Academy’s Genius Swordsman - Chapter 274

“You’re here, Schlieffen.”

Ronan spoke as if it was no surprise that Schlieffen had shown up, despite telling him not to. As expected, it didn’t shock him at all. Schlieffen’s face hardened into a stony expression as he took in the scene around him.

“What the…!”

Though the blood had been cleaned up, the house still presented a horrific sight. Headless bodies lay strewn across the floor, and the deep slashes marking every surface made it hard to believe that this was the same place where he and Iril had spent time together. Schlieffen’s mouth slowly opened in shock.

“…Iril.”

He murmured her name, staring off into space as if he had lost everything in the world. His pale skin made his reddened eyes stand out even more. The composed and cold demeanor he usually carried had long since vanished.

“Ronan.”

Schlieffen finally turned to look at him. He staggered forward, but before he could reach Ronan, the door banged open behind him. Adeshan entered, her expression alarmed.

“Schlieffen! You can’t just leave the battlefield—ah?!”

Her face also froze as she took in the scene. It seemed the two of them had been in the same place when Ronan had called for backup.

Adeshan covered her mouth with her hand, her voice trembling as it slipped through her fingers.

“Ronan…what is this…?”

“It’s just as I told you. But thanks for coming quickly.”

Ronan forced a smile. He could sense multiple presences just outside the house. It seemed Adeshan had brought a pursuit team as he had requested. Judging by Kratir’s voice among the mix, they had arrived through spatial magic.

A dreadful silence settled over the room. Adeshan quickly silenced the murmuring pursuit team with a telepathic message. It was Schlieffen who finally broke the silence.

“…Explain the situation.”

“I get how you’re feeling, but calm down, man. Your energy is making my hair stand on end.”

Ronan grimaced. The oppressive atmosphere made it hard to breathe. The killing intent radiating from Schlieffen’s shoulders was nearly as intense as that of Zaifa or Orsay. A slow, heavy wind circled him, as if a hurricane was about to erupt and engulf the entire capital.

‘This is almost like back then.’

The wind felt like it could transform into a tempest at any moment, ready to devastate everything. Adeshan’s face turned ghostly white.

The aura was on par with that of Schlieffen at the peak of his power, back when he was known as the greatest swordsman on the continent. Was this what cold fury looked like? Ronan spoke again.

“You know it’s not your fault.”

Schlieffen clenched his teeth at Ronan’s words. The grinding sound of his teeth echoed through the room. Eventually, the killing intent subsided, and the turbulent wind settled down.

Though the atmosphere was still chilling, Ronan knew that this was Schlieffen’s way of doing his best. Despite the situation, Ronan acknowledged that Schlieffen, having been raised in a noble house, was far better at controlling his emotions than he was. Ronan continued.

“There’s not much to explain. It’s exactly as I said before. But if there’s anything I didn’t mention, it’s that the one who took my sister was the leader of Nebula Clazier.”

“The… the leader?!”

Adeshan’s eyes widened in shock. Schlieffen’s face grew even more tense. His lips quivered like someone suffering from an anxiety attack as he asked Ronan.

“…Is she alive?”

“I’m not sure. But I think she is.”

Ronan shared the information he had gathered before their arrival. Upon hearing that there was no trace of Iril’s blood at the scene, both of their expressions softened slightly.

But that didn’t change the fact that they needed to act quickly to ensure Iril’s safety. After finishing his explanation, Ronan turned to Adeshan.

“By the way, do you have the Blood Tracking Needle? The one we used to track down Barka in the North?”

“Huh? Yeah, I have it, but… why?”

“Give it to me. I need it.”

Ronan extended his hand. His expression was more serious than usual. After a brief moment of rummaging through her belongings, Adeshan handed him the Blood Tracking Needle.

“Here…”

“Thanks.”

Ronan expressed his gratitude. Since Barka’s death, the Blood Tracking Needle had been spinning in place, unable to find a new target.

