Academy’s Genius Swordmaster

[Translator – Peptobismol]

Chapter 242: Alivrihe (3)

“So, who exactly are you? Did you come here to ruin my first and last vacation?”

Ronan’s eyes widened. It was indeed Alivrihe. However, he looked so different from the man he had encountered in the Savior’s memories—someone once robust and full of spirit.

Ronan sensed there was a story behind this transformation but didn’t press for details. There were more immediate concerns. He tilted his head in confusion.

“Vacation?”

“I’d appreciate it if you answered my question first.”

“I can tell you, but… you’re not going to rat us out to the Leader, right?”

“If you’re suspicious, you don’t have to say anything. But then our conversation ends here. Just know that my thoughts on the cult are far from positive.”

The old man’s demeanor was formidable—gentle yet unwavering. His experience was evident. After a brief pause, Ronan nodded.

“Alright, fair enough.”

This wasn’t the type of person who would respond to threats. Plus, if he had ill intentions, he wouldn’t have saved them. Ronan pointed to himself and the sleeping Aselle.

“I’m Ronan, and the one sleeping there is Aselle. So…”

Ronan briefly explained their identities and purpose for being in Adren, carefully omitting any details that could lead to them being tracked if things went wrong. Alivrihe listened attentively, tossing logs into the fire as Ronan spoke.

In the vast, empty space, Ronan’s voice echoed. The flickering firelight cast long shadows in the sewer. After listening to Ronan’s story, Alivrihe slowly nodded.

“…I see. You came all the way to Adren to stop the cult. Impressive.”

“It was easier than expected. By the way, thanks for earlier.”

“Hm?”

Ronan suddenly bowed his head. Alivrihe’s eyebrows twitched.

“What are you thanking me for?”

“You saved us. Honestly, I had no idea how we’d get to the sewer.”

Ronan expressed his gratitude sincerely. It was his principle to acknowledge the good deeds done for him. While he wasn’t fully ready to trust this old man, it was a fact that they had been saved because of him. Alivrihe, initially taken aback, spoke.

“…You’re not the cult Leader’s child. I was somewhat suspicious.”

“Hm? Why the sudden certainty?”

“Because no one with that monster’s blood would ever thank anyone, much less bow their head. You can see it in the Lycopos.”

Alivrihe’s voice dripped with disdain as he mentioned the cult. It was clear their relationship wasn’t amicable.

“So, who are you really…? Could it be what this old man is thinking?”

“Probably.”

Ronan didn’t deny it. He had to reveal at least this much. After all, they wouldn’t know his exact location or whether he was alive until he spoke.

“I’m the son of the Savior, Cain.”

“My god…”

Alivrihe sighed, slowly running his palm down his face before continuing.

“It’s been so long since I heard that name. To think he had a son… Is he still alive?”

“Who knows. Now it’s your turn, old man.”

Ronan smiled wryly. It was time to get something in return for what he had shared. Alivrihe, looking at him with mild disbelief, chuckled.

“…That smile is just like your father’s.”

“Really?”

Ronan’s smile widened. Alivrihe was about to speak when suddenly, the ground and walls began to shake as if an earthquake had struck.

“What’s going on?”

Ronan frowned, sensing the musty air trembling. Distant voices, like shouts, echoed sporadically. Alivrihe clicked his tongue.

“It seems Azidahaka has started his pursuit in earnest. The surface must be in chaos.”

Ronan realized the sounds were coming from above ground. With a gesture, Alivrihe extinguished the fire, smothering it as if with a blanket.

“Let’s move. Follow me.”

With hands behind his back, Alivrihe walked deeper into the sewer. Ronan followed, carrying Aselle without waking him. Most mages recovered mana while sleeping, and Ronan wanted Aselle to rest as much as possible.

“Mmm… uhh…”

“Sleep well. You won’t get another chance for a while.”

Footsteps echoed. The sewers of Adren were unlike any other Ronan had seen—vast and spacious. The sheer size of the waterways, comparable to large rivers, was impressive.

‘This place is huge.’

The dragons sure thought big. As Ronan marveled at the scale and craftsmanship, Alivrihe, walking ahead, began to speak.

“…Vacation, as I said, is just that. For the first time since the founding of Nebula Clazier, I left the cult and returned to my homeland. Except for the cult Leader, no one knows that I’m here.”

[Translator – Peptobismol]

It was an answer to Ronan’s initial question. The water was so loud that Ronan had to strain to listen. True to his word, Alivrihe began to talk about himself.

“The tavern where we first met was something I ran as a hobby. A small pleasure in my old age. I can’t run it anymore because of a reckless young man, though.”

“That’s a shame. So that was a hobby, but I wonder why you were at a tavern instead of a forge.”

“How do you know I was a blacksmith?”

“Well, fighting the cult, I learned a lot about you. You’re quite famous.”

Ronan played it off. He didn’t mention sharing the Savior’s memories. Revealing all his cards would be premature.

“And my girlfriend uses a whip you made. It was used by a woman named Yuria.”

“Ah, I know what you mean. It’s a tricky weapon. Impressive that she’s adapted to it.”

“I think so too.”

They exchanged stories. Though Ronan wanted to get to the point, he decided to lead the conversation naturally to avoid mishaps. Suddenly, Alivrihe asked.

“So, what exactly happened with Azidahaka? I really don’t know anything about it.”

