How to Survive at the Academy C.151

Subjugation of Crebin (2)

At this juncture, our objective isn’t to overpower Crebin. As I’ve mentioned, unless we shatter his familial background and grandeur first, even if we were to subdue him, we’d be unable to clean up the aftermath.

—Whooosh…

Dust billows within the study. Crebin conjures a gust of wind on the spot to dispel the dust, then he lifts his left hand once more. Though the nature of his power is beyond our grasp, having faced four acts, I have a rough understanding. Despite being in an incomplete state and unable to fully manifest the power of a malevolent god, Crebin could still manipulate the ‘physical forces’ around him at will. Gravity, inertia, friction—at least the flow of physical energy could be controlled as he pleased, as long as his magic allowed it. Surely, it would give him a taste of conquest, feeling as if the energy flow of this world is contained within his hands.

To manipulate more than mere physical forces would require prolonged focus and extensive accumulation of magic. The level that could be utilized in battle on the spot is limited to this extent. Now, while the evil god’s power hasn’t been fully unleashed, it’s prime time to suppress him, yet there is an order to these matters.

I gather magic in my hands.

—Boom!

The preparation to concentrate the magic into a single point is complete.

Intermediate level fire magic, ‘Point Explosion’.

Though Crebin Rothtaylor was quick to react and assume a defensive position against the surge of magic, unfortunately for him, the attack wasn’t aimed at him.

—Boom!!!!

The floor crumbles, and its resounding echo enfolds the entire mansion. Regretfully, the peaceful and pleasurable social gathering has come to an end.

* * *

—Boom! Crash!

The sound of Ed’s magic-induced explosion traveled straight down to the floor below. It was the same with the main hall, where the grand banquet was still in full swing.

Nobles clinking glasses of fine wine and engaging in conversation were startled by the abrupt noise. The sound of vibration and the partial collapse of an exterior wall caused a buzz among the attendees.

Soon, an elderly retainer appeared and tried to calm the situation, but the absence of Crebin, the man responsible for it all, was glaringly evident. Sella, mingling within the crowd, Clarice enjoying the banquet, and Sinir Bloomriver alone on the terrace staring at the sky—each one of them bore a look of dismay. Most people, unsure of what was unfolding, decided to halt the festivities and waited for the servants to gauge the situation.

“Hmm.”

In the midst of this, Princess Sella took a deep breath. Despite the suddenness, several suspicious points could not be overlooked, especially the fact that Crebin Rothtaylor and Ed Rothtaylor were both missing simultaneously.

“The wine is exquisite. Seems I’ve had enough for the night.”

Sella remarked, handing her partially empty wine glass to a servant standing by, signaling her decision to stop drinking. Meaning to sober up, she stepped onto the terrace and as she turned her head to examine the exterior wall, it appeared there had been an explosion on the upper floors.

“Hmm…”

Lost in thought, Sella chuckled to herself, opened the door, and stepped out.

* * *

—Drip, drop.

The sound of dust and debris falling.

The study’s floor had given way, spilling books and documents onto the floor below.

—’I’ve heard there’s an unusually strong magical reaction beneath the Duke Crebin’s private study. But, considering the mansion’s layout, the kitchen is situated right beneath the study. It would be odd for such immense magic to be sensed coming from a servant’s kitchen.’

According to the information Yenika had obtained, there was a strange space below that gave off magical reactions. The mansion’s blueprint suggested a kitchen should be directly under a study of identical size, yet the study was excessively spacious compared to the kitchen downstairs.

It was highly likely there was a space next to the kitchen that wasn’t shown on the blueprint. The entrance to it would most certainly be in Crebin’s study. While it would have been best to find that entrance, the situation didn’t allow for it, so we opted to break the floor instead.

—Rip, crash!

“Aahhh!”

As the ceiling caved in, startled maids ran out of the kitchen. But I couldn’t see them; the sound leaked through, blocked by a massive exterior wall.

Just as predicted, the study floor exactly covered the kitchen and the hidden space next to it. Where I fell was precisely that secret space.

“Cough, huuck…!”

“Yenika, are you alright?”

“Uh, yes…!”

Within the narrow brick-lined secret space, there was only a lone passageway leading somewhere. The dark corridor stretched downwards, appearing to connect all the way to an underground space.

It seems we’ve arrived at the right place.

—Whooosh!

As the dust rose again, Crebin picked himself up from within. Clenching his left hand tightly, he compressed the surrounding air, but I rapidly reacted, rolling to the side.

