Academy’s Genius Swordsman

Dusk was settling over the horizon, the summer twilight melting into the vast sea of trees below. While flying, Balzac suddenly heard Adeshan’s voice echo in his mind.

[This is Field Commander No. 4. Balzac, please report the situation.]

[Nothing has changed. Still heading west.]

Balzac, who was flying in the form of a giant bat with a wingspan of four meters, responded through telepathy. With nothing unusual happening, there was not much to report.

[Understood. If there are any changes, report immediately.]

[Will do.]

With that, the telepathic conversation ended. Balzac grumbled to himself as he gazed down at the endless sea of trees beneath him.

“Goddamn it, how much farther do we have to go?”

The endless expanse of trees stretched on with no end in sight. The surface of the forest, composed of branches and leaves, rippled like a vast green ocean whenever the wind blew. This was the Paradise Forest, known as the largest forest on the continent.

The thick scent of vegetation tickled Balzac’s nose. Around him flew about thirty other gloomy flying creatures, such as bats, crows, and blackbirds—all vampires like him.

They were tasked with the mission of tracking Abel as part of the advance pursuit team, given their ability to fly quickly and conceal their presence. A subordinate flying nearby spoke up.

“At least we’re on the right track. It’s impressive that the range of the Blood Tracking Needle extends this far.”

“Hmph. It would be strange if it couldn’t.”

Balzac scoffed, glancing down at the Blood Tracking Needle hanging from his neck. The needle, smeared with Abel’s blood, was still pointing steadily westward.

Fortunately, after hours of pursuit, they had managed to bring their target within the range of the Blood Tracking Needle. Balzac’s exceptional skill in manipulating blood had extended the needle’s detection range several times beyond its normal capacity. About an hour later, something unusual happened.

“Everyone, halt.”

Balzac suddenly stopped in midair. His startled subordinates flapped their wings to slow down. The subordinate who had spoken earlier tilted his head in confusion.

“Why did you stop?”

“The needle has started to spin. We’ve lost him.”

“What?”

The subordinate’s eyes widened. A spinning needle meant that the target had either died or moved out of range. Given that Abel was unlikely to have died, it was safe to assume the latter.

“That’s impossible. The only way that could happen is through teleportation.”

“It seems strange to me too. Let me check.”

Balzac furrowed his brow, sensing something was off. The Blood Tracking Needle he had enhanced should have remained effective unless the target had left the continent.

There had to be some kind of trick involved. He began scanning the area carefully, but the scenery remained unchanged. The forest was still a vast expanse of green, with no end in sight to the emerald horizon.

“Hmm?”

Balzac’s gaze shifted downward, noticing a lake that he hadn’t seen before. It was neither particularly large nor small but had been hidden directly beneath them.

The lake’s calm surface reflected the sky above it perfectly. Yet, as Balzac stared at it, his eyes narrowed.

“That’s odd…”

Something was off. Unlike the clear sky above, the reflection in the water showed clouds—grayish-white clouds moving across the sky.

He hadn’t imagined it. The needle was still spinning, confirming the unusual nature of the situation. Balzac, a vampire inheriting great power, quickly drew his conclusion and issued a command to his subordinates.

“Everyone, descend into the lake.”

“What?”

“Approach cautiously and be alert just before contact with the water. I’ll go first.”

“W-Wait!”

Balzac spoke decisively, folding his wings and diving downwards. His subordinates, though surprised, reluctantly followed him.

Splash! The moment Balzac’s body submerged in the lake, the world flipped upside down, and he found himself breaking through the surface of the water again.

Whoosh! Balzac emerged, spraying water in all directions as he took flight once more. Above him was the twilight sky, and below him was the lake, just as he had seen it when he entered.

The air was now dry, lacking the earlier scent of vegetation. Soon, his subordinates also burst through the water’s surface. Their eyes widened as they witnessed the unexpected scene.

“W-What is this?”

The Paradise Forest had transformed into a desolate field. The once strong and dense woods had completely disappeared, leaving only a few trees standing, their leaves and trunks bleached white.

