High School of Demon Hunting-Chapter 2298 - 519: Fishmen by the Lake’s Edge

Caw!

The hoarse, piercing sound interrupted the conversation between the two wizards.

A raven emerged from the shadow of Professor Montreya’s robe, flapped its wings, hopped onto the coffee table, and pecked at the orange-hued liquid in the cup.

The Wandering Wizard nodded amiably at the raven.

Then he turned back to Professor Montreya and continued their previous conversation: "Mercy? There is no mercy in the Black Prison... More likely, after being declared fallen by Danghag, you will be thrown into the Black Prison, and over a long time, gradually become a heap of bones... I mean, after the new Black Prison is built."

After the war ended, the old Black Prison had come back to life and is no longer suitable to serve as the Alliance’s prison. The First University and the Great Wizard Conference are currently selecting an appropriate Death World to transform into a new Black Prison.

Professor Montreya interlaced his fingers and placed them on his knees, replying softly: "Declared fallen does not mean true fallenness. Even if I am in the Black Prison, my spirit remains free and pure."

"Many Fallen Wizards said the same thing before they were locked in the Black Prison."

The Wandering Wizard placed his hand on the wine glass, his eyes following the raven on the coffee table, gathering his thoughts: "Of course, we won’t let that happen — no matter how ’merciful’ it may seem — you wouldn’t be foolish enough to cross the school’s red line, and I wouldn’t have the heart to abandon this bar, into which I’ve poured half my life... It’s like my child, who would throw away their child to wander aimlessly?"

This was his third time emphasizing ’principles’ or similar concepts.

The room fell silent for a while.

Professor Montreya countered the bar owner’s insistence — or verbosity — with silence. Eventually, the realist raised his hands to the idealist.

"Alright, alright."

The Wandering Wizard raised his glass to the raven pecking at the liquor on the table: "I just wanted to say, I’d rather be crushed to death by the pinky of a Legendary Wizard than be diagnosed with dragon pox syphilis by a Therapist... It’s a simpler death, you know what I mean."

Caw!

The raven let out a hoarse, derisive laugh.

This mocking sound woke the silent professor, as he seemed to just realize what the Wandering Wizard had said.

"If anything puts you at risk of catching dragon pox syphilis, I’ll warn you in advance," said the professor. "But let me remind you, we lost the possibility of a simple, easy death a long time ago."

"What we understand, we don’t say. We’re still friends."

"The concept of friendship is too extravagant," the professor replied, lowering his eyelids and using two thin fingers to smooth a ruffled feather on the raven’s neck. "For people like us, even a very fragile relationship requires special courage and strength to maintain... We are surrounded by enemies, every ally is exceptionally precious."

Caw!

Flutter.

Flutter flutter.

The raven awkwardly flapped its wings, taking a run-up along the long coffee table, taking off, startling a group of fireflies in the narrow booth, cawing as it flew out of the booth door, through the corridor, around the pillars, and into the hall.

Then it didn’t fly out of the bar.

Instead, after circling the ceiling several times, with a shudder of its wings, it soared towards the ceiling, where the hanging candle flames flickered gently, like dots of starlight in the night sky, set against a pitch-black, seemingly real night sky background.

The raven pecked a candle flame along the way and then flew into the starry sky.

Like a meteor streaking across the night sky.

The scene inverted.

The meteor falls from the night sky.

The raven spread its wings, revealing its form from the night and starry sky, flapping silently, landing in the crown of a flourishing pine tree by the Lakeside of Bell Lake, hiding among the dense pine needles, peering towards the lakeside.

Its eyelids blinked, gleaming with intelligence.

With the arrival of winter break, the Lakeside of Bell Lake had quieted considerably. The lake paths and plaza, bustling at this time of day, were sparsely populated, even the timid kappas dared to leave the shore, crawling across the empty plaza in front of the library to dig for hibernating worms in the flower beds.

The raven resisted the urge to peck the bowl-like object on the kappa’s head, focusing intently on a dark silhouette by the lakeside.

At first glance, the silhouette looked like a rock.

But upon closer inspection, one can tell it was a robed wizard, sitting motionless by the lake, creating the illusion of being a stone.

The raven stared silently at a slow-moving yellow-skinned frog beside the wizard, as if it had also turned to stone.

This waiting didn’t last long.

Soon, a tall figure approached from the night, moving swiftly though appearing leisurely, arriving behind the robed wizard in no time, and very politely removed the hood, revealing long silver hair.

Blink.

The raven blinked quickly, recognizing the visitor’s identity.

"Good evening, Elder Garcia."

The Big Wizard from the North District greeted lightly: "...I thought I would have to go into the water, but you waiting here on the shore is truly an honor."

The robed wizard turned his head, revealing a flat fishman face, with a few fish scales on the cheeks glistening with a mysterious sheen in the faint light.

It took a monocle from its chest and placed it over its round eyes.

Through the lens, its whites of the eyes appeared much larger.

"Good evening, Korma... Madam." The Fishman Language Professor uneasily rubbed the scales on its face, not disguising the surprise in its tone: "An unexpected visit indeed... When the Priest mentioned a guest, I thought it would be some old friends from Beta Town... Compared to the title ’Elder,’ I prefer you call me ’Professor Garcia’... Want some dried salted frog legs? The meat is firm and flavorful, a great snack for nibbling. Even wizards would enjoy it."

It held up the wooden tray, neatly arranged with rows of dark purple strips of jerky.

"May I? Thank you for the hospitality."

The Witch smiled gleefully, taking a salted frog leg, tearing off a small bite and chewing: "...I’ve long heard the dried frog legs of the Fishman Tribe are delicious, truly deserving of its reputation... I know you prefer the title ’professor,’ but tonight, I’d like to have a chat with ’Elder Garcia’... Is that alright?"

The Old Fishman sighed deeply, glancing at the calm Lin Zhong Lake.

"The Fishmen are in prayer right now, so yes, I have a bit of time." It tossed a piece of the jerky into its mouth, chewing slowly, and asked: "What would you like to talk about?"

Its wording carried a hint of distance.