—Crack!!

A nearby stone bursts under the pressure.

Witnessing my agility in avoiding the debris, Crebin expressed admiration.

“You’re incredibly quick to respond. It’s as if you’re not facing the same opponent for the first time today.”

Of course. Despite Crebin’s unawakened state, I have faced him numerous times before. While he was no easy opponent, he was almost endearing compared to the evil god Mabeuler.

“Do you realize your mistake?”

I brushed off my clothes and stood up quickly.

“The most concerning part for me was that this mansion fell entirely within your domain. Servants and guards all moved at the command of a Rothtaylor. You forfeited your greatest advantage by permitting my people to enter.”

The work at hand isn’t to restrain Crebin. There is an order to these proceedings. I grabbed Yenika’s hand and launched us into the underground passageway as if diving in.

“Whoa, whoaah?!”

Yenika, taken aback, was pulled along with me, and we dashed down the stairs. A place this carefully concealed must surely hold a wealth of evidence of Crebin’s misdeeds.

—Tap tap tap!

There was no way Crebin Rothtaylor would stand idly by after seeing Ed enter the passageway. He swiftly gripped his sword, ready to follow.

But he couldn’t pursue.

—Boom!

—Crash crash crash!

Lightning struck without a hint of rain.

As if to block Crebin’s path to the entrance, the lightning bolt, striking right in front of him, stirred up more dust.

“Cough…!”

Crebin covered his mouth with his sleeve, bracing against the aftermath, and once the dust cleared, there stood a girl, adjusting her swaying garb. Her tied-back white hair shone lustrously. Despite her small stature, she exuded a formidable presence, yet her sleepy eyes somewhat diminished her vigorous aura. Holding onto her large witch’s hat and idly chewing jerky, she shoved her hands into her coat pockets and voiced languidly,

“Sorry for the inconvenience.”

—Flash flash flash!

In that moment, several ethereal swords materialized from thin air, plunging into the ground around her. Forming a defensive circle, these massive swords weren’t something that could be manifested so effortlessly.

High-level light magic ‘Blades of Illumination’.

Amidst them, countless intermediate barrier spells intertwined, creating an impenetrable defensive perimeter.

“From now on, this is an off-limits area.”

The prodigious magician, Lucy Mayrill.

Appearing like a bolt from the blue and seizing the space in an instant, she looked unfazed despite conjuring dozens of intermediate and even high-level spells.

“Now… What on earth are you doing…?”

“Upset, are you?”

Her words could be taken as a challenge.

However, listening to her calm and innocent voice, one would sense no such intent.

There’s no sensation of the blade.

Lucy never uses such provocations to destabilize her opponents during battle. There’s simply no need for it.

She states only the absolute truth.

“Then… try breaking through.”

The barrier she’s manifested in mere seconds is a wall of steel, impervious even if drawn upon by the might of high-ranking spirits.

Crebin watches Lucy’s unblemished eyes narrowing slightly.

* * *

Elsewhere, departing from Oldec, Lortelle sits inside a carriage, legs crossed and arms folded.

Gazing at the sage’s missive for an extended period, he exudes an air of eerie determination on route to the Rothtaylor’ mansion.

The carriage walls are filled with various ledgers. A substantial workload remains unchecked.

Yet, despite this, Lortelle spares time to venture beyond Oldec.

In the imperial capital of Chloeron, Princess Phoenia’s solemn face emerges from the stables in the dead of night, leading a horse out by the reins.

The royal stableman tries to dissuade her with a look of distress, but an average commoner stands no chance against her.

Mounting a sturdy, well-bred horse fitted with a high-quality saddle, the inconvenience of her dress hem is trivial compared to the precious time at stake.

With but a few guards in tow, Princess Phoenia unceremoniously departs from the imperial palace.

The observing soldiers swiftly report her departure, though too late to alter the course of events.

All directions point to a singular destination: the Rothtaylor residence, where Crebin conducts his covert operations.

* * *

― Clatter! Clack!

I grasp Yenika’s hand and dash down the staircase.

We must make use of the time Lucy buys us outside to uncover the nature of this secret space.

If it’s so meticulously concealed, it undoubtedly holds all of Crebin’s critical secrets and vulnerabilities.

As we descend further, sounds begin to echo in the dark passageway.

Having already spent time enough to reach the underground, it seems more comforting to consider it merely a basement from here on.

Clutching Yenika’s wrist, we continue our brisk escape.

