Chapter 60
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 60
Chapter Title: Visit
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(5)
11.
The next morning.
As soon as dawn broke, a massive investigation into the White Wolf raid kicked off. Once the damage assessment wrapped up, Ethan reported the casualty figures.
"Total injured from yesterday's attack: 75. Mostly light wounds, but around six diagnosed with over eight weeks recovery."
At least no fatalities.
Chancellor Berje let out a quiet sigh of relief.
Next came reports on facility and building damage. The hardest hit spot was surprisingly unexpected.
"The library?"
"Yes. Half the reading room burned down."
Berje stared blankly.
It made sense. No one could've anticipated it. Ethan quickly added context.
"Wolves smashed through the windows and rampaged inside. They fought back successfully—no injuries."
"Hm, good... but still."
Half the reading room gone.
How the hell do you fight to trash it that bad?
"Damage report ends here."
Ethan's briefing concluded.
Berje nodded wordlessly, then turned to the woman beside him.
"Your turn next."
Deplin Chernio.
Ethan handled damage; she tackled the incident itself.
Deplin was Arsen Academy's undisputed top mage.
"Progress?"
"Just wrapped up."
"What? Already?"
"Hehe, I'm pretty capable, huh?"
Deplin grinned mischievously.
Like tossing out a joke.
Blank stares met her. She scratched her cheek awkwardly and cleared her throat.
"Ahem! Starting with yesterday's wolves: legendary magic beast heretics summon—the Mist-Hiding White Wolf."
The three men gawked.
"Heretics?"
"Southern Desert cult?"
"Why their beast here...?"
Heretics out of nowhere. Deplin nodded sympathetically.
"Seemed off to me too, so I dug deeper. Sealed roughly a millennium ago—right when Arsen was founded."
She summed up old tomes crisply.
Mist-Hiding White Wolf.
Sealer: one of Arsen's founders, inaugural chancellor.
He clashed with it, backed by kingdoms, and subdued it. But couldn't kill it outright.
"Why not?"
"Records say its mana core was primed to explode. No salvaging or destroying."
Seal it was. Ordinary methods out.
Magic beasts absorb mana, grow over time. First chancellor used a special tool.
"Special weapon? What?"
"Made from Craving Mana Stone."
Stella and Ethan jolted.
"A weapon from that?!"
"Twenty times gold's weight in value!"
Craving Mana Stone devours mana.
Sole ore worldwide with that trait.
Rare as hell, state-controlled. Priceless now.
"Cheaper back then, I guess."
Deplin shrugged indifferently.
"Anyway, first chancellor jammed it into the nape to block mana buildup, then sealed."
Solid move.
Gather mana? Stone slurps it all.
"Eight sealing stakes used. Five eroded away over centuries."
"Remaining three?"
"Key bit: looks deliberately yanked by someone."
Silence crashed down.
"Meaning..."
"Someone in the academy wanted it loose."
Heretic beast sealed here.
Berje's gaze sharpened.
"Heretic?"
"Possible."
Can't rule out.
Likely, even. Obscure beast.
"Related probe?"
"Task force on it. Report any traces."
Swift handling. Berje nodded tightly—hand it to her and them.
"No records on why here or goal, though."
"Ancient monster. Done."
Clean wrap-up.
Beast motives obvious: slaughter, mana feast.
"Subjugated for sure?"
"Yes. Combed forest—no traces, no echoes."
Deplin's word: ironclad.
Best magic beast sensor in academy.
"Understood. I'll bundle reports, final to head chancellor."
"Whoa, really? Whew, thanks."
Deplin beamed over-the-top.
Berje eyed her dubiously.
"Not too happy?"
"Why not? Chatting with him's always creepy. Like he peers into my soul."
Shuddered, face twisted. Berje burst out laughing and rose.
"Meeting adjourned."
"Great work!"
Deplin bolted first, peppy. Stella followed; Ethan gearing to go.
Then.
"Professor Arnop."
Berje stopped him.
"Committee when?"
Punishment redo board for Ullan. Ethan bowed sharp.
"Convened. Post-lunch start."
"Prep solid?"
"All set."
This time: pro-empire profs only.
Half-plus military vets.
"Inspectorate evidence handy—previous penalty basically wiped."
"Good. Yours."
"Count on me."
Loyal nod.
They exited together, off to duties.
12.
Afternoon.
Knock at Ullan's door. Stone-faced man: his inspector.
"Disposition amended."
Straight to it.
Ullan cocked his head.
"Testimony upheld?"
"Close enough. Lucky extra proof smoothed it."
"Extra?"
"This."
Pulled a hefty orb.
"Magic faculty recorder for match two. Big capacity—nabbed your Himmel Deorg chat too."
Thus, Ullan's account verified. Committee rushed; fix fast.
"Expulsion warning voided. Proof he trashed you and classmate's rep—factored in."
Warning gone: relief.
Ullan noted inwardly.
"Suspension: 30 to 20 days. Confinement lifted."
"So now..."
"No classes, but freshman zones free roam. Others too."
Prime perk.
Cafeteria unbound especially. No fruit hunts.
"Tournament/match ban holds awhile. You did turn Himmel to shreds—fact."
Ullan: restraint issues.
Danger factor high.
Both committees agreed: prevent repeats.
True motive aside.
'Empire win.'
Global events like mock wars spotlight him. Real power leaks.
