Chapter 154

Chapter 154

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HEL SCANS

[Translator – Peptobismol]

[Proofreader – Demon God]

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“Well... not bad.”

Ronan returned to Philleon in the late night. A crescent moon hung in the clear night sky. The cool breeze brought a pleasant feeling of intoxication.

The banquet was enjoyable. Contrary to the expectations of his military comrades, there were no fried fairy or drinks made with dragon tears. However, the table was adorned with equally exquisite dishes.



‘Dawn.’

Ronan’s gaze suddenly shifted to his waist. The Sword of Valon, now his new possession, rested there.

Still, the reality of it hadn’t fully sunk in. A clumsy swordsman, who had rolled around as a target for arrows in his past life, had now become a secret agent of the empire. If this were a novel, it would undoubtedly be criticized for lacking believability at this point.

‘I’m screwed.’

However, Ronan was well aware that this was indeed reality. Since he had become part of it, there was no room for half-hearted thoughts.

He planned to fully exploit the rights and privileges he had gained. Even though hehe was of humble origin, having spent seven years in the military, he believed he could make good use of what he had.

‘...It bothers me, though.’

However, there was something that continued to trouble him, and that was the current Sword Saint, Zaifa. Despite seemingly pouring alcohol into disguise, she didn’t seem particularly intoxicated, likely due to concerns about the tiger.

Zaifa never appeared at the banquet. Aside from the humiliation she faced in front of the Emperor, Ronan sensed that there might be a deep misunderstanding about her.

‘Although I’m not one to meddle in the affairs of others...’

The glimmering eyes of Zaifa still lingered in his mind. Lieutenant Nemea, the only survivor, remained unconscious. It was crucial for her to regain consciousness to uncover the truth behind the incident. Ronan was about to enter the Navardose Hall when this thought crossed his mind.

“You’re late, Ronan.”

“Damn it, you startled me.”

A voice echoed in the darkness. Ronan turned his head. Shullifen was leaning against the entrance of the dormitory, waiting. Ronan, lost in thought, didn’t even notice his presence.

“I roughly know about what happened so far. Quite a lot has happened.”

“Where were you that you’re just crawling back now?”

“Around noon today. I went to the Garcia Estate. When I arrived, I stopped by Miss Iril’s house. She insisted on treating me to an unexpectedly unrequested meal. Always be aware that you are a lucky guy.”

Shullifen spoke seriously, but the devilishly handsome face still shone brightly in the moonlight.

After then, Shullifen continued to talk at length about how he had commissioned a spring outfit from his exclusive tailor and gave it as a gift to his sister, portraying himself like a true angel. Ronan, nodding absentmindedly, happened to glance at Shullifen’s chest.

‘This guy’s acting all infatuated too.’

Ronan smirked. Surprisingly, there wasn’t much change in Shullifen’s physique, but it was evident that he had undergone substantial training for about a month. His core’s energy had increased by almost 20% compared to the last time Ronan saw him.

However, what mattered now wasn’t that. Ronan’s eyebrows furrowed.

“But seriously, crazy bastard. Were you waiting here the whole time?”

“Hmm... your body has been further disciplined there. Mana has become much purer. Indeed, you are my only worthy adversary.”

Shullifen turned the conversation around, but he didn’t deny that he had been waiting. Nevertheless, he was a crazy bastard. He turned away from the wall and continued speaking.

“We should move if we’re going to spar. We have to depart for Parzan in a few hours.”

“Ah.”

Shullifen’s expression was incredibly serious. Today was the departure date, but given that they hadn’t settled things yet, it was understandable.

Based on Shullifen’s reactions, it seemed he was unaware of the truth behind the Festival of Swords. Ronan, letting out a sigh, swept his bangs backward.

“Well... I don’t know how you’ll take this, but we don’t have to fight.”

“What do you mean?”

She had circled the school grounds, checking the dormitory and the first training ground, but their whereabouts remained unknown. They had to leave soon to arrive at a reasonable time, creating a bit of a dilemma.

‘Ah.’

At that moment, an image of a certain place flashed in her mind. The place where they had a welcoming party for Ronan after he had returned from his voyage.

Navirose headed north of the campus. Soon, the warehouse connected to the special adventure club came into view.

Ignoring the hallucinogenic firewood, she descended the stairs. As she did, a vast training ground, reminiscent of a racetrack, unfolded before her eyes. Navirose was frozen in place.

“What is this...?”

The training ground was literally a battlefield. Blades, big and small, cluttered the floor, walls, and even the high ceiling. It looked as if a storm in the shape of sword blades had swept through, scattering everything.

There were also broken training equipment, such as scarecrows and mechanical knights, scattered everywhere. It seemed more like they were swept away and destroyed rather than intentionally cut. The feeling was overwhelming.

The building made of wood seemed to be split vertically into two halves. It looked dangerously unstable, as if it could collapse at the slightest touch. Navirose chuckled wryly.

“He must have fought for his life.”

There was no room for excuses, it was undoubtedly Ronan and Shullifen’s sword marks. She ventured further into the training ground. Before long, she could see the two figures sprawled in the middle of the battlefield.

Navirose approached the fallen pair. Ronan and Shullifen were lying as if they were drunk dogs. The scene was comical – Ronan had a grip on his pants, while Shullifen had a sword tightly clenched in his hand. Bloodstains were scattered around them.

Fortunately, it seemed like they had collapsed from exhaustion rather than being killed. Navirose, holding her forehead, spoke.

“Get up.”

“Ugh... Instructor?!”

“Ughh!”

The two scrambled to their feet. Under the torn clothing, their exposed skin was covered in wounds. It seemed they had engaged in a fierce battle without properly applying any healing salves. Navirose spoke again.

“What on earth did you two do last night?”

“Uh... nothing.”

“Don’t talk nonsense.”

At Ronan’s response, Navirose sighed again. Both of them had fallen in battle, yet it was more like a clumsy brawl. She pointed towards the exit.

“Get ready within ten minutes. Both of you are coming with me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“What’s with the ‘yes, ma’am’? My words make sense, idiot.”

Thwack! Ronan smacked the back of Shullifen’s head. Despite that, Shullifen meekly accepted the hit. Ronan, avoiding eye contact, spoke.

“Uh... Instructor. Were you planning to take both of us from the beginning?”

“No. I genuinely intended to take only the one who won. That way, the motivation would be clear.”

Navirose stated firmly. Ronan’s face stiffened, and Shullifen, who had been rubbing his head, turned to look at him. Ronan finally spoke, avoiding eye contact.

“Uh... then why take both of us now?”

“Because it was obvious neither of you would win. I can see you both put in a lot of effort.”

Both of them were expected to progress significantly, but Navirose hadn’t anticipated such a remarkable improvement. A smile crept onto her face.

‘I can expect something extraordinary from this Festival of Swords.’

In many ways, they were unprecedented disciples. It was unclear what would happen, but it seemed they were bound to create a tremendous commotion. She turned on her heels, cheerfully walking away.

Exactly ten minutes later, a carriage rattled away, carrying the three of them. Their destination: the Holy Land, Parzan, where the Festival of Swords was set to unfold.

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HEL SCANS

[Translator – Peptobismol]

[Proofreader – Demon God]

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