Chapter 278
Chapter 278
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>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 278
>Chapter Title: I Was Wronged. Sincerely.
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Early evening, right in the heart of the academy.
It wasn't the ideal spot or time for some undercover prowling, but Aster couldn't have cared less.
He'd gained some insight from his brutal clash with Aeviron this time around.
‘Anyone who seems like trouble, take 'em out in one shot.’
Coolly reviewing his fight with Aeviron, he'd realized defeat had been inevitable, but not by such an overwhelming margin.
In other words, he'd given Aeviron an opening somewhere.
Soon, the core spun furiously, merging his internal mana with the ambient mana to unleash an explosion.
“……!”
His surprise was fleeting. The assassin's response was lightning-quick.
It was a pure reflex, etched into his body—no thought process, no deliberation.
The razor-sharp blade sliced toward Aster's throat in response, but Aster was faster.
Thwack!
An elbow straight to the ribs.
The moment the assassin's stance faltered, Aster spun and slammed an explosion right into his heart.
Boom—!
A deafening roar erupted, shaking the surrounding trees in its wake.
It was a blow that would've reduced anyone to mincemeat, yet Aster's face was filled only with regret.
‘Too shallow.’
No choice but a drawn-out fight, then.
As dust billowed up in a thick cloud, Aster settled into a proper battle stance.
Visibility was zero, but that was fine. Swordsmen at his level didn't rely on their eyes anyway.
His senses sharpened to a razor's edge.
A heavy silence blanketed the area around then.
Rustle—
Falling pebbles from the scatter? Faint noises spread thinly in all directions as Aster locked eyes—well, senses—with the hidden assassin.
Neither could pinpoint the other's position.
And sensing him through pure instinct? Not quite.
Aster went without saying, but the assassin was a master of stealth pushed to its limits.
So they stood in the swirling dust, each trying to gauge the other's location, for a stretch.
Crack.
A twig snapped.
The kind of sound that would've signaled the fight's start under normal circumstances.
But Aster didn't budge.
He just swept his honed senses over every inch around him.
Ears perked, eyes shut to kill his sight. Skin attuned to the air's flow, taking in his senses' raw data unfiltered.
Insects startled by the sudden clash wriggled underground, while mice and birds fled in panic.
Aster read every one of those movements crystal clear, calmly biding his time.
Drip—
Had the assassin's blade nicked his skin?
Blood welled from a cut on his neck, trickling down his collarbone to his chest. Annoyed by the sensation?
Aster furrowed his brow and wiped it with his sleeve—irritably enough that a few drops splattered into the air.
That was when the assassin struck.
He burst from the dust without a sound. No footfall, no rustle of clothes, no breath in or out.
Not even the swish of his sword through the air.
The assassin had no doubt.
His blade would pierce the boy's throat.
But then.
“……!”
He flinched at the sight of the boy's eyes snapping open. Still, his sword tip didn't waver. The outcome wouldn't change anyway.
That's what he thought.
Until crimson liquid suddenly bloomed in the air.
Bloomed? More like it unfurled—a silk scarf crumpled tight, then snapped open like a net at blinding speed.
And punching through that veil, a gripping hand.
“……!”
A brutal grasp seized the assassin's face. And then... slam!
His head smashed skull-first into the ground.
That ended the fight.
* * *
Aster smiled down at the assassin, limbs twitching then going limp. He cracked his neck side to side.
“Tch, who told you to get cocky? Cocky, my ass.”
Sure, he hadn't had much chance to go undercover lately, but he was a pro at scraps like this.
If he'd thought a knife to the throat would make him flinch, big mistake.
“Anyway...”
Aster shook out his stiff, sweaty limbs while eyeing the fallen assassin.
‘Now where'd this guy crawl out from?’
He'd beaten him down on reflex since he'd lunged first.
But thinking back, something was off—several things, actually.
First off.
“......No mask, huh.”
Was he that confident in his looks?
Not bad, objectively speaking.
Second.
“What's with the sword? Why's it so damn long?”
Assassins favored daggers for a reason. Close-quarters dominance.
Yet this guy had a knight's longsword, which explained his slow reaction to the initial ambush.
And he had other sloppy habits for an assassin...
‘Well, guess I'll just check myself.’
Aster wrapped up his observations and rummaged through the assassin's pockets.
Looked like a stealth expert who didn't stick solely to the shadows. Maybe something proving his identity?
How long did he dig?
“What's this?”
Aster pulled out a palm-sized token and held it to eye level.
The silver medallion caught the sun, embossed with a sword, a book, and a dragon roaring atop them—an oddly familiar image.
‘Lemme think... where've I seen this...?’