'Military hates that.'
Tourney lock stays.
"That's the message."
Inspector turned.
Ullan dipped head.
"Appreciate it all."
"No heroics. Duty done."
Formality over? Smirk cracked his mask.
"This mess... upgraded my view of you."
"How?"
"Why you ditched room yesterday."
Eyes intent.
"To shield students? Embarrassed I doubted."
Forehead rub, sigh.
What'd he suspect?
Curiosity itched—but volunteered.
"Figured skimpy rations I brought sent you out."
"..."
"Even barbarian, nah. Sorry for the mix-up. Rest up."
Shoulder pat.
Exited clueless his hunch nailed it.
"Sharp one."
Ullan murmured low.
Hand under bed. Out came gray axe.
Gula, Gluttony Axe.
Handle grip: sudden sticky cling.
Identical to stake yank yesterday. Gula hungering owner's mana.
"Snugs right in."
Oblivious, Ullan grinned pleased. Inspected leisurely.
Spotted oddities.
"Shrunk since first sight."
Nape-embedded: bigger than hand axe, smaller two-hander. Now plain hand axe size.
"Overdid the beatdown?"
Taming too rough? Shrugged off. Still wieldy.
One more.
"Blade's back."
Taming trashed edge bad—no fix, no use.
Now half restored. Ambient mana self-heal, per book.
"No favors needed."
Meant hit Noa or Dilia for mana top-up. Smiled content.
Studying it—sudden sniff.
Faint new scent.
Beast whiff. Wolfish.
Hunted source, scanned.
"You..."
White fluff by window. Yesterday's cave White Wolf.
"Found this how?"
Eyes narrowed.
No reply.
Duh—wolves don't talk.
Spirit beast or not.
"Trailed me?"
Nod.
Gets speech, not speaks.
Head scratch.
"Hunt spot? Wrong pad. No chow here."
Dropped mouth fruit.
Ullan's yesterday snack.
"For me?"
Nod.
No beef. Peckish anyway.
Munched away.
Meantime.
Hop!
Down from sill, padded close.
No threat vibe—let be.
Scaled him to shoulder swift.
Weight owed, but featherlight. Pure fluff plush.
Shifted back. Hero mark zone. Head-rub frenzy.
[Garung, garrung!]
Cat purr-ish.
Weird antics—chuckled.
"Quirky beast."
Fruit demolished.
Flung window wide.
Forest return path. Issue: zero go vibes.
"Back to woods."
Blank stare, clueless act.
Heard fine before.
Eyes slit—bed leap.
[Garung, grrung.]
Gibber reply.
Dove blanket-deep.
Why tho? Pondered blank. Flashed hunch.
'Makeshift den?'
Fresh spirit ex-beast. Pre-long haul, rest pad to recover.
Decided.
Nod generous.
"Gotcha. Crash free."
Gula gift owed.
Short squat fine. Greenlit—poked quilt out.
[Grung.]
Plan golden.
Grin blissed.
Nuzzled back-close, curled, eyes shut. Post-unseal peace premiere.
13.
Post-White Wolf chaos.
Time flew—late March.
Spring bloomed academy-wide.
North winds warmed; changes swept. Biggest: visits greenlit.
Entrance month done.
Weekend: all freshmen parent meetups ok. Decent parent turnout today.
"Hold the line!"
"Enter sequence!"
Arsen main gate.
Guards crisp, queuing crowds.
Parent perk? Still protocols.
ID verify first. Sus weapons seized, guard-kept.
Forms: purpose, stay length, spot. Approval seals entry.
Hence Arsen ingress: legendarily slow.
Line jammed as ever.
Thud thud!
Next parent strode up.
Blond in black coat. Oddities triple.
Youthful amid elders; solo, no entourage; waist longsword.
Gate guard Durik inwardly groaned. Time sink incoming.
"ID, sir?"
"Here."
Docile handover.
Durik form-filled.
Or tried.
"...!?"
Name hit—gawked at man shocked.
Man broke ice.
"Helluva scar."
True: Durik's left socket ghoul-gash empty.
Grinned wide.
"Ha! My trophy. Eye for thirty desert heretics. Bar yarn forever."
Desert heretics.
Man's gaze shifted.
"Southern front?"
"Aye, out six years."
"Scar source?"
"Red Desert scrap. Heretics bomb-rushed suicide—pure hell."
Nod solemn, memories surfacing.
"Brutal. Rookies half bolting blind, croaked."
"Spot on. Nightmare."
"Line-holders clinched win. Wait—fought shoulder-to-shoulder with one."
Durik's right eye quivered.
"...Describe?"
"Retreat called, fought on, lost left peeper. Grinned through heretic stacks. You vibe."
"Legend wingman."
Durik guffawed.
Relief, pride, thrill tinged.
Yelled inward.
"Forms clear! Gates up."
"Done?"
"Yup. In."
Gates groaned open.
ID back; man faint smile, bow.
"Grateful."
"Nah."
Grin reply.
Man inner-bound.
"Thrilled reunion!"
Boom voice.
Durik post-out, rigid salute. Snapped crisp.
"Welcome Arsen Academy, Your Excellency Count!"
"Mutual, Corporal Durik."
Brief salute return.
Swiveled off.
Isthan El Deorg.
Southern field commander, empire's Five Swords ace. Aka "Count Deorg" graces Arsen.
17. Visit