[Vol. 8] Chapter 191: A Strange Encounter
"Drip... drip... drip..."
In the constant, annoying sound of water dripping, like an old alarm clock that wouldn't stop, Rowan slowly regained consciousness.
Warm waves of heat gently brushed against his clothes, pushing away the cold and damp air around him. The young scholar instinctively moved his arm, only to realize that he wasn’t lying on a soft bed, but on cold, wet stone.
He reached out to touch the ground, and his fingertips were immediately soaked by a layer of slimy moisture. The air was filled with a musty, moldy smell mixed with the scent of rust, and the icy touch of the stone made him snap awake in an instant. He sat up with a jolt.
“Ah!!”
Above his head, water kept dripping down from the stone ceiling, landing in a small puddle nearby and making a steady, echoing sound. Rowan tried to remember what happened, but his mind was full of jumbled images. The research expedition in the Chaos Magic Valley, a fifth-tier magic crystal worth millions of gold coins, the ground suddenly shaking, and then...
“Ah! Professor Malcolm! And everyone else…”
As if suddenly remembering the people who had fallen underground with him during the disaster, Rowan quickly looked around.
But it was completely quiet, not a single person was in sight. He couldn’t help feeling disappointed.
“What… actually happened…?”
Not far away, a campfire was quietly burning. The firelight lit up the cave, showing narrow tunnels, jagged walls, and some unfamiliar gear piled in the corner. A broken sword, a worn-out cloak, and a strange kettle glowing with magical symbols. It looked like someone had set up a temporary camp here.
Was the campfire lit by the professor and the others? But the equipment… it clearly didn’t belong to anyone from the expedition. Especially the kettle with glowing patterns, it was obviously magical. But this is Chaos Magic Valley… How could magic items even work here?
Rowan didn’t have the answers. So, he looked down to check his own body. His clothes were scratched a little, but there were no big injuries. Still, for some reason, his heart was pounding fast, and he felt waves of warmth flowing from his chest to the rest of his body. A strange kind of inner warmth, different from the campfire.
But as soon as he noticed it and tried to focus on the feeling…
The warmth disappeared, as if it had never been there.
Drip...
The dripping sound continued. Rowan couldn’t help but shiver.
“Brr... So cold! Was it just my imagination? And this place is way too damp... What the heck is this place…?”
He tightened his coat and, out of habit, started moving closer to the fire for warmth. When suddenly, he heard quiet footsteps behind him.
“!?”
He spun around. A tall figure stepped out from the shadows.
The person was wearing a cloak, their face hidden by a hood. In their hand was a massive rune-covered greatsword, and the blade still had fresh blood on it.
But what shocked Rowan most… was that the blood was black.
Thick, pitch-black blood, like ink, clung to the sword, giving off a disturbing, eerie feeling. It made Rowan's skin crawl, as if the creature it came from wasn’t something normal. But a terrifying monster from a nightmare.
“Awake?”
The voice echoed through the cave. It was deep, tired, and emotionless.
Maybe it was the huge, bloody sword, or maybe just the quiet pressure the man gave off. But Rowan instinctively swallowed hard and nodded. He didn’t even know what to say.
He also had the strange feeling that the swordman kept glancing at his chest, though he couldn’t say for sure.
Before Rowan could speak, the man stepped forward, picked up the glowing kettle, and tossed it to his feet. His voice was still calm and distant:
“Drink some water. Then tell me, how did you all end up in this place?”
The tone didn’t sound like a question. It was more like a command from someone used to giving orders.
It wasn’t exactly friendly, but Rowan guessed this person might be the one who saved him, so he didn’t feel too uneasy. He carefully picked up the kettle and opened it.
Inside was clear water. Clean, pure, without a single speck of dirt. He glanced at the glowing runes on the outside, then said nothing more. Tilting his head back, he drank several big gulps, finishing almost half in one go.
He really was thirsty.
Judging by everything around him, a lot of time had likely passed since the quake that caused all this. That meant… he had probably been unconscious for a long time.
