Academy’s Genius Swordsman

Ronan took a step down the stairs and called out, “I’m coming in, okay?”

There was no response, and the unsettling feeling in his gut only grew stronger. After not hearing a single reply from Elsia, Ronan descended the stairs, each step echoing in the silence. As soon as his foot touched the first stair, the entrance behind him began to close automatically. Sita, who had followed him down to the entrance, recoiled in surprise as the door shut with a hissing sound.

“Byait?!”

“Keep an eye on things up there. If it gets too cold, you can head south and wait for me,” Ronan said, glancing back and waving his hand at Sita. The entrance was too narrow for the large creature to follow him down into the depths.

“Byaba!” Sita chirped, flashing a reassuring smile as if to say there was nothing to worry about. It seemed she had already adjusted to the cold, which had bothered her so much when they first arrived. Relieved, Ronan turned back to the task at hand and continued down the stairs.

The staircase seemed endlessly deep, just as he remembered from his previous visit. It was as if it led straight to the heart of the earth, or even deeper. The corridor that opened up at the bottom of the stairs was lined with strange, glowing lights that cast an eerie, artificial glow.

“Even now, it’s still amazing,” Ronan muttered to himself. The light sources, which looked like fragments of the sun itself, were made from a material called light-emitting diodes, or something like that, according to Elsia. She had mentioned that this place was a relic from a time when humanity had reached the peak of its civilization, and Ronan thought it certainly lived up to that description.

But there was no time to admire the surroundings, so he hurried forward, guided by the memory of the layout he had vaguely grasped on his last visit. Eventually, he reached the heavy iron door leading to the Preserver’s chamber. His lips twisted in frustration as he realized a significant problem.

“…Shit. I don’t know the code.”

The iron door to the chamber was tightly shut, with an even more complex-looking metal plate attached next to it—far more intricate than the one at the entrance.

‘Damn it,’ Ronan cursed inwardly. If he had seen the code even once, he would’ve remembered it, but Elsia’s shoulder had obscured the numbers when she last entered. From the number of beeps he recalled, it seemed the code was at least thirty digits long.

“Where the hell did she disappear to?” he muttered, growing increasingly agitated. His hand instinctively went to the hilt of his sword, contemplating whether he should just cut through the door.

The near end of the year-long grace period weighed heavily on him, adding to his sense of urgency. He hadn’t sensed any sign of Elsia on his way down, and Abel’s blood was still safely tucked in his inner pocket.

Ronan remembered the scene of Elsia attempting to treat the Preserver using his blood on his last visit. Though it was perhaps an overconfidence born from desperation, Ronan felt he could replicate what she had done, somehow.

The method should be similar, right? He thought as he drummed his fingers on the hilt of his sword, deep in thought. Just as he was about to make a decision, a thunderous explosion erupted from above.

-BOOM-!!

“Damn it, what the—”

Ronan flinched, startled by the sudden noise. The corridor trembled slightly as dust fell from the ceiling.

“What the hell?”

He frowned, trying to assess the situation. The explosion had been massive, strong enough to send shockwaves all the way down here.

This wasn’t a natural occurrence—certainly not a volcanic eruption or anything of the sort. The structure was designed to protect the so-called ‘seed’ from external threats, so for it to be shaking like this…

‘It’s not a volcano, that’s for sure,’ he thought. This was bad. It didn’t seem like a natural event, which meant something was definitely wrong. Ronan’s legs tensed as he braced himself, readying his body. With a burst of strength, he shot down the corridor toward the source of the explosion.

Every time his feet hit the ground, the scenery blurred past him. The corridor was long and wide, but thanks to his mana-enhanced speed, it didn’t take long to reach his destination.

‘This is it.’

Ronan stopped, sensing the pulsating mana just beyond the ceiling. The same kind of mana had been in the explosion—a mana that carried the distinct shimmer of Nebula Clazier. It wasn’t Elsia’s magic. There were also faint sounds of battle, suggesting multiple people were engaged in a fierce fight.

“Damn those bastards. What are they up to now?” Ronan growled. He didn’t know the full details, but it seemed those scumbags were up to their usual mischief. What would drive them to come all the way to the edge of the continent and cause trouble?

Fortunately, the explosion seemed close enough to the surface that he might be able to do something about it. Gripping the hilt of his sword, Ronan drew Lamacha, the blade already stained with a crimson hue.

Moments earlier, he had hesitated to damage the structure, fearing it might lose its function as a sanctuary. But now, he realized that if worse came to worst, he could always fix it later.

****

“Surrender now, traitor!”

Archbishop Pasagarde shouted, his voice booming across the frozen sea as he gathered violent swirls of mana into his grasp. He was in the midst of a large-scale battle in the heart of the icy expanse. The battlefield was dotted with the remnants of his powerful spells—deep, crater-like scars as if stars had fallen to the ground. The acolytes who had accompanied him to the Sea of Wraiths were by his side, chanting defensive spells.

“Fall back, you beasts!”

“Groaaaar!”

The acolytes were tasked with maintaining the barriers, allowing the archbishop to focus entirely on offense. Hundreds of translucent beasts surrounded the barrier, relentlessly attacking it. With each swipe of their claws and fangs, small cracks began to form on the shield.

“Hold the line! Trust in the archbishop!”

“Don’t retreat!”

Despite the ferocity of the assault, the acolytes showed no sign of fear. They had unwavering faith in the archbishop’s power.

Pasagarde, determined to live up to that trust, placed his left hand on the ground. With a resounding boom, an explosion rippled out from around the barrier, disintegrating the spirits in an instant. He shouted once more.

“If you do not surrender now, I’ll hit you with another one. Bow your head, even now!”

