Damn Academy - Chapter 75

[Episode 75] The Blood-stained Entrance Ceremony (10)

As the first part of the entrance ceremony concluded, a brief intermission occurred before the start of the second part.

The majority of male students’ gazes were fixed on a woman seated in the resplendent guest section.

“Is that her?”

“I can’t see very well.”

It was the Duchess of Gainax.

Even as she sat with her legs crossed and her hands poised elegantly atop her thighs, her noble elegance was apparent.

She wore a black hat adorned with feathers and flowers that, due to its brim and the feathers, half-covered her already small face.

Thus, all that these onlookers could confirm was her delicate jawline and the seductively painted red lips.

Just before the start of the ceremony, a few had gathered the courage to greet the Duchess, but they only found shame, rebuffed by her entourage.

Now of marriageable age, and with attention focusing on her accordingly, information about her was sparse.

What little could be heard were but rumors swirling around the Duchess of Gainax.

“It’s about a marriage proposal.”

“Is she here looking for a potential suitor?”

Students entering Eternia all grew up hearing they were geniuses, and their inflated egos led them to hope that perhaps the Duchess would take notice of their talents, even if just once.

“I heard she came to see Varienne.”

“Hmm, I guess she wouldn’t settle for anybody of mediocre status.”

“So only someone like Varienne could approach her… The barrier is just too high.”

The male students, who had been looking at the Duchess from afar and indulging in grandiose dreams and delusions, returned to reality at the mention of Varienne’s name.

In the shadow of Varienne’s name, their swollen egos deflated instantly.

He was akin to the alpha among animals.

With his family, power, talent, and overwhelming masculinity emitting from his very being.

Moreover, he had achievements they wouldn’t dare contemplate, like conquering a large magical beast.

Rumors of his fierce temperament circulated so that merely standing next to him would naturally invoke a sense of intimidation.

Thus, they quickly accepted that there was no other man in the same league as Boost except Varienne.

As the group of disheartened students seemed to lose hope, a man adorned with the entourage rank insignia of the Duchy approached them.

He surveyed the students before clearing his throat and declared,

“My name is Gerald, servant to the Duchess of Gainax. I am here because there’s someone in urgent need that we are looking for…”

With the sudden appearance of the Duchess’s attendant, their eyes went wide with shock.

“…?”

“Where is a student named Damian?”

***

T h i s w as c o p i e d f r o m k i n g m t l . o r g
Dingy stone walls and worn-out furniture. The only windows were barred and no larger than notebook-sized gaping.

The sanctuary’s reception room was rugged to an excessive degree. Rather than a place to welcome guests, it carried the strong impression of a detention center.

Given that the number of visitors to the altar was so few they could be counted on one hand, it was understandable that the reception room was in such a state.

Silveryn rested her chin on the armrest of her chair, occasionally letting out a small sigh as she glanced out of the tiny window.

She could have waited in a better space, but Silveryn rejected it because it had no window.

Without a window, Stitch couldn’t fly in.

As the time for the expected reply passed without word, Silveryn’s mood grew somewhat gloomy.

It was unfamiliar for her to await someone’s letter to such a degree.

Speculating the reasons for the delay caused emotional fluctuations.

During this, Priest Price entered the reception room and informed her,

“The preparations for the ritual are completed.”

“Okay.”
T h is w a s c o pied f r o m k ing m t l . or g

“Let’s proceed.”

“Before that, I’m wondering, is this place not accessible to Stitches?”

“It’s not quite like that. We also use Stitches to send messages routinely, so there are magical pathways established specifically for Stitches.”

“I see…. Alright.”
T hi s w a s co p ie d f r o m k i n gm t l . or g

Putting aside the correspondence she anticipated from her disciple, Silveryn stood up from her seat.
T h i s was c o p ied f r o m ki n g m tl . or g

She then followed the priest into the grand sanctuary.

T hi s w as c o p ie d f r om k ing m tl . o r g
Upon entering the grand sanctuary, Silveryn paused to catch her breath.

It was exactly as she remembered from the past.

The grand sanctuary’s ceiling was entirely open to view the constellations, and the floor was densely inscribed with tens of thousands of runic characters.

Each of these runes corresponded to the various celestial bodies floating in the void.
T hi s w a s co pi e d f r o m k i n g m tl . o r g

Priests waiting in the grand sanctuary for the oracle bowed their heads as they saw Silveryn.

She retrieved the bottle containing the cube from within her attire.

Priest Price said to her,

“I shall transfer the relic to the stone altar.”

Silveryn, holding the glass bottle protectively against her chest, refused.

“No. I’ll do it.”

“Ah, understood.”

She couldn’t bear the thought of anyone else’s warmth touching the cube.

