Chapter: 254
The next day, Ivan headed to school as soon as he opened his eyes. There was something left to confirm.
Since Harry Potter and Taran Duncan opened a new horizon in the academy genre, otherworldly magical schools always suffered from terrorism, tax audits, collapses due to laboratory failures, disasters caused by magical creatures brought in by mad professors, and tragedies stemming from ancient ruins hidden underground.
Most of these situations had already been resolved by now, as he had entered his second year. St. Jan’s University operated on a three-year basis, but it didn’t matter since there was no academy protagonist to finish the entire curriculum.
However, one thing must be kept in mind: in any academy story Ivan had seen, the school had never ‘completely’ collapsed.
Of course, it was only natural. The academy narrative unfolds around a school. In reality, Harry often returned to the school to fight against terrorists after dropping out from the educational facility combining elementary, middle, and high school.
So if he were to apply that cliché to his current situation…
“There’s not even a trace left.”
Ivan lamented as he gazed blankly at the university grounds.
In the half-destroyed university grounds, traces of battle were vividly apparent. There was no untouched spot from the Research Wing to the Theological Wing, the Department of Magic, and the Knight Department.
He strolled slowly through the campus, examining the traces. Destruction marks from magic and sword wounds were scattered here and there.
This was to be expected. Unless the military intervened, the most powerful armed group within the city was the university.
Wasn’t it a facility for training mages or knights? Moreover, it was filled with foreign nobles. There was no way they would trust the military to stay holed up at home.
It was obvious what the spirited mage and aspiring knights would do in a disaster situation. They would gather at the university—a place filled with armaments and tools for magical experiments—to organize a counterattack.
And they would have been somewhat… somewhat excited. How delightful it must have been to have the chance to put what they learned into practice. Let alone facing corpses from foreign lands without needing to feel guilt.
In the darkness of Frechenkaya that lasted for several days, the university had vanished without a trace…
“They cleaned up quite thoroughly.”
He rummaged through the professors’ building just in case, but there was nothing left. The undergraduate students had swept away all research facilities, materials, reagents, and weapons under the pretext of disaster.
At this rate, even if they were to reopen, it wouldn’t function properly.
No, more importantly…
“Students won’t come back.”
A military dictatorship state that had gone through civil war and even launched overseas expeditions. Prices that were not exactly cheap compared to the environment. Moreover, the capital was currently being invaded by demons.
Not to mention, would any noble send their precious child to ‘study abroad’ in this world under such stringent circumstances? The road was perilous, and students who had the qualifications to enroll in this university would be better off taught at home for immediate utility.
So this means, to sum up…
“The academy is closed for business.”
Ivan walked through the partially destroyed campus with a calm conviction.
If the possession trio heard this, they might have lamented, “You’ve hardly spent time in school, what do you mean now?” Yet, Ivan walked on with a bitter feeling.
There was a possible ending if his ‘page’ were an academy story.
The endings of academies generally conclude with the protagonist, after graduation, establishing a happy family and sending their child to the same school. In other words, it means a happy ending no matter what.
But what if this were a hero narrative?
From the original hero tales like King Arthur (male version), the legends of Charlemagne, to creations featuring Tai and Link.
All of them had heroically died.
Even Maximilian was steadily progressing through the narrative while stepping on the ‘fallen hero’ cliché.
The fortunate part is that the hero of this age wasn’t him but Isabelle… yet, in this case, the cliché of ‘the hero’s master dying in the final battle’ might still apply.
Ivan headed to Isabelle’s house as he organized his thoughts.
“No one shall die.”
To summarize the ultimate goal he had set for himself.
He hoped for a happy ending that everyone could be satisfied with.
Whether it be for ‘that hand from above’ that had thrown him into this land, for himself who had endured living for over 30 years after possession, or for those who had gone ahead wishing for his happiness.
He vowed that when the last page closed, no one would die.
And to do that, now was the time to prepare. Ivan checked his axe and pistol before opening the door to Isabelle’s mansion.
EP43. The Academy is Closed for Business.
Three days after the situation concluded, the 2nd Legion of Krasilov finally arrived at the Frechenkaya underground railway line.
An astonishingly rapid advance. In fact, most of the states in the Southern Six Nations hadn’t even properly recognized that the holy war had ended.
“Your Majesty, just a moment…!! Hold steady!! The unloading is not yet complete!!”
As soon as the train stopped, a guard rushed to Elizaveta, who was about to smash the window, and struggled to restrain her.
“Get out of my way! What do you mean by unloading?! If it doesn’t open, I’ll break the window myself!”
“Your Majesty! You must commend the soldiers who have completed the expedition and proudly announce the results of the expedition upon your return!!”
