Chapter 136
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 136
Chapter Title: The Second Wanderer -2-
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The grounds of Lofty Academy in the capital were absurdly vast, encompassing enough land for the entire student body, faculty, staff, and contractors alike.
Not only the areas with buildings, but the forests and low hills stretching out behind were also academy property, dotted with training grounds and open fields occasionally used for classes.
They saw frequent use in the old days, but with the addition of gymnasiums and auditoriums, these spots were now lucky to be touched once a year.
That meant cadets like Robert and Isaac could always track down some abandoned, quiet space whenever they went looking.
Especially at times like now, when students were in class—just stepping into an open field wrapped you in utter silence and stillness.
"Not yet? It's almost done, right?"
Robert trailed behind Isaac, lugging a box stuffed with items that were complete mysteries to him.
"Robert. This isn't something that happens quickly... Try building some patience."
Isaac crouched and stood repeatedly, placing materials and sketching geometric patterns on the ground.
He drew the patterns, poured strange liquids to fix them in place so they wouldn't smudge—his hands moved busily.
Swoosh— swish—
On the flat, packed earth, a messy magic circle took shape, with catalyst materials arranged at precise intervals.
For safety—just in case—he'd prepped spells he could trigger instantly, drawing the circle with one hand while periodically gnawing his free hand's nails, unable to hide his excitement.
Would all this frantic prep, skipping class and all, pay off?
"Hngh—!"
Isaac stood, arched his stiff back with a stretch or two, then pulled the final catalyst from the box Robert held.
"Activate the scroll at the spot marked with an X, then get out fast. Got it? And when you come back, don't step on the circle or catalysts."
"I know, I know."
Step— step—
Robert treaded carefully to the marked spot and unrolled the scroll.
The magic circle etched on the scroll in his hand was puny in size but dwarfed the surrounding ones in complexity.
A scroll he'd recreated from a book in the academy library, mimicking the previous circle.
Robert spread the magic circle tuned to his mana alone and channeled his mana through it.
...
...
Tzzzt—!
The empty air—impossible to pinpoint—split open with a crack, and just like last time, a lump bearing an eerie hue dropped out.
[Dimensional Fragment Extracted]
Isaac yanked off his glasses in astonishment, rubbed his eyes, and double-checked the scene. Robert, witnessing it again, felt less thrill than expected.
Isaac gingerly picked up the fallen fragment, compared it back and forth with the first dimensional shard he'd brought, pulled out magic tools, tinkered oddly, then gaped wide enough for his jaw to unhinge.
"Incredible... Utterly mind-blowing... Robert! These fragments have different mana wavelengths. Do you grasp what that means?"
Isaac's eyes gleamed with madness, transcending even the label of "mad wizard."
Robert eyed the new fragment from the void, brimming with anticipation as he asked,
"Spell it out simply, so I can get it."
"First hypothesis: each space has its own unique wavelength. Dorm's 1, this field's 2. Clear?"
"Uh... Sort of."
"But the book I copied proved that wrong already."
Robert's brow furrowed—why mention it then?
"Second hypothesis—the solid one from the book, the one I suspected... The world linked to this rift has its own unique wavelength. If confirmed, we'd know each dimension's signature..."
"...And if so?"
Robert swallowed dryly, unable to mask his eagerness for Isaac's answer.
"We'd be the first in imperial history to prove other dimensions exist... Huh—?"
Robert and Isaac whipped their heads toward the hole in the air.
A sinister, nauseating mana flow.
Something shifted in the palm-sized rift.
"Robert—back up! Now!"
"W-what is it...?!"
Isaac snapped to it faster, having considered possibilities. Robert couldn't shake his shock at the grotesque presence leaking out.
"..."
The ominous churn twisting their guts surged, then vanished like a lie in an instant.
And moments later.
The hole—barely big enough for a cat—spat out a young man stripping off his top like spilling liquid.
Human rights groups had been gaining traction in this world for a while, to the point where they were impossible to ignore now.
It started with one study by a famous scholar aired on prime-time public broadcast, proving it.
Research showed innate or awakened superpowers could warp personalities toward violence or emotional instability.
This lent credence to the idea that villains' crimes might not be by choice.
Media pounced immediately, opinions swung one way, villains' prison memoirs topped bestseller lists.
A bizarre social shift swept in, hard to believe even seeing it.
No truly heinous villain executed post-capture since.
Heroes, aware of the changed society, now prioritized elimination over arrest for irredeemable villains—incidents of "excessive force" piled up.
A society where heroes, once idols of devotion, first thought of cold-blooded killing.
After long efforts by certain groups, the view took root: villains were born unlucky souls.
Amid blatant sensational crimes, the bar for "heinous" rose—January 1st.
One incident exploded.
A fresh-faced 22-year-old's hands wrought carnage, flooding internet news.
Not the brutality, but his looks stole the spotlight—no one batted an eye.
—"I was suddenly starving like I might die! No matter how much I ate, my gut ripped with hunger... I didn't want to die, so I just ate what was in front of me!"
On news, the young man sobbed, claiming he saw a huge cake and burger ahead, nothing more.
He testified he didn't know it was people, offered no resistance at arrest.
His boyish, handsome face stirred maternal instincts—even branded villain, he spawned fan clubs.
Awakened powers brought insatiable hunger; he couldn't endure without eating what he saw, claiming it looked like mere food, citing mental issues and delusions.
A criminal who'd killed who-knows-how-many, devoured their flesh raw, caught on-site.
Sentenced to a year in a treatment center, he wailed injustice, dragged from court.
Clip went viral; fans and activists protested outside.
Hearing inside, he turned with a sneer.
'Idiots~'
Had it truly not been his will, maybe he'd be wronged.
Lie, of course. For captured villains, pity-plays were standard now.
Cannibalism, murder? Just curiosity.
Curious about his power's limits, killed a passerby—then wondered about human taste, so he tried.
"Yaaawn—!"
Sprawled in restraints on the floor, staring at the ceiling, a yawn slipped out unconsciously.
Curiosity sated; post-treatment, what next? Days of pondering.
'Ten months left? Booring~ Booring~'
Spew nonsense, some group hooks you up with a shrink for a favorable diagnosis.
Media repackages criminals as pitiable—works best if hot or cute.
"Mmgh..."
Bide boredom for the future. Best pastime: fantasize till sleep.
Today, drifting in drowsy haze, about to drop into dreams.
Crack—!
Something shattered; eyes snapped open.
A rift in the air of his solitary cell.
"W-what?!"
Crash—!
The pull sucked at him just looking; he hurled back, slamming against the wall.
"...?"
No further changes after a while; his mind raced.
'Wait... Doesn't the Union have a teleporter?'
Urban legend: Union sends space-warpers to scout promising crooks. Insiders knew it was real.
Finally recognizing his worth, the Union came personally.
No more acting frail and wronged.
Riiip—
He shredded the restraints pinning him, rose, and strode into the rift without hesitation.