With a click, Ronan opened the needle’s case and wiped away the remnants of Barka’s blood. The needle’s rotation ceased.

Ronan then pressed the needle against the small orb of blood he had identified as Abel’s. The needle slowly turned crimson and began pointing westward.

“What’s this…?”

“I coated it with the leader’s blood. It seems like he’s still within range.”

“W-What?”

Adeshan’s eyes widened in disbelief. The matter-of-fact tone with which Ronan spoke made the news even more shocking. Who would have thought he’d already obtained the leader’s blood? After handing the Blood Tracking Needle back to Adeshan, Ronan spoke in a grave tone.

“If you hurry, you might be able to track them with your eyes. If we’re lucky, we might even find their headquarters. But whatever you do, don’t engage the leader directly. He’s on a different level than anyone we’ve fought before.”

Ronan’s mind flashed back to his memories of Abel. He recalled the leader of Nebula Clazier, who had effortlessly subdued Elisia and Alibrihe on his own. The way Abel wielded the power of the stars like extensions of his own body and cut down the high wind spirit Hyland in a single stroke was something Ronan could never forget.

And now, a thousand years had passed since then. Abel had undoubtedly grown even stronger, accumulating countless pieces of knowledge. In some ways, he was a far more dangerous adversary than even the giants.

“I understand… But Ronan, aren’t you coming with us?”

Adeshan, noticing something off in Ronan’s tone, asked the question that had been nagging at her. His voice had the tone of a parent giving instructions to a child on their first errand. Ronan nodded.

“Yeah. There’s somewhere I need to go first. It’s a place I must visit if I want to save my sister. It shouldn’t take too long.”

Ronan spoke calmly. It was a decision he had reached through careful reasoning. If Abel had indeed kidnapped Iril, then conventional methods wouldn’t be enough to save her.

Now was the time to stay calm. As Sita had reminded him, acting rashly would only lead to disaster.

Ronan reached into his pocket and fingered the other Blood Tracking Needle left by the Savior. After gathering his thoughts, he suddenly grabbed Schlieffen by both shoulders.

“Schlieffen.”

Schlieffen didn’t reply. He simply shifted his gaze to meet Ronan’s eyes. Ronan continued.

“Two years ago, you made me a promise. That you would protect my sister no matter what.”

“…Yes.”

“That promise is still valid. Even if you don’t want to, I’ll make sure you keep it. Just wait for me.”

As soon as Schlieffen heard those words, his expression crumpled. A feeling of something heavy and unmanageable began to rise within his chest. But before he could say anything, Ronan turned away from him and looked at Adeshan.

“I’ll do what I can. Remember, don’t fight the leader.”

“R-Right.”

“Alright, I’ll be back.”

Adeshan nodded, her expression serious. As Ronan reached into his pocket, he pulled out a small box. Opening the lid, he revealed a dozen scrolls neatly rolled up inside.

Ronan selected one and unfurled it. The scroll was a gift from Elisia, capable of teleporting the user to the distant Wailing Sea.

It was better to approach this situation with caution rather than rushing and making a mistake. Ronan filled a small vial with Abel’s blood. Then, he stepped out through the window and climbed onto Sita’s back. As he recalled the face of the Savior, he muttered softly.

“Let’s hope being bedridden hasn’t made you too rusty.”

“Byaa.”

Sita responded with a confident cry. At the same time, Ronan activated the scroll.

The magical circle inscribed on the paper emitted a bright light, distorting the space around them. With a flash, the light enveloped Ronan and Sita, and when it faded, they were gone.

****

Nebula Clazier’s Headquarters.

“It’s dire. Even Felgrand has fallen.”

“We’re at our limit. Where is the leader…?”

The grand meeting room was filled with noise. The seven remaining Archbishops were engaged in a heated discussion about the increasingly precarious state of the organization. The empty chairs that once seated their fallen comrades felt even more oppressive today.

