Chapter 67
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 67
Chapter Title: Chapter 67
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 67
Chapter Title: Father and Daughter
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(4)
7.
The military department's general ward.
Ullan visited Istan El Deorg's room and tilted his head with a subtle expression.
"Really all right?"
"I'm fine. This doesn't even count as an injury."
Istan wore a faint smile.
But it lacked any real conviction.
His body was wrapped head to toe in bandages, and his complexion was somewhat pale.
"Think of it as the price for glimpsing that realm. It's a bargain, really. Don't worry about it."
His tone had changed markedly from before.
Istan laughed it off as if it were nothing.
But that lasted only a moment.
Suddenly, the smile vanished from his lips. He bowed his head toward Ullan.
"...I'm sorry."
"Hm? What're you talking about all of a sudden?"
"It's an apology for calling you a barbarian. It's late, but please forgive my rudeness."
An utterly unexpected apology.
Ullan wasn't particularly offended or angry anyway. He wasn't some hot-blooded kid who'd rage over something that trivial.
But there was no reason to refuse an apology. He nodded readily.
"Got it. Apology accepted."
"Thank you."
Istan bowed his head once more.
Then he continued.
"Next up is keeping my promise."
The promise to restore the honor Himmel had sullied on his behalf. And no sooner had he finished speaking than someone arrived at the room.
"Ah, Father. You called... Eek!"
The young man entered with a cowed expression, then jumped in shock upon spotting Ullan.
It was Himmel Deorg.
What was this guy doing here? Ullan narrowed his eyes in sudden suspicion.
"I called him."
"You did?"
"Yes. To make a proper apology, the one who sullied the honor needs to be present."
With that, Istan unleashed a chilling glare.
Himmel's face drained of color under the master's furious aura.
"There. We're ready for the apology."
Now it was just a matter of the recipient.
All that remained was heading together to where Ullan's friend was. Istan turned to Ullan to ask him to lead the way.
But there was no need.
Bang!
The door flew open without warning.
And the person in question had arrived.
"Ullan, I heard you were looking for... "
Ivela Elead.
Her face lit up at the sight of him, but she quickly clamped her mouth shut.
"... "
Her expression hardened instantly.
It was only natural. The two people she least wanted to see in the world were right here.
She wasn't the only one flustered.
"...Ivela?"
Istan echoed blankly.
She'd grown quite a bit since he last saw her a few years ago, but the girl before him was unmistakably Ivela.
"Why are you... "
As he muttered in bewilderment, a sudden realization struck him.
"D-Don't tell me the friend you mentioned is...!"
"That's right. Ivela Elead."
With Ullan's reply, a heavy silence enveloped the room.
Istan looked utterly dumbfounded, Himmel peeked nervously with a pallid face, and Ivela radiated icy hostility.
The awkward hush lingered.
"...Let's sort this out for a second."
Istan finally spoke up.
He seemed genuinely confused.
He drummed his fingers on the table, brow furrowed, then gathered his thoughts.
"If I'm understanding you correctly, Himmel sullied Ivela's honor and was rude to her?"
"Exactly."
"I see. Thank you for answering."
No sooner had Ullan replied than Istan's gaze sharpened dramatically.
"Himmel Deorg."
"...Yes?"
"Kneel before Ivela."
"W-Why should I...!"
Himmel protested the abrupt command.
Or tried to. But suddenly, no sound escaped his throat.
"I've heard what you did."
An invisible force choked him.
It was Istan's killing intent.
Under the master's deliberate, terrifying pressure, Himmel's face turned ashen.
"Kneel before Ivela right now and confess every single atrocity you've committed, without omission. The apology comes after."
The rudeness to Ullan was likely just the tip of the iceberg. Istan intended to hear everything.
But Himmel didn't comply.
He clenched his fists in frustration, still unrepentant, his fragile pride winning out as he shouted.
"...No."
"What?"
"What's wrong with calling lowly blood lowly?! I... Gah!"
And in that instant.
A short scream escaped as Himmel's body floated into the air. Istan, his patience spent, had kicked him.
Crash! Boom!
He flew across the room and slammed into the corner.
