The Academy's Barbarian-Chapter 59: The Visit (3)

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The incident unfolded without a moment to intervene.

In a swift motion, Bai Lang quickly climbed onto the shelf and instantly brought down the mana stone. Then, he immediately began licking the surface with his tongue, like he was eating candy.

Then, something amazing happened soon.

Crack! Crunch!

Along with the sound of muscles and bones twisting, the small body gradually grew larger; its teeth and claws became thicker and sharper.

This transformation could only mean one thing it had absorbed mana.

I guess it can absorb mana by licking it too.

One would have thought that it would only work if chewed it directly. As Ulan observed Bai Lang, seemingly fascinated, a sudden memory flashed in his mind; the words I had heard just five minutes ago.

Especially the mana stones on the shelf are extremely expensive, so don't really break them, okay? Understand?

It was Deflyn's earnest advice.

Immediately after recalling the words not to break it, he looked at the mana stone that Bai Lang was licking; except for the fact that it was covered in saliva, it still looked intact.

"It's okay if he didn't break it, right?"

Deflyn only said not to break it, but hadn't mentioned anything about not absorbing mana. So, it should be fine.

After reaching his own conclusion, Ulan leisurely watched Bai Lang.

How much time had passed?

"Haaaaaam," Ulan yawned; boredom evident on his face.

He had every right to be. Deflyn said she'd be right back, but it had already been twenty minutes. Unable to overcome his idleness, he left the room; to look around casually.

However, it was equally dull; most of the things in the hut were unidentifiable potions and ingredients.

Around the second time he yawned, suddenly, something caught his attention.

"Books?"

There lay books covered in dust; research journals, to be exact. Evidence lay in the recorded dates on their covers.

I'm bored, so should I read a book? Ulan took out a few journals and placed them on the desk. Then, dusting them off, he opened one.

But he couldn't read it.

"What is written here?"

It wasn't the Imperial language; rather, theyre strange, worm-like characters.

However, the odd thing was that these characters seemed strangely familiar. Where had he seen them before? Furrowing his brow in thought

"Ah."

it dawned on him; where he had seen this before.

When he was traveling the battlefield with his comrades in his past life, it was the same script as the one he saw in dungeons and ruins where the Monsters of the Abyss were crawling around.

Of course, that doesn't mean he could read them. But in a daze of nostalgic memories, Ulan quickly turned the pages.

But at that moment

Stop!

the hand flipping through the pages stopped; it wasn't just the hand.

The movement of the arms, shoulders, and torso also stopped. As if it had turned to stone. And his gaze was fixed at the end of the page.

"This is......."

The only word he knew came out.

A word he had memorized because he had seen it so often in his past life. Although it was a very short passage, it was an unforgettable word.

The interpretation of this was as follows:

Ruler of the Abyss

Ulan's eyes narrowed; understandably so.

Because the existence of a 'Ruler,' leading the monsters of the abyss, had been confirmed the moment the door opened, exactly three years ago.

'But how does it already know?'

The Gates to the Abyss hasn't even opened yet?

The seed of doubt, instantly sown, soon sprouted into the shoots of suspicion. In the moment when the shoots were about to grow vigorously,

Kwooong!

a sudden massive vibration occurred; to the extent that the hut trembled for an instant. Just as Ulan was about to snap out of his reverie,

Thud! Kwoooong!

a second vibration was felt; much more intense than before. However, this time, it wasn't just the vibration. Along with it, an intangible force surged like waves.

'Spirit.'

Ulan's gaze became sharp; it was not an ordinary spirit.

It was an extreme spirit that only those who had stepped into the realm of a Masters could exude; and within it, a strong determination and fighting spirit were felt.

It meant only one thing.

'Provocation to the opponent.'

The spirit, filled with the will to fight, carried the meaning of provocation on the battlefield; by notifying the opponent of one's position and at the same time, inviting them to come at you. Having lived half of his past life on the battlefield, he knew it well.

"I don't know who this is, but......."

The guy was itching for a fight.

Ulan smirked. Then he soon grabbed his axe and headed outside the hut.

It was to respond to the provocation; he had never shied away from a fight that came his way.

He was also intrigued.

Since there was no Master other than Ulan in the Arsene Academy. So, where did this master, emitting a spirit now, come from?

With a hint of curiosityUlan took a step forwardto the source of the provocation

To the entrance of the Fountain of Magic.

*****

The entrance leading to the Fountain of Magic.

The guardians of this place are divided into three groups: the Arsene Guards, the Special Operations Unit, and the Surveillance Unit. These groups, known as the "Guardians," each had their assigned roles, protecting the Fountain or reporting any enemy attacks.

And at this very moment,

the entrance to the Fountain was filled with tension; for one reason only.

The sudden appearance of an uninvited guest.

Istan el Deorg.

The Imperial Master, Count Deorg.

He appeared out of nowhere and abruptly tried to enter the Fountain of Magic. The Guardians immediately stopped him, explaining that entering the Fountain required permission from Dean Deflyn. In response, the Count replied,

In that case, I will wait here.

