Chapter 113: Allen Amiel (3)
Thwack!
The blade thrust from behind sank into Allen’s forearm without resistance.
It was enough to surprise even Lyslin, who had swung the sword.
“Ugh?”
However, the blade that had plunged forward as if to pierce through him halted abruptly halfway in.
As if it had struck a solid wall, the blade could advance no further.
Lyslin’s pupils trembled.
She poured all her strength into the hilt and tried to push it in again, but the blade wouldn’t budge.
It was, quite literally, stuck tight.
“Grrrgh!”
It felt as though it had frozen solid.
Unable to remain in that position any longer, she let go of the sword without hesitation and retreated.
“Urgh?!”
But Allen stepped forward just as much as she stepped back, refusing to let her escape.
Only then did Lyslin realize she had fallen into his trap.
‘……Damn it.’
She had charged in without thinking the moment she saw the tattered state of Yul Runberg.
If she’d thought rationally, she would have realized that her chances of defeating the one who had overpowered Yul Runberg were slim.
No, not just slim—she would never have stood a chance from the start.
And yet, she had injured Allen far too easily, too absurdly easily.
Wasn’t that strange from the beginning?
And more than anything else……
She had aimed squarely for his back, yet Allen had twisted his body in an instant and caught it with his forearm.
If he had wanted to, he could have dodged or deflected it effortlessly.
Yes, it wasn’t that he couldn’t evade or block it.
He had taken the hit on purpose.
But why?
“……This. Is good.”
Our eyes met.
His eyes locked with mine.
Allen twisted his lips into a grin as he looked at Lyslin.
In his eyes burned a bizarre heat, the kind only seen in those half-consumed by madness.
“You…!”
Lyslin tried to shout something, but couldn’t finish.
Slice.
It was a small, sharp sound, like scissors cutting through paper.
It came from the broken sword in Allen’s hand slicing through the air—and through her body.
A fatal wound.
Even before the pain registered, she realized she had suffered a critical injury.
She also realized Allen’s true intention in taking her attack head-on.
“Hmph.”
Thud.
Lyslin’s body collapsed weakly to the ground.
But she had already long since fallen outside Allen’s field of interest.
He didn’t spare her so much as a glance and discarded the broken sword without hesitation.
Instead, he grabbed the blade still embedded in his forearm.
Shhhk!
Without hesitation, he yanked the sword free, and blood gushed from the wound.
Even so, Allen didn’t so much as flinch, standing upright without the slightest tremor.
His expression suggested he didn’t feel even a speck of pain.
“Hm.”
With a twisted grin, he swung Lyslin’s stolen sword through the air a few times.
It was a bit shorter…
But it couldn’t even compare to the broken blade he’d just discarded.
“Where do you think you’re looking?”
Yul Runberg’s low, sunken voice.
And.
Just a moment before that, a chilling sensation pierced Allen’s shoulder.
“……”
Glance.
Allen blankly looked down at the sword lodged in his shoulder.
Then he looked at the sword in his own hand, then back at his shoulder again.
After repeating the action a couple of times, he broke into another smile.
“This one’s better.”
Yul Runberg’s brow twitched faintly.
As he put more strength into the hand holding the sword, Allen staggered and faltered.
A sidelong glance revealed that the wound Lyslin had inflicted had already healed.
‘A monstrous bastard.’
But even Allen didn’t seem accustomed to Eastern sorcery.
A power that paralyzed the limbs and distorted the senses of the one cut.
A power that had been passed down only to Yul Runberg, from a nation long destroyed by the Empire. Allen let out a strange noise as he staggered.
But that was all.
Allen’s smile, as he stared at him, was nothing short of horrifying.
His eyes were still fixed on the sword.
“Where do you think—”
Yul Runberg lifted his foot firmly.
And with all his might, he kicked Allen.
Thud!
With a dull thump, Allen’s body slid back limply.
“……Mm.”
And yet……
Even collapsed, Allen’s lips were still curled into a twisted grin.
Without erasing that smile, Allen slowly and leisurely pushed himself back up.
“Hm?”
It was then.
Just as Allen moved to lift the sword again, he suddenly felt a tingling sensation at his fingertips.
And not just that.
The subtle discomfort had already spread from his elbow to his shoulder.
When he came to, he realized his right arm wouldn’t move as he intended.
“……Shoulder. And arm.”
Allen turned his head to look at the spot where Lyslin had stabbed him earlier.
The wound had already healed, but the blood that had gushed out when the blade was pulled still remained.
Allen parted his lips and sucked the blood smeared on his forearm.
He didn’t swallow it but let it sit in his mouth for a moment, swishing it around before spitting it out with a phtoo.
A metallic taste.
A tingling and stinging sensation on the tip of his tongue.
“Poison.”
Only then did Allen realize that the blade Lyslin had stabbed into his forearm had been coated in poison.
