novelraw Chapter 594: Episode 594
Chapter 594: Episode 594
"Truly, I never thought a single student would cause me this much trouble," the One-Eyed Gentleman said, tapping the floor with his staff. Before him, a blood-soaked Hector was slumped against a wall, blood dripping from his brow. "They aren’t called the future of the Dark Alliance for nothing. I admit my mistake in underestimating you."
The tip of his staff pulsed with a shadowy Jet-Black that held two other students by their necks, pinning them to the wall beside Hector.
"Speak." The One-Eyed Gentleman looked at his new prisoners. He tightened his grip on his staff, and the students began to choke. "Tell me where Simon Polentia is. Do that, and I’ll let you live."
"Fuck off." Even as he choked, one of the captured students defiantly raised his middle finger. "I don’t really like the guy, but he’s still Kizen. You think I’m going to talk?!"
The student next to him glared with pure malice. "You want me to sell out a classmate to save my own skin? Just kill me, you fucking bastard."
The One-Eyed Gentleman raised an unnaturally long finger and pretended to scratch his head. "Your camaraderie is admirable, but it is an unwise decision, swayed by emotion." His single eye shifted back to the bleeding Hector. "Hector Moore. Speak. If you don’t answer in ten seconds, I will snap the necks of your classmates, one by one."
10.
9.
The One-Eyed Gentleman began to count down slowly.
8.
7.
Hector remained silent.
"It seems Simon Polentia gets on your nerves," the Gentleman goaded. At that, Hector’s eyebrow twitched. "I can remove him from the school for you. Then, you will be the most promising student in your department."
"Huh..."
"How long do you plan on being satisfied as the eternal number two?"
5.
4.
The countdown resumed. Then, Hector’s shoulders began to shake with a low, chilling laugh.
"This is absurd."
"?"
"What meaning is there in the kind of ’number one’ you’re talking about?" Hector’s blood-covered face split into a grin, revealing a flash of white teeth. "I am the one who will defeat Simon Polentia. If you bastards take him, I will hunt every last one of you down, bring him back, and defeat him with my own two hands."
2.
1.
The countdown finished. The One-Eyed Gentleman squeezed his eye shut. "A pity."
Just as he was about to channel Jet-Black into his staff and execute the students...
"A pity."
A cold voice from nearby seemed to freeze the very air. The One-Eyed Gentleman snapped his head around.
A man stood there in a picturesque winter coat, incongruously worn over shorts and a short-sleeved shirt. He had messy hair, a rough beard, and deep, dark circles under his eyes. His face was a mask of indifference.
"Will you not release my students now?"
Contrary to his expression, his voice was thick with menace.
"Is it your turn to step in?" The One-Eyed Gentleman felt a chill crawl up his spine. "Professor of Summoning Studies, Aaron Deia."
As if by magic, the black tendrils holding the students’ necks dissolved. They dropped to the floor, gasping.
"All three of you, good work. Retreat and get treatment." Aaron waved a hand, and red skeletons shot forward, encasing Hector and the other two in Bone Armor and flying them to safety.
The One-Eyed Gentleman couldn’t move, couldn’t even lift a finger as his hostages were taken. He knew that if he looked away from the man before him for even a second...
His head would be sent flying.
This was a new kind of fear.
"Well then," Aaron’s monotone voice drifted through the sudden silence. "Shall I hear why you trespassed in Kizen’s operational area and attacked my students?"
The One-Eyed Gentleman lowered his stance. "I..."
A massive greatsword swung at him from the side. A Dullahan. He leaped back just as a torrent of arrows rained down from the undead battleship above. The ground became a crimson canvas, pierced by thousands of red shafts like the thorns of a rose garden.
"As for hearing your answer—" A chilling glint flashed in Aaron’s eyes. "—I’ll do so after I’ve dismantled you."
’He’s seriously pissed.’
The One-Eyed Gentleman summoned Jet-Black to his feet. ’Kizen professors are all continent-level powerhouses. I must avoid engagement at all costs.’ His body dissolved into a puddle of Jet-Black and shot away at high speed, effortlessly weaving through the storm of arrows. ’If I can get to where the other students are, even a professor won’t be able to—!’
He slammed into an invisible wall. He couldn’t get out.
"Tomb Generation."
As Aaron muttered the words, tombstones erupted from the arrow-pierced ground, and a black fog shrouded the area.
"You cannot escape from this place."
’A barrier-type summon!’ A Crypt Lord, the pinnacle of its kind, materialized in all its magnificent horror. To face it head-on would be suicide. Now, Aaron’s Undead Battleship descended through the ceiling of the tomb, its hatches opening. He was about to be caught in a wide-range bombardment.
’In that case...’
The One-Eyed Gentleman solidified and charged straight at Aaron. His staff morphed into a crescent blade of condensed Jet-Black. Striking the caster directly was the textbook counter to a summoner. Aaron was defenseless. He didn’t even flinch as the Gentleman approached.
