Chapter 62
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 62
Chapter Title: Awkward Tensions and Hidden Agendas
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After Ullan disappeared.
The cafeteria regained its bustle.
The students chattered away as if they'd never fallen silent. Most of the talk centered on the Special Task Force agents who'd visited the cafeteria—and on Ullan.
But not everyone joined in.
One spot had actually lost its spark.
The center of the cafeteria.
The very place where Ullan had been sitting moments ago.
"......"
Dilia, her face expressionless.
Ivela, stealing glances at her.
And Noa, caught right in the middle.
Silence hung heavy over the three girls' table. They were clearly in the same cafeteria, yet it felt like they were worlds apart.
'Ugh, it's suffocating!'
The awkwardness was unbearable.
Noa clenched her fists tight.
She was struck anew by just how vital Ullan's presence had been. Then, a voice shattered the quiet.
"Here are your orders!"
Honey spider stew, basil pasta, and a chicken sandwich—in that order, Dilia's, Noa's, and Ivela's choices.
And right then.
Boom!
The table shook once.
A staff member had set down a massive platter. Piled atop it was a veritable mountain of meat.
"Ten servings of roast turkey!"
An absurd quantity.
Obviously pre-ordered by Ullan. But the meal's owner was nowhere in sight.
So what now?
As Noa pulled a troubled face.
"Eat it. It's fine."
A dry voice cut in.
It was Dilia. She popped a plump spider leg into her mouth and continued.
"No one's here to eat it anyway."
"Yeah, thanks. Digging in then."
Ivela was the one to accept the gesture.
She dipped her head slightly before scooping some meat. And as she did, she spoke up naturally.
"Ullan always eats like it's the best thing ever. Made me curious to try it myself sometime."
No real response came back.
Still, Ivela breaking the ice lightened the mood at the table, if only a little.
And around that time.
Noa snuck a glance at the pair.
'They met way earlier than in the original story.'
The Sword Princess and the Star Witch.
In the original, these two heroes didn't cross paths until after the Abyss Gate opened. They bonded through countless brushes with death, eventually growing so close they could pass for sisters.
'No wonder the fanfics exploded.'
Novels, comics—you name it.
Works about their relationship were runaway hits among fans of Arsen Continent Chronicles. Noa owned a few herself.
'Meeting earlier this time around...'
They might end up even closer.
Maybe their bond could surpass anything shown in the original.
Endless possibilities bubbled up, and Noa suddenly broke into a goofy grin. She didn't notice Dilia spotting it and recoiling in disgust.
Then.
"Dilia Arpen, right?"
Ivela spoke up out of nowhere.
She'd been slicing into the turkey with her knife but now fixed her gaze on Dilia.
"If it's not too rude, mind if I ask what your relationship with Ullan is?"
"Plenty rude."
The curt reply.
Dilia stared straight at Ivela.
"I don't know who you are."
"Ah, haven't introduced myself yet."
Ivela gave an awkward smile.
She followed up with her intro right away.
"I'm Ivela Elead. First-year Class 3, in the martial arts lecture with Ullan."
"M-Me too, same class! We met in the special room last time, right? That food we had..."
"......Didn't ask you."
Yes. Sorry.
I butted in for no reason.
Noa clamped her mouth shut obediently. Once things quieted, Dilia's lips moved again.
"First-year Class 2. Dilia Arpen."
Just the essentials.
Then she answered Ivela's question.
"Friends with Ullan."
"Ah, friends, got it."
Ivela nodded like it all made sense.
A soft smile touched her lips. She looked oddly relieved, for some reason.
But only briefly.
Dilia tacked on more.
"Not ordinary friends, though."
"Huh? Not ordinary how...?"
"We have a special relationship."
"Special? What do you mean?"
"That kind of thing."
No further details.
Dilia shut her mouth with a faint smile.
A subtle air of superiority clung to it. Stung by that? Ivela creased her brow ever so slightly.
Then, like something occurred to her, she let out an exaggerated cough.
"Ahem! Y'know, I'm not exactly ordinary either."
"What're you on about all of a sudden?"
"I got one-on-one guidance from Ullan. And he said he'd help me out anytime something comes up."
Ivela laid heavy emphasis on "anytime." But Dilia latched onto a different part.
"......One-on-one guidance?"
"That kind of thing."
Ivela flashed a grin.
She'd thrown Dilia's own words right back at her, and now she finally looked at ease. Dilia's face, meanwhile, had gone icy cold.
The mood plummeted fast.
Noa let out a resigned laugh.
'Ah, I just wanna head back to my room.'
No vibe for sharing a meal here.
No chance of them warming up to each other, either.
She picked up her pace with the food.
Finish quick and bail. They pressed on with their mute meal when voices from a nearby table drifted over.
"What? Fo-for real?!"
"That person actually came here?"
"Yeah! Saw 'em clear as day."
The students were in a total frenzy, buzzing with excitement.
Like they'd spotted a celebrity.
"Who's got everyone so worked up?"
"The one famous as the Desert Ice Golem!"
"Ice Golem?"
"H-Hold on! You don't mean the Empire's Master...!"
