solo-killed it."
"...?"
Barca clamped lips.
Desert veteran, he knew Blood Golem's horror: tricky, devastating.
"Finally, testimonies from Prof. Stella Natalia and Prof. Edan Arnop attached."
Stella and Edan.
Former stellar soldiers.
Edan especially, top talent Barca coveted. No way he'd misjudge realm.
All proof combined.
Answer clear.
"...Seems legit."
Barca's eyes sharpened.
Soon, he smoothed the report, eyed the last line.
『Per attached proofs, Military Studies deems Ullan Bator entered master's realm. Request upgrade of subject's watch grade.』
Ullan's current: Grade 1.
Grade 1: Every move monitored by Imperial military/intel agents, all logged.
'But if subject's power exceeds norms...'
Upgrade to Grade 0.
Grade 0 subject.
All direct surveillance halts. Only masters can watch masters.
'Shift to investigating contacts instead.'
Indirect intel.
Requires far more manpower—every single contact probed.
'Plus report to palace...'
All hassle.
Barca's face soured; aide cautious:
"Your Excellency, orders?"
"Current time?"
"5:50 PM."
Early quit dashed.
Sighing, Barca rose. Daughter dear, but duty first.
Empire's Grand Marshal.
"Effective now, upgrade subject from Grade 1 to 0. Notify relevant depts."
"Yes, sir!"
"Also tell Intel: Your intel's worthless now. Redo from scratch properly."
"At once."
Aide saluted, exited.
Ten minutes to clock-out. Imperial Intel's all-nighter confirmed.
Interlude. Silent Feast
1.
Leaving armory,
Ullan carried fainted Ivela to infirmary. Brief check done, diagnosis out.
"Breathing, pulse normal. Checked eardrums too—just in case. All good."
Doctor in white coat.
Weary-faced, she skimmed chart, yawned hugely like no big deal.
"Yawwn! Bottom line: just fainted. No worries."
"Good."
Ullan sighed in true relief.
Worried master's aura might've caused issues.
As he exhaled quietly,
"Hey."
Doctor spoke up suddenly.
With odd smile.
"You're Ullan, right?"
"Aye. You know me?"
"Duh. You're famous."
Smile widened.
"Terrorist who mass-fainted over a hundred at entrance ceremony."
"Wasn't intentional."
"Know. Heard why. Just meant to greet, right?"
"Aye."
Solemn nod.
Felt a bit wronged, honestly.
Just said let's get along, then windows shattered, folks dropped like flies.
"Heh, just like rumors."
From whom?
Doctor laughed again.
"Anyway, next time, greet gentler. Last time's patient flood was hell."
"Got it. Will remember."
"Good. See ya."
She turned, farewell given.
Gazing at fluttering coat, clock on wall caught eye.
5:45 PM.
Checked time.
"Ah."
Forgotten promise surfaced.
Dinner with Dilia.
Recalled, turned to Ivela. Meant to say bye if awake, but no signs.
"No help for it."
Leave note then.
Wish had paper, pen. Room lacked both.
Then wall eyed.
Perfectly in her sight upon waking.
"This'll do."
Ullan extended finger. Focused Spirit to index, pressed wall.
Squish!
Finger sank naturally.
Soon after,
Wall bore Ullan's note.
『Heading out first. (Ullan)』
Should suffice.
Ullan smiled satisfied, turned lighter-hearted.
To cafeteria.
2.
Meanwhile, as Ullan was at infirmary.
Noa dragged weary body to dorm. Hopping buildings for classes hit stamina limit.
Reached door.
"Hm?"
Noa tilted head.
Note on door.
Dorm supervisor held letter; come get it.
'Letter? For me?'
No sender in mind. Who?
Ajuh flashed, but she wasn't letter type.
Curiosity rising.
Straight to supervisor. Moments later, sender revealed.
『Dr. Myuel Ron Dermore』
Alias: Dermore Count.
Who wrote Arsen recs for Ullan, Noa.
Content simple.
Congrats on admission, keep friendly ties. That's it.
But realization hit.
"Guess I'm on the list too."
Cold smile curled.
Dermore had goals.
Three years back, daughter died mysterious illness. Normal revival impossible, so taboo path.
Result: Secured soul.
'But soul alone...'
Won't last.
Body vessels soul's wear. Needs vessel—body—for soul transfer.
Count's aim, plan.
'Builds ties with daughter's age-mates, mages. Plays patron.'
Daughter was mage.
So vessel: similar age mage. Mana-handlers fine too.
They get regular letters, gifts.
Like Noa's now.
Plop!
Gold coin tumbled from envelope.
Snatched swift as wind, pocketed.
'Even schemer's coin crime-free. Money's good, more better.'
Eyed Count's letter again.
'Count needs two things.'
One: Vessel candidates.
Two: Materials for soul transfer. Some in 'Mana Spring.'
'Uses Prof. Direk.'
