Academy Festival.
This was probably the day the Royal Magic Academy felt most like a wet market all year.
The noble students, who usually walked around with their noses in the air, were now shouting at the top of their lungs to sell their wares.
There were people selling grilled meat, reading tarot cards, and even performing stunts like smashing rocks on their chests.
The air was thick with a mixture of the smell of cumin and cheap perfume.
Bell sat in front of the Soul Research Club booth, holding a skewer of grilled squid.
Beside him.
Horn was crouching on the ground, making final adjustments to the Soul Vibration Cannon, which had been disguised as a firework launcher.
His parents hadn't come.
As per tradition, noble parents would usually come to such events to show support for their children.
But not a single member of the Montfoss family had shown their face.
“They’re dead.”
Horn didn't even look up. He held a wrench in his hand, his tone as casual as if he were commenting on the weather.
“The estate was attacked by monsters last week.”
“The kind of ghouls with three heads.”
“Not even a fragment of bone was left.”
Horn tightened a loose screw, his lips curling into a bizarre arc.
“How tragic.”
“I heard they screamed very loudly before they died.”
Bell’s chewing slowed for a moment.
He looked at Horn’s eyes hidden behind the thick lenses.
There was no sadness in them.
“My condolences.”
Bell tossed the bamboo skewer into the trash.
In this dog eat dog world, everyone had their own dark secrets.
“Bell.”
A green figure moved through the crowd.
Fina.
The Wood Elf who had helped him reshape Tia’s soul.
She wasn't wearing her elaborate priestess robes today, having changed into casual clothes, but the fresh scent of greenery she brought from the forest still felt out of place amidst the smoke and noise here.
“I need to talk to you.”
Fina got straight to the point, her face looking none too good.
She was even a bit pale.
Bell pointed to the empty chair next to him.
“If you’re here to catch up, you’re more than welcome.”
Fina didn't sit.
She cast a wary glance around and lowered her voice.
“The Queen wants to see you.”
Bell raised an eyebrow.
The Elven Queen?
What would an old monster who had lived for centuries want with a human like him?
“Not interested.”
Bell refused bluntly.
“I’m busy. Busy studying, busy dating, and busy saving the world.”
“Wither Disease.”
Fina uttered those two words.
Bell, who was about to stand up, froze.
“The World Tree is sick.”
Fina’s fingers gripped the hem of her clothes tightly, her knuckles turning white.
“It’s rotting from the roots, and no healing magic works.”
“The elders say it’s a decay of the soul.”
She looked up, her green eyes filled with a desperate hope that bordered on a plea.
“You can bring back the dead.”
“You can stuff a soul into metal.”
“I think... maybe your strange knowledge can save the Mother Tree.”
Bell remained silent.
This was a hot potato.
If he cured it, he’d be an honored guest of the elves.
If he failed, or accidentally learned a secret he shouldn't know, he might end up as a sacrifice to the tree.
“I’m just a kid.”
Bell spread his hands, looking innocent.
“I can’t handle a high level game like that.”
Fina gave him a long look.
“A person who uses a Flame Demon Heart as a battery and kneads Mithril like playdough...”
“...is no child.”
“Bell Lucas.”
“You’ve already been targeted.”
“And not just by us.”
Before Fina could finish her sentence.
The crowd in the distance suddenly became agitated.
The noisy shouting was cut off as if by an invisible hand.
In its place was a dead silence.
Then came the whispers.
“It’s her...”
“The genius is back...”
“I heard she withdrew to go on a journey...”
The crowd automatically parted to create a path.
Under the sunlight.
A blonde girl walked over.
She wore a pure white dress with intricate gold thread embroidered on the hem.
Every step she took felt like she was inspecting her own territory.
Cecilia Lucas.
She had grown thinner.
Her chin was sharper, but those blue eyes were even brighter.
So bright it was unsettling.
She ignored the reverent gazes around her.
Her gaze pierced through the dozens of meters, pinning itself firmly on Bell.
It was the look of a hunter seeing its prey.
And a believer seeing a god.
Bell’s muscles tensed instantly.
A fear etched into his very bones crawled up his spine like a venomous snake.
But he couldn't retreat.
He couldn't take a single step back.
Because a cold hand had grasped his palm.
Tia.
She had stood up at some unknown point.
She blocked the way in front of Bell.
Her long silver hair fluttered slightly in the wind, and her impossibly exquisite face held no expression.
No fear.
No anger.
Only a mechanical, absolute rationality.
Cecilia stopped her pace.
She was only five meters from the booth.
She tilted her head, her gaze shifting from Bell to Tia’s face.
“Oh my.”
Cecilia covered her mouth and let out an exaggerated gasp.
“Isn't this Sister Tia?”
“I heard you died?”
She smiled until her eyes were crescents, like an innocent girl next door.
But those eyes were filled with nothing but malicious mockery.
“How did you come back to life?”
“Were you glued back together?”
Tia didn't speak.
She just stared quietly at Cecilia.
“You really are lucky.”
Cecilia took a step forward, the sound of her heels clicking against the ground sharp and piercing.
“Even with your intestines spilling out, they could be stuffed back in.”
“It seems Brother’s craftsmanship is quite good.”
She reached out, wanting to touch Tia’s face.
Snap.
A hand blocked her.
It was Tia’s hand.
Cold and hard.
Like an iron vice, it firmly clamped onto Cecilia’s wrist.
“Thank you for your concern.”
Tia spoke.
There was a barely perceptible metallic quality to her voice.
It was cold enough to bite.
“Thanks to you, I am doing very well now.”
“Better than I have ever been.”
Tia’s fingers tightened slightly.
Although she currently felt no pain, she remembered that pain.
She remembered the despair of being pinned to the wall, watching her own organs spill out.
“If there is an opportunity.”
Tia stared into Cecilia’s eyes, emphasizing every word.
“I will be sure to return the favor.”
The air froze.
The tension was thick enough to choke on.
The smile on Cecilia’s face stiffened.
She felt it.
This hand.
It wasn't a human hand.
That hardness, that strength, that pulse-less touch.
A monster.
Brother had turned this woman into a monster.
Jealousy.
A mad jealousy grew in her heart like wild weeds.
Why?
Why would Brother rather piece together a dead person than spare me a single glance?
“What are you all chatting about?”
A hearty voice broke the deadlock.
Leon Wolfgang.
The ice faced genius was currently walking over carrying two cups of juice.
He clearly didn't read the atmosphere.
Or perhaps, he was doing it on purpose.
“Cecilia?”
Leon was somewhat surprised.
“When did you get back?”
Cecilia jerked her hand back.
Several red marks were left on her wrist.
She took a deep breath and instantly switched to a demure, sweet smile.
The speed of her change was staggering.
“I just arrived, Brother Leon.”
She rubbed her wrist, yet her eyes remained fixed on Tia.
“I went out for a trip and saw many things.”
“I thought I had grown a lot.”
Cecilia glanced pointedly at Tia’s hand hanging by her side.
A cruel smile curled at the corners of her mouth.
“But it seems.”
“I haven't grown as much as this sister here.”
“After all.”
“She’s given up on even being ‘human’.”
Bell stood behind them, watching this scene.
His palms were drenched in cold sweat.
It exploded.
It completely exploded.
Is this what they call a messy romantic war zone?
No.
This is clearly a funeral pyre.
Rate on N.U.