But it wasn't over. Istan grabbed the groaning Himmel by the head and smashed it into the floor.
The room shook violently.
Istan bowed his head as well.
"I'll apologize on his behalf."
Both heads were directed toward Ivela.
Istan spoke with a complicated expression.
"I've heard everything Himmel did. Sullied your honor, spouted nonsense—all of it."
"... "
"I'm truly sorry. I swear on my name and house that it won't happen again."
He bowed deeply once more—a clean apology, pride and honor cast aside.
But Ivela remained expressionless.
As if she felt nothing at all.
A long moment passed.
"...How can I believe that?"
Her cold voice returned, laced with distrust.
"You said the exact same thing when you came to pick up Mom and me. Sorry for leaving us alone all that time, we'll be together from now on."
"That was... "
"But you abandoned us again. Do you even know how much humiliation and hardship Mom and I endured?"
After entering the castle with Istan.
The horrific torment began.
Discrimination and verbal abuse from the countess and retainers was constant, and even the butlers and maids looked down on them.
All for one reason.
Her mother was a commoner.
"They said the manor was too luxurious for lowly scum like us and shoved us into a vermin-infested storage shed."
Her voice was calm.
But her eyes burned with deep anger and resentment, piercing Istan.
"Our meals were worse than the servants'. We wanted to run, but we couldn't."
They said the Deorg name would be tarnished if word got out about lowly blood mixing in.
There wasn't even anyone to complain to.
The only person the mother and daughter could rely on had abandoned them for the battlefield.
Years passed like that.
Finally, seizing a lax moment in surveillance, Ivela fled the county.
"I enrolled in Arsen Academy strictly because it was beyond that woman's reach."
Though she hadn't expected Himmel to enroll too.
Once her tale ended.
Istan looked deeply shocked, as if hearing it for the first time.
"I had no idea. I never imagined it was that bad... "
"Of course you didn't. To you, we were just trinkets shoved in a drawer."
With that mocking tone.
Ivela glared fiercely.
"I can never forgive you. Ever."
"... "
Istan clamped his mouth shut.
Of course, he had excuses.
Back then, he was deep in ash-dust syndrome, unable to care for himself, let alone family or house.
But he didn't voice them.
No excuse changed the fact he'd broken his promise and neglected them.
Then.
Ivela spoke again.
"...But not Mom."
"Idelin...?"
"Mom's still waiting for you to come back. I told her it's pointless, that you won't return, but it didn't matter."
So she stayed behind in the county alone.
Someone had to be there to greet him if he ever returned.
Her hatred for Istan remained.
But Idelin's didn't. Mom was still waiting. So for her sake, Ivela added.
"If you truly regret it and seek forgiveness, beg Mom, not me. And stay by her side."
That was all.
Oh, and one more thing.
"Don't let her suffer any more threats."
"...Threats?"
What was that about?
Istan's eyebrow twitched.
Ivela laid bare all of Himmel's past threats.
Using her mother Idelin as leverage, and even forcing her to forfeit in the prelims.
Soon after, the tales concluded.
Istan's face twisted demonically. Himmel's had gone ghostly pale.
"...Is this true?"
"W-Well, it's like... "
"Is. It. True?"
No reply came.
His lack of denial made Istan grind his teeth. He'd realized from Himmel's reaction.
That Ivela's words were truth.
And that instant.
"You filthy worm!"
Himmel's head smashed into the wall.
Booom!
The ward trembled with the deafening crash.
Doctors and nurses rushed in at the noise but retreated without a word under Istan's killing intent.
Crack! Crunch!
His face embedded in the wall.
Himmel passed out.
Miraculously alive. Istan bowed to Ivela once more.
"I'm truly sorry. I can't even face you."
"... "
"This time, I swear it. I'll take responsibility for Idelin's safety."
His voice dripped sincerity.
Killing intent leaked out alongside it.
"The servants who scorned you and Idelin won't get off easy. Himmel's mother, the retainers—they'll all pay dearly."
The savage aura stabbed through the room.
Indiscriminate murderlust made Ivela shrink back. But the intimidation didn't last.
"...Ullan."