His voice, filled with wrath, echoed across the snowy landscape. Elsia remained silent, standing at the edge of one of the craters created by his spells, her ash-gray hair billowing in the wind.

“…This is troublesome,” Elsia murmured. The situation was worsening by the minute. But she couldn’t back down now, so she began to chant a spell under her breath.

Behind Elsia, a red magic circle formed, and a large land tortoise slowly emerged, its massive form standing three meters tall. Elsia spoke softly.

“Please, Bayardo.”

“Yaaaawn…”

The high-level fire spirit, Bayardo, had appeared. The giant creature blinked slowly as it stepped forward, positioning itself in front of Elsia. Then, it opened its mouth wide. A torrent of flames erupted from deep within its throat, surging toward Pasagarde.

“A futile effort!”

Pasagarde shouted, amplifying his internal mana as he extended his hand toward Elsia. The space around her seemed to contract to a single point before a massive explosion followed.

-BOOOM-!! The brutal blast shook the frozen sea. The north wind quickly swept away the smoke, revealing Elsia standing in the aftermath. Bayardo, having taken the brunt of the attack, was being unsummoned, its form fading away.

“Cough, cough…!”

“Hahaha! What a sight! A traitor who turned their back on the Order is now clinging to life with our power!”

Pasagarde burst into hysterical laughter. A bizarrely colored aura flickered around Elcia, the remnant of a blessing she had once received from the Savior.

‘This is really dangerous.’

She bit down hard on her lower lip. Never did she expect to be driven into a corner, even by a mage who had once been the master of the Dawn Tower. Despite the opponent’s formidable reputation, this was not a situation she should have found herself in.

She had been pushing her body to the limit, working late into the nights for nearly two weeks, leaving her in poor condition. She didn’t have enough mana to summon Hyran, and the weakened spirits she could call upon were not strong enough to turn the tide.

The ambush at the start of the battle had been devastating. The first explosion had left her clothes in tatters, flapping in the wind like rags.

Surrender. Surrender, the word echoed in Elcia’s mind as she looked at Pasagarde for the first time. She finally spoke.

“I refuse.”

“Hah!”

Pasagarde sneered at the sight of Elcia beginning another incantation. He had thought to show her some respect since she was once his superior, but it seemed any chance of negotiation was long gone.

“Fine, then I’ll wipe you out without a trace!”

In truth, it was a relief. A filthy traitor like her deserved nothing more than to be obliterated. He was just about to chant the spell for his special explosive magic when—shing!—a red flash suddenly shot up from beneath him.

“Ugh, what the…?”

It felt like something had just whizzed past him. As he instinctively opened his eyes, he saw his severed left arm lying on the ground.

“…What?”

Pasagarde’s eyes widened in disbelief. He couldn’t comprehend what had just happened. The mana he had been gathering in his left hand dispersed weakly into the air.

“What is this…?”

“Archbishop!”

His followers cried out in shock. Blood gushed from the stump, staining the snow around him. Did Elcia do this? But he had clearly used his defensive magic!

A burning pain surged through him as reality dawned. Just as he was about to scream, shing!—another red flash slashed through the air, this time slicing through his neck. Pasagarde’s head and body separated cleanly.

“…”

There were no last words. Only then did some of the followers notice something emerging from the ground—a pair of red crescent moons rising into the distant sky.

“W-What is that?!”

It didn’t take long for them to realize that the crescents were actually sword energy. As the panicked followers debated whether to focus on their decapitated archbishop or the unknown enemy, bang! Bang!! Seven more crescent-shaped sword auras shot up, tearing through the ground.

“Aaaargh!”

“Hurgh!”

A total of nine crimson crescents sliced through the night sky. The severed bodies danced in the air. Each massive sword aura, spanning about 5 meters, cut down everything in its path.

“…Huh?”

Elcia narrowed her eyes. She hadn’t even done anything yet. Even if she had finished her spell, it would have been too late.

Rumble…! The ice beneath them began to collapse. Rising from the crumbling ground was a shadowy figure. The young man surveyed the carnage beneath him with a furrowed brow.

“Ugh. Disgusting.”

The scene resembled a spilled bowl of sauce. He had expected something to be up there, which was why he had unleashed his sword aura, but he hadn’t anticipated so much, nor that it would be so finely shredded. Elcia’s eyes widened in shock as she recognized the young man’s face.

“…Ronan?”

“What’s going on, Elcia?”

Ronan raised an eyebrow. The woman he had searched for so long was standing right there. Thud! Ignoring the screaming followers, he landed in front of Elcia, tilting his head in curiosity.

“What happened here?”

“…That’s what I’d like to ask.”

Elcia still looked at him, bewildered. It was as if she couldn’t tell whether this was a dream or reality. Ronan reached out and brushed the dirt off her disheveled hair.

“Kyuuuuu!”

Suddenly, a familiar cry echoed from above. Ronan looked up and let out a dry laugh. Sita was soaring through the sky, flapping its four wings.

“Took you long enough.”

Ronan chuckled. He could leave the remaining scum to Sita. Though he still wondered who had caused that earlier explosion, none of the enemies left seemed particularly strong.

‘It couldn’t have been Elcia, right?’

He had a lot of questions, but right now, he had something more important to do. Wiping the blood off his face, he spoke to Elcia.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but let’s finish this quickly. I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

“…It seems like you have some explaining to do.”

“There’s no need to drag this out. Here, take this.”

Ronan rummaged through his inner pocket and pulled out a small vial. It was coated with protective magic. Inside the transparent glass, a slightly purplish liquid swirled.

“No way.”

In an instant, Elcia’s face hardened. It didn’t take long for her to recognize the liquid’s identity.

For the first time, her breath faltered, something that hadn’t happened even during her battle with Pasagarde. Her lips parted in a whisper.

“…You actually found it. You really did.”

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