Damn Academy - Chapter 185

[Episode 185] Backstage Maneuvers (1)

In the northeast borderlands of the Duchy of Ulyssia, there was a village not recorded on any map—Ilisial Gorge. It was a peculiar place, built of planks in a damp, moss-filled gorge that never saw sunlight.
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It was a lawless land where murderers, vagabonds, escapees, smugglers, and assassins—those not welcome anywhere else—had gathered. There were rules, but no laws, and if one had power, those rules could easily be ignored.

A tall woman, her robe pulled low over her face, made her way through the center of it all. Walking alone in such a place would be considered a death wish for anyone else, but she paid no mind. When a human shinbone got stuck under her boot, she kicked it aside and continued on.

Her presence was enough to draw the attention of the lawless.

As she passed by the filthy roadside, someone whistled.

Prey spotted, some began to stealthily follow her, apparently unaware of the fate that awaited a woman who dared to walk into their midst alone.

“Hehe, hehe.”

A toothless vagabond, grinning idiotically, kept some distance as he followed her.

The woman stopped in front of a dilapidated plank building and pulled out a note to check.

[The scholar has sought refuge with Hueik of the Headspike.]

Crudely written in what could be either human or beast’s blood, ‘Hueik’ decorated the planks of the building. Corpses hung from poles with nails driven through them greeted visitors, as if to blatantly announce ownership.

Without much concern for the lawless ones targeting her from behind, the woman entered the collapsing building.

Inside, a stench of alcohol, sweat, and rotten food hit her like a wave.

A gang of lawless engaged in tinkering with magic chains turned at the sound of her unannounced entry.

Upon realizing their unexpected visitor was a woman, they began to snicker and guffaw.

“Krhhhh.”

“Wow.”

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She walked straight into the center of the group and stated,

“I need to see the one in charge here.”

One of the gang members mocked,

“Hey, hey, this chick says she needs to see our boss!”

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“Krhhhh, the boss? Who’s in charge of us?”

Ignoring their jeers, she simply announced,

“I need to meet with Rober Feis, so summon your leader now.”

Her calm, composed voice was enough to provoke the starving lawless.

The outlaws stood up and began to encircle her with derisive laughter.
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Click.

The sound of the building’s exit being locked came from outside. Those inside positioned themselves to block the way out. So that’s how it is, the woman thought, amused. The only reason she was allowed into their den so easily was because they thought they could easily surround her. Nobody turns away a willingly trapped prey.

“A woman on two legs doesn’t get to see the boss.”

Another from the gang shouted,

“You gotta crawl on all fours.”

The woman, not wanting to waste time, approached a nearby thug and suddenly grabbed his face with her palm.

The man whose face had been seized began to scream as his flesh started to sizzle and smoke.

“Eu, euagh! Aaaaagh!”

When she released her hand, what was left was a charred corpse that flopped to the ground.

With a calm, almost gentle voice, she repeated,

“Bring your leader.”

Seeing the body, one of the lawless shouted,

“Tie that wench up!”

The ambushing gang threw glowing chains at her. Five strands flew simultaneously, binding her in an instant.

The woman looked down at the chains that restrained her with an unfazed expression.

Clearly, they were synthetic stones with magic-suppressing effects. They must believe that even unpredictable entities like mages could be subdued with such devices.

If toys like these could neutralize a mage, they wouldn’t be treated with such regard as they were today.
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She shook her head to remove her hood, revealing vibrant auburn hair. Her face looked slightly tired as she stated,

“Until the boss arrives… one by one, you’ll burn.”

***

Silveryn fanned away the smell of charred flesh filling the room. No one who witnessed her there lived to tell the tale. Though weary of such clean-up operations, she couldn’t leave any witnesses.

Inside the cabin, in a space that appeared to belong to the gang’s leader, a charred torso was all that remained, making discovery pointless.
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She searched the body, removed a key, and made her way down a staircase to the underground.

Below, naked women were imprisoned. Blinded by the rare encounter with light, they shielded their eyes and curled up. Silveryn paid them no mind and walked up to a cell where a middle-aged man with glasses sat.

It was Rober Feis, the escapee she was seeking.
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He seemed tense, having heard the commotion upstairs.

“We meet again.”

Silveryn and Rober were old acquaintances.

“You would’ve lived more comfortably if you had stayed in the Duchy.”

“For someone who sought refuge, he doesn’t look too well,” she thought.

“I needed something more definitive.”

“So you left the Duchy for this?”

“The Duchy is a toothless wolf. Its coffers may burst from the era of peace, but its weapons have rusted, and its heroes of the past are now either dead or aged.”

Rober Feis was known among scholars for his knowledge of particularly dangerous subjects. His scholarly passion, combined with the long life of a high-ranking vampire, had led to a considerable accumulation of knowledge. Though publicly known as a prisoner, he had sought protection in the Duchy for his safety.

One day, realizing the Duchy could no longer ensure his safety, he fled.