Until Dean Deflyn arrives.

From then on, the Count did not move a step. Thanks to him, the entrance to the Fountain was steeped in tension.

How much time passed like that?

Finally, the awaited reinforcements arrived.

"It's been a long time, Lord Istan."

A girl emerged from inside the Fountain.

It was Deflyn Chernihiv. As the Special Operations Unit brightened up at her appearance, Deflyn, with her characteristic smile, greeted, "Should I call you Count now?"

"You may call me whatever you wish. You have earned that right, Dean," the Count replied in a polite tone, which was quite understandable. The Count and Deflyn had known each other since his days as the heir to the family. They fought on the same battlefield, and he had received help from her. Therefore, the Count responded with respect and asked, "Have you been well?"

"I've been very well. It's so nice to have plenty of water to use, unlike the desert."

"I'm glad to hear that."

However, the exchange of pleasantries ended here. After a brief silence, the Count spoke again, "I was actually planning on visiting you."

"Oh really? What for?"

"To ask for your permission to enter the Fountain of Magic."

The Count got straight to the point. In response, Deflyn sighed, "Sigh, I'd love to give you permission, but I can't let just anyone in. It's a very dangerous place, and also..."

"I'm looking for someone."

The Count interrupted her in the middle of her playful response. Then, with a glint in his eyes, he revealed his purpose, "The barbarian, Ulan Bator. Please arrange a meeting with him."

"I don't know where you heard that, but it's going to be a bit difficult," Deflyn said, her expression troubled. The Count asked bluntly, "Why is that?"

"Because he's on a mission."

"A mission?"

"The Count may or may not know, but there was an incident of disappearance at the Fountain of Magic. It can be considered an investigation related to that."

"...Is that so?" The Count's gaze sank; after scattering a gaze as cold as ice, his voice also became colder, "Now I understand."

"What do you mean?"

"That you, Dean, are also a collaborator with the military."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Deflyn laughed softly, as if she had no idea. However, her eyes didn't smile at all. As the tension rose again, the Count suddenly sighed, "Well, I guess I can't help it."

The Count slowly raised his right leg, and soon, his leg was wrapped in a faint lightthe symbol of a Master, the Aura.

Deflyn widened her eyes when she saw this.

"I have no choice but to make him come here."

"!"

Kwaaaaang!

His foot slammed into the ground; the tremors and shockwave that followed swept through the area in an instant.

Kookookoo! Kwagagaga!

The Master's momentum swirled like a torrent; the Aura, full of determination and fighting spirit, spread everywhere. The reason was simple: to provoke the barbarian inside and bring him out.

However, at that moment, interference occurred.

Paaaat!

A brightly shining wand. Deflyn had completed her spell, and she was about to unleash it to stop the Count.

But she couldn't.

"It's no use."

Somehow, the Count had already reached her and grabbed her wrist. Consequently, the wand was also taken away in the blink of an eye.

Deflyns eyebrows twitched.

"It's outside of seven steps, then why."

"That was six years ago, wasn't it?"

With a dry explanation, the Count answered in a whisper, "Now it's up to nine steps."

What he was talking about was the Master's domain; the range where the touch of the sword signifies a moment so fleeting that even the flow of time is not perceived.

And as if to prove it

Tuk! Thud!

the agents from the Special Operations Unit who were trying to stop the Count also fell like a stack of hay.

"Rest assured. I did not kill them."

"......."

Deflyn bit her lip tightly.

Masters existed in a different timeframe than ordinary people; merely observing their domains made that evident. Even Deflyn, an Archmage, couldn't perceive or comprehend what transpired within a Master's domain.

'If it had been outside of nine steps.'

Deflyn would have had the upper hand; her magic would have activated much faster than the Count could take a step. However, within the domain, it was a losing battle.

This was why Masters were treated as strategic weapons. It was said that the only one who can fight a Master was another Master.

Meanwhile, at that moment

the Count continued to disperse his Aura, seemingly trying to lure out Ulan. Observing this, Deflyn inwardly smiled.

'But Ulan won't come out.'

More accurately, he couldn't come out. Just in case such a situation arose, she had discreetly brought his pants while grabbing her coat.

Even if he has no shame, he wouldn't parade around the streets nakedDeflyn was certain of that.

Meanwhile, the Count withdrew his Aura.

She thought so, until she heard the Count say, "You finally came out?"

A murmur drifted into the air.

What? Come out, what?

For a moment, Deflyn stood dumbfounded.

'No way.......'

In the distance, a hulking man appeared in her visionUlan, the barbarian, wielding an axe in both hands. He was striding toward them, clad only in a threadbare robe, his nudity evident beneath it.

******

Meanwhile, at that moment, Ulan, who had left the hut and arrived at the entrance to the Fountain, tilted his head at the bizarre scene in front of him.