Everything visible—short grass, sandy soil, scattered branches—was drained of color, appearing ghostly pale. A mournful wind that sounded like the wail of lost souls swept over the landscape, and mist crept along the ground, adding to the eerie atmosphere. One of the vampires shouted.

“Look over there!”

Balzac turned his gaze in the direction the subordinate had pointed, and his eyes widened. In the distance, a colossal castle loomed.

The fortress, bristling with dozens of spires like thorns, was the same stark white as the rest of the landscape. Even without further explanation, Balzac recognized it immediately. It was what the Allied Forces had been searching for throughout the war.

“…The headquarters.”

Balzac murmured, the Blood Tracking Needle now pointing directly at the castle. The leader and Iril were likely inside. His expression darkened.

Finding the place was a stroke of luck, but breaching it would be no easy task. The pale castle looked more impregnable than any structure Balzac had ever seen. A subordinate asked.

“Shall we proceed?”

“…No. Conceal yourselves and conduct a search.”

Balzac shook his head. He remembered Adeshan’s instructions not to engage in unnecessary battles while pursuing. The first objective was to confirm the hostage’s location.

[This is the pursuit team. We have found Nebula Clazier’s headquarters.]

Balzac immediately sent a telepathic message to Adeshan, but there was no response. It seemed that crossing the lake had severed their communication with the outside world.

Would he have to deliver the news in person? As he was about to designate a subordinate for the task, a voice rang out from below.

“You’ve come all the way here, I see.”

“Hmm…!”

Balzac hadn’t sensed the presence at all. He quickly glanced down to see a middle-aged man with his hands clasped behind his back, looking up at him.

“It’s fortunate I decided to take a stroll in the garden. So, how do you find the scenery?”

“Y-You’re…!”

Balzac’s eyes widened in recognition. The man’s features were both distinct and familiar. His hair was as pale as starlight, and his eyes glowed a deep crimson, reminiscent of the setting sun. His sharp features were strikingly similar to Ronan’s.

Balzac hurriedly checked the Blood Tracking Needle. The needle, which had been pointing at the pale fortress, now subtly shifted its direction towards the man.

The implication was clear. After a moment of silence, Balzac spoke.

“The leader.”

“Oh, you’ve figured it out?”

Abel raised an eyebrow, a bead of cold sweat trickling down Balzac’s temple. His instincts screamed that this was an enemy he could not defeat.

[Everyone, retreat.]

Balzac sent a telepathic command to his subordinates. Their faces showed confusion. He needed to stay calm. Taking a deep breath, Balzac asked.

“…Where is the hostage?”

“The hostage? Ah, if you mean Iril, she’s resting comfortably in that castle.”

Abel pointed his thumb back towards the fortress. Balzac clenched his fist. Just as he suspected.

Now, all that was left was to return safely and report back. His subordinates hesitated, unable to leave him behind.

These idiots… Just as Balzac was about to issue the retreat command again, Abel suddenly clapped his hands.

“Now, if your curiosity is satisfied, it’s time to die. Such a shame, really, since I rarely have guests.”

“What?”

Balzac’s eyes widened. At that moment, Abel casually flicked his fingers. Whoosh! A massive, dome-shaped barrier enveloped them.

“W-What is this?”

“It’s the Blessing of the Stars!”

The vampires gasped in shock as they began to revert to their original forms, losing the ability to remain in their animal shapes. Some attempted to dive back into the lake, but the barrier had already sealed off the surface.

“The retreat is cut off!”

“The original essence doesn’t even scratch it…!”

They were familiar with the Blessing of the Stars, but this one was on a different level, likely because it was cast by the leader himself.

“Damn it…”

Balzac bit his lip. The situation was dire. As he mentally prepared to do whatever was necessary, he growled lowly.

“We have no choice. We fight.”

Balzac dismissed his transformation and cloaked his body in shadows. A massive beast, formed from the shadows, emerged, towering over the others. It was a taxing technique, but he had no other option. The trembling vampires’ eyes began to harden.

