Chapter 181

Chapter 181

Ed’s Punishment Battle (4)

“Don’t meddle.”

Elvira’s sister’s words, as she lifted Elvira’s cheek, echoed distinctly in her mind—one of the most vivid memories that remained with Elvira, the troublemaker of the Anis family.

By adolescence, she had already opened her eyes to the art of potion synthesis and magical engineering equipment improvement.

Elvira’s childhood, filled with causing several explosions a day as she holed up in the Anis family mansion’s laboratory, was not such a distant past for her.

The Anis family, though not wealthy, was a renowned alchemical lineage, and her sisters were deeply versed in various alchemical arts.

However, most of her sisters possessed ordinary talents when compared to Elvira, who had already created her own system and was utterly fascinated by it.

One reason she could never just stand by upon seeing inefficient potion formulas, or unnecessary ingredients in product recipes, was her inability to tolerate ineffectiveness.

No one in her family possessed talent and passion surpassing hers; everything they did seemed inadequate to her eyes.

She would often grumble about her sisters’ research outcomes, pointing out their incompleteness and freely imparting her opinions—even about the attitude towards life as an alchemist, values, and research passion—driving those around her to feel an uncontainable sense of inferiority.

God had given her innate talent and passion but not the wisdom to conduct or maintain it. Indeed, expecting such mature social skills from a young girl would be harsh.

The inferiority that brewed finally erupted when her sister Diella Anis failed the Sylvania entrance exam.

Diella, overwhelmed by Elvira’s talent, could not contain her emotions upon seeing Elvira skeptically disassembling each of the magical engineering devices Diella had prepared for the exam, and struck Elvira across the cheek.

Elvira was not at fault.

Yet, it was also true she failed to consider the distressed Diella’s feelings.

“You always act as if you’re the protagonist of everything, don’t you?”

With those words, Diella Anis swept the potions from the examination table, tearing up the research scrolls, and angrily told off Elvira.

“Must be nice for you... not having to try understanding ordinary humans like us.”

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“Go ahead, flaunt your abilities to your heart’s content. I was born with mediocre talent, and I will live my life as such...”

Following this incident, Diella abandoned alchemy and went to study accounting and management in the capital city of Chloeron. Her visits to the Anis household became exceedingly rare, and soon, even seeing her once a year became difficult.

For her, alchemy now triggered memories of failure—memories she did not wish to revisit.

Elvira understood clearly, even from childhood, that she was not in the wrong.

Diella’s outburst of anger and her decision to abandon her path were solely due to her own sense of inferiority.

Elvira’s advice was always in the right direction. Be it the efficiency of mana flow, cost-effectiveness of ingredients, or performance of potions—following Elvira’s guidance proved to be the correct answer.

Thus, Elvira did not change her approach to life even in the face of Diella’s sorrowful eyes.

On the contrary, she became more determined.

Until Elvira entered Sylvania and became the head of the Alchemy Department...

Despite gaining a reputation as an incessant meddler due to her relentless advice and criticisms, Elvira did not stop.

Proving her way was right, even if it meant being stubborn, was her way.

Suddenly, she wondered if Clevius would agree with her opinion.

*Blood seeped from a wound and a sinister aura of mana rose.

Clevius, having caught his breath with his torso slumped, looked up at Taely with chilling eyes.

Taely had no intention of backing down. If the adversary refused to resolve things through dialogue, he would simply draw his sword.

“Wait! Stop! This isn’t something you two should be fighting over...!”

Elvira quickly propped herself up from the ground to intervene, but Clevius was already enveloped in the energy of his blood sword technique.

There is no middle ground in Clevius Nortondale’s Blood Sword Technique.

Once it starts, it gradually consumes Clevius’s mind.

The madness that overcomes his thoughts only intensifies over time.

No one who stood before him without bleeding had survived; not even Lucy Meyrill, who had at least conceded minor scratches—a technique so maddening it was akin to madness itself.

“Shut up and stay down.”

With overpowering presence, Clevius completely silenced Elvira with a single sentence before kicking off the ground and lunging at Taely.

His sword was beyond fast; it was invisible.

Almost instinctively, Taely managed to block the first strike from the unseen sword with purely his battle senses.

It wasn’t sight nor prediction that saved him, but an almost precognitive level of sensing.

