Academy’s Genius Swordmaster-Chapter 153: Audience (5)

New novel chapters are published on 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝙚𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝙘𝙤𝒎

Chapter 153: Audience (5)

“I swear.”

Strangely, the voice echoed loudly. The single vow reverberated in the grand hall. After a moment of silence, the Emperor removed the sword from Ronan’s shoulder.

“…Raise your head.”

Ronan obeyed. The Emperor was looking down at himself with a solemn expression. Ronan’s own reflection in the pitch-black eyes bore a similarly solemn expression.

“You are now the Sword and a new Dawn of the Empire. As you wield power, you must always be wary of succumbing to evil. Shadows only emerge in the presence of light.”

“I will keep that in mind.”

“Now, rise and accept the sword.”

Ronan stood up. The venerable Emperor offered the Sword of Valon. With effort to maintain dignity, Ronan accepted the sword with both hands.

‘It feels… light. I can’t use this in real combat.’

It was his first impression as the Dawn of the Empire. Despite any joy, it lacked a sense of reality. Time would resolve these issues, but it seemed more time was needed to grow accustomed.

With that, the ceremony concluded. The grandeur that filled the air was gradually dissipating. The Emperor, observing Ronan quietly, chuckled.

“You’re quite stiff. Now that the ceremony’s over, carry on as usual.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Good to hear. Since a covert operative can’t wander with that sword, use this instead.”

Rummaging through his pouch, the Emperor retrieved a round metal plate. It shimmered like a subdued sun and was as large as a woman’s palm.

It was as thick as three gold coins stacked. Etched on both sides was an eagle spreading its wings wide. Ronan raised an eyebrow.

“What’s this?”

It was unfamiliar, different from insignias worn by soldiers or palace guards. The Emperor handed it to Ronan.

“The Dawn Emblem. It’s an ancient artifact, indeed.”

Explaining that despite having to face different adversaries, the Dawn, as a covert operative, existed since ancient times, he mentioned that even this emblem was crafted during the Bloodshed era. Ronan chuckled in amazement.

“It’s unbelievably light.”

It was hard to believe holding it. If cut to the same size as Lamancha, it might resemble it. The Emperor nodded proudly.

“Because it’s made of Blood Mithril.”

“Aha.”

Ronan nodded in understanding. If it was Blood Mithril, that would make sense. Though an entirely different metal from Mithril, it earned its name due to its rarity and strength.

‘I never expected to see it in physical form.’

Hard and lightweight, it was treated like a mythical metal, yet was genuinely hard to come by. Rumor had it that only the Valon Royal Family could acquire and handle Blood Mithril, but its authenticity remained uncertain. A meaningful grin crossed the Emperor’s lips.

“Even when you don’t have money, it’s perfect as a source of financial support. No matter how little, you’ll be able to obtain enough wealth that the next three generations of your family will not have to lift a finger.”

“Can I really sell it?”

“Of course, only if you’re willing to commit a major crime in the Empire and seek asylum in another country. If caught, you’d rot in an underground prison for life.”

Ronan found himself inadvertently chuckling. The man indeed had a sense of humor. Ronan tucked the Dawn Emblem into his pocket.

“Thank you. I’ll make good use of it.”

“Only take it out when absolutely necessary. It could cause unsuspecting officers to faint if they suddenly see it.”

Ronan nodded. The seriousness in the Emperor’s voice indicated that the regular army knew of its existence, unlike Ronan, who might have been ignorant as a Punishment Squad soldier. The Emperor’s expression turned solemn again.

“Shall I assign your first mission?”

“That bastard… no, I’ll do anything related to Nebula Clazier.”

Ronan’s voice resonated heavily. At this moment, he felt capable of anything. There were academy obligations, but those could be handled through club activities. Varen or the imperial palace would sort it out. The Emperor’s expression stiffened.

“Would you mind attending the Festival of Swords held tomorrow?”

“Ah, the Festival of Swords… Huh?”

Ronan’s eyes widened. This was an unexpected request. The Emperor asked.

“Hm? Why the surprise?”

“Uh… nothing. Please continue.”

“As you know, most of Nebula Clazier’s atrocities occur in places where a large number could be affected. The Festival of Swords, gathering swordsmen from across the continent, is a probable target. I’d like you to keep an eye on the event.”

“So, am I attending as part of the Royal Family?”

“Hmm? What do you mean by ‘part of’?”

The Emperor furrowed his brow. Ronan’s words seemed incomprehensible.

“Isn’t there a set number of participants for each organization?”

“…The limit is for observers, but anyone can go to Parzan. Has there been a change in rules without my knowledge?”

“What?”

Ronan stiffened. There was little chance that the youthful and bright Emperor was misinformed. For a moment, a fleeting image of Navirose flashed through his mind, smiling mischievously.

‘She deceived me…!’

