Academy’s Genius Swordsman

Chapter 149

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HEL SCANS

[Translator – Peptobismol]

[Proofreader – Demon God]

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The white mountain mist flowed along the ridgeline. The morning air was damp, and a spring rain trickled through the trees, drumming softly.

The sky seemed brighter than when Ronan had left Philleon. The mist rising from the damp soil carried a thick, earthy scent. Ronan, surveying the surroundings, muttered curses under his breath.

“Fuck…”

Any remnants of drowsiness vanished entirely. Memories from a few hours ago briefly resurfaced as Ronan recalled hearing the news in the predawn darkness.

He was getting a good night’s sleep for the decisive battle with Shullifen. Suddenly, the door of the dormitory burst open, and a familiar voice echoed into the room.

– Ronan. Get up.

– …Instructor?

Ronan raised his head. Navirose stood at the doorway. Gazing through half-awake eyes, he noticed her attire, she was dressed in combat gear.

There was no apology for interrupting his sleep or barging in unannounced. In that moment, Ronan realized the gravity of the situation. Shaking off sleep hastily, he spoke up.

– What’s going on?

– Intelligence arrived that the Dawn Brigade has been decimated. I thought you might be interested, so I came to inform you.

Ronan’s eyes widened. The Dawn Brigade was part of the Imperial army’s specialized forces dedicated to Nebula Clazier, the group led by Zaifa.

– Just a moment.

Within minutes, Ronan was ready to depart. Luckily, the scene wasn’t too far from the campus. A drizzle continued, painting the still-dark correctional facility with a somber hue. The two mounted their steeds…

* * *

“It’s dreadful.”

“Yeah.”

Navirose, who had been scanning the scene, clicked her tongue. Ronan’s consciousness returned to the present. He nodded in agreement.

“Indeed.”

He tried to breathe only through his mouth, dreading the dizziness that would come from inhaling the metallic-blood scent in the air.

Corpses surrounded them. Bodies, some still retaining color, exuded crimson blood. Nearly ninety-something figures filled the spaces between the trees, all belonging to the Dawn Brigade. About seventy percent were human, the remaining thirty percent were burly creatures- the beastmen.

Fortunately, their bodies were relatively intact, no dismemberment or signs of cannibalism. Identification wouldn’t be an issue, thanks to this.

‘Damn it.’

Ronan gritted his teeth. The grim reality that he should be relieved by such facts was bitterly ironic. He muttered under his breath.

“It seems you won’t need to exert any effort.”

“Bweeh…”

Cita, who was crouching over Ronan’s head, shook her head. Ronan had brought Cita along in case there were any survivors, but it turned out to be pointless. The only survivors were those who were not at the scene.

First, they needed to ascertain the circumstances. Navirose seemed to share the sentiment, signaling to a soldier who was issuing orders to approach.

“Hey, hold on. I need to talk to you.”

“Hmm?”

The soldier cocked his head, wearing a lieutenant’s raincoat. He recognized Navirose and gasped.

“…Wha!”

He hurried over, adorned with insignias marking him as a lieutenant. He saluted Navirose upon recognizing her.

“Oh, Miss Navirose, you’re here?. If you had informed us, we would have come to receive you!”

“Enough of that. I’d like to hear an explanation of the situation.”

“Yes, of course! I’ll tell you as much as I know… But we also discovered the scene after everything had been done, so we don’t have much information.”

The lieutenant stumbled through his words. His ashen complexion betrayed immense tension. Navirose’s influence became apparent once more.

“About two hours ago, soldiers conducting reconnaissance found them. It’s presumed they were ambushed while assembling during a night operation or meeting.”

“That makes sense. Seems like some members of Zaifa’s unit were involved. Where’s that cat? Was it caught up in this mess?”

“The… cat? Oh, the Sword Saint was active in another place when the incident occurred. He left a message that he’ll look for the culprits and departed a little while ago.”

Navirose frowned at the mention of the Sword Saint. The startled lieutenant shrunk back. He didn’t seem adept at military matters.

Ronan removed the mist-covered veil from his head. Washing his face with the cold rainwater helped clear his mind. He turned to Navirose.

“I’ll do my own investigation.”

“Fine.”

“Cita, see if there are any survivors in the air.”

“Bweeh!”

Cita spread her four wings and took flight. They needed clues. As Ronan stepped forward slowly, the damp earth squelched, blood trickling with each step.

‘Did you just decide to leave now? Why did something like this suddenly happen?’

The glimmering mana remnants scattered around hinted at the involvement of Nebula Clazier. However, the suddenness of this drastic action remained a mystery. After about twenty steps, a familiar face among the corpses caught his eye.

‘That bear…’

The oversized figure, twice the size of an adult male, belonged to the Wearbear, who had accompanied Aselle during their encounter with Zaifa’s unit.

‘So, it’s true that Zaifa’s unit was also caught up in this mess.’

Ronan pursed his lips. He couldn’t fathom how furious that tiger, who treated his fellow beastmen with such horror, might be. Suddenly, his gaze fixed on Wearbear’s neck.

A long slash wound ran across the middle of his neck. Considering that his neck bone was cut in a single slash, he probably died without feeling any pain. Ronan narrowed his eyes, feeling a strange sense of deja vu.

‘This…’

A chillingly precise cut marked the neck, severing even the spinal cord. Even a peasant whose livelihood involved slaughtering cattle might show more emotion while cutting a cow’s throat. Whoever did this, wherever they lived, it was clear they were someone who had never laughed or cried their entire life.