Even after successfully defending against Clevius’s strike, Taely was bewildered, grinding his teeth.

The eyes of Clevius, locked in combat just before him, could be clearly seen blazing with ferocity.

It was not a human before him, but a beast.

Though still slightly rational, he was quickly shedding his humanity, transforming into a ghost.

“Clevius... you don’t even know the situation...”

“I may not know the circumstances, but...”

Their blades trembled as they locked together. While their test of strength was at a standoff, the sheer speed was overwhelmingly in Clevius’s favor.

Clevius suddenly twisted his body and delivered a kick to Taely’s abdomen.

Despite the large movement, Taely couldn’t catch the speed.

“Urgh!”

Taely was promptly impaled on the iron bars serving as the outer wall of the Elte Trading Association.

Breath knocked out of him momentarily, a wave of impact surged through his spine... but there was no time to writhe in pain.

Looking up, Clevius had already leaped close, his sword ready to strike.

The sword swung down in an invisible motion; a lightning-fast attack. By the time Taely regained his senses, the attack was already upon him.

Although he narrowly evaded a direct hit through sheer reflex, he couldn’t avoid bleeding from a slash on his shoulder.

Frowning and clutching his shoulder, Taely reset his stance.

The iron bars that had taken Clevius’s blow... shattered with loud noise.

“... I know what you were trying to do.”

It was crystal clear to Clevius.

For a brief moment, Taely had intended to slay Elvira.

Certainly, there was no intent to kill, but it was a blow that did not spare even the risk of a fatal wound.

At that point, there could be no further leniency.

Clevius stabbed his opposite shoulder with a dagger pulled from his waistband.

With a grunt, new blood flowed from Clevius’s shoulder, endowing his body with gradually increasing mana.

Twisting grotesquely before slumping again, Clevius twitched momentarily, his body shaking.

──If you ever come face to face with a Nortondale’s Sword Devil, finish the battle with a single strike.

That was the advice from the senior combat professor, Mike, before the training session began.

As long as he lives, he continues to become stronger, and as he dies, he becomes even stronger.

Influenced by blood, the ghost that accumulates more strength the more it covets... becomes an even more insane monster the closer it comes to death.

If you try to whittle down your enemy little by little, you’ll be the one whose throat is slit.

I remember. The company employee who came to camp to measure the land, secure materials, and draft designs for Lortelle’s villa... It was Durin Grecks himself, who even left a bottle of distilled liquor as a gift.

“For company work, you must have received all the necessary reports for the funding and status of this construction, right?”

“Yes. There was no issue with the construction itself... but during the break, when I was away at Oldec... the construction site of this villa was under Durin Grecks’s management, wasn’t it?”

Lortelle stood up and pushed his chair aside.

He tightened his robes and moved toward a small door beside the bed, opening an antique wooden door, revealing a staircase leading to the basement.

“What’s this?”

“It’s an underground space created for a wine cellar.”

Saying so, Lortelle descended the stairs quickly.

Following him, I found Lortelle struggling to open the cellar door which he didn’t have the key to.

“I was planning to ask Mr. Belle to bring some wine to store here. Ah, ah...! But school was nearing, the villa construction was done, and Durin didn’t give me the key to the cellar.”

“I think I get it now. Move aside.”

I pulled Lortelle’s arm aside and pushed him out of the way. With a clear area, I tried to push the door with my shoulder.

The sturdy cellar door didn’t budge. In the end, when I glanced at Lortelle, he conjured his magic and shattered the whole door to the underground.

– Kwaang!

The dust cleared, revealing the underground space Lortelle had secured supposedly for a wine cellar.

...

...

Lortelle and I stood silently for a while.

The cellar was filled with mountains of gold coins—not a small amount. The volume of gold was staggering.

Not to mention the valuables managed within Elte Trading Company, the expensive magic engineering tools, and critical to note... numerous high-quality distilled liquors were stacked everywhere.

Durin Grecks was known to dabble in embezzlement, taking little by little from the books.

Working with cunning merchants, you’d occasionally meet such sneaky individuals. If someone was competent at their job, looking away from minor profit-skimming was feasible.

But if all this was an act,

If wearing his cap askew and processing documents at the clerk’s desk was a facade and those sharp eyes were ever-watchful like an eagle scouting prey,

If his petty greed and avarice were merely the character he had crafted, designed to appear as a third-rate embezzler to Lortelle Keheln—useful but disposable,

If his ultimate goal was to make me believe I had full control of the situation,

Although it’s all hypothetical, the evidence lies before us.