Ullan had stepped in front, crushing the raging intent. As she smiled faintly at his consideration.
Istan regained his composure.
"You probably won't believe anything I say right now. So after I return to the county, I'll send word of the results."
"... "
"Also, you don't need to worry about Himmel anymore. He'll be leaving Arsen Academy soon."
"...What?"
Leaving the academy?
The unexpected words made her ask again. Istan replied firmly.
"Yes. He'll submit his withdrawal by next week, and I'll take him back to the county."
"...!"
"This incident made it clear. There's something he needs to learn before swordsmanship."
Not that his skills were any good anyway. Far below expectations.
"Anyway, I'll dump him on the front lines until he shapes up as a human being. Rest easy."
Ivela's expression was complicated.
She hadn't seen this coming.
Forcing the heir to withdraw, then dragging him straight to war. The shocking news left her speechless for a moment.
"Mind if I ask something?"
Ullan suddenly raised his hand.
As if curious. Istan and Ivela both turned to him.
Meeting their gazes.
Ullan asked plainly.
"What's your relationship?"
"...Huh?"
Now of all times?
Didn't the conversation so far give some hints? As Ivela flustered, Istan cut in.
"Ivela's my daughter."
"Wait, who's your... "
"I failed as a father before, but it'll be different now. I swear it as the empire's master and lord of Deorg."
His eyes burned with resolve.
Perhaps that's why. Ivela started to argue but shut her mouth. Ullan still looked puzzled.
"But the family names are different."
"Circumstances made it unavoidable. But from now on, it'll change. She can use the Deorg name anytime... "
As Istan pressed on.
A firm denial came.
"No, I'm Ivela Elead."
She stated it definitively.
"I have zero intention of living as a Deorg."
It was understandable.
Years of ingrained rage and resentment wouldn't vanish overnight.
Awkward air settled again.
"I see. Father and daughter, huh."
Ullan nodded quietly.
As if finally piecing it together.
Curious, Ivela asked.
"So what'd you think we were until now?"
"A pair using trendy swordsmanship."
"T-Trendy?"
What was that supposed to mean?
As she asked in confusion, Ullan explained flatly.
"Realized it during the duel earlier. Your sword styles were uncannily similar."
"Don't tell me that's why... "
"Thought it was some street-trendy technique."
His utterly simple guess concluded.
Silence blanketed the room.
But briefly. Ivela's shoulders began shaking, then she burst into laughter.
"Pfft, ahahaha!"
The empire's top sword from the south.
Deorg swordsmanship dismissed as street trendy—in front of the house lord, no less.
Insult upon insult.
A strange sense of vindication kept her laughing for a while. Meanwhile, Istan looked puzzled.
"What do you mean, similar swordsmanship?"
"Just what it sounds like."
"But I never taught Ivela... "
He'd never taught the family style.
They hadn't even spent much time together. Then Ivela tossed out casually.
"Deorg Sword Dance."
Having barely stopped laughing, she answered nonchalantly, as if stating trivia.
"Just adapted the sword dance you taught me before heading to war into practical swordsmanship."
"...Adapted sword dance into swordsmanship?"
Istan's eyes widened hugely.
Sword dance was just that—a dance.
Flourishing the blade in flashy patterns.
Turning something utterly impractical into real combat technique? If true, it was genius beyond replication.
Meanwhile.
Ivela turned back to Ullan.
"More importantly, Ullan."
"Hm?"
"I have a question too."
Her eyes and face tense.
As if it were crucial. Moments later, her sealed lips parted.
"Are you really a master?"
It was a meaningless question, really.
She'd seen it clearly in the arena. Ullan toppling the empire's two sword saints.
Even so.
She wanted to hear it from him.
For some reason, it felt like only then it'd sink in. As she swallowed dryly, tense-faced.
"Yeah. I am."
A straightforward affirmation.
In that moment, Ivela bit her lip without thinking.
...He's too far away.
Even when she thought he was an expert, he'd felt impossibly distant.
But that was manageable.
Hard work would catch her up eventually—that certainty sustained her.
But now.
A master at seventeen.
She fully realized it.
Ullan was a genius among geniuses, one who'd never existed before. And from the start, they were leagues apart.
