Chapter 196: Patience
The next day, at the main building of the Imperial Academy.
Students were bustling with chatter at a café with a terrace.
“I don’t want to graduate...”
Lying face down on the table, sobbing, was Maeve Butterfield, a commoner. Gracie, sitting next to her, tilted her head, looking at her friend quizzically.
“Why don’t you want to graduate? You always say you want to graduate quickly and be free from assignments.”
“...Are you really asking because you don’t know?”
Maeve slightly raised her head, her brown curly hair framing her black eyes, now half-closed.
“That’s why you can’t help but be part of the nobility who know nothing of the world.”
“The cake bought by a noble tastes good, doesn’t it?”
Gracie toyed with the idea of removing the cake plate in front of Maeve, who hurriedly devoured the cake.
“I was whining about wanting to graduate when I was in the second year. And now I’m in the fifth year.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
After gulping down the sweet cake, Maeve saw Gracie, looking disgusted, push her own plate of cake forward.
“Do you really not know? Commoners have to serve in the military after graduation. It’s a complaint about my fate.”
“Her? Anyone would think nobles are exempt from military service.”
“No, but still, as a noble, you’d go to an easier position.”
“...Why would you think that?”
Gracie sighed at her friend, full of prejudice against the nobility.
“Well, there’s a senior in the club whose relative runs a knight order... Even if that senior serves, it’s within the family’s knight order. Just spend time there and then retire. Who would push their nephew or cousin into danger?”
“...That might be, but not me. Do you know how strict my grandmother is?”
“Really?”
“And, do you know how many kids my age live in our mansion? Including the distant relatives, there must be dozens enrolled in this academy alone. Even if they are distant, if anyone showed them a bit of affection, a revolt would erupt in no time. It’s certain I’d be a regular soldier.”
Gracie let out a deep sigh and looked in a certain direction.
“But it would be different for Siriel.”
“......Huh?”
Siriel, who had been staring blankly at her coffee cup, was startled by the sudden comment.
“Why me...”
“Siriel, you’re going to inherit your father’s knight order. You’re already busy with the handover lessons.”
“Is that true, Siriel? You won’t have to worry about employment.”
“Me, I...”
Siriel couldn’t finish her sentence, bowing her head deeply.
Did she say things too harshly? The atmosphere around Siriel was not normal.
“I... hate the knight order.”
“...Huh?”
“I’d rather be a regular soldier.”
It was a moment of not knowing what to do. Siriel continued in a voice mixed with a sob. Siriel’s usually haughty and confident appearance now showed vulnerability, capturing the attention of everyone at the table and on the terrace.
“What nonsense is that? You want to roll around like a common soldier instead of being in the knight order? Are you out of your mind?”
“Oh come on!”
Gracie slapped Maeve’s babbling mouth shut.
“Siriel, is there a problem lately? You’ve been zoning out.”
“...”
“Talk to us about your worries. We’re friends.”
Gracie, holding Siriel’s hands, spoke gently. Unlike her delicate face, Siriel’s hands were rough and calloused. Gracie glared resentfully at Maeve.
“Siriel, could it be because knight order practice has been too harsh?”
“Uh, no, it’s not that.”
“Then what is it? I’m worried about you. You’ve lost weight and have been out of it.”
“...That, that’s.”
Siriel scratched his reddening nose bridge. Overwhelmed by his emotions, he felt embarrassed after calming down.
“Will you not tease me if I tell?”
“Why would I tease? And if you’re struggling this much, there must be a good reason.”
“...Should I tell?”
Siriel took a deep breath, clenching his teeth. Gracie and Maeve held their breaths, focusing.
“No, military service is just once, but the knight order, you have to go on expeditions until you retire.”
“...Huh?”
Was it just because of that? Gracie suppressed the words that rose to her throat.
“Siriel is more childish than she appears.”
Maeve couldn’t hold back her words. At her friend’s undignified behavior, Gracie dried her face.
Gracie resolved never to buy Maeve a cake again. Unaware of this, Maeve just shrugged.
“Then maybe being in the knight order is better. That’s what I think.”
“...What do you mean?”
“I mean, military service requires you to guard the border every year. Isn’t it better to be in a knight order where you just follow assigned missions?”
“The prophecy says the 7th Apostle stays in the temple, and after 12 strikes, a real battle occurs on the 13th.”
Shiron made up an excuse as he vented his frustration. Rambling explanations were far from his usual temperament, but the uncertainty of whether the enemy would come over the past ten days had left him anxious.