"Bingo. Count Deorg's here!"
The brief shout cut off—and
Halt!
Ivela's knife froze midair.
As if someone had yanked it away. And the only one to notice was Noa.
'Yeah, makes sense.'
Ivela was Count Deorg's illegitimate daughter.
From childhood right up to now, she'd endured endless discrimination and abuse. Her character backstory alone showed deep hatred for her family.
Meanwhile.
The students kept the chatter going.
"Ah, no wonder the shock."
"Yeah. Word is he never leaves the front lines unless it's huge."
"So why come here...?"
"To see Himmel, duh?"
Himmel Deorg.
The name dropped, and talk stalled. Then one student muttered, face grim.
"......That barbarian's a goner, right?"
No answer.
Meant the odds were plenty good. The family's sole heir turned into a ragdoll? A knife to the gut wouldn't surprise anyone.
But the hush didn't last.
The topic swung back.
"Whew, I'd love to meet him."
"Where's he at now?"
"Headed Mana Spring way?"
"Huh? Why there outta nowhere?"
"Dunno. Looks like business."
Count Deorg, off to Mana Spring.
Ullan too.
Two key figures converging on the same spot? The realization hit Noa, and her face hardened in an instant.
'No way...!'
An ill omen flashed through her mind. And she wasn't alone.
"Sorry. Gotta head out."
Ivela shot up from her seat.
She jammed her knife into the turkey's body, eyes trembling as she looked off.
"......Somewhere I need to be."
Her turquoise gaze aimed.
Straight toward Mana Spring.
5.
Around the same time.
Ullan reached the destination, trailing Rodeil.
A Special Task Force platoon—clearly arrived ahead—waited at the entrance.
"Count's position?"
"Military academy infirmary."
"Made contact with Dean Berje."
After that cryptic exchange.
Rodeil nodded silently.
They pressed on. Ullan followed without a word.
Just as they entered Zone 1.
Halt!
A strange sensation hit.
The slightest tremor at his waist. It didn't take long to pinpoint the source.
'This...'
Devouring Axe, Gula.
The axe itself quivered faintly.
The moment he registered it, Ullan recalled a detail from a book.
"Magic weapons forged as pairs resonate and vibrate upon reunion with their mate. The closer they are, the stronger the shake."
And Gula had a twin.
The name gave it away: twin axes.
'Which means...'
The last twin axe.
Demon-Slaying Axe, Ose—nearby. Eyes gleaming at the realization, Ullan pondered.
'Should I hunt it down?'
His stay at Mana Spring lasted a week.
Free time was sure to come. Plenty for axe-hunting. Eyes still sparkling with the new goal.
"We're here."
Rodeil spoke up.
A cabin came into view—newly built, by the looks. Spacious enough for over a dozen.
Knock knock!
A light rap on the door.
Rodeil called out politely.
"Dean, I've brought Ullan Bator."
"Yes, come on in."
A familiar voice.
Who...?
Ullan quietly searched his memory.
No need. The door flew open fast, revealing the owner.
"Long time no see, Ullan."
A girl Noa's size.
Apricot hair swaying in the breeze, exposing pointed ears.
Cute enough to turn heads. But Ullan scowled without pause.
"......Why're you here?"
The girl's identity: Deplin Chernio.
Magic Faculty Dean. Someone Ullan didn't care for. At his attitude, Rodeil's face hardened.
"You dare be rude to the Dean—"
"It's fine. He's special."
Deplin brushed it off.
She waved him off briskly.
A clear "beat it" signal. Rodeil hesitated, then bowed.
"I'll stand by nearby. Call if you need anything."
With a crisp salute.
His presence vanished swiftly.
Deplin shut the cabin door, turning back to Ullan.
"You asked why I'm here, right?"
Ullan nodded.
Her answer followed.
"Simple. I'm leading this investigation team."
"Never heard that."
"Kept it secret, naturally. No telling if you'd cooperate otherwise."
Made sense.
Deplin hid her true thoughts, lied like breathing.
The exact type Ullan despised.
Worse, she gave him the creeps. Made him hate sharing space.
As he eyed her sourly.
Deplin's gaze dropped to the ground. She tilted her head.
"What're you staring at?"
"Nah, your shadow looks off."
Her eyes narrowed. Peering past his shadow, almost.
'Did she spot the White Wolf?'
As his reddish brows twitched, Deplin shrugged.
Whatever.
"Eh, probably nothing. Sit down anyway. Heard I held up your meal, so I whipped up some grub in a rush."
She threw open an inner door. A savory aroma hit first, followed by a feast.
Meat-heavy dishes, mostly.
Some you wouldn't find in the student cafeteria. Proof Rodeil hadn't lied.
"Alright, I'll run down what we'll be doing here for the week, step by step. Oh, eat while I talk if you want."
Deplin spoke with consideration.
Unneeded. Ullan was already seated, tearing into the food with gusto.
An awkward chuckle, and she turned away.
"First up: basic physical check. Picked up unusual mana traces from those ruins you holed up in."
Her calm gaze settled on the Zone 1-2 boundary. Where Ullan had vanished into the rapids.
