A Disaster-Level Assassin Has Been Freed

Chapter 126: Nadan Royal Academy (2)

Harang’s nonsensical antics continued throughout the journey.

He insisted on visiting the inner district of every city they passed through.

He got swayed by a quack medicine seller’s pitch and bought useless items.

Or he gave coins to beggars, who were common in every town, to ask for all sorts of information.

‘What the heck is he doing?’

Fine, wanting to sightsee in the inner district was understandable. Even getting swindled by a medicine seller wasn’t entirely incomprehensible—she knew how silver-tongued those people could be.

But deliberately interacting with filthy beggars? That was beyond her understanding.

“No, really, you can learn a lot from beggars.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“…”

“I’m not just saying that.”

Despite her attempts to dissuade him, Harang stubbornly stuck to his routine.

Watching him, Sheratiya could only shake her head.

The silver lining was that he didn’t act out during the travel between cities.

In fact, he was remarkably well-behaved.

He listened quietly, with clear eyes, to the various stories Sheratiya shared.

“Are you actually enjoying this?”

“Yes. It’s really interesting. Some parts I understand, some I don’t… but it’s all new to me, so it’s fascinating.”

Harang nodded as he spoke.

It was true.

Sheratiya’s knowledge spanned a wide range, and it wasn’t shallow either. Politics, religion, economics, society, culture—whatever he asked, she had an immediate answer. It gave him a refreshing feeling he’d never experienced while hanging out with the Eddy Mercenary Corps.

‘The Fist Brothers would ask me about words they didn’t know…’

Recalling Iron Fist Kennedy and Bloody Fist Thomas, Harang shook his head.

They were good people, but honestly, conversations with Sheratiya were far more engaging.

Among the topics, the most intriguing, unsurprisingly, was about the continent’s swordsmen.

Not just the strong figures of the present, but those great enough to leave their names in history.

Thinking of one such figure, Harang asked Sheratiya a question.

“So, was Paern Rudeman the greatest swordsman ever?”

“Probably? If it weren’t for that holy knight, humanity might have gone extinct. The orcs would’ve overrun the southern continent too.”

The great war with the orcs 300 years ago.

The orcs, wielding immense power gained through a contract with demons, rampaged across the front lines, and humans were helpless against them.

In that crisis, it was Paern Rudeman who led countless battles to victory, including the pivotal Battle of Latni.

Known for possessing all the qualities of a knight—leadership, strategy, strength, and character—he enabled humanity to triumph and drive the vile orcs to the northern continent.

But Harang wasn’t particularly interested in a war from centuries ago.

What caught his attention was that Paern Rudeman, the holy knight, had manifested a unique Aura Sword.

“A white aura?”

“Yes. Not the usual grayish-white Aura Sword, nor the red, yellow, or blue colored swords. It’s said he wielded an Aura Sword as white as snow on a mountain. Some claim it’s impossible, that ignorant folks mistook holy magic for it and spread rumors… but who knows? The Holy Kingdom even gave it a name: ‘Holy Sword.’”

“Holy Sword?”

“Yeah. They say it’s a miraculous power only a noble holy knight, untainted by worldly desires, can wield—an aura bestowed by the gods…”

“Hm.”

Harang stroked his chin.

He didn’t disbelieve in gods. The countless holy magics performed by priests couldn’t be explained otherwise.

But the idea of a Holy Sword was hard to accept. He believed aura was a miracle manifested solely through one’s own power, without aid from gods or anyone else.

‘But if he produced a white aura through his own power, without divine help… that could be possible. I don’t know how, though.’

Thinking this far, Harang sighed.

Holy Sword or not, he hadn’t even manifested a colored sword yet.

Sure, manifesting a complete Aura Sword at 21 was impressive, but with the formidable enemies he faced, he couldn’t be satisfied.

‘I need to become a Master soon… but I don’t know how.’

Would relentless training eventually lead him to that realm?

Or was the answer in the Aura Cultivation Method?

He didn’t know.

If it were that simple, everyone in the world might be a Sword Master.

“Hm, hm, hm…”

“What’s with all the humming?”

“Oh, nothing. Just thinking about something.”

“…”

Seeing Harang deep in thought, Sheratiya gave him a light scolding before gazing at him quietly.

He wasn’t bad.

His constant black attire didn’t exactly scream refinement, but when he kept his mouth shut, he had a decent appearance.

Of course, she didn’t voice that thought.

She patiently waited through the silence, and just as Harang seemed to snap out of his thoughts, she brought up a related topic.

“An ancient assassin was active in the war 300 years ago too.”

“Huh?”

“What? That’s the request you made, isn’t it? Information about the ancient assassin… Don’t tell me you forgot?”

“No, no. I just didn’t expect the conversation to lead here…”

Trailing off, Harang looked at Sheratiya with intrigued eyes.

He was curious.

Partly because of the assassin’s connection to the village, but also out of pure fascination with the figure of the ancient assassin.

‘If they’re not a big deal, I might be disappointed.’

That thought crossed his mind briefly.

Fortunately, that wasn’t the case.

Sheratiya’s words were more than enough to meet his expectations.

“From what I found, they were as remarkable as Paern Rudeman. They assassinated countless orc generals.”

“Really?”

“Probably? But it’s not certain. Actually, this is the important part…”

Pausing briefly, Sheratiya continued in a lower voice.