“That lunatic? He’s a bastard who’d sell his parents to win against Navardose.”

Recalling the situation made Ronan’s blood boil. Of all people to side with… Ronan, with a voice full of anger, explained what had transpired at the Sky Tower.

The jealousy towards Navardose, the pact with the cult, and the mysterious ritual drawing power from the stars. He concluded with Shullifen’s story. Alivrihe stroked his beard thoughtfully.

“It’s unfortunate about your comrade. However, since they mentioned capturing them alive, he’s likely not dead. One of the few merits of dragons is that they keep their word.”

“I have to believe that.”

Ronan clenched his fist. He had to rescue that fool no matter what. Alivrihe let out a heavy sigh.

“Hmmm… Azidahaka made a foolish choice. I had heard rumors that Abel contacted Adren, but I didn’t think it was true.”

“Do you think the Dragon King can defeat Navardose with that power?”

“Hard to say. But one thing is certain: once the ritual is complete, Adren will be destroyed.”

Alivrihe spoke calmly, so calmly that it took Ronan a moment to grasp the meaning. Ronan stopped in his tracks.

“…What did you say?”

“The ritual atop the Sky Tower isn’t just to augment his power. It’s a method to lure a being from the far skies using the immense power of the Dragon King and Adren as bait. Sure, it’ll make him stronger, but…”

“A being from the sky? Are you talking about those giants…ah,”

“What did you just say?”

Alivrihe stopped walking. Ronan gasped, realizing he had spoken too soon in his excitement.

‘Damn it, that was careless.’

Ronan bit his lower lip. This was a delicate situation.

If Alivrihe still had any loyalty to the cult, he might try to eliminate him. Ronan’s hand slowly moved towards his sword hilt.

‘Should I strike first?’

A tense silence filled the space between them. Ronan was ready to draw his sword at any moment. After a few seconds, Alivrihe’s reaction was entirely unexpected.

“Haha… you’ve already uncovered that much. It seems the cult’s secrets are out.”

“…What?”

Alivrihe suddenly started laughing. It wasn’t an evil laugh; he seemed genuinely amused.

Ronan felt uneasy. Unable to contain himself, he pressed for more information.

“Damn it, stop laughing and explain. What exactly is going on?”

“It’s nothing complicated. But I’ll tell you what I know.”

Alivrihe seemed surprisingly cooperative, clearly harboring negative feelings towards the cult.

As Ronan waited with bated breath for Alivrihe’s next words, the old man turned and began walking deeper into the sewer.

“Hey, you said you’d explain.”

“I will. But first, there’s someone you need to meet.”

“Someone I need to meet?”

Ronan asked, but Alivrihe didn’t answer. He just continued walking, his figure receding into the distance. Ronan’s brow furrowed.

“What the hell…?”

This sudden change in direction was baffling, but with no other options, Ronan followed him.

The scenery remained monotonous. This place was like the shadow of the brilliant city above. Rats scurried about at the sound of their footsteps, and occasionally, they came across human skeletons.

Most of the skeletons were picked clean, likely the remains of servants abandoned by their masters. Perhaps they had fled here to avoid being exiled from Adren. Ronan looked up at the ceiling.

‘What a mess.’

He could hear voices through the drains, calling out as they searched for him and Aselle. The noise had grown louder, suggesting more troops had been deployed. While he couldn’t be sure without seeing for himself, the situation seemed dire.

Who could Alivrihe be leading him to in such chaos? After about an hour of walking straight, Alivrihe turned a corner. He spoke without looking back.

“We’re here. You’ve come a long way.”

“Yeah, right. So who am I supposed to meet…?”

Grumbling, Ronan turned the corner, and instantly froze as if rooted to the ground.

The smell of blood hit him. In the center of a room that looked like it hadn’t seen use in a long time, a man was sitting cross-legged.

“You…!”

A single lantern flickered beside him. The man’s long hair hung down to his sides like willow branches. Although his eyes were closed, his identity was unmistakable. It was the Dark Dragon Orsay.

‘Why is that bastard here?’

Orsay’s well-toned abdomen was wrapped in thick bandages. A pile of bloodied bandages in the corner indicated he had lost a significant amount of blood.

Herbs, presumably for healing, were scattered around. Was this some kind of trap? The hand not supporting Aselle moved slowly towards the hilt of his sword . Alivrihe waved his metal hand towards Orsay.

“Hey, how are you feeling?”

His tone was casual, as if greeting an old friend. Orsay opened his eyes and growled lowly at Alivrihe.

【You speak as if nothing happened. If you hadn’t reported it, none of this would have occurred.】

“It’s absurd. I reported it to warn you to flee, but you recklessly charged ahead. I assure you, if I hadn’t, you would have died unnoticed.”

【Silence, old man. I’ve recovered enough; I’m leaving.】

Watching their exchange, Ronan was bewildered. Despite their bickering, they didn’t seem to have a bad relationship. What the hell is going on? Alivrihe sighed.

“Ungrateful fool. Leaving is your business, but first, you should have a chat with this friend here.”

【A chat?】

Orsay tilted his head in confusion. Alivrihe stepped aside without a word. Ronan, standing behind him, locked eyes with Orsay. An awkward silence ensued. Ronan spoke first.

“You’re alive?”

【It hasn’t been that long, kid.】

[Translator – Peptobismol]

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