Academy’s Genius Swordmaster

[Translator – Peptobismol]

Chapter 245: With the Dragon (2)

The first floor of the Sky Tower served as its lobby, as one might expect from any grand building. The expansive space was adorned with luxurious statues, paintings, and a chandelier nearly the size of a small whale.

Its grandeur was such that it made the imperial palace’s ballroom seem like a modest village community center. However, a few minutes after the mysterious explosion in the bathroom, this most distinguished lobby had transformed into a hellish landscape where even vagrants wouldn’t dare tread.

Corpses lay scattered everywhere. The air was thick with the nauseating stench of blood. Gem-encrusted statues were shattered, resembling raw ores freshly mined. Precious metals, once displayed proudly, now glinted like crumbs in pools of blood. With the chandelier having fallen, the space was shrouded in darkness, barely distinguishable from the early morning outside.

Thud! The sound of a blade piercing scales signaled the end of the battle.

【Guhh…!】

The dragon Pradviche’s eyes widened, his vertically slit pupils narrowing as he looked behind him. He saw the longsword buried deep in his nape and the human youth gripping its hilt.

It was clear he had been fatally wounded. Blood repeatedly surged into his throat, making it hard to breathe. The young man gripping the sword pushed it in deeper.

“Just die already, dragon.”

【Y-you bastard…】

“You’re pathetically weak compared to that Naransonia woman.”

Hearing Ronan’s assessment, Pradviche gritted his teeth. He had never imagined he would suffer such humiliation from a mere human.

He deserved to swallow this insolent creature whole, but his wings and limbs were trapped in ice, rendering him immobile. This wasn’t ordinary ice; it neither broke nor melted. A chilling cold, as if drawn from the shadow of death itself, was consuming his body.

Too late, he regretted not targeting the mage first. He rolled his gleaming eyes towards the corner where the mage was trembling.

【Y-you damned mage…!】

“Eeek!”

Aselle shrank back, as if trying to erase his own presence. Despite his timid demeanor, the cold from his magic grew stronger.

The blood pouring from Pradviche’s neck and mouth froze before it could hit the ground. With a melancholic tinkling, the frozen blood shattered upon contact with the floor.

【C-curse you…】

Pradviche spat, looking back at Ronan. The light in his eyes dimmed. Even twisting the blade yielded no response. Confirming the dragon’s death, Ronan muttered indifferently.

“No room for your curse here.”

Ronan pulled his arm, extracting the white blade of Lamancha. The icy cold had lowered the surrounding temperature, causing steam to rise from the wound.

The sinister energy of the sword flickered like a mirage. Its trait of becoming sharper after drinking blood remained intact even after merging with the holy sword. He could hear Lynn’s voice echoing in his mind, praising the taste of dragon’s blood.

“Alright.”

Ronan jumped off Pradviche’s body. He looked over at Aselle, who was still shaking in the corner.

“You did great, Aselle. You might as well switch to being an ice mage full-time.”

“I-I can’t believe I trapped a dragon…”

“Take pride in your magic. I’ve told you before, the only thing you lack is confidence.”

Aselle nodded, still dazed. Despite having played a crucial role in the dragon hunt, he was surprisingly timid.

When Pradviche and his subordinates had charged in right after they left the bathroom, Ronan had thought they were doomed. But the fight had ended more smoothly than expected.

He was glad he had left Vijra behind. If his self-proclaimed teacher, the Winter Witch, had witnessed this scene, she would have pestered him with telepathic chatter all day. Ronan called out.

“Hey, it’s over here.”

“It’s over here too. Not even a warm-up.”

Orsay turned around. Blood dripped from the spiral blade of his spear. Around him lay the bodies of more than thirty half-dragons and familiars, all with holes punctured through them. Their different blood types mixed and coagulated, forming a crimson carpet.

A black aura unique to Orsay rose from the long spear near the pillar, like smoke. Orsay had struck or stabbed each enemy just once, and none had survived the second blow.

‘What on earth is that made of?’

Ronan shook his head in disbelief. He didn’t know what material it was made of, but its durability and destructive power were terrifying. If Orsay had taken on Pradviche, the battle would have ended even faster. While pondering this, he heard a voice.

“M-monsters…”

The bearded guard spoke up after a long silence. He had been sitting by the bathroom entrance since the battle began.

He was the only survivor of this hell. The comrades who had rushed in after hearing the explosion were slaughtered in the blink of an eye. Ronan and Orsay’s weapons cut through flesh like paper.

He had known they were strong, but to think they could kill even Pradviche. Ronan walked over and stopped in front of him.

“Alright. Let’s continue our chat.”

“I-I’ll tell you everything. Just spare me…!”

The guard frantically rolled his eyes but saw no hope of escape. The translucent barrier covering the entire lobby swallowed his last shred of hope.

It was a soundproof spell that Aselle had set up at the start of the fight. It explained why no reinforcements had come during what was essentially a massacre. Ronan asked.

“First, where’s my friend?”

“If you mean the swordsman with the dark blue hair, he’s likely on the third floor. The entire floor is Lord Radavankaza’s lair. That’s where the interrogation is happening.”

“The third floor, huh… Not too far.”