‘F*ck, what’s that guy up to?’

Ronan quickly began examining other corpses. In most cases, each body had only one wound.

As he examined the forty-third body, Ronan frowned. All the wounds felt eerily similar. It was almost unbelievable that one person could have killed this many.

‘One person killed all these people alone? No way… there’s a subtle difference.’

But upon closer inspection, there was an extremely minute difference. Shocking, but not significantly different from one person to another.

Yet, there was something even more shocking. The basic form of the wounds felt too familiar.

As Ronan scrutinized, bringing his face close enough for the hair to prickle his cornea, he chuckled dryly. It didn’t take long for him to discern the nature of the odd feeling.

“Ha.”

There was no mistake. It was a sword technique based on the Savior’s swordsmanship. However, it felt different from the Savior or the robed figure’s swordsmanship. More concise and lacking emotion. Rather, it reminded him more of Navirose’s style.

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HEL SCANS

[Translator – Peptobismol]

[Proofreader – Demon God]

Join our Discord for release /invite/dbdMDhzWa2

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‘Something significant is clearly unfolding.’

He did his best to find additional clues but found nothing apart from the sparkling mana residue. After the search, he and the soldiers moved the bodies.

“Your face looks familiar… are you Ronan, the one who ended the endless winter?”

“That’s me. Could you pick up the head over there?”

“Nice meeting you!”

“Please, just pick up the head.”

A gust of wind swept from the mountainside, clearing the damp forest. By noon, the body retrieval was over. Ronan lit his pipe and said.

“In the end, we found nothing.”

“Put out your cigarette.”

“Could you just look once? How can you bear to see this?”

Ronan rebelled against Navirose for the first time. She didn’t say anything more, perhaps because she understood it to some extent. Navirose, inspecting the bloodstains with her hands in her pockets, took Ronan’s pipe and put it in her mouth.

“Uh, instructor?”

“Haa… damn it.”

After taking a few puffs, she exhaled the smoke, and the white vapor dispersed into the air. After inhaling and exhaling about three times, she handed the pipe back.

“Hartaway county in the north. You’re still young, but you’re doing something this good.”

“It’s my only luxury. I don’t have much else to spend money on.”

“You did well. The lack of results is more frustrating than anything.”

Navirose clicked her tongue. The clouds were clearing, revealing the blue sky. The remaining bloodstains on the slope still emanated a strong smell of blood. Ronan turned to Cita and said.

“Cita.”

“Bwaa!”

Cita spread her four wings. The blood that had seeped into the ground was absorbed into her body in droplets. Her absorption ability seemed to have increased significantly compared to two years ago.

“…Pyaah?”

“What’s the matter?”

Suddenly, Cita tilted her head. A crimson magic circle appeared before her, emitting a red trail that traced the bloodstains – a magic Ronan had seen in Gran Cappadocia. It was clearly a magic that traced the blood trails and tracked down survivors.

Their eyes met. Cita took off, and Ronan chased after her.

“Damn, I’ll be right back!”

“Ronan?”

Ronan didn’t look back and ran. Twigs and leaves brushed against him. His pace wasn’t long, and soon, Cita halted in front of a massive tree. A distressing sob emanated from underneath the aged tree.

The crimson trail was severed in front of the tree. It seemed like there were survivors below. Rolling up his sleeves, Ronan pushed against the tree.

“Hmph!”

It was heavy. Ronan had to switch his power source and use Varen’s Aura. As the golden aura surged up his arm, his muscles expanded.

Everything was fine, the problem was, his strength had increased too much. Crash! As the tree flew away, Ronan’s body leaned forward.

“Whoa?!”

His eyes widened. Beneath the fallen tree, there was a massive pit. Ronan, rolling down, came to a stop, bumping into something soft and moist.

The smell of beastmen and the metallic tang of blood were mixed together. Ronan raised his head and frowned.

“You…!”

“Ah… aah… aah…”

A Werelion was crouched down, trembling. Since it had no mane, it was a lioness. Groans were coming from her mouth.

“Bweeh!”

Cita landed on Ronan’s head. Ronan, recognizing the Werelion, raised an eyebrow. She was clearly Nemea, who served as a lieutenant in Zaifa’s unit.

“…Are you okay?”

“Ahh… ah…”

She seemed unaware of Ronan’s presence. It was the first time Ronan had seen a Werelion so terrified. Her once glossy fur was now soaked and ragged, almost like a mop with a mix of blood and rainwater.

“Damn, this isn’t the time for this. Come on.”

Frantically rummaging through his pocket, Ronan pulled out a glass bottle. It was a special potion from Varen carried for emergencies. If combined with Cita’s healing abilities, it could handle most serious injuries.

As Ronan cautiously approached, the lieutenant sensed his presence and looked up. Their eyes met. Suddenly, the lieutenant’s entire body bristled, and she recoiled.

“Your, your eyes…!”

“Huh?”

“Aaaahhh! Don’t come any closer!”

The lieutenant let out a roar. Ronan tried to calm her, but it was in vain. Retreating to a dead-end, she began clawing at the wall. Sounds of people approaching from above could be heard.

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HEL SCANS

[Translator – Peptobismol]

[Proofreader – Demon God]

Join our Discord for release /invite/dbdMDhzWa2

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