What's this about saving the seat next to him?
Not just the seat—chasing his shadow seemed impossible. As melancholy welled up, shadowing her face.
"It's fine."
A large hand patted her shoulder.
Mountainous and rock-solid.
Ullan's. Meeting her eyes, he spoke in his usual steady voice.
"You'll definitely become a master."
As if reading her mind.
Ivela stared blankly at him.
She'd always wondered. She herself doubted her talent, so why was Ullan so certain?
...Like he's seen the future.
Her lips moved.
To voice the long-held question. As she tried to form the words.
"So don't worry."
Ullan beat her to it.
With an unforeseen reply.
"If you don't reach mastery by thirty, I'll take responsibility for you."
"...?!"
Ivela's thoughts froze.
Her teal eyes widened like a startled rabbit. Bewilderment spread across her face.
Understandably.
T-This sounds like...
What was he thinking?
Starting from her pale ears, her face flushed red. But soon, she frantically shook her head.
It might be her misunderstanding.
She peeked up at him.
To observe.
What she saw was Ullan with an utterly serious expression. His honest gaze made her blush deepen.
As she fidgeted helplessly.
Ullan recalled his past life.
Last time, she mastered around thirty.
So this life, around then too.
Even if not, no issue.
He'd fought alongside her for over a decade. He was confident he could raise her to mastery.
"Impressive. For you to say that."
Istan let out a short exclamation.
Regrettably, he lacked the eye to pierce talent. But Ullan was different.
His gaze on Ivela brimmed with conviction. Absolute certainty she'd reach mastery.
"All right. I leave her to you."
"L-Leave her?! Who said you could decide...!"
"I trust you."
Istan's words continued.
Sounding almost like approval of their bond? Feeling her face burn hotter, Ivela turned away.
"Though my daughter seems to have taken it a bit differently... "
"Hm? Differently how?"
"Heh, nothing."
Istan chuckled meaningfully.
It didn't seem bad if it headed that way. As things settled.
Istan's lips moved again.
"Ivela."
Calling her calmly.
Istan knelt on the floor.
"I know this alone is nowhere near enough to earn forgiveness. So I won't expect instant absolution."
"... "
"Just know I'll change from now on. I promise to repay the hellish time you endured tenfold—for you and Idelin."
No reply.
But her expression had softened considerably from their first meeting. At least the fierce hostility was gone.
Istan smiled faintly. No need to rush; this would do for now.
"And Ullan."
"...?"
"Thank you for stepping up for Ivela's honor. I owe this revelation to you. Truly grateful."
Without him, Istan wouldn't have visited the academy or learned of Ivela's treatment.
So he was sincerely thankful.
Terribly late, but thanks to Ullan, he could finally set things right.
"If there's anything you want, name it. As lord of Deorg, anything... "
"No need."
Ullan refused flatly.
Then continued calmly.
"What's big about helping a friend?"
His tone implied it was the most natural thing.
Not seeking reward, his upright gaze silenced Istan. Ivela gazed at him, emotions surging.
How much time passed?
"Thank you."
With serious eyes.
Istan extended his hand.
"Then I promise too. If you're ever in trouble, I'll help no questions asked. As a friend."
"Hm, I'll remember that."
Ullan grinned, clasping hands.
Like he'd gotten a satisfying answer.
The last Friday of March.
The day he toppled the empire's two sword saints who visited abruptly. Ullan gained a sturdy ally: the Deorg sword.
And three days later.
Ullan's suspension lifted.
Interlude. Seeds of Doubt
1.
Early dawn, before sunrise.
Ullan awoke.
The same routine daily, but today felt especially poignant. It was the day his suspension ended.
[Grrng, grrrng.]
Leaving the sleep-talking white wolf behind.
Ullan finished a cold shower. As always, he flung the window wide open.
"I'm off."
Short farewell.
Then leaped straight out the window.
Thud!
Feeling the ground shake, he stretched.
A cool breeze blew just right.
Perfect for a light jog. Heading to the forest for that.
"Hm?"
Sudden presence.
Footsteps from the dorm gate.
Someone approaching. As he realized, the source appeared.