It was a ritual to unveil the fate of her disciple, but there was nothing Silveryn could involve herself with. It felt to her as though she were relinquishing her disciple’s destiny into another’s hands.

She at least wanted to carry out the transfer herself.

Silveryn strode to the central stone altar and carefully uncorked the bottle, placing it squarely in the center of the inscribed magic circle on the altar.

Then she turned around to take in the grand sanctuary one last time, old memories flashing before her eyes.

This was where destinies were divined by the stars.

She too had once received a reading of her fate here.

‘The Singular Star.’

An ambiguous oracle, uncertain whether it was a curse or a blessing. Silveryn had spent a long time contemplating the meaning of those words.

Reflecting on it now, the meaning behind ‘The Singular Star’ was all too apparent.

The answer was surprisingly simple, rendering all her ponderous contemplations an exercise in futility.

With a heavy heart, Silveryn stepped down from the altar.

The priests confirmed the relic and ignited the fire in the magic braziers surrounding the altar.

They then formed ranks and waited for the high priest’s command.

Price looked into Silveryn’s eyes.

Responding to his look with a nod, the priests unleashed a field of magic in unison.

The sunlight vanished, and the world turned as dark as dawn.

Intense light then burst forth from the Rosenthal Cube on the stone altar, forming a pillar of light that connected to the heavens.

The priests started chanting in unison, their voices harmonizing like a choir.

Waves of light flickered along the runic characters inscribed on the floor.

The ritual began.

***

A silhouette emerged from within the red mist, approaching slowly.

The figure was cloaked in a black robe with the hood drawn so low that the face remained hidden.

And as the silhouette drew closer, the vibrating necklace grew more intense.

Irrefutably, the entity was a dark mage.

Their hands clasped neatly at the navel, approaching with slow, measured steps.

If judged solely by the movements, one might mistake them for a priest residing in a monastery.

The robed figure stopped about twenty paces away from Damian and calmly observed him.

In turn, like a cat of prey or a ferocious beast, Damian moved sideways slowly.

The other party mirrored his movements as if facing a reflection in a mirror.

An inhumanly eerie aura raised the hairs on the back of Damian’s neck.

It was as though he were confronting the Grim Reaper itself.

After a tense standoff, Damian was the first to speak.

“You’re a dark mage.”

“…”

In response to Damian’s words, the figure slowly nodded its head.

“What brings you to Eternia?”

To Damian’s surprise, the voice that answered was a gentle and calm female’s.

“…I have come to discern the will of the gods.”

As Damian took a sidestep, the dark mage mimicked, shifting precisely one step to the side as well.

She was mirroring Damian’s movements exactly.

“Why? It’s not like you appear to be favored by any god.”

“The gods do not love all mortals, you see. As you can tell from the corpses surrounding you.”

“…Then what is your real purpose? Are you here to bring about Eternia’s destruction while seeking to confirm the gods’ will?”

“I have simply come to fetch the gods’ most cherished child. I merely had to ensure that anyone obstructing me pays the price.”

Damian, still in a confrontation with the dark mage, sensed another presence drifting through the mist.

Something was orbiting him eerily close. And occasionally, it let out a shriek that could split one’s ears.

It was a wraith. Dark and amorphous forms were hovering like a flock of crows, awaiting their chance.

With every step he made, something squishy was underfoot.

Black leeches the size of finger joints erupted from the earth, clinging to his shoes and crawling up menacingly.

Death was encircling Damian little by little.

“So… Did you find what you were looking for?”

Though the face was not visible, it seemed as though the dark mage was smiling.
Thi s w as c op i e d f r o m k in g m tl. or g

“…Not yet.”

Damian’s gaze locked onto the dark mage as he reached for the potion pouch at his waist.

He sensed something strange and flinched. All the potion bottles vibrated in unison.

As Damian drew out a vial of griffin potion, the wraith wails intensified.

The potion bottle, resonating with the cry, broke with a sharp pop.

Following this, the remaining potions in the pouch burst one after another, leaking their contents.

“A familiar scent indeed.”

“…”

“You’ve made this using Zverev’s recipe.”
T h is w a s c op ie d f ro m k i n g m t l. o rg

Zverev?
T h is wa s c o p i e d f r om ki ng m t l .o r g

T h i s wa s c o p i e d f r o m ki ng mt l . o rg
Upon hearing that name from the dark mage, Damian’s pupils wavered.

It was the name of the crazed alchemist of Weisel, who had developed the formula for the griffin potion.

“…”

And Damian realized that the dark mage knew he had obtained the recipe.

The dark mage spoke as if familiar with Damian, at least enough to have been watching him from somewhere.

Since when? From the time of the social gatherings of the Weisel Knights?

When he fought ghouls in the basement of Zverev’s mansion?

When he met Silveryn in the unexplored territories?

Perhaps, and perhaps, they had been observing him even longer than that.