Chapter 75

Sunday morning.

Rockefeller, who had come to pick up some documents on his day off, made a candid observation as he stood in front of the window.

“It’s quite a sight.”

The rebellion of the Schlaphe Hall slaves was more impressive than he had expected. Not only were their strategies striking, but their group movements were commendable for mere students, likely due to their extensive experience in defensive battles.

What was most surprising was how they endured, ignoring the overwhelming disparity even after gaining strategic superiority.

“…I thought they would be subdued in no time, but this is unexpected.”

As he recalled the battlefield memories while watching the ongoing situation, there was a sudden knock on the door.

“Come in.”

A professor entered hastily, eyes wide with surprise, and reported.

“Professor Rockefeller! The students are at war in front of the fortress right now.”

“I know. I’m watching it as we speak.”

As he interrupted, the professor asked hesitantly.

“Then, what should we do?”

“Just leave them be for now. I want to see the outcome.”

This was a rare opportunity. He had already assessed the individual strengths of the students, but now he could observe their cooperation in a battle between factions.

Most importantly, this wasn’t a common sight.

‘A slave rebellion, huh…?

There had been several attempts in the history of Frostheart, but all ended in failure. The result would be the same this time.

Rockefeller turned his back as he saw the remaining Buerger Hall troops join forces with Emeric.

Rustle.

Just as he was picking up his documents and moving, a massive explosion shook the ground, accompanied by a faint earthquake.

Rockefeller turned his head back, grinding his teeth.

Amidst the gradually dissipating smoke, a glowing blonde head stood out.

“That guy is up to something outrageous again…”

Hersel had drawn his sword to fight Emeric.

***

Emeric gulped.

Clang!

After just three exchanges of blows, he began to feel overwhelmed.

– The trajectory of his attacks is smooth.

Whenever he deflected Hersel’s strikes, the next move flowed in as if it were inevitable.

It felt like swinging a sword at waves, no matter how much he cut, the water would keep coming.

Emeric decided to completely abandon the idea of deflecting or parrying.

“Ugh.”

Evading with minimal movement was ideal, but the swordsmanship of the man before him didn’t allow that.

Even if he took a defensive stance, his retreat was blocked one step ahead.

Eventually, it forced him to roll on the snowy ground.

Puff.

‘How many moves ahead is he reading?’

Hersel’s wooden sword, which should have been deflected, accurately cut through the air where Emeric had just been.

If he had tried to counter, he would have undoubtedly been struck.

“Hm, you dodged well.”

Emeric looked up at Hersel, who was watching him leisurely, and broke into a cold sweat.

With just four exchanges, his swordsmanship had been dismantled.

Hersel probably thought so.

‘Don’t be mistaken. I’ve been observing you just as well.’

However, he couldn’t deny that the fight should have ended with the last strike.

Emeric straightened his bent waist and asked.

“Why didn’t you use aura? If you had, the fight would’ve been over.”

If Hersel had increased his speed even slightly, he would have been hit before he could roll.

A man who could wield such swordsmanship couldn’t possibly be unable to use one of the applications of aura, Rapid Movement.

As he voiced his curiosity, Hersel answered nonchalantly.

“You can’t use aura right now, can you? I matched the conditions.”

Emeric laughed bitterly.

“I must look pathetic. Fine, let’s stop the probing.”

Sword ready, feet light.

Emeric adjusted his stance, not to gauge his opponent anymore, but to execute his most confident swordsmanship.

“Hoo.”

Deep breath, then continuous strikes.

Pop!

The onslaught was as tight as a shield, leaving Hersel with no chance to counterattack.

Tap!

Even so, whenever Hersel broke through his defense and attacked, he would create distance to evade.

Without giving himself any breathing space, Emeric pushed his muscles to their limits.

‘If I even take a breath, I’ll lose.’

Emeric poured all his strength into his sword, fighting in a state of no breath.

Perhaps he overexerted himself.

‘Damn!’

Unknowingly, the aura that had recovered seeped into his hand and sword out of habit.

Realizing he had broken their agreement, he saw his sword already mid-swing.

If it continued, he would end up breaking both the wooden sword and Hersel’s neck.

But then, Emeric’s eyes widened.

Crack!

The sheath, along with the sword, began to split.

The sword inside seemed to break as a sharp sound echoed.

Finally, the sheath shattered into pieces and fell to the ground, and the broken blade stuck into the dirt.

Feeling the pain in his wrist, Emeric released the sword handle he was gripping.

He then trembled his fingers.

With just one index finger.

Hersel had destroyed the aura-clad sword with just his index finger while holding the wooden sword.

Emeric looked at Hersel, who was raising his index finger, and had to acknowledge it.

One of the uses of aura, the defense technique to its extreme, Indestructible.

‘He has reached a transcendent level of Indestructible.’

He couldn’t win anything.

Neither in leadership, swordsmanship, nor aura mastery and application…

Emeric, feeling the disdainful gaze, slumped his shoulders.

“The fight is over. Will you accept our terms?”

“…I will.”

For some reason, he didn’t feel bad.

It was a refreshing defeat, and there was no shame in losing to an unfathomable master.

Therefore, it could be considered a good experience.

Thinking that his name might be included in the stories about this man in the future, Emeric smiled with satisfaction.

Just then, a window of the fortress burst open, and an old professor in pajamas shouted.

“You bastards!! What do you think you’re doing in front of the fortress on a Sunday morning!!”

“Damn, time to run.”

***

It was terrifying when Emeric used his aura.

If I hadn’t pulled off a great con, I would have probably bid farewell to the world with the second swing.