“I truly don’t understand. I hesitate to say it, but could it be that the leader has abandoned us?”

“Please refrain from such blasphemy, Archbishop Anaciel. You know that’s not the case.”

“I wish my words were only mistaken. But I thought he would have shown himself when Pantasion died…”

Anaciel murmured under his breath. It had been over a month since they had last seen their leader’s face. Every day felt like a nightmare that refused to end.

Somehow, the ignorant masses had learned how to break through the Blessings of the Stars. While there were still skilled individuals capable of wielding their

powers, their numbers were limited.

The Allied Forces, led by Navarrod and the Empire, had driven the organization to the brink of collapse. The continuous losses and deaths of their comrades were starting to take a toll on even the strongest-willed Archbishops.

As they prepared to resume the meeting with heavy sighs, the grand doors to the meeting room suddenly burst open, and a familiar figure stepped inside.

“Good to see you all. How have you been?”

“The Leader!”

The Archbishops’ eyes widened in shock. Archbishop Retancier was the first to spring from his seat, followed closely by the others.

“It’s been a while, Leader!”

They were thrilled to see him after such a long absence. Abel, who had returned after a month, was carrying an unconscious human woman on his back. He spoke nonchalantly.

“I apologize for not being around recently. I’ve been busy with preparations.”

“It’s alright now that you’ve returned, Leader. But what happened to your face… Is that an injury?”

Retancier’s eyes widened as he examined Abel’s face. A diagonal slash marred Abel’s left cheek. Abel chuckled and shook his head.

“It’s nothing. Just a lesson learned.”

“A lesson?”

“Yes. The lesson that the offspring of a beast, no matter how tame they seem, are still beasts. She was fierce.”

Abel chuckled as he recalled the events in the capital. His battle with Iril, armed with nothing but a kitchen knife, had lasted less than a minute.

Although the injury was superficial and he had sustained no other damage, the fact remained that he had exchanged over a hundred blows with her and ended up with a scar. Abel asked.

“Any word from Alibrihe? Still no response?”

“N-No, sir. We haven’t heard from him since Adren… We’re starting to fear he may have perished.”

“That’s unlikely… He must have decided to betray us. What a foolish old man.”

Abel sighed. He had anticipated this possibility, but it was still disappointing to see it unfold. He had thought Alibrihe’s spirit had been completely broken, but perhaps he was wrong. Abel glanced at the Archbishops, then noticed something.

“By the way, where’s Alicia? Is she on a mission?”

“…Alicia died four days ago. Along with Kailasis. They were defeated by a man named Ronan and some of Navarrod’s kin.”

Retancier explained the tragedies that had occurred in Felgrand Mountain and Pancia Fortress. During Abel’s absence, four Archbishops had lost their lives.

Hearing that even Pantasion had fallen, Abel raised an eyebrow. That stag had fallen too? This Empire’s rising star must be something special.

His hands itched to join the fight, but now was not the time. Abel glanced at Iril, who was still unconscious, and sighed deeply.

“It’s unfortunate. This is a big problem. I had planned for Alicia to take care of this, given her delicate nature, but…”

“Pardon? What do you mean by that, sir…?”

Retancier tilted her head in confusion, unable to grasp his meaning. Abel sighed softly as he shifted his gaze to her.

“There’s no other choice. You’ll have to take care of her until we’re ready.”

“P-Pardon?”

“Here. Be careful with her. Make sure she doesn’t get hurt.”

Instead of answering, Abel gently handed Iril over to Retancier. He handled her with the care one would give to a precious piece of jewelry. Iril, still unconscious, was breathing softly in her sleep.

“Who is this…?”

Retancier’s eyes widened as she looked at Iril. She was the most beautiful person she had ever seen, even more so than any human she had encountered in her life. Her white hair was strikingly similar to the leader’s. Abel spoke.

“Take good care of her. She’s going to be our saintess.”