“Listen well, Yenika. From here on, remember everything you see. It carries more weight if you corroborate my testimony than if I witness it alone.”

“What in the world lies ahead?!”

“I don’t know either! We’ll only know once we see!”

“Eek!”

Indeed, evidence of relentless efforts to summon the wretched deity is likely amassed here.

Should we manage to procure objects that serve as evidence, the rest will proceed without hindrance.

Suddenly, the descent ends, and a long corridor laid with brick materializes before us, feeling much like a tunnel. Devoid of natural light, a row of magically lit torches stretches to the corridor’s end.

Yenika and I sprint along.

Reaching a large wooden door at last, it feels as though we’ve arrived.

No time to hesitate, no moment to prepare mentally.

I kick the door open.

― Bang!

With a jarring sound, the door swings open, and the interior structure comes into full view—resembling a study much like the ones seen upstairs.

Spacious, lined with bookshelves, filled with numerous experimental tools.

A couple of desks arranged with evidence of extensive research on magic circles. Across the laboratory, another door looms on the opposite wall.

There’s no leisure to scrutinize these documents detail by detail. We hastily absorb the surroundings, promptly setting off towards the next room, recognizing the urgency to familiarize ourselves with the complete layout.

“Pant… Pant…”

Yenika, not one with physical resilience, seems to be hitting her limits already.

― Bang!

Throwing open the second wooden door, we find ourselves at an impasse.

“Uh… Huh…!”

What stretches alongside the narrowed corridor are countless cells, barred with sturdy iron. At a glance, the multitude of these cell-like rooms exceeds ten. Yenika’s wrist trembles under my grip.

“Are you okay?”

“Uh… Yes. Let’s keep moving.”

Though undoubtedly alerted by an animalistic intuition, Yenika consciously avoids gazing into the cell interiors.

I’ve caught glimpses, and those specific cells reeking of decay hold contents one could only dreadfully surmise.

Cells are, by nature, constructed to confine.

What dwells within might seem ostensibly predictable.

And as we traverse the hallway, we finally encounter the extensive hall.

Contrary to expectations, a sliver of moonlight descends from the heavens into this underground domain—suggesting deliberately designed ventilation in what might otherwise be an overlooked, inaccessible space.

At the hall’s center… stands a human figure.

“Ah… Huff…!”

Yenika stifles a gag, unable to contain herself.

The figure—undeniably upright on human feet—pierces through the chest by a great sword.

As if it has fallen from the heavens, skewered by the sword now entrenched in the floor, holding the body upright.

The flowing golden locks are eerily familiar.

She… mirrors the grand portrait above Rothtaylor mansion’s main entrance, the luxuriant hair precisely the same.

Her stature and appearance are similar too.

Only, her physical state is grotesque.

Her left arm missing.

Her right leg gone.

One eye bears a scar as if sliced by a blade.

And her body is riddled with punctures as if stitched by needles.

The sole remaining eye is gently closed, suggesting a tranquil slumber amid the nightmarish disfigurement.

“Ed… That person is… Ed’s…”

My eyes widen, unable to avert from the sight before me. Denial is not within my capacity.

She was once dubbed the luminous jewel of the Rothtaylor lineage.

With a racing heart, I attempt to regain composure.

I’ve seen my share of corpses. I’ve witnessed thousands fall in mere seconds.

Maintaining calm is my forte. Whatever comes, I grit my teeth to preserve rational thought.

“The Dark Deity is said to descend in exchange for blood.”

I begin to speak slowly.

“To wield the Deity’s power like his own, he used his own blood-related daughter for experiments.”

Tears well up in Yenika’s eyes as she covers her mouth, speechless upon observing the multitude of wounds etched upon Arwen.

“As plans went awry using his daughter, was his next resolve to conscript his other children?”

I mutter… standing silently for a moment, considering a moment of silence for the painfully departed Arwen.

“That’s about half correct, Ed. Have you forgotten?”

A response was least expected.

The spectacle was beyond belief.

The young girl, half her body parts missing, impaled by the sword.

Her last closed eyelid raises, unveiling vibrant eyes.

Her lips and voice move effortlessly.

Yenika collapses, her legs giving way. I, too, am transfixed by this revelation.

“It’s been a while, Ed. You’ve grown so much.”

Her voice was exactly as imagined. Would Tanya, all grown up, sound similar?

“My current state is quite appalling, isn’t it?”

What’s the protocol now?

In a perfectly casual manner, Arwen Rothtaylor initiates a conversation.