On top of that, he also realized that the energy Yul Runberg had infused earlier had damaged his arm.
It was the kind of situation that would normally make a person recoil.
After all, one couldn’t know how long the poison and the unknown sorcery would last, or how far they would spread through the body.
And once they crossed a certain threshold, it would mean certain death.
“…….”
Even Allen, who until just moments ago had shown regenerative abilities bordering on monstrous…
Almost like a troll or ogre…
He could clearly feel his body gradually slowing down.
His reason may have been dulled, but his intellect hadn’t left him.
He was well aware that the situation wasn’t in his favor—in fact, that it was dangerous.
“Heh heh…”
And so, Allen Amiel smiled.
Because this was precisely the kind of situation he had longed for.
“…….”
Yul Runberg, too, though expressionless on the outside, was smiling faintly on the inside.
But for a completely different reason than Allen.
‘……Lyslin.’
Yul Runberg glanced briefly at Lyslin, who now lay on the ground, motionless.
She had served him faithfully for many years since their childhood.
And so, he understood.
Lyslin.
The fact that she was here now.
It meant she had successfully completed the mission entrusted to her.
‘It worked.’
It wasn’t for nothing that he had gathered people and led them toward the deep chamber—
More precisely, to the Watchman guarding that place.
If his goal had been to eliminate them, he could have easily found a more effective method.
But after learning that the one guarding the chamber was a Dragon, his thinking had to change.
There was no way to seize a treasure guarded by a Dragon head-on.
To do that, he needed bait at the very least.
A strong bait capable of withstanding a Dragon’s attention and aggression.
And there was only one person at Arpentia Academy who could fit that role.
Windy May Maddown.
A Dragon Slayer and Archmage.
‘Judging by that pillar of fire… it must be her and the Dragon fighting right now.’
Yul Runberg glanced at the massive pillar of fire still surging violently.
He didn’t know much about Windy May’s spells, but it was safe to assume she was the only one capable of casting such a massive magic.
Planting a suggestion in the Headmaster’s mind about having a secretary had taken considerable effort…
But the moment he discovered that Lian Gwendil had become Windy May Maddown’s apprentice, everything fell into place.
‘Now, then……’
With his sword still in hand, Yul Runberg formed a minor hand sign.
It was a temporary spell that allowed him to see what normally couldn’t be seen.
Soon after, his gaze landed on Lyslin, and he spotted something faintly glowing within her robes.
‘No doubt about it.’
Emitting a sinister aura and a soft glow—
The Philosopher’s Stone.
That’s what it had to be.
“Hmm?”
It was then.
Allen’s voice, laced with suspicion.
Startled by the sound, Yul Runberg turned his gaze.
“…….”
Allen, like him, was staring at Lyslin.
Then he glanced at Yul Runberg.
Soon, Allen’s lips curled into a twisted grin.
He had figured it out.
Whether it was instinct or prior knowledge was unclear.
But one thing was certain—he had realized that something of great importance to Yul Runberg was tucked inside Lyslin’s robes.
“Ghk!”
Yul Runberg immediately rushed toward Lyslin.
Allen followed, throwing himself forward, but he was clearly sluggish due to the poison and sorcery.
“Hup!”
With skill, Yul Runberg threw a dagger at Allen while still holding his sword.
Normally, Allen would have taken the hit and kept charging.
But in his current poisoned and hexed state, he was more cautious.
Perhaps he chose the safer route over risk.
He ducked and dodged the flying dagger.
Not missing the opportunity, Yul Runberg dashed forward.
‘Got it……!’
The Philosopher’s Stone, crafted from demonic power in the land of demons.
With that, he could amplify the fragment of Tobrida inside his body.
If he could do that, not only Allen, but even Windy May and the Dragon currently fighting—he could stand against them.
Just a little further.
He was almost close enough to reach out and grab it.
The Philosopher’s Stone, which had been emitting a soft glow, now shone brightly.
But in that moment.
In the blink of an eye—
“What?!”
The Philosopher’s Stone floated up into the air.
And as if pulled by an invisible hand, it was sucked away toward some unseen point.
For a brief second, he caught sight of something thread-like attached to the Philosopher’s Stone.
That sight narrowed Yul Runberg’s eyes.
“You…”
At the end of his gaze stood a man clutching the Philosopher’s Stone.
On his shoulder sat a small spider—the source of the silk threads.
A Spirit.
There was no doubt.
The threads it had spun split into two—one connected to the Philosopher’s Stone, the other to Lyslin.
Had it followed the threads all the way here?
“…….”
Yul Runberg’s gaze turned cold.
The man, catching his breath, held the Philosopher’s Stone tightly and looked at him.
Then he calmly spoke.
“You’re one step too late.”
Lian Gwendil.
He looked Yul Runberg straight in the eye and said, half-mocking—
“Professor Yul Runberg.”