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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Silverriver
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The dungeon’s interior was riddled with scratches, as if it had once been a prison holding something monstrous.
Agnes surveyed her surroundings, her eyes darting nervously. Could something capable of inflicting such damage on the stone walls still be lurking within this cave? She instinctively gripped the hilt of her sword.
“Shall we move on? We need to leave before nightfall.”
“Ah, yes.”
Deron glanced at her, his expression a mixture of disdain and pity. Agnes felt her face flush.
“….”
The sound of the two people’s footsteps echoed quietly through the cave.
As they walked, Agnes apologized for her previous rudeness, especially for treating Deron like a sickly person.
Deron stared at her for a moment before accepting her apology, but a slight unease lingered.
Moreover…
“Before we go any further, there’s something I need to tell you.”
Deron’s expression turned serious. Did he have some information regarding this dungeon?
Agnes listened intently.
“If we find any elixirs in this dungeon, they’re mine.”
“…What?”
“The elixirs are mine. You can have whatever else you find.”
Did he really just say that as if it were some crucial piece of information? Agnes stared at Deron, slightly dumbfounded, but he simply waved his hand dismissively and continued forward.
She found him strange in many ways, but she understood his obsession with elixirs.
‘He must need them to treat his illness.’
During the spar with the instructor earlier, Agnes had noticed the color of Deron’s mana. The mana that had enveloped his fist wasn’t the usual color, but black.
It was proof that Deron had already reached the intermediate stage of mana manipulation. If the beginner stage was about controlling mana, the intermediate stage was about imbuing it with color. Intermediate mana users developed their own unique mana color.
And that color never changed.
That was why Agnes had judged Deron to be a powerful opponent.
‘A swordsman coating his fist with mana…’
Deron always carried a sword at his hip. That meant he was a swordsman. Those who focused on a single discipline rarely branched out to others. Can a swordsman who has reached the intermediate level channel mana into his fists? Yes, he can.
But could that fist knock out an instructor in one blow?
A hundred out of a hundred, a thousand out of a thousand, would shake their heads.
Yet Deron had done it. Even in his frail, blood-coughing state.
“Why are you staring at me like that?”
Agnes quickly averted her gaze after glancing at his face. His ashen gray hair, devoid of life. His obsidian eyes, like pools of darkness. It was a face that drew her gaze, compelling her to look again and again. His sickly appearance only amplified the effect.
She fidgeted with her sword, and Deron spoke.
“I have a question. May I ask?”
“What is it?”
“Why do you speak so formally, even to your fellow students?”
Agnes removed her hand from her sword. It was an unexpected question.
Formal speech was a long-standing habit. A habit she’d developed after the fall of the Bayern Viscounty, to distance herself from others.
A subconscious habit.
Agnes opened her mouth to say it was just a habit, but…
“Don’t even try to lie and say it’s just a habit.”
Deron interrupted her. He seemed to have already anticipated her response.
She repeatedly opened and closed her mouth. She couldn’t reveal her circumstances.
It was a past she didn’t want to share with anyone.
Seeing her hesitation, Deron sighed and said,
“You could have just said you have your reasons. Why the hesitation?”
“You brought me to this dungeon… it felt disrespectful to give such a casual answer.”
He had brought her to a dungeon he’d discovered, allowing her to claim all the spoils except for the elixirs. And he was providing her with practical combat training.
She was practically indebted to him.
“Respectful? I brought you here for my own convenience.”
Bringing her to a dungeon for his convenience? It was an unbelievable lie. Agnes could only interpret it as Deron making an excuse to ease her conscience.
What reason would an intermediate mana user have to bring a beginner like her?
Especially a failing Magic Swordsman.
“Still, I want to offer you something in return…”
“It’s unnecessary.”
Deron’s tone was firm. Agnes lowered her gaze slightly. She couldn’t stand being indebted to someone, and she desperately wanted to repay him. But she couldn’t force repayment when he refused it.
Deron stared at her as she pondered, then said casually,
“If you really want to repay me, someday, drop the formal speech and talk to me casually.”
“….”
Someday, not now. At those words, Agnes nodded. She recalled that Deron rarely left the Dukedom, let alone attended social gatherings or festivals.
He must need someone to talk to casually. Someone other than the servants in the Dukedom.
‘Someday, I definitely will.’
Could people truly trust each other? To her, trust was a gamble.
What if she was betrayed? What if he had ulterior motives?
It was too early for such a risk, but if she ever decided to take that gamble…
She would definitely fulfill Deron’s request.
Agnes made up her mind.
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Good grief, how stiff.
I clicked my tongue at Agnes’s personality. Why did she have to look at me with those pitiful puppy-dog eyes when I told her she didn’t need to repay me?
In a moment of frustration, I blurted out the favor I wanted.
‘For Agnes to speak to me casually, without the formal tone.’
In the novel, she always spoke formally to everyone except her enemies. I had sometimes imagined her speaking softly.
The novel never explicitly stated why she always used formal speech. I hadn’t even reached the ending before being transmigrated.
As someone who had read the original work, my best guess was that something must have happened before the fall of the Bayern Viscounty to the demons.
The downfall of the Bayern Viscounty, though not a major event, had been a minor topic of gossip in social circles. Mostly due to the beauty of Agnes Bayern, rather than the fall of an ordinary Viscounty.
With that in mind, I looked at Agnes.
Her face was expressionless.
Her beautiful white hair cascaded down to her waist, and her eyes, clear as ice, were captivating. A chillingly resolute and cold beauty, just as described in the novel.
Agnes Bayern.
The refined beauty I couldn’t experience through mere words was moving before my eyes.
I couldn’t believe this character had been killed off in that massacre. Why?
In the final battle against the Demon King, the hero and the heroines were annihilated. Frankly, that ending was incomprehensible.
And the author had resurrected the Demon King in a dramatic fashion, completely disregarding the deaths of the protagonist and the other characters.
Seeing the state of the story devolve like that, I left a long, angry comment and dropped the novel. I had completely lost interest.
After my customary period of seething resentment, we arrived at the first trial.
“Is that… a golem?”
“Seems like it.”
Two knight-shaped statues stood motionless in the spacious chamber. They weren’t moving yet, but judging by the flow of mana around them, they were definitely about to activate.
As we stepped into the chamber, the surrounding mana converged on the statues, and a blue light ignited within them.
Whirr-clunk
With a chilling sound, a blue light filled the statues’ eyes. Simultaneously, the stone knights assumed combat stances.
“L-Lenox?”
Agnes’s eyes widened. The name Lenox carried that much weight.
She, too, was walking the path of the Magic Swordsman, just like Lenox.
“Agnes, draw your sword.”
“Yes.”
Lenox’s Dungeon consisted of three trials. The knights we faced now represented the Trial of Combat.
The remaining two trials were experiences Agnes needed to undergo.
Lenox’s Dungeon was a place that illuminated the path of the Magic Swordsman. Agnes would be able to gain enlightenment on her own, without my intervention.
‘Well, I can always step in and offer advice if necessary.’
Though I hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
The statues were even conversing with each other. I frowned and glanced at Agnes.
She was already prepared to engage. I didn’t know what they found intriguing, but I leaned against the wall and stepped back.
As if finally realizing who the participant was, the statues each drew their weapons.
An axe and a rapier. And Agnes’s sword.
The impending battle promised to be spectacular, and I felt a sudden urge for popcorn.
‘I wonder if she’ll figure it out.’
The secret of these statues. If Agnes failed to grasp the hidden truth within them, she would never win this trial.
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Grab the popcorn Agnes is about to put on a show.