novelraw Chapter 57 : Chapter 57
Chapter 57 : Chapter 57
Chapter 57: The Funeral of Things (1)
Cia-Harphe Academy's private infirmary.
As the sound of boiling medicinal herbs filled the air,
‘Did they put a soul into a combat-type golem?’
Abel was reading a document.
The report on the rampage of the combat-type golems that had occurred the previous day had just been written.
‘The fire incident that occurred in an imperial coal mining town 500 years ago…….’
The professors of the Department of Divinity had discovered souls inside the combat-type golems. The souls of those who had died in the fire incident at a mana stone mine 500 years ago. Their souls had been forcibly injected into the golems, causing them to recognize themselves as golems and go on a rampage.
‘They must have used black magic.’
It was all too obvious.
Could an apostate be hiding within CIAR?
A debate was raging among the professors about this. There was, in fact, a case like the apostate Vincent Tremblay, whom Abel had restored at the Naflansee Cathedral.
But Abel's thoughts were different. If it was an apostate who could use the souls of the dead from 500 years ago, they would certainly not be operating in CIAR in the same way as Tremblay.
‘……Emilio Mackenzie.’
Thus, Abel turned the page.
He examined Emilio's identification papers.
It was unremarkable information. A third-year student from the Department of Elemental Studies, with average grades. No record of causing trouble in school. Both his paternal and maternal lines had handled mana, and his father was processed as having died during magic research. Why was this child unconscious in the armory?
‘Strange.’
Abel pulled the curtain.
The pouring evening glow became faint. Across from Emilio, lying on the bed, a medicinal decoction in a glass bottle was glowing faintly.
It was not a medication to treat a disease. Just a tranquilizer with the effect of recovering from fatigue and calming the mind and body. The school nurse residing in the infirmary had not found anything abnormal from Emilio. They had simply diagnosed him as having collapsed from exhaustion.
Abel's lips stirred.
For a moment, his vision went black, then everything began to look like an anatomical chart. The direction the draft was blowing from, the flow of the grassy smell from the medicinal herbs, the small insects scurrying inside the walls, and even Emilio's body were revealed.
It was the result of casting ‘A Map Woven with a Wanderer's Steps’. Abel intended to examine Emilio's body in detail.
‘There is nothing wrong with his mana.’
Black line segments flowing along the blood vessels.
That was Emilio's mana. There were cases where mana would occasionally curve beyond the blood vessels and damage the body, but this was not the case for Emilio.
‘His internal organs are also healthy.’
There were no signs of disease. There were also no signs of being affected by spells or drugs. His nutritional state didn't seem good, but it was not comparable to Monika's. It was just the body of a boy who overindulged in sweet food.
‘But…….’
Abel's gaze narrowing.
‘What is this?’
A round, clustered halo of light was detected on Emilio's chest. The red glow was gradually becoming clearer.
It was a sign that had not been visible until just a moment ago. The school nurse would not have been able to detect it either. It was as if someone was deliberately trying to show it. As if trying to provoke him.
‘Is it the shape of a heart?’
Abel thought, looking at the shape of the glow.
‘No, it's different.’
It's not a heart, it's a core.
It looked like a monster's core. The halo of light, which was just a glow, had solidified into a substance, and had at some point been completed into something with a round epidermis. A bodily organ that was as neatly round as an artificial object, but that beat like a natural one. It was truly similar to a monster's core.
Abel bowed his head.
He listened to Emilio's chest.
Thump, thump, he went.
The sound of a heart beating.
“Professor Argento.”
Along with that, thump, thump, he went.
The sound of knocking on the door was heard.
“It is Joshua Readmore.”
“Come in.”
Abel cleared his throat.
He raised his head and stared at the archway door of the private infirmary.
Creak, he went. The sound of the door opening. Joshua walked in with a calm gesture. To Abel, who was using a spell, he looked like a walking human anatomical model. Joshua's blood vessels and internal organs were starkly revealed.
“I'm sorry for calling you so suddenly.”
Abel wiped his eyes.
‘A Map Woven with a Wanderer's Steps’ was dispelled, and his vision returned to normal.
“But……”
Thus, Abel tilting his head.
“Why are you covering your face?”
“Isn't it obvious? The clean and intelligent, handsome genius, that's me, Joshua Readmore. The supreme visage is a rare sight.”
Joshua was holding a thick book open.
Not for reading, but to cover his face.
‘The Sinister and Marvelous Pioneer of Ghost Stories, Why Does Mrs. Lovecraft Not Eat Fish?’ Such a title was written on the cover.
“I am curious, Professor Argento. For what reason have you called me?”
“There was something I wanted to ask.”
Abel stood facing Joshua.
He then peeked his body. He moved quickly with a blank expression. To get a glimpse of Joshua's face behind the book.