But that was all in the past.

I put aside thoughts of him for now.

Sitting in my dorm room, I watched a black cat.

The cat was devouring fish from a plate placed by the door.

After finishing its meal, it disappeared in a puff of smoke.

– It seems to be eating more leisurely each day.

‘Maybe it’s getting used to it?’

– But why do you take such care of that cat?

‘There’s a reason.’

I casually dismissed Donatan’s question when there was a knock on the door.

Knock, knock.

“Hersel Ben Tenest, you have a letter.”

It seemed like it came from the twins.

Feeling bored, I happily opened the door.

I grabbed the letter handed over by the professor and quickly closed the door.

Because the residents of Schlaphe Hall were lurking in the hallway.

“Oh? The door opened. Hersel! Can I leave the gift here?”

“Hey, what’s this? Show your face. We came to thank you.”

Since the incident ended, they started treating me like a hero, spouting embarrassing compliments.

Of course, I couldn’t blame them.

Schlaphe Hall had undergone many changes. First, all the weapons confiscated by Buerger Hall were distributed to the first-years scheduled for dungeon practice.

They also agreed never to call the Schlaphe Hall students slaves again, instead using the term workers.

The most significant change was this.

Minimum wage.

Future commissions would start from a basic rate. Depending on the task’s difficulty, they would earn about 30% more money than before.

However, not everything was positive.

When we defeated the Buerger Hall students, an incident occurred.

– Even if the leaders told us not to interfere, thinking we’d join you is a mistake.

Schlaphe Hall had a large number of Lethe members.

Considering their position, it was unrealistic to expect their cooperation.

They didn’t participate in this battle.

– You rude bastard. Isn’t it time to raise your voice?

– But…

– Senior, these guys are trying to get the benefits without doing anything. We should at least take a commission from them.

– That sounds good.

Athera happily accepted my suggestion, and it was decided that from now on, half of the daily wages of Lethe members would go to public funds if they worked.

They didn’t intend to integrate into this place anyway, so it was better to at least take their money.

That concluded the slave revolution.

“Now, let’s read the letter.”

Seeing the name on the envelope, I felt a bit taken aback.

I thought it was from the twins, but it was from Aol.

Someone who had never sent a letter before…

Carefully opening the envelope, I checked the contents.

It was just one large, brief sentence.

[Make sure to serve her well when you meet.]

Meet who? And serve her well? I had no idea what it meant.

Given that no names were mentioned, it seemed like someone I would recognize, so they didn’t specify, but still…

“…Did he send it to the wrong person?”

That seemed most likely.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

This was Frostheart, a place where even visits weren’t allowed, an arena of human rights violations.

***

Those who passed the third exam were free until Wednesday.

With nothing to do, I decided to visit Nille’s workshop for personal maintenance and was on my way back.

As I walked through the fortress lobby to return to the dormitory.

Click-clack- thud.

I stopped in my tracks.

In the middle of the lobby, a familiar woman stood, staring with wide eyes.

She was so distracted she didn’t notice me nearby.

Leana was completely engrossed in something.

It was the professors.

Specifically, an old woman with a straight back despite her age among them.

I chuckled, seeing Leana cautiously approach her.

She must be wondering if this was a dream.

The person who inspired her to become a knight was standing right there.

Focusing my hearing, I heard Leana’s strained voice.

“Uh, um… Sir Bellen?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you remember me? I’m Leana from the Delevian family.”

I listened to their conversation as I walked.

I knew it by heart since it was a crucial event that would significantly impact Leana.

[Bellen Tol Arvana]

In ‘The Loss of Felia,’ they probably did everything to make sure she wouldn’t remember that memory from her childhood.

Leana was a pretty little girl, famous within her territory even at seven.

There are all kinds of perverts in the world, some even eyeing noble daughters with ill intent.

Thus, kidnappings occurred regardless of status, and unfortunately, Leana was targeted.

Terrified and clueless at that age, she was kidnapped by a human trafficking gang.

But then, like a hero, the female knight Bellen appeared, rescued her, and they traveled together for ten days until she was safely home.

This adventure became a cherished memory that shaped Leana’s life.

However, memories are best left as memories.

“Who are you? Hic. You there, get me some more booze.”

She reeked of alcohol so much that it was noticeable from here.

The professors next to Bellen were merely trying to support her, fearing she might collapse.

The reason she was allowed to teach at Frostheart was ridiculous—just because they provided her with unlimited alcohol.

She had become a ruined idol, beyond saving.

“Sir Bellen?”

Leana seemed to sense something was off, looking visibly upset.

Still, it was a trial she had to overcome.

Turning that despairing, drunk woman into her mentor.

If she couldn’t, she’d always remain a sidekick, never progressing beyond that.

“Hic, oh? Wait.”

I averted my gaze from the hiccupping Bellen, blending into a group of students passing by, trying to quietly slip away.

But then…

“Hey, you! Not even a hello to your great-aunt?”

Bellen glared at me.

To me, a great-aunt meant my grandfather’s sister.

Her name was Bellen Tol Arvana.

Given the different surname, we were not related.

I assumed it was just drunken rambling or she mistook me for someone she knew and kept walking.

Just as I was about to cross the fortress gate, a hand landed on my shoulder.

“You rude brat…”

I turned around to see Bellen, so I politely smiled.

The legendary female warrior who had fought alongside Sir Coulot in her youth, Bellen Tol Arvana.

Provoking her would be disastrous.

“It seems you’ve mistaken me due to overdrinking.”

“Don’t talk nonsense. I’d recognize your dirty face even if I were blind.”

What?