"Ah, Ullan!"
The girl beamed at him.
Ivela. At the unexpected face, Ullan tilted his head.
"What're you doing here?"
"Just out for some air. Woke up early today."
She smiled brightly.
Ullan remained dubious.
"In that outfit?"
Ivela's attire was neat.
Class-ready.
Too pristine for a stroll.
That moment.
Ivela visibly panicked.
"N-No! It's a hassle to go back in and change! Yeah! So I got ready to head straight to class."
"Hm, makes sense."
Logical.
Ullan planned to jog the forest loop then go to class too.
He nodded understandingly. Ivela sighed in relief, mixed with ease. Then eyed him.
"Why're you out so early?"
"Similar reason as you."
"Oh, really?"
Her teal eyes rounded.
A bit surprised-seeming.
But not genuinely shocked. Like she'd anticipated his answer.
"Wanna walk together then?"
Twirling her hair coyly.
Ivela glanced sidelong.
Seeming to have something to say. Unfortunately, Ullan wasn't great at reading cues.
"Nah, gonna run."
"...What?"
Unexpected reply?
Ivela blinked blankly. No answer came. Ullan bolted into a sprint.
"W-Wait up!"
Ivela chased hastily.
Ullan didn't slow.
The impromptu forest chase lasted quite a while before halting abruptly. Ullan had stopped.
"Ah."
His eyes widened.
As if remembering something forgotten.
"Today, huh."
"Hah, hah! What is?"
Ivela, barely caught up, panted a question.
As she steadied her breath, Ullan replied indifferently.
"The day Count Deorg leaves."
Istan El Deorg.
Three days ago, he'd gone to the military department dean's office and abruptly submitted Himmel's withdrawal.
Withdrawal after one month enrolled.
Unprecedented. Dean Berze convened the committee immediately. After half a day's debate, the professors sided with Istan.
It violated rules, but Istan pressed so hard they couldn't stop him.
And one more thing.
Istan dropped a bombshell.
About Ivela.
"Ivela Elead is my daughter."
Before all department heads assembled.
He declared their relation clearly. Then subtly emanated master aura while bowing politely.
"I leave her in your care."
Seemed like a greeting, but more a warning.
If they discriminated or neglected her after, he wouldn't stand by.
Thus, post-committee, professors' gazes toward Ivela shifted noticeably.
Finishing the recollection.
Ullan turned to her.
"Not seeing him off?"
"...Yeah. Don't really want to."
Ivela nodded, face slightly stiff.
Still, much softer than three days ago. Back then, she'd glared like mortal enemies.
A brief silence.
"More importantly, Ullan."
Ivela spoke first.
Changing topics.
"Got something to ask."
"What?"
"Decided when to use your outing pass?"
"Outing pass?"
Random out of nowhere.
Ullan asked dubiously. Ivela realized her slip.
"Oh, right, you missed it. Suspension hit right then... "
Trailing off, she explained.
Outing pass: Post-midsemester perk for all freshmen.
Leave academy for a day, tour capital or nearby cities. Brief rundown done, she cleared her throat.
"Ahem! So, if you're free, wanna go out together?"
"With you?"
"Yeah, just us two."
Ivela shut her mouth post-reply.
Tense eyes and face.
Waiting anxiously. Ullan nodded without hesitation.
"Sure. Why not."
"R-Really? For real?"
"Yeah, no plans."
No place to go anyway.
So he accepted readily.
"Hehe, great."
Ivela beamed happily.
Her brightest smile lately. Much lighter, she resumed walking.
How much time passed?
Sun rose, morning came.
Time to head to class.
Chatting idly through the forest, they aimed for Lion's Den direction.
Exiting forest, nearing military building.
"Huh?"
Something caught their eye.
Military HQ. Passing by: gray-haired girl, Cirphy.
But what drew gaze was the man talking to her.
Istan.
2.
Around the same time.
As Ullan and Ivela strolled the forest chatting idly, Cirphy exited the dorm gate as it opened.
"Haaah."
Heavy sigh escaped her lips.
Reason for leaving room so early: simple.
Couldn't sleep. Cirphy gnawed her nails, frowning.