He simply snapped his fingers.
An instant later, the bones of thousands of minuscule skeletons swarmed over Aaron, forming a helmet, boots, and breastplate in the blink of an eye—a perfect suit of Bone Armor.
’Ugh!’
His face wasn’t covered yet. The Gentleman swung his blade at Aaron’s head.
’Clang!’
The Jet-Black blade stopped dead. The helmet had formed in an instant, and his ultimate attack, fueled by all his power, hadn’t left a single scratch.
"Th-!"
The One-Eyed Gentleman’s pupil dilated in shock. "That form...!"
Aaron nonchalantly grabbed the crescent blade and squeezed. It shattered into a thousand pieces. The Gentleman stumbled back in horror.
’Impossible. Why isn’t a man of this caliber a ’Crow’?’
From the walls of the tomb, black-hooded skeletons emerged, raising their staves and unleashing a high-level binding spell. The Gentleman’s body froze solid.
’Liches, too!’
"I’ll end this," Aaron said from within his armor.
Outside the barrier, a massive black creature with wings and a long tail was circling. The Gentleman struggled desperately, but he couldn’t break the liches’ hold. The creature thrust its massive maw through the ceiling of the tomb.
"...Ah!"
The One-Eyed Gentleman felt a breath-stopping terror. Jet-Black poured from the colossal, skeletal head. A breath of pure darkness engulfed his vision.
His last thought as he turned to ash was a simple one.
He was so sick of dragons.
---
"Hahh. Hahh."
The Butcher limped through the fortress city. Behind him, three students lay unconscious on the ground.
"Dammit! Where the hell are they?! Blue hair! Platinum blonde! Blue hair! Platinum blonde!"
One of the fallen students raised a trembling finger. "Stop... there!"
He fired a curse, but the Butcher casually deflected it with a small cleaver from his belt. The curse rebounded, striking the caster.
"Ugh!"
It was the petrification curse, ’Paralyze’. The student’s body turned to stone. But before the Butcher could finish him, another group of students was already swarming him.
"Hahh. Hahh."
He dragged himself into the shadows of the city. "Blue hair, platinum blonde, blue hair, platinum blonde."
Every student here was strong. In his current condition, he couldn’t easily defeat any of them. And...
"Tsk."
A massive bite mark marred his side, as if a beast had torn a chunk from his flesh—a parting gift from Grelion, the Professor of Summoning Materials Science.
"How many times can that monster transform?!"
He had barely escaped Grelion, but he was at his limit.
"Just a short rest. Five minutes, then I find the blue-haired one..."
He slipped into a nearby house and collapsed onto a sofa. He let out a long, ragged sigh and lit a cigar.
His eyes glazed over.
"Dammit."
He could treat the wound later. But failing the mission was not an option. The Union would send someone to kill him just to ensure his silence.
’Blue hair, blue hair, blue hair.’
He heard a sound from within the house.
It was coming from the kitchen. The Butcher slowly reached for the cleaver at his back.
"Who’s there?"
’Thump. Thump.’
The footsteps were blatant now. A boy in a Kizen uniform emerged. He looked as if he had just woken up, yawning with tired eyes.
"Hello," the boy said. He casually walked over and sat in the chair across from the Butcher. "We meet again. I saw you back in the village."
"The Butcher."
"Blue Hair."
To think he’d show his face so openly. The man, who had seemed a bit dazed, let out a smirk.
"How was the reindeer meat?" he asked, taking a long drag from his cigar.
Simon replied, "It was delicious. Eshe especially loved it."
"That’s a relief. I might not look it, but I always do my job right."
The Butcher exhaled a long cloud of smoke, his gaze fixed squarely on Simon. "And the next piece of meat I want to carve is standing right in front of me."
Simon’s lips curled into a grin. "And the next person I want to take down is standing right in front of me."
The Butcher’s shoulders shook with a low chuckle that grew into a cackle, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth. He found the situation immensely amusing.
Simon laughed along with him, their voices echoing with an eerie quiet through the empty house.
The moment their eyes met again.
The Butcher sprang to his feet as if launched from a catapult, a kitchen knife flashing from his sleeve. Without haste, Simon donned the turquoise ’Crown’ he had been hiding behind his back.
With a deafening crash, the wall behind the Butcher shattered. A torrent of turquoise swords erupted from it, piercing straight through his body.
’Simon Original – Royal Guard’
Blood dripped to the floor. The kitchen knife had stopped just inches from Simon’s face, while six turquoise swords protruded from the Butcher’s body.
Simon rose, using his fingertips to push the ’Crown’ down low over his bangs. "An assassin from the Union."
The Butcher collapsed to his knees before him with a dull thud.
Simon stared down, his eyes as cold as ice. "I have a lot of questions for you."