Doggone Academy

The situation was quickly resolved. Additional troop reinforcements were no longer needed, but more alchemists were required for the investigation of the incident.

Popper, with his hands clasped behind his back, pushed the front gate open and entered the mansion. Inside, the knights were carrying wooden beams. The ghoul-dug tunnels were unstable, and the installation of supports to prevent collapse was in full swing.

His lieutenant, Berelman, standing by the door, saluted and followed behind him.

“I’ve sought advice from Silveryn.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“The large magic circle on the ceil of the underground laboratory is a kind of barrier designed with high-level magic. It had been preventing ghouls from escaping outside, but recently a portion was destroyed, and it seems to have lost its effect.”

“High-level magic, you say…”

Popper’s eyes deepened.

An alchemist versed in high-level magic wasn’t an everyday occurrence.

With the understanding of the alchemist’s intentions still unclear, talk of high-level magic made for a throbbing headache.

“The magic circle wasn’t designed to prevent escape from the basement itself, but was set up to prevent passing over the horizontal line where it was drawn. That’s why ghouls were vigorously digging sideways.”

“They hadn’t anticipated ghouls would break through the wall. Have we confirmed how far the tunnels extend?”

“A report just came in. It connects to the public cemetery. They have been feeding on corpses buried underground, and some have been transformed into ghouls and joined the horde.”

The scenario plausibly explained how the ghouls confined in the laboratory became such a large group.

Popper nodded as if finally convinced.

“We overlooked the cemetery.”

Had they searched the cemetery intensively, they might have found traces of the ghouls.

However, Berelman considered it a stroke of luck that they had missed the cemetery and confronted the ghouls in the basement instead.

The cemetery was akin to a party hub for ghouls. With its open fields and intricate network of tunnels, it was an optimal environment for them.

“Had the skirmish occurred in the cemetery, the ghouls would have dragged knights into the tunnels, turning it into a unilateral battle and likely resulting in a major disaster.”

“Yes, that would likely be the case… Well, we owe a huge debt to that young fellow.”

During their conversation, the front door of the mansion flung open, and an injured knight was dragged out, aided by others.

The wounded knight, with their lower body drenched in blood, was isolated outside the main gate.

Watching attentively, Berelman added,

“It’s the doing of the remaining ghouls.”

“Hmm…”

This made for the third casualty.

Not all ghouls had been dealt with. Knights were still struggling to eliminate the remaining ghouls.

Only after the last one was completely dealt with would the subjugation truly end.

The remaining ghouls, despite their territory being invaded by the knights, did not attempt to come out from hiding, plagued by fear.

The ones left were all ‘escaped’ ghouls. They were terrified, had run out of the mansion towards Joyce, then hid in the tunnels, fiercely resisting.

And the fearsome existence that had instilled such terror in those ghouls was…

Popper turned his eyes towards a boy sitting in a corner of the garden.

The boy was nonchalantly washing off blood with water the villagers had brought in buckets, pouring it steadily over his head.

“That lad’s identity becomes more intriguing by the minute.”

“I agree.”

“Joyce is a prodigy of rare kind. In a few years, he’ll likely be able to manifest his sword energy, but it seems he still falls short of that lad’s level.”

To reach the stage where one could manifest faint sword energy at the age of twenty was indeed a prodigious talent.

“…”

Berelman felt ashamed of his past behavior, having lightly followed his colleagues in undervaluing Damian.

“Bring him some clothing.”

“I’ve already ordered it.”

“How about arranging our order’s uniform for the lad?”

“… That’s a matter that requires Silveryn’s consent. It would be presumptuous to offer the insignia of our order now, especially since his journey to Eternia is confirmed.”

It would be problematic to rashly bestow the insignia of the knightly order upon someone under Silveryn’s tutelage.

Popper cut Berelman off with a chuckle.

“Heh heh, indeed. I was merely speaking off the cuff.”

To Berelman, it seemed more than an offhand remark. Popper’s gaze upon the boy was ablaze as if he had struck gold.

A few hours ago, the knights had scoffed at him. Now they peered at him with a mixture of awe. The boy did not seem to take any notice of them.

For a while, Popper observed Damian as if he was looking at a mystical creature, then finally cleared his throat.

“Hmm…”

Popper seemed to have something to say as he slowly approached Damian.

***

Joyce remained in the underground laboratory, examining the scene of the battle.

Questions still clustered in his mind.

The walls and floor. And on the floor were the marks of a sword.

At the very least, during the act of sweeping away the ghouls, there had been no intervention of magic.

‘How in the world…’

The firm stone walls and iron bars cut cleanly, as if through cake, with a depth enough to bury a wrist.

Such feats were beyond pure physical strength.

Could that unremarkable-looking sword truly accomplish this?

Volk, and Joyce’s peer, Felix, were also investigating the scene of the battle.

Felix, due to his inferior experience and skills, had been assisting from the back.

Felix asked Volk,

“What do you think, senior?”

“The trajectory of the sword swings appears quite crude. To be strict, it does not seem the work of someone trained long in swordsmanship.”

Volk wasn’t underestimating Damian’s abilities or being derogatory.