“There’s a story that the one who killed the ancient assassin was Paern Rudeman of the Holy Kingdom.”

“What? Why?”

Harang asked in a shocked voice.

Why would someone eliminate one of the greatest contributors to preventing humanity’s extinction?

But Sheratiya seemed to find it obvious.

She said.

“They used them as much as they needed, then deemed them unnecessary. Dangerous, right? An assassin so skilled they could slaughter even the most ferocious orc generals—if they stayed alive.”

“…”

“There were probably other reasons too. Maybe they were a political scapegoat… I couldn’t find the exact reason. It’s like someone deliberately hid the records. Probably the Holy Kingdom’s doing. It’s not exactly a proud story.”

“I see.”

“But that’s not all, so don’t be too disappointed.”

Sheratiya shared more about the ancient assassin.

That they likely inherited the traditions of the ancient Delkaro Kingdom.

That they were from the southern continent.

That, though unconfirmed, they seemed to have mastered a unique swordsmanship, much like Paern Rudeman with his Holy Sword.

And finally…

“Black Magicians are interested in them too?”

“Yeah. I don’t know why, but… that’s what I heard. They told me not to dig too deep. Of course, it doesn’t seem like there’s much more to find anyway.”

The story of the ancient assassin ended there.

Sheratiya gave Harang time to process, and he gratefully took it, mulling over various thoughts.

The first thing that came to mind was the Red Magician.

He had dismissed the fourth Black Hydra’s claim that Black Magicians might be behind the village as mere speculation, but hearing Sheratiya’s story made him think it could be true.

Of course, it wasn’t solid information, and many parts were still shrouded in mystery…

‘Red Magician, Red Magician, Red Magician…’

For some reason, I felt like I’d meet them someday.

That thought sparked an uncontrollable curiosity about them.

‘To be honest, I was curious about them during the Akanthus incident too.’

Back then, my attention had been entirely stolen by the sudden appearance of Sword Master Heitz.

But not now. I had plenty of time to think about the Red Magician, and someone to ask. Nodding, I turned to Sheratiya.

That’s when it happened.

“Oh, I see it!”

“What? Oh!”

I let out an exclamation.

I couldn’t help it.

A massive, dazzling city wall, far grander than Marzen’s.

The capital of the Nadan Kingdom, Giyot, was welcoming the two travelers.

***

Five in the afternoon.

A bit early for dinner, but the two settled into a restaurant. There wasn’t much else to do.

“We’ll go to the academy tomorrow. It’s too late now, and we’re not dressed properly… Let’s pick out a gift for the professor too.”

“A gift? Why?”

“…You really need to learn proper etiquette for meeting people or making requests.”

“I’m always thirsty for learning.”

“If only you didn’t talk.”

Sheratiya shook her head.

Sometimes, she couldn’t tell if this guy was good or bad at talking.

‘He seems pretty smart. But he’s… unique. Very unique.’

Beyond that… she didn’t know.

For now, eating was more important.

With that conclusion, Sheratiya picked up her fork and knife to dig into the freshly served food.

That’s when it happened.

A young man suddenly approached and spoke to her.

“Excuse me, miss?”

“Huh? Yes?”

“I’m sorry, but you’re so beautiful… I fell for you at first sight. If it’s not too rude…”

“It’s rude.”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“I said it’s rude.”

“…I’m sorry.”

With that, the young man returned to his table, where seven or eight men burst into laughter, teasing him.

“Haha, idiot!”

“I knew you’d crash and burn. You’re too ugly!”

“Shut up, you bastard!”

“I’m not shutting up. What’re you gonna do about it?”

“Pfft, what kind of confidence did this guy have?”

I wore a blank expression.

I couldn’t understand. What the man had tried, why Sheratiya rejected him, or why he was being mocked like that.

“That guy seems like an academy student… He was trying to flirt with me.”

“Huh?”

“He was testing the waters for a rational relationship. Brings back memories. I had a lot of these encounters when I was an academy student. Heh, I’m still in the game.”

“…”

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“No reason.”

I didn’t know why, but I felt a slight wave of nausea, so I frowned. That feeling lingered even after Sheratiya’s comment, forcing me to manage my expression.

But then, something happened that required an even graver expression.

From the table across, where the rejected young man sat, an offensive remark rang out.

“Damn it, she looked easy, so I gave it a shot, but she’s so damn picky!”

“…”

“…”

I glanced at Sheratiya.

I might not have known before, but I understood now. That was an insult.

Letting out a light sigh, I spoke.

“Should I tell them to watch their mouths?”

“…No. Let’s not start a fight.”

Sheratiya shook her head.

She’d dealt with guys like this before. If she looked noble, they’d be polite; if she was dressed casually like now, they acted carelessly. It seemed like that kind of situation.

‘Reacting to every one of them only hurts me.’

Nodding, Sheratiya gracefully lifted her water glass.

Then, another harsh comment came from the rejected young man.

“What? She’s got an escort, so she’s a noble? That’s hilarious. If that pale weakling is an escort, I’m a Sword Master.”

“Haha, this guy’s full of it!”

“It’s not bravado. Even if ten of those weaklings came at me…”

Bang!

“What did you just say, you punk?”

“…”

“…”

“…”

Sheratiya Viyan slammed the table and stood up.

The academy students, and I, looked at her.

‘…She said not to start a fight.’

I thought, wearing a dumbfounded expression.