“You needed my help. That's a relief. I was also looking forward to meeting you again, Professor Argento.”
“Why won't you show your face?”
“I believe I have told you.”
The sound of footsteps echoed along the infirmary wall.
While Abel moved nimbly, Joshua was desperately retreating and hiding his face.
“True beauty is endlessly fragile. My visage is the same. Even a single ray of sunlight is as harmful as a deadly poison, and a person's breath is, needless to say, fatal.”
“I've never heard that humans are so weak.”
“That would be the case if we were to discuss it from a human's perspective. But Professor Argento, my visage has transcended humanity. Isn't that generally the meaning of the adjective ‘beautiful’? It is used to mean that it has surpassed the human realm.”
“……Fine.”
Abel stopped.
He stood facing Emilio's bed and stared straight ahead.
“I will respect that. You are surprisingly agile.”
“You praise me too highly, Professor Argento.”
Pant, pant……
Joshua answered, catching his breath.
Joshua stood facing Abel. The hand that was gripping the book trembled slightly.
“No matter how nimble you are, Professor……, you cannot be faster than the struggle for survival.”
“You seem to have a disease where you die if you show your face.”
Abel swept his hair back.
After shaking off the silver hair that flowed through his fingers, he looked down at Emilio, lying on the bed.
“Do you see him?”
Abel said to Joshua.
“He is a child who was summoned from the armory along with the combat-type golems. It seems he was left unconscious. I read his identification papers, but I couldn't find anything special. So I wanted to hear from you.”
“Emilio Mackenzie, a third-year student from the Department of Elemental Studies.”
Joshua easily grasped Abel's intention.
The perspective of a professor and a student would be clearly different. The Emilio Mackenzie a professor sees and the Emilio Mackenzie a student sees could be considered separate individuals. Emilio's identification papers were just a piece of paper written from the perspective of the professors. Abel wanted to know the Emilio the students remembered.
“There is not much time.”
Abel said, glancing at the desk clock.
“The faculty members will be coming to check on Emilio's condition. I'd like to hear from you before then.”
“I see.”
Joshua shrugged his shoulders.
“May I assume that the reason you sought me, Joshua Readmore, is because you trust my information gathering abilities?”
“I don't know about that. But the children often say. Joshua Readmore, that guy is like a sewer rat that peeks into every corner of CIAR.”
“My goodness. Where in the world is there such a distinguished sewer rat as myself.”
By the way……, he said.
Joshua trailed off.
He was thinking hard in his head. Abel Argento, that man must be a Sword Saint. Joshua believed so. As time passed, the students' excitement had died down, but this was also a result Joshua had intended. Because he wanted to watch the Sword Saint's exploits alone.
‘It's still too early. To reveal Professor Argento's identity in front of a crowd.’
That's why he had ruined it.
The special article that was published in ‘Yesterday Clairvoyance’.
So that it would be dismissed as a mere conspiracy theory.
‘Of course. Now is the time to gather stories.’
Behind the book, a smile formed on Joshua's lips.
It was an opportunity to get a glimpse of Abel's skills. Emilio Mackenzie. To think he would be involved with this child.
“Professor Argento, what do you think of ghost stories?”
“Just a pastime.”
At Joshua's question, Abel answered in an indifferent tone.
“My, my, it seems you underestimate the power of literature, Professor.”
“I have no such intention. I just think it's better to clearly distinguish between fiction and reality.”
“But Professor Argento, a ghost story is a fiction that reflects the spirit of the age. The fear that dominated the era determines the flow of the ghost story. In times when famine was rampant, ghost stories about ghouls were popular, and in times when floods were severe, ghost stories about Nixies were popular.”
My, my.
What a coincidence.
Joshua muttered so.
“The book I am holding happens to be related to ghost stories. It is the biography of none other than the queen of ghost stories, Mrs. Lovecraft. She did not eat seafood her entire life. She believed that if she ate fish, she would be possessed by the evil spirit of the fish. She must have been a surprisingly timid person.”
“What are you trying to say.”
At Abel's question,
“Do you know about the six great mysteries of Cia-Harphe Academy? It's a ghost story that circulates among the students. I would like to recite one of them.”
Joshua smiled as if to show off.
A clearing of the throat followed. Joshua, who had been building up the suspense, began the story. A clear voice was engraved in the dim infirmary.
“To begin the story……”
That's right.
A boy possessed by an evil spirit wanders in the middle of the night.
To devour good souls.
……or so they say?
* * *
Cia-Harphe Academy's 0th Academic Hall, also known as the ‘Professor's Tower’.
The students of Abel's class were waiting in the classroom. They were extremely tired from experiencing a real battle instead of training. While stories about the rampage of the combat-type golems and the boy who was summoned with them were being exchanged,
“Monika.”
Demian extended a towel toward Monika.