Definitely not Decullan. Not any other noble house, either. But why so familiar...
That's when it hit him.
“Murderer.”
Aster scowled faintly at the voice by his ear.
Had the fight after his internal injuries dulled his senses? Letting such an obvious approach slip through from fatigue.
Anyway.
‘......Who're you?’
He turned to see a girl and an old man standing there.
The old man was familiar.
‘Headmaster senior.’
Not surprising.
His hideout wasn't far.
The issue was the girl beside him...
‘......Kinda rings a bell.’
Red hair, skin like white jade—flawlessly nurtured. Academy uniform confirmed her as a student.
Had there been a girl like that at the academy?
That's when his gaze hit the pendant around her neck.
More precisely, the emblem engraved on it.
A memory flashed.
‘......Right, the Third Princess.’
How had he forgotten?
It hadn't been long since he'd... well, swindled—no, built ties with—the Third Princess.
Probably the rescue op and Aeviron being so overwhelming.
Wait, then... no way.
Aster glanced at the still-trembling assassin.
“......Hm.”
A low hum slipped through his lips.
He turned to the Third Princess.
“Hello...?”
She didn't look so hello-ish. Neither did the glaring Headmaster senior.
Awkward silence stretched. Reading the room, Aster thought:
‘......Am I screwed?’
Could be.
Regardless of why, he'd beaten her guard black and blue.
Aster pondered, then opened his mouth.
Or tried to.
Schweitz cut him off.
“Silence.”
“......Pardon?”
Wait, what'd I even say?
Aster clutched his chest in genuine grievance, but Schweitz pleaded on.
“Please, whatever you were about to say, just shut it. Don't... don't make this bigger. I beg you.”
“No, wait...”
Aster was speechless.
He'd thrown the first punch, yet now he looked like the villain.
Absurd—he gaped, until Schweitz dismissed him.
“Leave us. I'll summon you later.”
Aster was wronged.
Sincerely.
* * *
In the end, I wrapped up my meeting with Headmaster senior on a sour note and turned to leave.
Not toward Rapiter Library, though.
‘Teheman senior... something's still fishy about him.’
If I went now, I'd face a mountain of catch-up studies for my hiatus. Not in the mood today.
How to put it.
‘Feels like the world's out to grind me down.’
Fine, the two Seven Mages, I get. But Aeviron crashing in outta nowhere?
Okay, whatever.
But today alone—how many people riding my ass?
- Aster, I hope you had a damn good reason. Otherwise, Professor Perina's face—who begged me for leniency—goes down in flames.
Jeira's pressure had started at dawn.
That all?
‘Damian... yeah. He's got no real thoughts.’
But Chenbi was the problem.
Fuming so hard she treated me like air all day, yet wouldn't let me wander off alone.
I'd dawdle awkwardly during moves, and she'd stare silently till I went—scarier than Aeviron in ways.
And the inquiry hearing, too.
But it didn't end there.
‘Swapped Chenbi for Evelin. But... Evelin can't be swapped for shit.’
I don't crack under mental strain usually, but this flavor of fatigue wrecked me.
Why? 'Cause mostly, I solve things with fists.
So today, I needed some peace of mind.
Needed it...
“Why'd you call me again?”
Instead of chilling after leaving the academy, I headed to Parun's mansion study.
Why?
He'd summoned me.
“Oh, you're here.”
“Feels familiar, doesn't it? Always dragging me over.”
“Can't help it—communications are one-way.”
Fair.
Anyway.
I straightened my disheveled clothes from the rush to change and naturally claimed the head seat.
Sure, Parun had cleared it at some point, but I didn't care anymore.
No seat? Make one.
“So, what's up?”
Parun eyed me plopping on the stone chair like I was hopeless, shaking his head. But briefly.
He conjured his own chair opposite the head seat and spoke.
“Pola told me. You rescued the mercenary captain?”
“Yeah.”
“Got the land?”
Oh right—I'd never updated Parun on post-op stuff.
So before proper talk, I briefed him on the current state. When I finished, he nodded.
“Starting an academy, huh...”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“Perfect timing. That's what I wanted to discuss.”
“......?”
I tilted my head.
Then Parun spoke, and that one line sent chills down my spine.
“Once you start the academy, I'll join for real.”
“Join... for real?”
“Yeah. I'll resign from the academy and operate fully under the Magic Tower's name.”
A forgotten memory resurfaced.
The future I'd seen in Baharmut.
I'd thought we'd veered off it lately, but unease flickered—what if?
In that future, Parun had left the academy for the Magic Tower base.
So was this bad feeling just paranoia? Or...
“Why no answer?”
I brushed back my hair at Parun's question.
Blame the hectic day?
My stomach churned unusually.