Magic faculty prof, researches there freely.
Funded by Count, can't refuse orders. Dives Spring for mats.
'And...'
Midterms timing perfect.
Prof. Direk swallowed by mana, turns monster? Root: Dermore's orders.
Recalled original plot.
Noa's eyes chilled.
'No pawn plans.'
Knew Count's game well.
What he chased, how it cracks Abyss Gate ajar.
'So pocket monthly gold, ignore rest.'
Money innocent, after all.
With the policy set,
Crumpled letter, tossed to bin—
"U-um...!"
Unexpected face.
Ash-gray hair, glasses girl.
Classmate 'Sylphy Rudric.'
Pointed at Noa's letter, cautious:
"Sorry, that letter... Isn't it mine? Just checking..."
Eh? No way.
Addressed clearly 'To dear Noa Darshen.' Misunderstanding. About to correct—
"Sylphy, right?"
Supervisor approached.
Letter envelope in hand.
"Yours."
"...!?"
Sylphy's eyes widened.
Startled face.
Fidgeting, took envelope, bowed frantically to Noa.
"S-sorry!"
Fled like.
Watching retreating back,
Noa narrowed eyes.
Pre-departure, Sylphy's envelope.
'If not mistaken...'
Dermore house seal.
And mistook Noa's for hers pre-real one.
What made her think so? One answer.
'Sylphy vessel candidate too.'
Blue eyes darkened.
Doubts surged.
Sylphy unmentioned in original, when tied to Count?
'And Sylphy...'
Entered via general exam.
But Count wants mana-users.
'Shadier by the minute.'
Eyes narrowed—
Old buried question resurfaced.
'Kazan Rudric.'
Ancient desert kingdom great warrior.
Original owner of tattoo on Ullan's back.
Same surname as Sylphy.
Recalled, Noa's eyes sparkled curious.
'Library later.'
Gather Kazan Rudric info. Digging might uncover something.
Musing done.
Grrrowl!
Sudden stomach rumble.
Protest for food. Rubbing slim gut, Noa muttered,
"...Food first."
Library open till 10 PM.
Cafeteria shuts 8.
En route,
Familiar face.
"Oh? Ullan?"
Striding Ullan.
Spotted her, halted.
"Where to?"
"Cafeteria."
"Really? Come with me then. Was heading for dinner too."
Noa beamed.
Lonely solo, perfect.
Ullan eyed her, murmured short.
"One extra fine."
"Huh? Extra?"
"Nothing. Let's go."
Ullan strode again.
Soon after,
Arrived cafeteria, Noa got it.
3.
Arsen Academy freshman cafeteria.
Separate from student area: 'VIP Room.'
Seats twenty max.
For visitors, families.
But no-visits periods, opens to students sometimes.
'Pie in sky though.'
Hourly fee insane—hotel rival.
Today,
Noa entered VIP first time.
With Ullan, staff swarmed: 'Reserved spot, this way.'
Felt off then.
'Situation screams appointment.'
Who rich enough near Ullan for VIP? Tilted head, arrived.
Door opened.
Noa's eyes bulged.
"...!"
Had to.
Unexpected guest.
One of Seven Heroes.
Future pinnacle mage, one Noa vowed to befriend.
The Star Witch.
Door opened,
Dilia's face lit up.
"Ullan."
Waited one arrived.
But fleeting.
Expression hardened fast. Uninvited guest spotted.
Golden eyes chilled.
Dry voice leaked.
"...Who beside you?"
"Noa. Noa Darshen."
"Didn't ask name."
Not curious anyway.
Dilia narrowed eyes.
"What relation?"
"Fellow disciple."
"Fellow?"
Small head tilted.
Unexpected tie. Noa jumped in quick.
"Same master taught us. That's why fellow disciples."
"So you too..."
"Yes! From plains tribe."
Noa smiled bright.
Oh, same tribe.
Dilia's gaze softened.
Got picture.
Face still pouty. Sharp Noa clocked why.
'Private talk planned.'
Just two.
VIP booking screamed it. Soundproof too.
'Normally yield seat, but...'
Not this time.
Chance.
Bond with Dilia, chat. Push friendship.
Vowed so—
"Meals ordered."
Door opened, dishes entered.
Table filled: meats mostly, Ullan-minded.
"Many new."
"Famous, from my country."
Arpen duchy specialties.
Among, eye-catcher: bug dish.
'That's pupae stew, right?'
Brimming broth.
Noa eyes sparkled.
Taste differed from known, but similar enough.
Nostalgic hit.
Slurped eagerly—
Dilia eyed Noa.
"You eat that well?"
"Hehe, lotsa practice."
Noa grinned sheepish.
Good vibe. Chat flow felt possible.
But end.
Convo died abrupt.
"...?"
"...?"
Ullan, Dilia silent.
All ate focused.
True silent feast.
'Ugh, gonna choke!'