Ugh, what now?
The Church's three divine beasts.
Taming the mist-veiling white wolf had failed. Her enrollment purpose shattered.
But mission failure required report. So she sent a letter with report to Count Dermore's estate.
Recently, reply arrived.
Utterly simple.
"Stand by."
Wait at academy.
Plus cooperate with Count Dermore's requests. That's all. Recalling events, Cirphy sulked.
...Not getting abandoned, right?
Cirphy was church heir.
But church doctrine was merciless.
Unworthy heirs mostly discarded. Thinking that, she sighed again.
Find a way out now?
Blasphemous thought that'd make church elders rage, as she walked.
Thump!
Suddenly collided with something.
Thought tree? No. Trees don't talk.
"You okay?"
The man grabbed her stumbling wrist.
She grasped the situation. Distracted walking, bumped into someone.
"S-Sorry. Was lost in thought... "
Bowing hastily in apology.
Her eyes met her supporter's.
Golden hair, deep lake-brown eyes—middle-aged man.
That instant.
"...!?"
Her heart nearly stopped.
One reason.
His identity.
I-Istan El Deorg?!
Almost screamed.
Naturally. Any church of the desert knew him.
...Heretic Hunter!
Ice Golem, Butcher, Demon.
The church's top villain and foe. Slew heretics young, old, women—head-first, no mercy.
Why was he here?
As suspicion brewed.
W-Wait!
Sudden ominous hunch flashed.
Found her infiltration? Here to catch her? As her eyes widened in fear.
"Something on my face?"
Istan asked dryly.
Snapping from reverie, Cirphy shook her head frantically.
"No! Nothing, no!"
"Right?"
"Th-Thank you for helping. I have class, so excuse me."
Politely bowing maximally.
She whirled to flee. But couldn't move.
Istan hadn't released her wrist.
"Um, could you let go... "
"One question."
"Q-Question?"
Her eyes flickered briefly.
Unsettling vibe. Then Istan's query followed.
"Where's your hometown?"
Hearing it.
Her legs nearly buckled.
Such a sudden question screamed suspicion.
Heart plummeted. Clutching her chest, she countered.
"Why do you ask...?"
"Nothing much. Just checking."
So answer already.
His gaze implied. Cirphy tried fabricating something.
But voice failed. Felt like lies wouldn't work on him.
"Strange. Not a hard question."
Then Istan's eyes sharpened.
Heretic hunter's gaze.
Ah, it's over.
Cornered, she squeezed eyes shut.
"What're you doing?"
A voice intruded.
Familiar tone. Whirling, Ivela stood there, face hardened, eyeing Istan.
"Business with my friend?"
"...Friend?"
Istan's eyebrow twitched.
Slightly surprised.
"Yes. We got swept in rapids together."
Ullan, arriving with her, explained.
Sightseeing Mana Spring, swept away and missing. Plus, Cirphy's absence would've made escaping the ruin tough.
Soon, explanation done.
"I see. Ivela's friend."
Istan nodded silently.
Then bowed slightly to Cirphy.
"Sorry. My mistake."
"No, what mistake... "
"Thought you were a heretic."
"What? Heretic?"
Ivela echoed incredulously.
Cirphy felt her breath stop. Her hunch becoming reality.
"Figures a heretic couldn't reach here. Not without an inside man."
"... "
She bit her lip unwittingly.
Even delusion he knew everything. Desperate to escape.
Distant bell tolled.
Chance. Cirphy's eyes flashed.
"G-Gotta hurry!"
"Huh? Still time before class?"
"Well, not exactly, but heard physical training starts earlier today."
"What? Really?"
Ivela blinked in surprise.
Ullan looked serious too.
"Then we hurry."
Can't be late first day post-suspension. Decided, he extended arms, scooping Ivela and Cirphy.
Precisely, looping waists and hoisting like luggage.
"U-Ullan?!"
"Wh-What the... "
Sudden action.
Girls yelped in fluster. Ullan replied deadpan.
"Faster this way."
Much lighter than logs anyway.
Swallowing the rest, he kicked off without pause. Full sprint ensued.
Thump thump thump!
