I Became the Academy’s Time-Limited Genius – Chapter 60

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Translated By Arcane Translations

Translator: Silverriver

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I unconsciously straightened my clothes. Cartrell Philasia, Deron’s father, had married before becoming Duke?

Come to think of it, there was a strange lack of information about Deron’s mother within the Dukedom. Not even a single portrait. What if the Duke had been hiding his dragon wife?

It would be understandable.

“Ahem.”

I cleared my throat and looked at the White Dragon, my… mother. She didn’t seem to realize I was her son.

I suppose even I wouldn’t readily acknowledge a child tainted with demonic energy as my own.

“Hmm…”

She continued to scrutinize me. I gulped, a sudden nervousness washing over me. The White Dragon looked at me with suspicion, then muttered,

“You really do look just like him.”

I carefully reversed my grip on the sword hilt. The cane-sword, its scabbard lost somewhere, no longer functioned as a proper cane. There should be…

‘There it is.’

The smooth hilt, a lion’s head carved into it. The Philasia family crest, likely added by Petra. I traced my fingers along the crest.

“Child, are you perhaps…”

“Are you asking if I’m a member of the Philasia Dukedom?”

I played along, pretending not to know what she was getting at. The White Dragon’s gaze shifted to the sword hilt.

“…!”

Her eyes widened as she recognized the crest. She covered her mouth in surprise. I stared at her for a moment, then spoke,

“Do you recognize this crest?”

“How could I forget?”

Her expression softened, as if recalling a cherished memory. She slowly reached out, her gentle hand cupping my cheek. It was warm, comforting. I closed my eyes, lulled by the warmth.

“My child… I didn’t recognize you, even when you were right before me.”

Even with my eyes closed, I could see. My vision was filled with darkness, but beyond it, I could almost see her smiling. A happy, wistful smile, as if gazing at something precious and long-lost.

She continued to caress my cheek.

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“So, you don’t know either?”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be pretending not to. Why would I?”

“I suppose that’s true…”

The White Dragon rested her chin on her hand, her expression serious, as she looked at me. After realizing I was her son, she had asked about the source of the demonic energy within me.

But I couldn’t answer. I didn’t know. I wanted to know more than anything.

“I can’t figure it out. It seems more like it… manifested, rather than being implanted. You weren’t tainted with demonic energy when I gave birth to you.”

“There are things even dragons don’t know?”

“Dragons aren’t gods. Omniscience and omnipotence belong to the divine.”

She sighed and moved away, having finished examining me. She hadn’t found a cure.

“The demonic energy is accumulating. If this continues, it will eventually overwhelm you.”

“Is there a way to stop it?”

“You could try suppressing it with elixirs or core fragments…”

The White Dragon’s eyes narrowed, her gaze shifting to my chipped sword.

“or by overwhelming it with a high concentration of mana.”

At her words, I realized the path I had to take. I was destined to strive for the advanced level, then the master level.

Archxius had been right.

“Judging by how long you’ve survived, Cartrell must have been feeding you a considerable amount of elixirs.”

“I’ve consumed… quite a few.”

“You’re currently at the peak of the intermediate level, correct?”

“Yes.”

How did she know? I nodded, puzzled. The White Dragon stared at me, then grinned.

“It seems you’ve hit a wall.”

I stared at her, dumbfounded. She picked up my sword, a condescending look in her eyes. How did she know?

“They say you can tell a lot about a person from their sword. Yours is chipped and dull, but the hilt is pristine.”

“….”

“My child, You are so talented that you are beyond measure. That’s why you’ve overcome the barriers that you should have.”

The same thing Professor Akdin had said. I hadn’t encountered the wall between beginner and intermediate levels.

“Then what should I do? I didn’t experience that wall, as you said. And the academy professors have told me the same.”

“Then you have no choice but to utilize your talent to its fullest.”

“Utilize my talent…?”

I tilted my head, confused. Was there anything more I could do with my talent? It was my excessive talent that had prevented me from experiencing the wall in the first place.

As if reading my thoughts, the White Dragon picked up my sword.

“Your talent has allowed you to bypass the wall, and a portion of your mana is suppressing the demonic energy. Then you simply need to learn to control the demonic energy yourself.”

“That’s easier said than done…”

“It will be difficult. Incredibly so. But that’s all there is to it.”

Demonic energy flowed into my sword. When had she extracted it from my body? It was a small amount, but it was undeniably demonic energy. The malevolent aura tainted the air.

“Deron, other humans say they can’t control demonic energy. Instead of saying it’s ‘difficult’ like you do.”