He tried his best to say something like ‘maintain some dignity,’ but Elizaveta was already striking the train window with her fist.
The window shattered into pieces, just as the guard feared. Elizaveta’s fist, now among extraordinary individuals, was uninjured and clean.
She roughly swept away the glass shards from the broken window and spoke.
“How can one wait like this?! Who knows what what Vanka has done!”
“What could Lord Yeremov possibly be doing in this city?!”
“I don’t know! That’s why it terrifies me!!”
Having been held up at the university, digging through ancient ruins underground and causing earthquakes throughout the entire city.
When sent off to the Dwarven civil war, they returned smashing the minions of the Seven Dragon Lords.
She had been sent off to Tylesse; only for civil war to break out.
After sneaking out to Kalion, the nation underwent a radical transformation to become a city-state.
Now, following the saint to the Southern Six Nations, a holy war had erupted.
In all this, her beloved city had become the last destination she left hastily, saying, “I must leave for urgent matters.”
It was hardly imaginable what might have happened to her lovely city. She couldn’t even send scouts ahead. Any scout would undoubtedly be slower than a Dwarven train.
So… unless one was to exclude a single scout who was a senior officer of the Cleanup Unit.
Still, how much of a time difference could there really be? At worst, it would be five days; at best, three days. It had only been that much time since Ivan arrived in this city.
So this was simply an unfounded anxiety… it was probably just that…
“Your Majesty, Your Majesty!! Wait, please forgive me for my rudeness!!”
“…Dmitri?”
As she was about to jump off the train and head to the ground, it seemed that Dmitri had already stepped outside first. He hurriedly limped towards her with his prosthetic limb and knelt before her.
“Catch your breath… catch your breath, Your Majesty.”
“That would be better said of you than me.”
“Um… ahem… I believe it would be best not to go above ground right now…”
“Speak clearly. Do you want to be reprimanded?”
After every battle following the civil war, invoking the authority of a battle monarch who led them to victory, Dmitri shut his eyes tight and sighed.
“I was a moment too late, Your Majesty.”
“What do you mean?”
“Lord Yeremov… it seems he has already arrived in Frechenkaya. Please take pity on the confusion in the reports. This is, this is…”
“Didn’t we already anticipate that Vanka would arrive in this city first? Don’t dawdle. Out of my way! I’ll see for myself!!”
In the end, Dmitri was unable to stop Elizaveta and stepped back with a panicked expression. He approached the guard and whispered urgently.
“Where is the attendant?”
“She is following behind, Lord Cherkatov.”
“Hurry and inform her to assist the Majesty. Before her health is compromised.”
“…What? How could her health be compromised…?”
“If she faints, someone must be there to catch her; you can’t do it!”
Dmitri’s shout twisted the guard’s expression bizarrely.
At that moment, Elizaveta was striding purposefully (no matter what, she could not run for the sake of appearances) towards the ground.
After passing through a long corridor and taking the elevator up, she finally saw the sky. It had been almost half a month since she had only been riding the train underground, so she had longed for the sky.
On a clear, sunny summer midday, she savored the feeling of returning to her hometown and smiled faintly. She could see smoke rising into the sky, the citizens cooking and laboring in the fields.
Good, now she can rest in the palace for a while and enjoy time with Vanka—
Vanka…
“…?”
Smoke was rising.
But was the steam from cooking always black…?
“…????”
The elevator came to a grating stop. With a clatter, the doors opened to reveal the view of her beloved country.
In the streets, people surged out clamoring, barricades lined from Outer Street to the far Gate Road, and soldiers patrolled the avenues, their gleaming weapons glistening ominously while intimidating the citizens…
Black smoke wafted from broken houses and debris…
“Are they… burning corpses…??”
Elizaveta found herself murmuring blankly, unaware.
Frechenkaya appeared to have become a scene filled with three skulls. Arithmetically and physically, it probably had received even more than that.
She chuckled, shaking her head.
“Dizziness… yes, um. I must be seasick! I’ve heard that’s something sailors often experience.”
Oh dear.
She let out a hollow laugh and tightly shut her eyes. After rubbing her temples for a while and shaking her head, she thought about how she couldn’t show such a face as a king.
She smiled gently and opened her eyes again.
Before her was still the sight of Frechenkaya, suffused with three skulls.
“Vanka.”
Could there be any other culprit behind the happenings in this city?
“Vanka…!!”
Her hand clenching the ceremonial sword turned white with fright.
Trembling, she shouted.
“Bring Vanka before my very eyes. Immediately!!”
Her scream echoed for a long time over the Krasilov palace.
