Chapter 83
Chapter 83
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 83
Chapter Title: Butterfly Effect for the Author (3)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
* * *
***
Dawn's battles were far from glamorous.
They weren't the desperate heroism typical of zombie flicks, nor did they carry the grandeur of overwhelming force.
His fights were more like labor.
Just like back-alley cleaners sweeping away filth for a fleeting moment of cleanliness, he swung his arms in silence... that kind of battle.
It started with swordsmanship. Dawn raised his blade and cleaved down on the skull of the first zombie charging at him.
Kyaaak!
The voice rasping from decayed vocal cords cut off, and rotten fluids and flesh sprayed out.
In that instant, another zombie lunged for his arm with jaws wide, but Dawn didn't dodge. Instead, he drove his fist forward, shattering its head.
More fluids, flesh, and bone fragments soaked the tunnel floor. The uniform he'd worn for the first time that day was now streaked and stained like a slaughterhouse apron.
It was a gruesome sight, but the zombies—lacking the intelligence to grasp it—didn't stop and kept swarming. Dawn's sword didn't stop either.
By the time he'd cut down over a hundred, his blade snapped pathetically.
The quick-witted ones—probably Seti—tossed him a new sword, and he kept swinging.
He swapped swords three or four times like that. Then Soemiri, the weakest in stamina among the group, couldn't hold out any longer and fell back.
With the rear mages out, the weapons scavenged from the attackers depleted rapidly. The group's stamina was hitting rock bottom too.
The Saintess, out of bullets, squeezed every last drop of mana until she collapsed from exhaustion. Gemini Teacher took a massive bite from a zombie and passed out.
Next was Wesley. He tripped over a zombie reduced to just a torso and ended up pinned under them for several seconds.
By the time Dawn pulled him free from the horde, his body was already a mangled wreck.
The aspiring priests in the shelter poured mana into him to barely cling to life, but rejoining the fight was out of the question with injuries that severe.
In the end, only Jeon Yun-seong, Seti, and Dawn remained at the shelter's breach.
All three had the skill and stamina to hold off the zombies. But even they couldn't block ten foes with one hand.
Kyaaak!
Damn it, all mages fall back!
Some zombies bypassed the trio and slipped into the shelter.
The students could handle one or two, but the zombies breaking through past the three were multiplying by the second.
At this rate, even the exhausted Saintess and Soemiri would be in danger.
Dawn halted his grapple with the zombies and leaped into the tunnel.
“Dawn?! Where are you going alone...!”
Soemiri's startled voice echoed from behind just as dozens of zombies turned toward him in unison.
Dawn drew Uragan's Hilt from his pocket.
[Heir... no, successor! You've finally found me! Oh, zombies! You sure tangle with undead a lot! Where's the curse and magic shield I should block?]
Not calling it a companion anymore? Dawn felt a subtle twinge and replied in his mind.
‘Skip the barrier. Shine some light right now.’
[...Light?]
‘Enough to draw the zombies' attention. Can you do it?’
[...My first job after succession is a flashlight? I'm so thrilled tears are coming out!]
For all his griping, the Unicorn immediately blazed with light. The zombies crawling all over the tunnel whipped their heads toward Dawn, following the glow.
And in the next moment, Dawn landed smack in the middle of the tunnel, amid the zombies.
Boom!
Mana erupted, cratering the tunnel floor. Zombies around him toppled like dominoes, clearing space.
Dawn planted his feet and clenched his fist.
“Alright then... let's do this.”
Blue haze shimmered around his body.
***
In front of the shelter wall, where corpses piled up like a mountain.
Seti caught her breath and spoke.
“Whew... um, Cheon Yeomyeong?”
Dawn cracked open one of his closed eyes and glanced at her.
“Are you okay?”
Her tone was casual, but her face was filled with concern for him.
No worry about others seeing that expression. She had her back to the entire shelter, facing only him.
Dawn, meanwhile, faced everyone in the shelter, so he replied with his usual cold expression and tone.
“What, do I look like a problem?”
An act to hide that he knew Seti.
Dawn thought it was cringeworthy enough to make his toes curl, but no one doubted his demeanor.
Even the Saintess slumped on the floor pointed at him and mumbled something like, that rude jerk...
Anyway, Dawn and Seti exchanged a few words, checking on each other.
What was that haze-emitting martial art? How was mercenary life? Who in the group helped the most...
Their conversation dragged on with topics important to them but worthless to outsiders.
The shelter door rattled as the lock disengaged.
