Academy’s Genius Swordmaster

Chapter 136: Come, Spring (1)

“Welcome to Rodolan.”

Karaka spoke, flashing a creepy smile as he entered the fortress. The group, glancing at each other’s faces, followed him.

Thud!

As the door closed, the warmth mingled with the sea breeze vanished without a trace. Every breath exhaled formed a frosty mist. Ronan cursed under his breath at the biting cold.

“Damn, I thought it’d get better.”

“You’ll feel better once you put this on.”

The cabinet by the door was packed with outerwear worn by guards and interrogators. Karaka, rummaging through, turned to Aselle.

“Hmm, wonder if there’s something that’ll fit a lady like you.”

“Oh, no, no, I’m not a lady!”

Aselle protested vehemently. Thankfully, they found suitable clothing. Clad in fur hats and gloves, the four resumed their steps.

“There are fewer people inside than I expected.”

“Access is restricted, and the cold inside is unbearable. It takes three times longer to warm up when facing the witch. It would be a little better if you had prepared some extra defensive measures, but it seems you haven’t.”

“I see… But isn’t this too thick?”

Ronan grumbled irritably as he descended the stairs, finding it hard to even see his feet with the thick clothing.

“I assure you, soon you’ll think even this is too thin. Brace yourself.”

Karaka stated confidently. The Winter Witch was indeed formidable. Many changes occurred in Rodolan since she was imprisoned in it.

“Ensuring prisoners don’t freeze to death is a hassle, but it’s not bad. We’ve developed a lot of new torture… Ahem, interrogation techniques.”

“What kind?”

“Simple. Just strip them down and throw them into the prison cell next to the witch. After a few times, even the most resolute prisoner breaks down physically and mentally.”

Karaka described in detail what it felt like to cut the toes of their frozen hands with scissors. Also the story of a prisoner who had his tongue stuck to the floor and had to be cut out.

“We call it ‘frozen.’ Haha, fun, isn’t it?”

Karaka chuckled, but no one else joined in laughter. Only Ronan, who was used to it by now, responded in a grave voice.

“How about keeping the top warm and just taking off the pants and throwing them in? Even if their legs freeze off, you can still get the answers.”

“Ah… You seem to have a knack for interrogation. Have I told you that before?”

Elizabeth and Aselle stared at them as if they were demons emerging from hell. They ventured deeper into Rodolan, listening to the screams of the prisoners.

The further they descended, the more the temperature plummeted. People with lips turning blue passed them by.

“Damn it…! Let’s hurry!”

“I-It’s impossible to break that… cur-cursed witch!”

Karaka guided them to a massive gate after about thirty minutes of walking.

“We’re here. This is the deepest part of Rodolan, the Abyss Judica.”

It felt like they had reached the roots of a cliff. The atmosphere inside was suffocating, perhaps due to being underwater. The dimly lit gate seemed to block the passage even for shapeless specters.

“To construct this gate, three years’ worth of Rodolan’s budget was used. Over there, you’ll see the names of craftsmen who shed their sweat, blood, and tears for the Empire’s security.”

Karaka, offering tidbits of information, inserted a key into the gate’s hole. Click! Thunderous sounds accompanied the gate’s opening. An unprecedented cold engulfed the four.

“Ugh!”

“Th-This is…”

Aselle screamed. Elizabeth’s face, which usually maintained its composure, distorted for the first time. Ronan, tightened his fur hat and took a deep breath.

“Damn it…!”

“Haha, quite something, isn’t it? Thanks to this, all the violent criminals imprisoned in Judica, had to be moved upstairs.”

Ronan gritted his teeth. As Karaka had said, the coats had become useless. It felt like the icy chill had transformed into a blade, tearing through their skin and organs.

It was a level of cold similar to the one Ronan had felt when he captured the witch in his previous life. The group proceeded forward along a long corridor. A bluish glow shimmered ahead.

A bubbling sound echoed from there. Eventually, a vast space emerged. The group’s eyes widened.