Seeing that the young man didn’t hesitate and just drank the water right away, the man in the cloak finally showed a slight smile and a hint of approval on his cold face. After taking back the water bottle from Rowan, he sat down directly across from him. Right where some worn-out equipment had been placed. Holding the huge sword with one hand as if it weighed nothing, he slowly moved it back and forth over the campfire, as though he was trying to use the flames to burn off the black blood still stuck to the blade.
“Uh, what are you doing...?”
Rowan was a bit surprised by the strange action. But before he could ask what was going on, the swordsman calmly answered, as if he had already guessed what Rowan was thinking.
“This is the Holy Flame from the Goddess Church. It contains a trace of the sword aura from the current Judgment Saintess’s divine weapon. Tartanos’s blood can corrode everything. Even though my sword is specially made, leaving it soaked in that poison blood too long would still damage it. And the most effective way to purify filth… is with divine power.”
“Ah? Oh… okay.”
Rowan had some knowledge of these things, but not much. While he understood each word the man said, when all put together it barely made any sense to him. Sword aura? Tartanos? What’s all that supposed to mean?
But there was one detail Rowan picked up on very clearly.
This mysterious swordsman wasn’t speaking the Holy Empire’s language. He was using [Veir Language], the native tongue of the Austre Empire, Rowan’s own country. And he spoke it very smoothly, which meant it wasn’t just a polite switch for Rowan’s sake. This man had probably been living in Aust territory for a long time.
In other words… he was very likely an Imperial citizen too.
Realizing that made Rowan relax a lot. After all, he was from the Austre Empire, and technically he wasn’t supposed to be in the Holy Empire at all. If a local reported him, he’d be in big trouble.
The two of them sat quietly on either side of the fire, both deep in thought. Neither spoke right away. After burning the black blood off the sword, the mysterious swordsman didn’t rush Rowan to explain anything either. Instead, with his free hand, he pulled aside his cloak and casually commented, like an older person talking to a junior.
“You’ve got some guts, kid. You didn’t even ask what the runes on that water bottle did before drinking. Too bad you’re a bit too old, past the best age to build a solid foundation. And your body doesn’t seem to have much talent either. Otherwise, you might’ve made a great swordsman...”
He chuckled softly, then added.
“Well, who knows. In today’s world, luck might matter more than talent.”
Rowan was caught off guard.
Not just by the man’s calm confidence and the strange, muttered words that seemed to mean more than they said. But because, when the man moved aside his cloak, his face looked much younger than Rowan had expected.
In the firelight, he looked only a little over twenty, not much older than Rowan himself, who was still a student close to graduation. His short black hair was messy, hanging over his forehead and covering what looked like a faint scar underneath.
He wasn’t especially handsome, just looked like an ordinary young mercenary. But when Rowan met his eyes, something about them struck deep fear into him. There was a weight in that gaze, something ancient and powerful. For a moment, it felt like Rowan wasn’t facing a man, but a mountain too high to climb, or a terrifying beast from legend.
It was like a storm swept past his ears, tearing through everything, leaving him feeling like a tiny leaf floating in a hurricane.
Then, just as quickly, the feeling vanished. The illusion faded, and once again all he saw was that calm, ordinary-looking man.
“!?”
Realizing he had lost his composure, Rowan quickly shook his head and pushed the strange thoughts away. He politely nodded.
“I wouldn’t call it bravery. It’s just… if you really wanted to hurt me, I’d already be dead while I was unconscious. Why go through all the trouble? I’ve got no power, no backing. With that giant sword of yours, threats would work better than tricks...”
Seeing that the man didn’t say anything, Rowan took a deep breath and decided to show his sincerity first.
“Oh right. I’m Rowan Nillin, a student from Frederick Royal Academy. I’m studying geopathology, and I came to Chaos Magic Valley with my professor for field research. But then there was an accident, and I fell down here. What about you, uh... sir? What’s your name? And do you know where we are exactly?”
The swordsman paused slightly, maybe because of the way Rowan had casually called him “brother.”
After finishing the rest of the water in the bottle, he looked back at Rowan. His expression seemed a bit strange now.