Ronan nodded. But he couldn’t be too optimistic. No doubt similar guards were stationed on every floor.

“What do you think about going up from the outside?”

“I-it’s not a good idea. Didn’t you move from the outside when you went to the top?”

“So?”

“Now they’re aware of that too, so there are more forces stationed outside. You’ll be intercepted the moment you’re spotted.”

Upon hearing the guard’s words, Ronan glanced out the window. Sure enough, dozens of dragons were circling the air. Half-dragon soldiers patrolled the vicinity of the tower with torches or stood on guard.

“Damn it.”

Ronan bit his lower lip. The sight made him want to curse out loud. It seemed it would be better to ascend from the inside.

“…Guess there’s no choice. One more thing.”

“Yes?”

“Where is the Dragon King during all this?”

Ronan asked another question. He had been curious from the start, and seeing the outside only intensified his suspicion. Given the emergency, it was puzzling why the most powerful figure wasn’t taking direct action.

[Translator – Peptobismol]

‘He doesn’t seem like the type to just sit and twiddle his thumbs.’

Moreover, the troop deployment was strange. If the objective was to capture intruders like Orsay and himself, a more dispersed deployment would be logical.

However, most dragons and their minions were concentrated around the Sky Tower, as if protecting something within it. The guard, hiccuping, shook his head.

“I-I don’t know for sure… He might be in the audience chamber?”

“Don’t play games. Do you want to join your friends over there?”

Ronan pointed his finger at the corpses. The comrades who had scoffed at the idea of a fight now lay mangled beyond recognition beneath the fallen chandelier.

“I-I truly don’t know. His Majesty’s personal movements are kept strictly confidential…”

The guard’s face turned pale as a sheet. Ronan, observing his reaction, spat on the ground.

The guard genuinely seemed clueless. It looked like they’d need to catch someone higher up the chain to get answers. Not that those proud dragons would readily spill their secrets.

“Ugh, damn it.”

Ronan sighed and swung his sword. Swish! The thin slash brushed against the mark engraved on the guard’s neck.

The emblem representing his master shattered and vanished. The guard clutched his neck as he felt his strength draining away.

“Gasp! Wh-what did you do…!”

“You’re no longer a minion of anyone.”

Ronan spat out. It was a way to shut him up. Any ordinary human wandering around the castle was likely to be attacked, so the guard couldn’t act rashly.

“Stay here until dawn and then get lost. If you utter a single unnecessary word…”

“R-Ronan! Look out!”

In the midst of Ronan’s threats, Aselle’s sudden shout echoed. Sensing danger, Ronan looked up. A torrent of crimson flames was surging towards him.

“What the…!”

The fire was faster than expected. Ronan quickly grabbed the guard by the neck and pulled back. He managed to escape, but the guard’s lower half was consumed by the flames. A horrifying scream erupted.

“Aaaargh! Gaaaaaah!”

“Shit.”

Ronan frowned as the flames died down. The spot where the guard’s lower body had been was now just a charred mark.

The guard, writhing in agony, finally went limp. Ronan tossed the half-burnt body aside and looked in the direction from which the flames had come.

“What the hell is that?”

“Graaah!”

About a dozen massive drakes were descending the grand staircase. The creatures, exhaling black smoke, resembled living siege engines.

A broad staircase that hadn’t existed before had suddenly appeared to the north, likely created through magic or some other strange means. It would have been odd if such a mechanism didn’t exist.

“There they are! Get them!”

A voice shouted. Troops poured down from the upper floors, including half-dragon soldiers Ronan had already cut down by the dozens today. A woman in flowing silk garments rode the largest drake.

【Ohoho! I came down because something felt off, and here you are. Your impudence ends here!】

She laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. Her nasally laugh echoed through the corpse-littered room. It was evident she was a polymorphed dragon.

“H-How did…!”

Aselle gasped. Given that the silence barrier was still intact, it seemed she had just guessed and come down. Orsay, wiping the blood from his spear, muttered.

“What a bother. So many weaklings.”

【The weaker they are, the more they boast. You ignorant lesser dragon. I am Alan—Kyaaah!】

As she introduced herself, a scream tore from her throat. Thwack! Orsay’s spear severed her left arm and pierced the skull of a drake behind her, embedding in the opposite wall.

With her arm suddenly gone, she cursed, causing chaos in her ranks. Ronan didn’t miss the opportunity and charged.

He swung his sword deep into the enemy line. Shluck! The head of the drake she had been riding soared into the air.

【Wh-what!】

“Gruuh…”

The headless giant toppled over. Its head spun through the air, scattering blood across the already blood-soaked floor.

“Capture them!”

The soldiers, finally regaining their senses, steeled themselves. The dragon woman screamed in anger, trying to get back up. Scales began to sprout on her face, indicating she intended to return to her original form.

Watching this, Ronan clicked his tongue. The idea of ascending quietly was already a lost cause. The only solace was that clearing them out would let them reach the third floor.

“You damn bastard. You’d better be alive.”

Muttering under his breath, Ronan gripped his sword hilt. Aselle’s ice spears pierced the leading enemies. Thud! As the drake’s spinning head hit the floor, the battle resumed.

[Translator – Peptobismol]