Even Lortelle, usually unflappable, had lost his words, his pupils dilating in the realization.

──The funds and goods Durin had been embezzling all these years... all of it, without exception, was gathered in this very cellar.

Durin had not spent a single penny but hoarded everything.

Why?

To frame it all as Lortelle’s embezzlement.

If he took a large sum at once, it’d be too noticeable, and Lortelle would have acted immediately.

Instead, he accumulated evidence of his embezzlement little by little over a long period... waiting and biding for the moment to strike back.

Lortelle Keheln had suggested the villa’s construction, merely wanting to share in the simple life of the camp.

But Durin Grecks seized this opportunity, styling the villa as a secret hoard where Lortelle had stashed his embezzled funds. The bookkeeping was likely concluded too.

It was an ideal pretext to remove the deputy head merchant.

Within the darkness, for years, he sharpened his blade, whetted his calculation.

Despite numerous chances passing by, he waited long for a more definite opportunity.

His opponent was the merchant giant Lortelle Keheln.

Without such deliberate planning, he would not have been able to strike Lortelle’s back, a fact he was well aware of.

Beneath Lortelle’s villa lay a tower of gold coins.

If the imperial army barged in now, the situation alone was damning enough to arrest Lortelle without a doubt—an incontrovertible piece of evidence.

*In the late night at Elte Trading Company’s Sylvania branch.

In its garden, Sword Saint Taely and Sword Demon Clevius were engaged in a fierce fight. The noise from their battle echoed to the building, but hardly anyone paid proper attention.

– Clang! Clang!

At the entrance of the second floor, Zix Effelstein sat on a wooden chair, sharpening his sword. Even though he seemed relaxed, his expression was serious.

Various weapons surrounded him, from the rapier he brought, to large broadswords, small twin daggers, bows, gauntlets, maces, and spears...

The sight of Zix cleaning each weapon made him resemble a wild beast sharpening its fangs in solitude.

– Craaash! Boom!

In the plush visitors’ lounge on the third floor, Yenika Faelover sat alone sipping tea. The atmosphere was tense.

The spirits around her were all edgy, cautiously watching her every move. Her face was not fully visible.

All one could see was her silhouette against the large window, her back to us, gazing at the moon.

A sense of unfathomable dread oozed from her shadowed figure.

– Clang! Clang! Clang!

At the end of the fourth floor’s hallway, near the hall, stood Trissiana Bloomriver with a staff and robe. A battle mage adept at high-tier magic with plentiful duel experience against melee fighters.

The top of the 4th year’s magic department, even in close-quarters combat, a realm where a warrior might have the upper hand against a mage, she reigned supreme.

And then to the rooftop, following the back exit of the company, the chase led down the escape path, following the traces of Ed Rothtaylor’s retreat. One had to run a good distance toward the north forest before finally catching Ed Rothtaylor.

To reach Ed, one had to break through every single floor, each housing an individual with inexplicably powerful abilities.

Challenges like a colossal wall,

Only when the wall seems insurmountable does it truly become a challenge.

Taely’s life has always been a series of such trials. Thus, enduring seemingly impossible challenges, he persevered through suffering and clenched teeth, surviving against all odds.

Taely McLore let out a pain-filled scream as he was thrown out.

He was pushed back by Clevius’s sword, rolling along the ground, barely managing to pick himself up to face the night beast again.

The bloodthirsty Sword Demon gleamed with mania under the soft moonlight.

Taely shut his eyes tightly.

Life has always been living through trials that seemed insurmountable.

What doesn’t kill me should make me stronger, they say. Nonetheless, the pain persists unchanging.

Yet, standing tall was all thanks to Aila. Therefore, Taely McLore could never fall.

He leaned on his sword, struggling to stand. His body was already half-destroyed.

Remaining trials were still waiting in droves. But Taely would never break.

His eyes wide open, he stared defiantly at the dreadful Sword Demon.

Vitality returned to his gaze as the Sword Saint’s power flowed through his body once more, regaining control.

Taely McLore, the Sword Saint of Trials.

Despite the profuse bleeding, wounds, and waning strength, he rose again.