“So you judged this place to be safe?”

“Rolling in the muck here, my trail becomes harder to follow. I had to disappear from the world.”

“Given that I tracked you down to this extent, you’re not very skilled at concealing your tracks.”

“…I haven’t yet executed all my plans.”

Silveryn smirked.

“What were you planning to do here?”

“…I was about to guide the head of this place to the hiding spot of the Magic Sword, ‘Igillion’s Tongue’.”

The reason Rober Feis was dangerous lay in his expertise as a unique mineralogist and the leading authority on Magic Swords. Beyond knowing about the swords wielded by Swordmasters, he had information on yet-to-be-revealed, dangerous Magic Swords.

“And what then, after guiding them?”
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“Those lawless would’ve all met their end in the dungeon anyway. My plan was to vanish from the world thereafter.”

Silveryn was puzzled. Someone with his knowledge of Magic Swords would have many pursuers, yet he was a high-ranking vampire, far surpassing humans in combat ability.

“Running away from Magic Sword collectors? I thought you’d be used to that by now.”

What could force a man who refused the Duchy’s protection into a corner?

“If I don’t disappear, I’ll face a fate worse than death.”

Silveryn’s expression grew serious.

“Explain.”

“…The Wailing Sword. It’s because of the Wailing Sword.”

Silveryn caught her breath. The name sounded like something out of history books—the sword forged from souls, believed to have vanished decades ago.

“…The Wailing Sword I know? The one made with souls, tempered. I thought it was lost long ago.”

“Everyone thinks so. That sword has been circulating and ended up with the dwarves who have completely severed ties with humans.”

All things filthy flow underground—corpses, maggots, sewage, rainwater carrying all the refuse into the depths. And the discarded souls of humans without bodies sink into the earth.

It’s said there’s a black lake in the deepest part of the underground known only to dwarves, formed by the gathered souls of the deceased.
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During a time of war, the dwarves tempered a death-bringing sword in the soul-infused lake countless times, called the Wailing Sword because of the soulful screams it elicited with each swing. Hundreds of dwarf smiths sacrificed their lives to create it.

“So, you’re being hunted to reveal the whereabouts of the Wailing Sword?”

He bowed his head, speaking with difficulty.

“No, that’s not it. I’ve long revealed the Wailing Sword’s location.”

“…What?”

He explained about a mysterious woman who inquired about the whereabouts of the ‘Wailing Sword’.

“…It was as if she was possessed. One day she suddenly appeared in my study and asked about the sword’s location. When she showed up, all the light in the world vanished. The oil lamps, the chandeliers, all drowned in darkness. She wasn’t threatening. When I saw her, a cold sweat broke out and I shook uncontrollably. It felt like my soul was sinking into the ground. My instincts remember. She wasn’t human. So I told her willingly.”

“If not human, then what?”

“I don’t know. I’ve lived over a hundred years but never encountered such a being. Maybe, a dark sorceress. But I had some faith because the Wailing Sword was hidden deep and well-guarded. Even if someone penetrated that place, wielding the sword would turn them into a cursed being, neither dead nor alive, just like its previous owners. Even for a vile sorceress…”

“Then why flee? If you’re not the target.”

“I know the weakness of the Wailing Sword, and of another Magic Sword that can counter it. Those who seek Magic Swords always do so. Once they achieve their goal, they always come for me, who knows too much.”

“You mean…”

“…I heard from your Duchy’s intelligence. The Wailing Sword was sealed deep in the Canselo Mountains, among dwarves in the third most powerful kingdom. But, but…”

He couldn’t lift his head.

***
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A road shrouded in mist.

It was like walking towards the Thorn Garden Dormitory, through a foggy plain.

I felt hazy, as if drugged. I was dreaming.

Where was I walking? After a while, I stopped at one point.

In front of me, a black lake spread out, still and silent like water in a cup.

It was reminiscent of the foul-smelling lake I encountered in Barvisia.

I crouched by the lake, bowing my head to look into the water.

The lake, tainted black, showed no depths. Instead, I saw a reflection on the surface.

Reflected there was not my image but someone else’s. Missing an arm, parts of the face rotting away, showing hues of black and gray.

It was a corpse, not a person.

Was this reflection me? I moved my arm to pinch my face. The flesh was intact and both arms were fine. Looking back at the lake, the reflected man’s face was different from mine. So it wasn’t me.

The figure in the reflection moved its lips as if speaking to me.

‘Who are you?’

Then everything before my eyes began to blur.

And the dream ended. Rising from shallow sleep, I slowly lifted my eyelids.

How long had I been asleep in the healing room? My eyes felt dry, blurring my vision, but I could tell it was late, past sunset.

I blinked several times, and a person’s face came into focus in the darkness, close enough to feel their breath.

Was I still dreaming?

As I regained full consciousness, I realized the face before me… was Luna’s.

Meeting my gaze, she looked immensely startled, her eyes wide like a startled cat’s.

“Luna?”

“……!”