“This is…”

It wasn’t as spacious as anticipated. Around fifteen people stood in groups of three or five.

Most seemed accustomed to being here, preparing various defenses against the deadly cold.

“Damn, if I knew it’d be this bad, I would’ve brought something too…”

There was a woman wielding a magical device to generate heat and an old man adorned in the hide of an unknown beast. They stared at Ronan’s group, only clad in thick attire, as if they were peculiar animals. Karaka pointed behind the crowd.

“That’s the lady in question.”

A massive ice pillar stood at the center of Judica. A faint bluish radiance emanated from the ice’s surface.

While it had some color, it was primarily transparent, allowing a clear view inside. Elizabeth, eyes, she muttered as she touched the scar on her neck.

“Evelin…”

The Winter Witch, Evelin Droza, was huddled within the ice like a fetus. She was a slightly thin, ordinary-looking girl. They couldn’t see her face since it was buried in her knees.

Her once flowing hair, now frozen in place, displayed a chilling white. Her hair was an eerie white, like dead coral, a far cry from the beautiful white hair of Iril.

“Damn it… it’s insanely cold. Let’s finish this quickly!”

At that moment, a knight in splendid armor and what seemed like his squire emerged from the gathering of people. The knight, who was as huge as a bear, wielded a menacing war hammer in his hands, which even resembled a street lamp. He shouted, looking around at the people around him.

“I am Baron Bunta, a Knight of the Hmathu Kingdom! I shall save this fallen Empire by shattering this wicked witch’s shell!”

It was a grandiose declaration, as if he was threatening. The servant next to him clenched his fists and shouted.

“We can do it, Sir Bunta! You’ll be the hero who saved the Empire!”

“Of course! Huaaaah!”

The Knight named Bunta raised his arms above his head. The hammer fell in a huge arc and hit the ice.

Kwaaaaang! However, the released force backfired, causing the hammerhead to explode. His face turned as red as lava, and he fell back on his butt.

“Aaargh! Hand, my hand…!”

The metal armor gloves shattered into pieces. Only the handle of the hammer remained, dropping to the ground. Not even a scratch marred the ice encasing the witch. As Bunta attempted to rise, a scream escaped him.

“Ugh! M-my hand, it’s stuck to the floor!”

“Hold on! I’ll help you get it off!”

The servant rushed to help, but the hand remained firmly stuck. Eventually, Bunta had to sacrifice a portion of his palm’s skin to free himself, hiding his transformed hand that seemed frozen, as he hurriedly fled Judica.

“Seems like it’s not my lucky day. To think that guy like that is a Baron.”

Ronan chuckled as he observed the distinct handprint left on the floor. It seemed that Bunta, or someone similar, had been in this situation before. Karaka sighed while watching his departure.

“These days, most of them are like that. Eager to be a hero.”

“Should I just go and give it a try?”

“You have to wait for your turn first. Everyone here has come to crack the shell.”

Karaka looked around at the people and said. As expected, before the sound of Bunta’s sobbing even disappeared, another person came out and stood in front of the ice.

The middle-aged woman was adorned in a robe engraved with the pattern of Manwol Magic Tower. Speaking in a soft, melodic voice, she introduced herself.

“I am Mage Uslo, from the Manwol Magic Tower. Let’s begin.”

It seemed customary to reveal one’s name and affiliation. A low chant flowed from her woman’s mouth. Whoosh! Nine intricate magic circles manifested around the witch. Suddenly, nine massive pillars of rock erupted, echoing a thunderous roar.

Kwaaaang! The sound, nine times louder than Bunta’s hammer, reverberated, but as the dust settled, the ice column remained unscathed. She turned around, lips pursed.

“I apologize.”

“I think I’d better try the other side.”

Her composed acceptance of failure was not unwelcome. Following attempts by Bunta and Uslo, others persisted. People exerted various methods to break the ice, all ending in failure.