“Come to think of it, we were too scared. We haven’t even tried yet.”

“If we finish this quickly, we might stand a chance…”

They quickly regained their composure. They had temporarily forgotten, but they too were noble beings of the night, who had lived for hundreds of years, just like Balzac.

Their eyes, which had dulled, now gleamed with renewed resolve, and their sharp fangs bristled with deadly intent. Just as the vampires were about to launch their attack, Abel spoke casually.

“No need to struggle, little mosquitoes.”

“What?”

“It

’s already over.”

Balzac suddenly noticed that Abel was holding a sword.

‘When did he draw that?’

The draw had been imperceptible. With a faint click, Abel sheathed his sword and turned his back on them. The vampires, not yet understanding what had happened, charged forward.

“Kraaaah!”

“Wait, stop…”

Balzac tried to shout, but it was too late. Crimson lines crisscrossed the vampires’ bodies, irregular but numerous.

“Huh?”

Balzac’s eyes widened. A chilling sense of déjà vu crept up his spine. The sensation of his body being sliced by an invisible blade was something he had experienced before in his battle with Ronan.

“Yes. This is how it should be.”

Abel muttered to himself, lightly brushing his cheek where the wound had once been. He then resumed his walk toward the castle. Pain, delayed but intense, finally hit the vampires, freezing them in mid-air. The lines across their bodies began to deepen and widen.

Images of certain individuals flashed through Balzac’s mind. He thought of Zarodin and Ronan, the brother he respected and looked up to, Shadow Duke, and lastly…

“Ophelia.”

Balzac whispered softly. Bam! Simultaneously, the lines carved into the vampires’ bodies burst open, causing their forms to collapse into countless pieces.

Even with their remarkable regenerative abilities, there was nothing they could do when their bodies were sliced into hundreds of pieces. Thirty vampires, once part of the pursuit team, were reduced to a bloody mist that painted the desolate garden.

“To think I let these weaklings push me this far… I’ll have to give them a little lesson.”

Abel clicked his tongue in disappointment. He hadn’t paid much attention since it was all over anyway, but perhaps he needed to strengthen his forces for the sake of his pride.

His footsteps grew fainter as he walked away, and the barrier made of the Blessing of the Stars dissipated after about an hour.

Time passed, and in the spot where the bodies had been scattered, a small bat slowly raised its head.

‘I have to… report this…’

The bat had a distinctive scar over one eye, similar to a certain vampire. A thin necklace with the Blood Tracking Needle dangled around its neck. With unsteady movements, the bat crawled to the lake and threw itself into the water.

****

“Damn, it’s still fucking cold.”

“Byaaah…”

Ronan muttered, and Sita nodded in agreement. The starry night sky stretched out above them. The biting cold of the north was seeping into their bones, just as it had when Ronan had last come here with Adeshan.

The auroras, like pleated skirts, shimmered high in the sky. Ronan felt nauseous from the aftereffects of the teleportation. As he looked around, he saw the entrance to Elsia’s lab standing out in the middle of the icy field.

“Elsia. I’m here.”

Bang, bang, bang. Ronan knocked on the door. The entrance, built with ancient technology, looked otherworldly, as always. Ronan crossed his arms and waited, puzzled.

“Elsia?”

There was no response. This was bad—he was running out of time. Could she have gone out?

‘I can’t just cut down the door…’

If he did, the lab would lose its function as a refuge. As he scratched his head, Ronan’s gaze fell on the control panel next to the door. The smooth metal plate was adorned with numbers from 0 to 9, glowing softly.

“I think she did it like this…”

Ronan recalled how Elsia had used the panel to open the door. Relying on his memory, he began inputting the numbers one by one. He rarely forgot something once he saw it, so he figured he could manage it.

When he pressed the 24th digit, the lock clicked, and the door opened. The stairs leading down into the lab’s depths looked like the gaping maw of a monster.

“…Shall we go in?”

Ronan asked, but again, there was no response. With no other option, he began to descend the stairs slowly. Something felt off.

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