Dessert done, still mute. Noa broke first.
'Event soon too.'
Arsen annual.
Coughed. Stir quiet.
"Ahem! Anyway, prepping for qualifiers?"
"Qualifiers?"
"Yeah, starts in three days."
"What's that?"
Ullan tilted.
Dilia answered.
"Arsen Academy, annual event."
"Right. Selects top 10 freshmen."
"Perks for selected?"
"Yep. Bonus points, qualifies for next month's mock battle."
Mock battle? Huh?
Ullan puzzled.
Clueless vibe. Opposite Dilia queried odd.
"Didn't read guidebook?"
"Reading."
"...Still?"
Dilia blinked stunned.
Noa chimed.
"Short: Top 10 freshmen party up, fight top 10 sophomores."
Those sophs top ranks too. Rankers clash.
Explanation end,
Ullan still blank.
"Why fight?"
"Mock battle's annual like qualifiers. Other reason..."
"Scout, talent, invest."
"Invest?"
"Nobles observe. Preempt talent via sponsorship."
Nobles secure futures; students get funds.
'Not Dilia though.'
Arpen princess.
Money overflows. VIP proves.
"Participating alone boosts too, win or lose. Perks, noble impressions."
"Chance, fame."
Dilia added.
Ullan nodded finally. Got it.
Mid mock talk,
Knock knock!
Polite rap.
"VIP time ending soon."
"Extend? Say so."
Time up.
Dilia glanced Ullan. Words pending. Noa caught, bolted.
"Ahh! Time flies?!"
Feigned shock.
Eyed clock, bowed to pair.
"Sorry, gotta go. Library books due."
Goal met.
Bonded Dilia, chatted.
Now avoid offending, build favor.
Sure enough.
Noa rose, Dilia brightened. Right call. Noa beamed.
"Great meal. Thanks!"
Courteous bye.
Exited swift.
Presence gone fully. Ullan rose.
"I'll head out too."
Meal, dessert done.
No stay reason. Dorm bound. But Dilia scurried, blocked.
"...No."
Arms wide.
Dilia pouted.
"Said I, have words."
Oh yeah.
Mentioned something.
Ullan nodded.
"Speak. I'll hear."
"Okay. But..."
Glanced around.
"...Not here. Outside."
Time ending anyway.
Ullan agreed. Exited with Dilia.
4.
Out cafeteria, to woods.
Just rear patch, but late hour, no presences.
Shhh!
Breeze from woods.
Cool night air, Ullan waited silent for Dilia.
How long?
Voice came.
"...Ullan."
"Yes."
"Thought, a lot."
Dilia looked up.
Serious face.
Moonlit golden eyes sparkled; tiny fist clenched.
"About your, sincerity."
"Sincerity?"
Queried puzzled, she nodded.
From aptitude test first sight.
Library, mock hunt on.
Ullan conveyed true heart repeatedly. So Dilia thought: Must respond somehow to earnest confession.
"Honestly, first time."
Hearing such from man.
Facing pure sincerity.
All new. Sleepless nights pondering.
"But..."
Trailed, fidgeted fingers hid.
Looked up again.
"We don't, know each other, well yet."
First meet: aptitude.
Group-mates then.
Library next, hunt after. Barely acquainted.
"Not that I, dislike you."
Dilia bad at emotions.
Childhood 'duchy hope,' forced mature. Learned hide before show.
Always blank?
No one near.
None approached, stayed.
'But Ullan different.'
Straightforward sincerity recalled, pale cheeks pinked.
So which—
Dilia liked Ullan too.
'But...'
Romantic or friendly? Unclear.
Clumsy with feelings, as said.
"So, um."
Lips mumbled.
Hesitant words. Soon, resolved face, lips moved.
"Friends first, okay?"
"Friends?"
"N-not refusal!"
Yelled urgent.
Loud startled self, eyes round. Blushing deep, mumbled,
"Still, bit more..."
Didn't know own heart fully; slow over rash.
Meant say that.
Voice stuck. Struggled, trailed vague.
Meanwhile,
Ullan gazed steady.
Slightly surprised.
'Friends...'
Sudden 'words'? Friendship offer, unexpected.
Ullan reflective.
'Much faster than past life.'
Post-regression death door.
Two weeks with Dilia max.
Past: Three years post-meet for friendship. Worlds apart.
'Change, I suppose.'
Ullan chuckled.
Future off-script slight, but good feel.
Nodded gladly.
"Got it. Friends it is."
"R-really? Okay?"
"Of course."
Future comrade.
Early bond no harm. Done thinking, offered big hand.
"Pleasure ahead, Dilia."
"Mm, me too."
Shy grip.
Shake fresh done.
Her face bloomed innocent smile. Relief from resolved worry.
Star-rich night sky.
Dilia gained first friend ever.
Three days later.
All freshmen gathered.
To select top 10 for next month's mock battle.
Chapter 14. What Does It Matter?