Among the challengers, there were many mages, and even to Ronan, some of the magic they used seemed quite impressive. Whenever that happened, Aselle and Erzebert would admire the magic, their eyes sparkling.

“I can’t believe they draw mana circuits like that…! As expected, many outstanding talents have come here.”

“Yeah, umm, seems like it could be applied to other places as well.”

Although Ronan had no idea what they were talking about, it certainly seemed like it was having a positive impact. Bringing them along was indeed a good decision. Lost in various thoughts, Ronan noticed no new individuals were stepping forward.

“Ah, it’s my turn now.”

“Ro-Ronan…! You can do it!”

“I’ll give it a shot.”

Aselle clenched both fists, encouraging him. Erzebert also offered sincere support. Stepping forward confidently, Ronan stood before the ice column. The witch remained hunched, still asleep.

‘As expected.’

Ronan twisted his lips while examining the ice. His vague deductions seemed somewhat accurate. The casing surrounding the witch emitted a similar feeling to the crystal covering his body.

‘…It’s slightly different.’

Though not entirely identical if asked directly. It felt similar yet different.

Would it be the difference between a shield and a prison? If Ronan’s crystal was made to protect something, this seemed to be made to confine. He lightly tapped it with a finger, but the ice didn’t melt or show any signs of cracking.

‘I’ve no other choice.’

Now, he had no choice but to break it. Ronan gripped the hilt of his sword. Swish! The crimson-stained blade of Lamancha revealed itself.

“I am Ronan from Philleon.”

He introduced himself, fixing his gaze on the witch. Wasting no time, he took his stance and swung his sword. Kaaaaang! The delayed collision sound echoed.

“What a surprise!”

“Wh-What? When did he swing it?”

The onlookers were startled, and raised their brows. None had seen his strike. Ronan frowned, feeling his bones crack.

“…It’s solid.”

The ice stood firm. Although about thirty percent of the blade had penetrated, it was far from the ‘complete destruction’ he aimed for. Bewildered, the crowd sighed.

“Well, that’s that.”

“Wait a minute, isn’t that the blade stuck inside the ice?”

“No way. You must have seen it wrong.”

Initially not expecting much, they all responded indifferently. However, Ronan wasn’t about to give up.

‘If I chip away bit by bit, it will eventually break.’

Even massive boulders erode from rainfall. As he prepared for another attempt, something peculiar caught his eye.

‘Hmm?’

Ronan squinted and inspected the ice. On its bluish surface, faint, sharp marks were etched, barely noticeable unless closely observed.

‘This shape… where have I seen it?’

Ronan tilted his head. While it seemed like it was drawn haphazardly, there was a sense of balance. It seemed unnatural to be merely coincidental. After a brief pondering, he switched his core.

‘Maybe…’

From here on, it was a decision purely driven by intuition. Ronan raised his hand and placed it on the ice pillar. Then, he let the shimmering mana flow onto the ice’s surface. Swoosh… The shimmering mana streamed like water along the marks, filling them.

“What’s he doing?”

“Hey, if you’re done showing off, move aside. We need to break it before that dragon arrives.”

Those waiting in line began to grumble. As shimmering mana was invisible to other people’s eyes, it became an inevitable situation. The mana flowing through the marks ceased expanding. Ronan’s eyes widened.

“This is…!”

Indeed, it wasn’t a coincidence. The shallow scratch on the ice depicted a familiar drawing. Ronan felt as if voices echoed inside his head.

– [Ridiculous. Do you think that the life of my servant and the life of those bugs have the same value?]

– They do, at least to me.

Scenes that he had seen inside the Mental World flashed rapidly in his mind. Ronan still remembered the world he saw through his eyes. He stretched out his hand, as if he was possessed by something, and touched the glowing mark.

‘What on earth…is your intention?’

He had only seen it a few times, but he could never forget it. It was sword marks of the technique the progenitor of Nebula Clazier, by the Savior, had used. The person who leaped up to the sky and cut down a dragon.