“Brother, huh... heh. It’s been a long, long time since anyone dared to call me that. Fine, you can call me… Ashnard.”
Maybe the name brought back some memories. Ashnard then stood his heavy sword upright and pushed it into the ground like it was just a stick of tofu. He picked up the old broken sword and ragged cloak from beside him, placed them on his lap… and then just stared at them in silence, lost in thought.
What a strange person... Rowan thought.
Rowan was full of questions, but instead of worrying about the swordsman’s identity or personality, there were more urgent things he needed to figure out. Even though Ashnard had clearly avoided some topics earlier, whether on purpose or not, Rowan had no choice but to ask again.
“Alright, Brother Ashnard, may I ask where exactly this place is? There should be an old professor and a few other students with me. We’re all from Frederick Royal Academy, and…”
“They’re dead.”
Before Rowan could even finish his sentence, Ashnard gave a calm, almost casual reply. Rowan froze for a moment, and then his face changed drastically as he jumped to his feet in shock.
“W-What?! Dead? You mean the professor and the others? Brother… that’s not something you joke about! They were all alive and well, how could they just suddenly...?”
Up until now, Ashnard had been staring at the worn-out gear in his arms, seemingly not caring at all about the lives of the people Rowan had mentioned. Only now did he lift his head and speak in a flat, matter-of-fact tone.
“If a person is killed, they die. Why is that impossible? Even figures from legends, those who stand at the peak of the world, close to gods, can fall in battle. Who dares claim they are truly immortal? Especially just a few weak mortals.”
“Right now, it’s almost time for that thing to awaken. I clearly placed warning barriers around the valley. Yet you people still wandered around recklessly, and even ended up right above it, using outside force to stir it up. That’s basically asking to die… not even the gods could save you.”
“If I hadn’t just happened to be nearby paying respects to the dead, and saved you at the last moment, do you think you’d still be here, all surprised and talking to me?”
“I… what...?”
The shocking information hit Rowan all at once, making his mind go completely blank. He couldn’t even form a proper response. Ashnard, meanwhile, didn’t try to comfort him or explain further. He just looked down again and quietly wiped his broken sword with a white cloth, as if lost in meditation.
The cave fell into silence.
A long while passed before Rowan finally started to calm down. At this point, he had started to sense that, despite Ashnard’s strange behavior, this young man was no ordinary person. He clearly knew a lot about what was happening. Realizing this, Rowan hesitantly asked again, for the third time.
“Then… Brother Ashnard, where exactly are we right now? Are we under that giant crater? Why did the ground collapse like that earlier? And what exactly is this ‘thing’ you’re talking about?”
Ashnard put down the broken sword and looked at Rowan’s tense and confused face. After a moment of silence, he let out a sigh, and instead of answering directly, he asked a different question:
“You said earlier that you’re a student from Frederick Royal Academy. So why are people from the Imperial Royal Academy doing field research in the Holy Empire’s Chaos Magic Valley?”
“Uh...”
Being stared at by those deep and weary eyes made Rowan feel a chill in his chest. He didn’t dare lie and simply told the truth. Professor Malcolm had brought him and a few other students here to gather real-world data to support a research theory. He explained the whole journey in detail.
Ashnard frowned slightly after hearing that.
“So, you’ve been here for a month. And you happened to enter the valley while I was away… huh, what a coincidence. At that time, the Holy Empire and the Austre Empire were already on the brink of war. Tensions were sky-high. You bunch of unarmed scholars decided to sneak into enemy territory for research? Are you that eager to die?”
“Well... haha…”
Rowan gave an awkward laugh and nodded slightly in agreement.
“Actually, I thought the same thing at first. I even asked Professor Malcolm why he chose this time to come here. He said he had applied for funding many times before and only just got approval. It was a rare chance, and he didn’t want to waste it.”
“Besides, he believed that since we were only scholars and didn’t carry weapons or anything dangerous, and we came only for academic research, the Goddess Church, which is known for being generous and reasonable, wouldn’t make things difficult for us.”
“Hmph.”
Ashnard let out a small snort from his nose, filled with sarcasm.
“You scholars… did you break your brains doing research or something?”