Earth quaked like an earthquake.
Ivela and Cirphy's screams echoed, but Ullan's run didn't stop.
"Perfect timing."
The trio vanished in a blink.
Istan chuckled softly. As he turned to go, a voice halted him.
"Leaving today?"
Familiar to Istan.
Dean Berze. Eyeing the bandages, he continued.
"Not fully healed. If no rush, stay longer?"
"No. Have business."
Must visit county before front lines. Recalling someone, Istan smiled faintly.
"Someone to meet."
Idelin Elead.
Still waiting, he had to seek her forgiveness. And punish those who'd tormented them.
"If business, can't help it. But before you go, tell me one thing."
"What?"
"Three days ago, the military plan you mentioned."
"... "
"Curious about the source. Would appreciate an answer."
Berze's gaze sharpened.
Istan withheld, thinking. Then shook head lightly.
"Can't say."
"...What?"
"I respect the Grand General, but separately, I oppose the military's plan."
Plan to naturalize Ullan, absorb barbarians and borderlands at once.
Opposing that?
Berze frowned.
"Opposing a bloodless border expansion? You want war?"
"No, hardly."
"Then why... "
"Let me ask one too."
Istan cut Berze off.
Serious eyes posed the question.
"Visited the border lately?"
No. Berze shook head.
No reason to.
Post-dean appointment, rarely left academy. As expected, Istan said.
"The border's total chaos now. Monsters and magic beasts rampant, bandits running wild."
Not all.
Central-sent "administrators" all demoted trash. No competence. Security abysmal—utter mess.
Thus Istan argued.
Not time to eye border.
"Land expands anytime. Solidify internals first."
Otherwise, empire rots from within.
Just a hollow giant. Berze groaned lowly at the frank words.
Spot on.
But dice rolled already.
Military, central nobles, imperial family entangled—political mess.
As Berze explained.
Istan switched tack.
"Of course, it doesn't sit well with me."
"...Suddenly what?"
"As military man, can't ignore major secrets circulating publicly."
"Then... "
"Yes, I'll tell."
Istan nodded.
Why oppose then reveal so easily?
Doubt flickered.
Reason soon clear.
"If you grant my request."
"...Request?"
Ominous premonition.
Istan was direct.
"Create one professor position."
"... "
"Military department preferred."
Now it clicked.
The other master he'd fought, Marquis Seoric Al Gorfant, said the same.
Obvious why.
Appointed professor, duel Ullan endlessly under lecture pretext.
Masters are all...
Mad for battle.
Berze inwardly sighed, feigning difficulty.
"Creating position isn't hard. But you're southern front commander? No time for professoring... "
"Fine. Front runs without me. Set it up that way."
Cutting cleanly.
Istan stepped back.
"Not asking immediate. Prep for leaving front takes time. Next year generous?"
"...I'll consider."
"No, promise firmly."
"You really... "
"Not curious about source?"
Berze's fist trembled.
If not master, would've smacked him. But urgency here. Heavy sigh.
"Haa, fine. Promised."
So spill source.
Berze's eyes gleamed. But Istan's requests unfinished.
"One more."
"Wh-What?!"
"National security issue."
As voice rose.
Istan's face turned grave.
"Heard last month, three freshmen vanished at Mana Spring."
Dubbed "Hero's Trial" incident.
Straight to point.
"Among returnees, gray-haired girl."
"Yes. Name was... "
"Share all info on her. Last request."
"... "
Berze clamped mouth.
Leaking student data wrong in principle. But if harming empire, different.
Deliberation brief.
"Got it. Send soon."
"Thank you."
Istan bowed slightly.
Gratitude. Berze waved dismissively. Skip that, source now.
"Understood. Here it is."
Istan revealed the source.
Voice for their ears only.
That evening.
As Count Istan El Deorg left with Himmel Deorg, Arsen guard unit announced emergency personnel shift.
Vice-captain Roen Philaud resigning for personal reasons.
Post-announcement.
Roen Philaud vanished tracelessly. As if erased entirely.
Time flowed to April's second week.
For Arsen Academy students, a crucial period approached swiftly.
Semester progress exam.
Midterms.
```