“….”

“It will be challenging, but if you can control the demonic energy… if you can achieve what others deem impossible…”

My mouth moved on its own, as if I already knew what she was about to say.

“I can overcome my terminal illness.”

“Correct.”

The White Dragon offered me the sword. My chipped, useless sword. The sword I had wielded until now. I stared at it, then…

-Grasp

gripped it tightly, my fingers finding their familiar place on the hilt.

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I clutched my throbbing head as I stepped out of the portal. She had called this circular gateway a portal.

“I was looking for a clue, and I found a path instead.”

A forbidden path, one I shouldn’t have taken. I sighed. I had so many questions, but the White Dragon had stopped me.

“A dragon, after completing a cycle of rest, shouldn’t interact with the world until the next cycle. Even speaking with you is a transgression.”

She had asked me to relay a message. From Arwen Philasia. That a momentary amusement had become an eternal promise. She wanted me to deliver this message to Cartrell Philasia.

“The eternal promise we made still holds a place in my heart, so don’t worry.”

The White Dragon’s, no, Arwen’s, expression was so sorrowful that I simply nodded silently.

An eternal vow, a marriage between a dragon and a human. How… tragic. I stared at the spot where the portal had vanished, then turned and walked away.

Whether our meeting was a momentary amusement for her, or a continuation of an eternal, blood-bound promise…

Arwen herself wouldn’t know. But the warmth spreading through my heart… that was enough.

I smiled as I entered the castle.

“Ugh…”

Damn it. I had been feeling so good. I wrinkled my nose at the sight of vomit just inside the open doorway.

I carefully stepped around it, trying not to make a mess. Were they still partying?

“….”

The soldiers of Winter Castle were laughing and finishing up their celebration. Judging by the number of empty glasses and bottles, they had been drinking heavily.

“Oh, Junior, you’re awake.”

Bell approached and clapped me on the back. I winced and looked around. The smell of alcohol was overwhelming. Yet, strangely, Bell didn’t smell of it.

It had been like this before. While Iridun, the second-year, had been stumbling around drunk, she had remained completely sober.

Just how high was her alcohol tolerance?

“You’re not dizzy after drinking so much?”

“This much is nothing to the people of Winter Castle.”

I looked at her, puzzled, then looked away, a certain country on Earth coming to mind. This level of cold tolerance, their personalities… it was possible.

“By the way, Deron, could you take Agnes back to her room?”

“Agnes?”

“Yeah, she passed out after… three glasses?”

She pointed towards Agnes, who was leaning against the wall, eyes closed. She was muttering, “I’m not drunk…!” It was… kind of cute.

I stared at the drunken Agnes, then sighed. To think that this was the same person who had commanded the battlefield like an empress…

“Alright.”

“Thanks!”

Bell grinned and started clearing the table with the other soldiers. I hoisted Agnes onto my back and left the hall. At least she wasn’t a messy drunk.

“Hehehe…”

A giggle echoed behind me. I turned my head slightly to see Agnes smiling.

“You’re awake.”

“….”

No response. It must be the alcohol. I turned back and continued walking, but she wrapped her arms around my neck.

“…?”

“Hmm… this pillow is hard.”

I resisted the urge to drop her. If this were a manga, there would be a crack sound effect above my head right now.

“Tsk.”

I clicked my tongue and continued down the hallway. We were almost at her room. I would just drop her on the bed and leave.

-Creak…

Just as I opened the door, a voice whispered,

“Deron… Philasia.”

I froze, thinking Agnes was actually awake, then realized it was just her drunken rambling. I was tired. I just wanted to put her down…

“So many people died… hundreds… thousands…”

-Sniffle… sniffle…

I heard soft sobs. Agnes’s tears stained my shirt. I closed my mouth and gently laid her on the bed.

Her tears flowed, soaking the sheets. Her sorrow was contagious. People had died. She had finally grasped the weight of that reality.

So she wept. For the fallen. I wasn’t sure if her gentle heart could bear it.

I looked down at her and muttered,

“Many have died. And many more will die. Their names will be added to the list of the dead. It’s sad, but… you can move on. They were strangers.”

My own selfish wish.

“I hope your name is never on that list, Agnes Bayern. But if it is…”

I paused, the thought of her death strangely… saddening. Emotions I had suppressed, lost in the haze of demonic energy, returned. I continued, my voice calm, yet tinged with sadness,

“…I won’t forget you.”

Agnes didn’t hear me. But it was because she couldn’t hear me that I could say these words. A wish that would never come true. I left the room, those words lingering in the air.

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