Just hold on a bit! We'll get you out right now!
Adult voices from beyond the door. The dejected students finally sighed in relief.
But there were no cheers or visible joy. The terrorists and zombies threatening their lives had already been stopped by Dawn and the group.
Perhaps because of that muted reaction, the voices outside grew more urgent.
Hang tight! Almost there!
Just as the lock was about to give way, as if they'd tear the door off.
Dawn slowly rose to his feet.
“...It's finally over.”
He brushed off the grime on his uniform with a sigh.
‘...First day in uniform, and it's already like this. Guess uniforms and I just don't mix.’
Lost in that idle thought, Dawn looked around and felt a bit flustered. He was the only one standing on two feet.
Seti and the others who'd fought with him were all exhausted on the floor, unable to rise. The rest of the students huddled far away by the shelter walls.
Unable to bear the flood of odd stares, just as he reached out to help a teammate.
Clank.
The massive door swung open, and the adults outside rushed in. Most, armed with guns, looked like academy staff.
All but one.
Click.
A man holding a small camera. Having dealt with reporters endlessly in Manchuria, Dawn easily guessed his identity.
“...How'd a reporter get in here?”
The reporter snapped photos of Dawn like he was entranced.
The Saintess, no stranger to cameras, reflexively hurled a gun at him, but the last woman to enter caught it midair with a smack.
“...Ah.”
Even the students rushing to the staff halted, mouths agape. The woman radiated an overwhelming presence.
She glanced at the shelter breach plugged with zombie corpses, smirked, then strode toward Dawn.
Dawn unconsciously straightened his clothes. She quickly matched his eye level, grinning as she poked his forehead with her index finger.
“Long time no see?”
“Yes, it's been a while... Holy Sword.”
Holy Sword.
The students, who had doubted from her appearance, widened their eyes. Especially Baonic Lerak, hiding behind them—his eyes nearly popped out.
And as always, the Holy Sword ignored the stares and said her piece.
“Did you put the thing I gave you to good use? Looked like you'd already mastered it from what went down in Manchuria.”
“...Yes, it helped a lot.”
“Really now?”
Her uncovered eye slyly scanned him up and down.
“What'd she say? Finally found a proper successor, thank goodness?”
“Uh...”
Dawn held back. It was because of the last request from the Comet Sword within him.
‘When you meet Prea Khan, give her back the dagger for me. I beg you.’
Recalling that desperate voice, Dawn masked his expression.
Sorry to the Comet Sword back in the dorm, but returning it right now seemed impossible.
“...Could we talk alone later about her?”
“Hah, of course. Why make it so serious? Fellow successors of Comet.”
The Holy Sword laughed carelessly and patted his shoulder.
It was a shocking sight to those who knew her well. And her next move stunned even strangers.
“Oh, and let's take a photo together.”
“...A photo? Isn't he already taking them?”
Dawn nodded toward the reporter furiously clicking away.
“Not like that. Something with real concept, properly posed.”
“...”
What the hell? As Dawn blinked in confusion, the Holy Sword started rousing the exhausted group.
“You do a solo shot first... What? Already done? Then with your sprawled-out friends here.”
The group rose reverently, grasping her hand.
All but the Saintess, who brusquely refused her hand and clung to Seti's skirt hem. Seti sighed and helped her up.
Even so, the Saintess didn't refuse the photo.
The Holy Sword called over the reporter and began snapping pics with zombies as backdrop.
From contrived battle poses to natural rest shots.
Amid the sudden photoshoot baffling everyone, Dawn cautiously asked.
“...What the hell is the point of this?”
“Just pre-seasoning the narrative... Nah, it's political stuff. No need for you kids to worry.”
“...”
“You'll thank me in a few days.”
Her tone brimmed with certainty. Dawn didn't bother asking what he'd be thankful for.
He couldn't even imagine the fallout from this academy attack.
***
Beyond the dimensional gate lies a nation called the Empire.
Once the mightiest, most glorious in the world.
Now, just a hollow shell.
Self-proclaimed sages consoled themselves that holding onto even the shell without succumbing to Earth's capital, tech, and ideologies was something...
But the Third Prince thought differently.
By an Earth proverb, even a rich man's ruin lasts three generations.
Even if reduced to a shell by his father and grandfather's blunders, the Empire was still the Empire.
As long as its great bloodline and will endured, the Empire would one day reclaim what Earth stole and restore past glory...
The Third Prince often voiced such thoughts.
His nanny fretted that speaking so recklessly spelled doom, but he disagreed.