There was a lot of information recorded at the battle scene. To people who could read what these records meant, attempting to devalue Damian’s talent was pretty much a fool’s errand.

Felix mistakenly interpreted the emotionless methodical verification at the scene as disparaging.

In the current context, he was the only one envying Damian and looking down on him.

He was inexperienced, and like an adolescent full of knightly dreams, he was excessively inflated with ego. Not to mention, he was still influenced by the earlier atmosphere where several senior knights, including Volk, had belittled Damian.

“He must have had incredible luck.”

Volk ignored Felix’s comment, pondered for a moment, and then said,

“It’s either an enchanted sword or a sword imbued with high-level magic.”

Joyce pondered deeply.

“An enchanted sword…”

Felix added,

“If that’s the case, then it’s the sword’s power, not his own skill. He’s just lucky to have someone backing him.”

To exhibit such power, one needed to skillfully wield sword energy. At the age of sixteen, with little formal sword training, talk of sword energy was beyond the realm of talent and contrary to reason.

Having an archmage like Silveryn as a mentor lent some credibility to the enchanted sword hypothesis.

However, Joyce found it difficult to agree. Though he had never seen Damian draw his sword, it was likely not an enchanted blade.

An enchanted sword had a short lifespan and needed to be stored in a specially enchanted scabbard even when not in use to prevent the magic from leaking. Damian was carrying a plain scabbard.

Moreover, it was highly unlikely that Silveryn would write a recommendation to Eternia just because Damian owned an enchanted sword, something purchasable with sufficient money.

There had to be something more substantial.

Volk added one more possibility,

“If not, then it’s a magic sword…”

Joyce nodded slightly at his words.

The term ‘magic sword’ seemed far-fetched, but given all the circumstances, it was the most persuasive theory.

“Aren’t they the same thing, though? Either way, it’s clear it’s not his own power.”

Felix thought a magic sword and an enchanted sword were the same.

Volk negated his speculation.

“Not at all. It’s the exact opposite.”

“Excuse me?”

Volk didn’t bother to elaborate further for Felix.

Joyce swallowed hard.

‘It could really be a magic sword.’

A magic sword indicated a different dimension of ability and talent.

The main distinction between an enchanted sword and a magic sword was the presence of a will.

While not complex thinking like a human, each magic sword contained its own ‘will.’

Hence, there were conditions for wielding a magic sword.

The first was to be chosen by the magic sword.

Yet, ‘the magic sword’s choice’ was not an absolute condition. There were swordmasters who utterly disregarded the choice and will of magic swords yet wielded them perfectly, though at the cost of severe side effects.

The most critical second condition was to withstand the magic pressure.

Magic swords contained a transcendent amount of densely concentrated magic power, and when wielded, a magic pressure emanated around it. Hence, untrained individuals could faint nearby.

Furthermore, the one holding the sword had to endure an entirely different intensity of magic pressure.

Ignoring this and carelessly gripping a magic sword could result in an individual fainting, losing consciousness for months, or even becoming an imbecile.

Resistance to magic pressure wasn’t something that could be trained to extend like a rubber band. To handle a magic sword, one needed an innate resilience.

It felt even a level above erstwhile discussions about sword energy.

Volk too seemed to guess that Damian was a possessor of a magic sword.

If the rumors of the magic sword spread, it could pose a threat to Damian’s safety. Of course, as long as Silveryn was by his side, he was unlikely to be harmed, but it could become a major annoyance in many ways.

As if it were nothing, Felix mumbled to himself,

“It’s not that amazing, is it? If I had a magic sword, I could easily deal with ghouls, or the academy, or just whatever…”

Whether Volk shared Joyce’s thoughts or was just cautioning him, he warned Felix,

“Felix, you haven’t heard anything. The talk of magic swords must remain strictly confidential.”

“Huh? Oh, yes!… Aghh!”

Felix responded, only to step on a piece of ghoul flesh and tumble down immediately. His large frame caused a resounding echo.

“Ah, why wasn’t this flesh cleaned up yet.”

Joyce shook his head as he looked down at Felix.

It was evident that Felix, despite experiencing it firsthand, wouldn’t understand.

Would he grasp the meaning of standing unscathed in a place dense with flesh, blood, thorns, and bones?

What good is holding a magic sword when falling like this could result in ghouls tearing one’s limbs off in less than a second?

Felix, too, was preparing to enter the academy, lumping everything together with Joyce.

Strictly speaking, he stood no chance of academy admission. Even his apprenticeship here was thanks largely to a substantial donation.

Soon, he would likely whine to his father to buy an enchanted sword.

Joyce heaved a deep sigh.

***

Popper, with hands behind his back, approached Damian. His chest was puffed out and his muscles firm, which made him look much younger than he was.

Damian sat calmly, waiting for Popper to reveal his intentions.

For Damian, it was the first time handling Popper alone without Silveryn by his side.

The knights guarding the mansion had a mountain of questions to ask Damian, and they all focused their attention on Popper, hoping he would provide answers.

After watching Damian silently for a while, Popper finally spoke.

“Can I see your sword?”

The source of this c𝐨ntent is fre𝒆w(e)bn(o)vel