“After the Dragon God’s Stone Statue comes the Armor of the God of Decay, followed by the Lord of the Dead, and finally, the 7th Apostle Korax appears. The temple is in the center of the Demon Realm, but its exact location hasn’t been disclosed.”
“But why the 12th? The Apostle could appear on the 11th.”
Latera asked with an innocent face.
“You heard what the hero said last time. Even that... the elf with dementia wasn’t supposed to be in the prophecy. Prophecies aren’t absolute...”
“The elf with dementia?”
-What? What did you just say?!
A furious shout came from a distance. Seira was in the midst of repairing the wrecked land, and even amidst building a massive Colosseum-like structure for the next strike, she was still on high alert.
“Who’s got dementia!”
Seira approached swiftly and burst out angrily.
“Me, I’m in my prime in elven years! Don’t think by human standards!”
“...Why are you freaking out all of a sudden? And who said it was about you?”
“Anyway! An elf’s lifespan is basically thousands of years, I just passed 700! By human standards, that’s like being in your twenties. And even elves get wrinkles and such when they age!”
“Yeah, you’re still plump.”
Shiron scanned Seira’s body and spoke. Seira fanned her cheeks, trying to cool off the heat.
“Ahem... I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but the little angel makes sense. If they keep acting like they’re going to invade, the initiative is on their side, and it’s a unilateral loss for us. We have to do something to break the deadlock.”
“...That makes sense.”
Shiron looked up at the spectator seats of the Colosseum. There, Lucia was seen snacking while looking at a shabby book.
“It’s a miracle Lucia hasn’t complained until now.”
Shiron thought that Lucia would be the first to suggest invading. Perhaps it was because of the increased affection? Normally, she would have complained at least once or twice, but Lucia had participated in the battles without any fuss for the past two months.
Of course, Shiron also tried his best to accommodate Lucia’s mood.
He had arranged a special seat in the Colosseum so Lucia could wait comfortably, and even though Seira and the three of them could fight together, Shiron allowed Lucia to shout out the names of her techniques from a distance.
“I can’t even go to school because of this. I wonder if I can graduate safely.”
“Then, how about I go to school with you? If there’s an emergency, you signal, and I’ll zap! Bring Lucia over.”
“Hmm, not a bad idea.”
“Right? They won’t even notice I was there after a day. And if need be, I can just use a cloaking spell.”
“So, are we still on for the Demon Realm?”
“...Let’s wait.”
Shiron turned away from the chattering pair.
“Where are you going?”
“Let’s try this first, and if it really doesn’t work, we’ll go to the Demon Realm.”
Shiron opened a door set aside in the corner of the Colosseum. The door was connected to an elevator that went deep underground, capable of quickly descending hundreds of meters below.
Shortly after, Shiron emerged from underground carrying a large cross.
Upon closer inspection, it was not just a cross. An elf with its ears cut off was tied to the cross, wearing an expression of complete bewilderment.
Thump—
Shiron slammed the cross into the ground in the middle of the Colosseum, right under the strange clouds.
The elf on the cross, Verian, squinted in the sunlight he hadn’t seen in a while and muttered,
“What’s it this time!”
“...Don’t blame me. Blame your patron instead.”
Spitting on the sandy floor, Shiron took a deep breath and lifted his head. Neither Verian, Seira, nor Latera could understand what Shiron was up to with his antics.
“In ten minutes!! Every ten minutes!!”
“...?”
“I’ll break a finger one by one, so come out quickly!!”
Shiron’s shout echoed off the Colosseum walls, resounding loudly. Verian’s complexion turned pale at the echoing threat.
“Why are you doing this to me! I’ve done nothing wrong!!”
“Really asking because you don’t know? It’s because you’re a patron or something like a spy.”
Shiron sighed and rotated his shoulders.
“And why wouldn’t you be in the wrong? You know very well the dangers of researching teleportation, and yet, seducing an innocent priest was not a mistake?”
“I had no choice. I’m a victim too...”
Zap! Sparks flew into Verian’s view, and a moment later, he felt a severe pain on his cheek.
‘...It hasn’t been ten minutes yet?’
As Verian looked puzzled, Shiron healed the burst cheek using his divine power.
“You call yourself a victim? You spoke wrongly about the accomplice, didn’t you?”
“...”
“You should have died alone. Do you know how much Sir Dexter is hurting because of you?”
Zap—
In his anger, Shiron hit him again.
“And don’t worry about the broken fingers; I’ll heal them. I’m gentler than an inquisitor, so don’t hold too much resentment, I’ve told you repeatedly.”
Verian took that to mean Shiron would not end this in 100 minutes.
No one tried to stop Shiron’s actions.