“You've worked hard. Wipe your sweat with this.”
“……Thank you.”
Monika looked up at Demian blankly.
He felt somewhat unfamiliar. It must be because it was their first conversation. They had faced each other in every morning assembly, but she had never had a chat with Demian.
In the first place, it was nonexistent. A student Monika could call a friend. The peer janitors were not students, and even Dante, with whom she had often trained, had left. Monika had been spending her days with her mouth tightly shut.
“The great sword you were using, is it made of pure silver?”
“I heard it is.”
“Amazing. It looked difficult even for orcs to lift. Did you disperse the weight through aura?”
“For now.”
Monika buried her face in the towel.
She wiped off the thick beads of sweat and glanced at Demian. Demian's ashen eyes held a guileless gleam.
“The prosthetic arm must be a special product made using a monster's remains. Am I right?”
“You know well, senior.”
“Of course. Because I was curious.”
Demian chuckled.
He picked up a chair and placed it beside Monika.
“I am very interested in the strong. I need a worthy opponent to spur on my training.”
Demian said, sitting down on the chair.
“Dante Marchisio was one of them. It's a pity he left CIAR, but I heard he transferred to Krisaor Academy……”
“That's right. They said the Vice President wrote him a letter of recommendation.”
“So they did. No need to worry. That child will be doing well.”
Monika placed the towel on her head.
Her disheveled black hair flowed down toward her eyes. She lifted it and made eye contact with Demian.
“Was Senior Dante……, that strong?”
“Of course.”
Demian answered readily.
“It's almost impossible to enter CIAR without separate education. Moreover, he was a child chosen by Duke Zylon. Duke Zylon is famous for sponsoring only the powerful.”
“I see.”
So Senior Dante was a strong person.
Monika thought, her amber eyes rolling. She knew that Dante's swordsmanship was excellent. But she couldn't discuss what was so outstanding about it, or what level he had reached. Because she had lived a life far from swordsmanship until now.
“Then His Highness Zylon is……, a strong person?”
“You ask the obvious.”
Demian nodded his head refreshingly.
“He is one of the top martial artists in the Empire. That is why he protects the northernmost region. They say he can split a building in two with one swing of his axe.”
“That sounds like an exaggeration.”
“I think so too.”
Haha, he went.
Demian laughed brightly.
It was unexpected. I thought he was a senior crazy about chivalry, but he was a person who could also have a normal conversation. Thinking so, Monika rested her chin on her hand. A clumsy smile touched her dry lips.
“You are strong too, Monika.”
“……Me?”
Monika tilted her head.
Strong. It was a very awkward word.
Because the boy sitting in front of her was the eldest son of the Farenheit family. Demian's swordsmanship was at an unparalleled level, and Monika, who had just finished the beginner's course, was no match. He must be just being kind. If he's a member of a renowned family of swordsmanship, he must have seen countless strong people. Thinking so, Monika lowered her gaze.
“You lost your parents during the Mirror War, and you've lived with a body that is not sound. You wouldn't have been able to endure it if you weren't strong. Your aura is the proof of that.”
“I've never thought of it that way.”
Monika said, taking off the towel.
“It's hard to say I'm strong……, but I think I can say I was desperate. Actually, it's still the same. I'm not strong. I'm just desperate.”
“Is that so?”
Demian's eyes softened slightly.
“Did the words ‘strong’ and ‘desperate’ have different meanings? I don't think so. I am also always striving to become stronger. Desperately.”
“It may be so for you, senior, but I don't think it applies to me. A mayfly also lives desperately, but no one considers such a mayfly to be strong.”
“──Ah, what a truly poetic metaphor.”
Suddenly, Ernst joined the conversation.
Monika's hamstrings flinched. When she looked ahead, Ernst and Roberta had approached.
“Wonderful, O lady of amber.”
Ernst clapped his hands.
“I, Ernst von Tresckow, was impressed by your words. But please think differently. You are by no means a being like a mayfly. For example, a butterfly. A being like a butterfly fluttering between the petals of a flower.”
Monika and Demian's expressions went blank.
An awkward silence. Soon, Demian opened his mouth.
“Why are you talking like a madman, Er?”
“I don't want to hear that from you!”
At Demian's question, Ernst argued, clenching his fists.
Roberta let out a sigh. It was because she had grasped Ernst's intention. He must be talking like a supporting character in a cheap play to be considerate of Monika. To listen, it was a speech style like a noble from a couple of centuries ago who wore a wig (Peruke) covered in flour, but in the end, it meant he was speaking and acting while adhering to etiquette to a scrupulous degree.
“Unni Monika.”
Thus, Roberta opened her mouth toward Monika.
It was time to solve the fundamental problem.
“Do you dislike us?”
“What? No, huh?”
At Roberta's sudden question, Monika's ears perked up.