"Can't risk anything harmful in your body, so we'll scan your internal mana flow and sensitivity."
All lies, of course.
Just an excuse for the exam.
She'd turned deliberately.
Ullan could spot lies from eye contact alone.
Worries for naught, though.
"Exam done, next: recheck the Hero's Trial ruins. Special Task Force tagging along."
Crunch! Munch!
"Third: scout the area for similar ruins. Zone 2's our limit."
Slurp! Smack!
Only voracious eating sounds answered. Deplin frowned, repeating herself.
"......You listening?"
"Am."
Obvious lie.
Ullan was tallying leftover meat, not her words.
Deplin let out a deep sigh.
Surface only. Inside, relief.
'Better off like this.'
No nosy questions. Total disinterest was way easier. Her eyes sparkled.
'This chance didn't come cheap.'
For keeping Ullan from Count Deorg, she'd scored research rights on him.
Extended term too.
She'd wanted three days; Berje bumped it to a week.
Caveat: conduct during Ullan's Mana Spring stay.
'Timing's flexible.'
Space and duration? Good enough. She'd mapped out exams, research, experiments in detail.
'All set.'
Reagents and materials stocked plenty. Even blew personal savings on premium mana stones.
All for studying Ullan.
Eyes sparkling anew.
"Good eats. Done."
Meal over before she knew.
Plates scraped clean. Snapping to, she beamed.
"Well? Tasty, right?"
"Tasty, but skimpy portions."
"Huh? Skimpy? That's five servings."
"Ten per meal for me."
"Ahaha, my bad. Dinner'll be ten."
Laughter wrapped.
Deplin got to the point.
"Meal's done, so let's kick off that physical exam. Cool?"
"What kind?"
"Easy stuff. Check mana flow inside, confirm it's normal, no hidden risks."
True motive aside.
Deplin's eyes flashed.
Verify Ullan's dual mana vessels again.
One in the dantian. Map the flow.
'Plus one more.'
A fresh puzzle.
Sprung up hearing he'd hit Master level.
'Theory says Masters can't form or awaken mana vessels.'
Or the reverse.
Yet Ullan: Master with two.
Exam to uncover why. Thoughts wrapped, she spoke.
"Starting the exam then."
"Fine. What now?"
Ullan gruffly.
Meal courtesy earned; simple check? Sure. His compliance pleased her. She smiled warmly.
"Strip."
"What?"
"Clothes. Off with 'em."
Request out of left field.
Ullan deadpanned.
Tilted his head.
"Always do."
"Everything. Bottoms too."
"Why?"
"Better look."
Eyes burned with zeal.
No lie vibe.
As Ullan stared, Deplin smirked.
"C'mon, no need that shy. My age, seen tons of guy nudes—race irrelevant... Good lord."
Deplin's eyes bugged out.
Ullan dropped trou on the spot.
Bold as brass, zero shame. Deplin went speechless a beat, then rallied.
"Wh-whoa, that's... huge. Y'know, in every sense."
"Big build."
Ullan blasé.
Like mild weather chat.
Deplin, eyes glued to his frame. Mouth agape, staring blankly.
"Staring contest over?"
"Ah, sorry! What was I...?"
"Exam."
"R-right, yeah. That."
Flustered babble.
Ullan narrowed his eyes.
"Lotsa male bodies, you said?"
"......First like this."
Excuse trailed off.
Deplin slapped her cheeks.
Quickly flushed red. Composed, she coughed fakely.
"Ahem! Next room anyway. Experiment—no, exam gear's there."
"Right."
Ullan rose at once.
Stepping after her to the other room—when the front door slammed open.
"Dean! Emergency!"
Frantic agent burst in.
Rodeil, the "nearby" sentry. Words died seeing naked Ullan. Brain stall.
What the hell? Head spinning.
"What is it?"
Deplin's voice snapped him back.
Rodeil closed in, face stone. Whispered report.
"......Count's nearby."
"What?"
Her eyes widened a touch.
Moments later, Deplin scowled, brows knitting.
Visibly irked.
"Thought you said real-time watch."
"Y-yes, but he vanished midway. Popped up at the entrance."
Defensive tone. She shot Rodeil a sour look. Fleeting, though.
Fair enough.
Deorg was Master.
No Special Task Force tracks a Master perfectly.
"Sigh. No helping it."
Quick trip only.
Deplin donned her coat.
Outing prep. Ullan muttered.
"Business calls."
"Yeah, back soon though. Stay put."
Quick-return promise.
Plus warnings.
"Oh, tools and stuff here? All exam essentials. Hands off."
"Gotcha."
"Shelf mana stones especially—insanely pricey. No breaking. Clear?"
"Yeah."
Repeated nagging finally done, she looked eased. Once she and Rodeil's presences faded.
Squirm!
Ullan's shadow writhed.
White mist sprouted.
[Grrrowl.]
White Wolf. Stretched languidly, then bounded off.
Like a pre-picked spot.
[Gyarr! Garung!]
White Wolf's pleased growl.
It landed where Deplin had begged him not to go. The ultra-pricey mana stones.