The agents from the Special Operations Unit were lying on the ground as if they were unconscious. Deflyn, who had just gone for a moment, was being held back by someone, and the man was staring at him intently.

Soon, when their eyes met,

and Ulan realized that man was the Master who had called him here.

Just as he was about to speak to him, he heard a shout from ahead.

Why did you come out?! It was Deflyn, and she looked at Ulan with a bewildered expression. "No, rather than that, how could you come out like that...?"

"Is there a problem?" Ulan asked, genuinely confused.

Of course there is! There are so many eyes on you, but you don't feel anything? Shame or embarrassment or.

I feel a sense of liberation.

This wasn't going well; they couldn't communicate. Deflyn let out a deep sigh. "Haah, fine. I guess it doesn't matter why, but put on some clothes first."

"But I don't have clothes to wear."

"They're over there."

Deflyn pointed toward the outpost; hanging there were Ulan's pants and gaiters that she had thrown away earlier. Seeing this, Ulan tilted his head and asked, "Why are my clothes here?"

"I must have forgotten to bring them when I was getting my coat. But more than that, put your clothes on quickly.

Okay.

Ulan put on his pants in a hurry.

A short time later, the Count suddenly asked, "I have a question for you."

What is it?

"Do you know Himmel Deorg?"

Of course I do. He was a disgrace who didn't know honor.

As soon as that answer was finished, the Count's eyebrows furrowed. The faces of those who were watching also turned pale. That was understandable. To a parent who had traveled from afar for the sake of his injured son, Ulan had just called his son trash. Everyone looked at Ulan as if he were crazy.

At that moment, the Count spoke, "I'm late in introducing myself." He said again, in a colder voice, "I am Istan el Deorg. The father of the honorless disgrace you speak of."

"I see. I am Ulan Bator."

Whether he was bold or tactless, Ulan's attitude did not change even after it was revealed that the man was Himmel's father. When he showed a calm reaction, the Count spoke again, I agree with you in part.

"Hmm? What do you mean?"

"That he is a disgrace who knows no honor." The words that came out of his mouth were akin to chewing and spitting; the disgust in his voice was palpable. "I was so focused on teaching him the sword that I neglected the rest of his education, and in my absence, he became a disgrace. Honor, spirit, and body all.

"......."

However, no matter how much of a disgrace, he is the blood of Deorg. If he backs down like this, everyone will laugh at Deorg. And it won't be good for his reputation either. So.

"What do you want to say?" Ulan asked, interrupting.

At that moment, the Count suddenly took off his gloves. Then he threw them straight to Ulan, "I challenge you to a duel."

I understand. I accept it.

A one-second answer without hesitation. The Count's eyebrows twitched. He hadn't expected Ulan to accept the duel so readily.

At that moment, Ulan explained, "I've never avoided a fight that came my way."

It was a barbarian warrior's way of thinking.

The Count tightened his grip on his sword, his expression subtle. Regardless of the reason, now that the opponent had accepted the duel, he was determined to proceed.

However, just then, "Stop, Ulan!" Deflyn intervened. She squeezed her way between Ulan and the Count and said in a serious tone, "In the academy, unauthorized duels are prohibited. So if you fight with the Count, you'll be violating the academy's rules!"

"Even so, I can't stop."

"What... what are you saying?" Deflyn was confused by Ulan's response. Ulan turned to the Count.

"I knew it from the moment I first saw him."

"What did you know?"

"His eyes."

Dry eyes like the desert sand; as if fixated on something, a clinging gaze.

Ulan said calmly, "Those are the eyes of someone obsessed with fighting."

Just like his past self.

And as soon as he finished his statement, the Count chuckled. It was the first smile he had shown since arriving at the academy.

"You're right, barbarian."

With that, the Count drew his sword.

Now, further conversation was unnecessary. The duel was set. The Count struck the ground immediately. However, just at that moment...

"No, I can't allow this duel!" A shout, halting steps, reached them. A familiar voice. Dean Berge from the Military Studies Department had appeared out of nowhere, his face contorted with anger. "I will never allow a duel for revenge. This is a serious violation of the rules!"

He seemed desperate to halt the duel at any cost. But the Count didn't stop his steps; or rather, he had no intention of stopping. He was about to swing his sword when,

Kwaaang!

with a resounding crash, someone barged in, separating him from Ulan.

The Count frowned at the new intruder, but only for a moment, because upon recognizing the intruder, his eyes widened.

Blue hair like the sea; a man appearing in his late forties. The Count murmured in disbelief, "......Sir Seoric?"

"It's been a while, Istan."

The man's wrinkled mouth curved into a welcoming smile, as if he knew the Count well. Istan, still puzzled, questioned, "Why are you here, my lord...?"

"Because the General summoned me."

Seoric al-Ghorfant, one of the heroes who had ended the western war in the Empire six years ago and now the Master of the Empire, the Sword of the Military.

And this man was,

the insurance that Berge had put in place.

End of Chapter. . . . . . . .Thanks for Reading. . . . . . . . . )

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