Chapter 128: Admission to the Academy (4)

Chapter 128: Admission to the Academy (4)

A dark night.

In front of a large, shabby warehouse, several mercenaries were burning cigarettes.

As they chuckled and gossiped, they spoke with a sense of relief.

"It's so refreshing to not have to listen to the children whine."

"The warehouses have been full of them the last few days."

"But where have they all gone, in one day?"

"At dawn, a wagon came and loaded everything up. I didn't ask where you were going. live long."

Not long ago, the warehouse was home to a number of orphans with no connections.

But now the warehouse is empty, and in a few days, a new batch of children will be transported from somewhere.

And then they'll disappear, no one knows when or where.

"I want to know where they're coming from and where they're going."

"Arthur, wondering about useless things will lead you to your destiny."

"I heard they go to some kind of nursery in the center of the Imperial City."

"That's right, a nursery run by the Religious Quovadis. Don't worry."

The mercenaries make small talk, stretching and yawning.

Then.

Suddenly, the mercenaries fall silent.

A hulking man who must have stood at least six feet tall stepped to their side.

Captain Ron Bartison.

A fierce mercenary from the North. 'The Flesh Grinder', 'The Butcher's Hammer', and other gory nicknames followed.

"Stop talking and stand guard, if you want to take home a handful of coins for your wasted life."

"...."

"Trashy stuff."

Bartison clicked his tongue and continued on his way.

He sneered inwardly at the mercenaries who couldn't speak a word at his size.

What kind of argument could a lowly mercenary with no mana have against a man of his stature?

...?

The standing mercenaries didn't just talk.

Thud.

A man slumped to the ground.

He was followed by the other mercenaries, who went limp.

"What the hell?"

Bartison quickly reached to the hammer at his waist.

Now, a long shadow is cast in the glow of the roaring campfire.

"What, what?"

Bartison was startled.

A figure peered down from the roof of the warehouse.

A black cloak, a black hat, and an ominous stork's beak mask covering its face.

"...are you Ron Bartison?"

The spooky voice said.

Bartison swallowed dryly.

Tsutsutsuts...

Bartison's hammer took on an aura.

A liquid aura that could only be used by those who had attained enlightenment, an aura that symbolized the Graduator, wrapped around the hammer.

"What are you doing!"

He swung the hammer with all his might.

...tried to swing it away.

But all he could manage to swing were his two wrists, which were now missing.

Thud!

The hammer flew upward with such momentum that it landed behind him, scattering the aura it carried.

"...?"

Bartison staggered backward.

No blood gushed out. The cut where his wrist had been severed had been instantly dried by the heat.

"Uh-huh?"

Bartison opened his mouth to scream.

But he couldn't.

The ominous shadow had crawled down from the roof of the warehouse and was now looking into his face.

"Ron Hubert Bartison. First pact with the demon four years ago, when he molested and killed the 13-year-old girl next door and sacrificed her. Since then, he's been stealing information from the Northern Guild Union and feeding it to the demon. Finally, he betrayed his platoon, the 1st Platoon, 4th Company, 207th Regiment, 75th Division, 5th Legion of the Humanity Alliance, by handing over the location of the platoon's sleeping quarters to the enemy while on guard duty. Led a friendly platoon to destruction. Is that right?"

The Shadow's question was hard and chilling.

Bartison stammered a reply.

"Ughhhh... ... At the very beginning, the incident from 4 years ago is correct, but what happens after that!? I didn't do them!"

"Yeah. They're just things you haven't done yet."

"What, what?"

Bartison gasped, stepping back.

But he couldn't.

This time, his ankle was severed.

"No!"

Bartison couldn't even scream anymore.

The Shadow stretched out his right hand, and a black sword was drawn and plunged into his throat.

The boy squeezed his eyes shut and called out to Bianca.

"I... fell in love with you the moment I saw you! Won't you go out with me! I'll be nice to you!"

Apparently, he was a second-year student.

But Bianca was adamant.

"Hah...."

With a deep sigh, she swept her bangs and squinted one eye.

"You're right. Did you call me up to that rooftop just to say that?"

"Uh, yeah. Uh, yeah, right?"

"Well, first of all, let me apologize, I can't afford to go out with a guy or anything right now, and I only got in today in the first place."

"Ha, but you have nothing to lose by going out with me! I'm in the student council and I'm also in the leading club...!"

"Yeah. I'm sorry."

And with that, Bianca turned and kicked her confessor to the curb.

Vikir stood behind the stone pillar of the railing and thought.

'Good times. Well, it has nothing to do with me.'

Watching the innocent lovemaking of children twenty years younger than him made the tip of his nose tickle.

Vikir soon pulled away, his back to the pillar.

At that very moment.

"...!"

Bianca's head snapped up.

"Who's there?"

Bianca asks in a cold voice, and then she takes a step and shoots toward the stone pillar that Vikir is hiding behind.

'Oh no. You must have good eyesight because you're from the Sacred Palace.'

Vikir shrugged once.

Bam!

Vikir slammed into the wall and leaped down.

No need to take the stairs.

Vikir leaped from railing to railing, pillar to pillar, and quickly disappeared in the direction of the lecture hall.

Bianca caught up with him a few minutes later, and her eyes widened.

"...What was that? I could definitely feel the presence."

Bianca looked again at the stone pillars, railings, and stairs that had been kicked in just before.

But something that had been there was gone, like a ghost.

"Did I see it wrong?"

Bianca scratched her head.

The divine archers of Usher, the superhumans, can see and hear things miles away.

They are also masters of the art of archery, and their bodies are so strong and gaunt that it is no exaggeration to say that no one can match their speed, especially in pursuit.

Bianca, the eldest daughter of such a family, chasing someone and losing them?

That couldn't happen, at least not within this academy.

"I must have been looking in the wrong place, I was too sensitive."

Bianca turned to look between the stone pillars.

It was time to return to her seat at the new student reception.

... Just then.

"!"

Bianca stopped in her tracks.

A faint smell wafted past her nostrils.

It was the unmistakable scent of strong rum.

Not the kind of smell you'd expect to find on a rooftop exit staircase with nothing but the night breeze and moonlight.

What does that mean?

'Someone was here.'

Bianca's expression hardened.

Someone had been here just moments ago.

But that didn't matter now.

What mattered was that someone was here, and that someone was gone.

And that someone who had been here had evaded Bianca, the prodigy of the Usher family!

'...No way!'

That person must have been there when Bianca was feeling the hits.

But what about the fact that there's nothing in front of her now?

It means that the person has fled at a speed that 'barely' exceeds her own.

'Who could it be? A senior or a professor?'

But there's no reason for a senior or a professor to run away from Bianca's pursuit.

Moreover, Bianca was confident that she could outrun any senior or professor in terms of speed.

After all, she'd demonstrated that in her practical assessment.

"... But who."

Did he mean that anyone in the academy could just walk away and leave her behind?

Bianca sniffed, confused, at the scent of rum that was slowly fading on the night breeze.

Then.

"Hey, Bianca, come on, it's almost time for the freshman talent show!"

I hear my classmates waving and calling from the window below.

"...."

Bianca can't help but turn on her heel with a nervous look on her face.

With only the scent of cheap rum wafting behind her.