The realization came in an instant. Something seemed off. If the ultimate purpose of the ritual was to find the Holy Sword existing somewhere in the sacred place, it would’ve been far more efficient to gather everyone first and then filter them out, rather than limiting the participants based on recommendations. free(w)ebnov(e)l

Navirose had likely intended to take both of them from the start. Was Shullifen unaware of this plan? Dammit, this is why men must be cautious around women with big hearts. Ronan’s expression twisted in a myriad of ways. The Emperor, with a mix of confusion in his voice, spoke.

“For a swordsman like you, passing the ritual should be manageable, but if you’re not inclined…”

“…No, I’m really excited about it. So, your suggestion is to go to the Festival of Swords and apprehend any suspicious individuals, right?”

“That’s correct.”

“Please leave it to me. I was planning on going there tomorrow anyway.”

Nevertheless, Ronan wasn’t particularly angry or upset. He glanced at his now thicker wrist and composed himself. Regardless of Navirose’s intentions, in just a month, he had undergone a remarkable transformation.

However, there was something he needed to do before fully diving into the mission. It was crucial. Ronan faced the Emperor directly and spoke up.

“But, Your Majesty, I have one question.”

“Hm? What is it?”

“Am I not suspicious to you?”

The Emperor’s gaze momentarily shifted. Ronan met his gaze with an impassive expression.

He knew. It would have been more convenient not to bring it up. The truth was, it should have been mentioned before becoming the Dawn. But even if it was belated, it was a point that needed to be addressed. He couldn’t feel uneasy while undertaking a duty that would last for at least a few years.

‘Considering the course of events so far, it’d be understandable to be cautious.’

At least, if he were the Emperor, that would be the case. Ronan was a figure who could be considered a walking storm, getting involved with Nebula Clazier and various incidents wherever he went. Since his early years.

Though all the outcomes were positive, making him appear exceptionally talented, a bit of thought revealed there was no one as suspicious as him. The momentarily taken aback Emperor spoke up.

“You’re thoughtful. Not a great quality for the Sword, but an exceptional quality for the Dawn.”

Ronan didn’t respond. An awkward silence settled. The Emperor, suddenly turning his head, looked toward the throne.

“…Once you sit there, things that aren’t usually visible become apparent.”

“Really?”

“In particular, it reveals a person’s inner self. Dealing with various individuals as an Emperor, even a brief conversation allows you to understand them naturally, to know what kind of person they are. It’s amazing.”

Ronan followed his gaze. The backrest of the eerily long chair had changed where the buttocks rested. It was a seat permitted only to the one ruling the Empire.

The Emperor must have greeted countless people from that seat even before Ronan was born. People with their own intentions, good or bad, coming to him. It made sense, now that he thought about it. The Emperor spoke up.

“You despise Nebula Clazier, more than anyone. Am I wrong?”

Ronan’s eyes widened. It was an indisputable deduction. He nodded slightly.

“No.”

“The fire within you has no other purpose but to consume Nebula Clazier. You’re simply waiting for the opportunity to burn them down. I won’t deceive you by manipulating that blind hatred.”

The Emperor began scrutinizing Ronan from top to bottom. Perhaps due to hearing about inner motivations, his gaze felt like it pierced right through his being.

“But if you ask whether I recruited you solely for that reason, it’s not the case. As I mentioned before, you should realize your own greatness.”

“That’s…”

“Regardless of the intentions, you’ve been doing good. You’ve fought against evil and saved the innocent. That’s a known fact, and it’s enough. Your background or the reasons for your intense hatred towards Nebula Clazier are not of importance.”

Each syllable he uttered was imbued with might. Despite the substantial height difference, Ronan felt overwhelmed.

Was this the majesty of a ruler? The Emperor, who had just looked down to his chin, met Ronan’s eyes again and continued.

“I am the Emperor of Valon. My eyes aren’t yet blinded to the point where I can not distinguish between light and shadow.”

With that statement, the conversation came to an end. Ronan nodded slowly. The clear response felt pathetic, realizing he had asked an unnecessary question. The Emperor, smiling again, tapped Ronan’s shoulder and said,

“Well then, now that we’re done talking, let’s move along.”

“Where to?”

“We should at least congratulate the heroes who brought forth spring, don’t you think? You, the main character, weren’t planning on leaving, right?”

The Emperor mentioned that this banquet might be the last celebration of the year. Suddenly, memories of jesting about what drinks and snacks would be served at the imperial palace during his time as a member of the Punishment Squad resurfaced.

They used to joke about how instead of excrement, they might serve gold. It was a good opportunity to check. Ronan chuckled softly.

“Sounds good.”

They headed out of the throne room toward the venue of the banquet hall. Faint sounds of people chatting and the clinking of glasses could be heard from the other end of the long corridor. It seemed like people were enjoying themselves to some extent.