For lowly blood, maybe not—but wasn't ambition natural for one born of imperial stock?
Even Crown Prince brother shook his head at his ambition, but the Third Prince didn't stop at words.
He would prove their bloodline superior to Earth's.
Defying all opposition, the Third Prince crossed to Earth himself and enrolled in Lord Howe Academy.
On leaving the palace, he gripped his nanny's hand and vowed.
To prove the imperial bloodline.
For the past year, the Third Prince kept that vow.
He whipped himself to effort after effort, never losing top rank among first-years.
Sure, rivals matched him in specialties... but none beat his overall scores.
Was that why? Ascending to second-year, the Prince fell into the trap of arrogance.
The praise heaped on him felt rightful; advice to be humble seemed jealousy from the unskilled.
Thus, he often skipped classes without leave.
Especially that damned joint class—he skipped attendance entirely.
Noble him, sitting with inferiors?
Pointless drudgery. At least in his mind.
So today, too, the Prince confidently skipped joint class.
...He shouldn't have. Not today, at least.
Kyaaak!!
The Third Prince fled zombies, regretting over and over.
If only he'd attended joint class.
Ignored the alarm.
Heeded the shelter evacuation broadcast.
Futile thoughts, but he couldn't help regretting.
Skipping a class, and now facing death?
He gasped ragged breaths up to his chin, tears streaming.
“Huff... huff... Someone... s-save... me...”
He wanted to live.
At first, he'd fought thinking mere zombies were nothing, but realizing his bravado didn't take long.
Impossible to face hundreds, thousands alone. Escaping encirclement was miracle enough.
“Sa-save... save me! Someone...!”
The damn zombies pursued tirelessly.
Dodging through school to avoid siege had drained stamina and mana long ago.
“Anyone! Save me! Save me!”
He'd reached the main building staff room.
Hoping a teacher might save him, but only eerie silence greeted him.
“Ah...”
Dying like this? He, an imperial prince?
He laughed hollowly at zombie footsteps echoing down the hall.
“Please, anyone... save me... Father... Nanny...”
As he gave up on life and slumped to the staff room floor.
Someone opened the staff room door and entered.
“...Someone beat me here?”
Not a zombie, thankfully... but the intruder's state was no better.
Drenched head to toe in blood, dripping with every step.
Without the familiar second-year uniform, he'd pass for a mad slasher.
But the Prince wasn't in a position to be picky. Even that mess looked like a lifeline.
“H-hey! Save me!”
Hearing zombie footsteps approaching the staff room, the Prince pleaded desperately.
“I'm the Empire's Third Prince! Name your price—anything!”
The blood-soaked student eyed him thoughtfully, then knelt on one knee with a swish.
In his hand gleamed a sword—unknown when drawn—and the pose, sword extended, was one the Prince knew intimately.
“An... Empire Knight...?”
Guardians of the Empire, forcibly disbanded by America.
The exact stance of that lost order swearing fealty to the Emperor.
“I greet Your Highness, the Prince.”
“Y-you can't be...”
The Prince examined him in disbelief.
Up close, even the sword was a genuine Empire knight blade—mana flowing, not some crude Earth knockoff.
“Is this a... dream? Am I dreaming?”
Tears welled as he asked. To face the Empire's old glory here, now.
“No dream, Your Highness.”
The bloodied student rose after speaking. He helped the Prince up with blood-slick hands.
“Your Highness. Hide in the staff room first?”
“Y-you alone against all those zombies? No, carry me and run...”
The Prince trailed off carefully. The knight's gaze slithered like a snake.
“No need for worry. Zombies are no match for me.”
“I-if you say so... I trust you.”
The Prince swallowed unconsciously, thinking.
Was there such a second-year? Why here now?
The questions didn't last. Zombies swarmed the staff room door, pounding.
The Prince panicked, clutching the knight. The knight raised his sword, pushed him back, and headed to the entrance.
Just before opening the door, he turned as if remembering something.
“Your Highness. While I fight, could you fetch a wooden box from Morrison Teacher's desk drawer? A neatly wrapped red one.”
“...Steal from a teacher while I watch?”
“Steal? It's mine to begin with.”
“...”
The Prince nodded quietly. The knight didn't seem to lie. Even if he did, no choice but to believe.
“Best not to step outside the staff room.”
Leaving words unclear as threat or plea, he exited.
Amid zombie cries and shattering sounds, the lone Prince crawled across the floor to Morrison Teacher's desk.
* * *