Chapter 242
Chapter 242
"Fire! Keep firing!"
Countless arrows flew at Cassian, yet not a single one reached him.
As if an invisible membrane lay in his path, the arrows dropped endlessly to the ground.
"Mages! What are you doing?!"
"Nothing works! None of the spells are landing!"
Magic fared no better.
As Ulf had already demonstrated, projectile-based attack spells were equally affected by the Giant-Block Fantasy.
After several failed attempts, the mages pivoted to curses and hexes.
SHAAAA—
A spine-chilling sound cut the air, and the spell was severed.
However, that particular feat occurred in the invisible domain.
Only the mages themselves could pound their chests in frustration.
"Stop him!"
Knights rushed in to block Cassian's path.
"Protect him! Anyone who interferes with what the Teacher intends—all of them are enemies!"
But they couldn't break through the Crownhardt forces, who'd already formed a tight protective ring.
The result was an ironic spectacle: Crownhardt's army guarding the entrance to the Triban capital while the Triban Royal Knights tried to punch through.
At the center of it all.
Cassian walked quietly along the capital's main road toward the royal castle.
Step by step.
Soldiers with spears and knights with swords stood along his path, but none dared raise a weapon against him.
A few knights barely managed to extend their blades.
TAP.
Because they'd watched a single, casual swing send dozens of knights crumpling to the floor.
Not a scratch on any of them.
Why they'd collapsed so effortlessly was impossible to understand.
And so, at last.
Cassian stood before the royal castle in all its grandeur.
"......"
No—there was no grandeur.
'It's small.'
Strangely, the castle looked tiny to Cassian.
Or rather, it wasn't strange at all.
Every enemy he'd fought until now had been incomparably vast.
The World Eater had been a mountain that devoured worlds.
The Ice Wall had been a colossal barrier separating this world from beyond.
After facing such immense natural structures and demons—
This castle was nothing.
"What is the meaning of this outrage?!"
Nobles were gathered outside the castle gates.
Cassian studied their faces.
Dripping with jewels, resplendent to excess.
"Instructor Cassian! We respected your people—we even deferred the extradition of our rebel prince! We opened the road for your passage to Aislard! And this is what we get? An invasion?! Have you abandoned all pretense of diplomatic justification?!"
"This is a misunderstanding."
"A misunderstanding?"
The noble's eyebrow twitched as if the very idea were absurd.
In truth, all fault lay with the Triban court for planning to ambush the returning Akarind expedition.
But since the ambush had never actually occurred, they could afford this much bluster.
"It had better be a misunderstanding."
But if it was bluster they wanted, we could play that game too.
The noble, not grasping Cassian's meaning, demanded an explanation.
"What kind of nonsensical—"
"If it isn't a misunderstanding, then I've invaded the Kingdom of Triban without a declaration of war and am currently on my way to assassinate the King at the heart of his own palace."
"What?!"
Assassinate the King.
Everyone within earshot drew a sharp breath.
Nobles who'd been peeking through windows in panic slammed them shut and fled to cellars.
"Can you stop me?"
They couldn't.
Bluster was a luxury only the powerful could afford.
And diplomatic justification was a concept only surviving nations could debate—it didn't apply to dead ones.
Of the countless nations the Empire had swallowed, how many had been invaded on legitimate diplomatic grounds?
Yet no nation had ever told the Empire to stop its unjustified conquests.
The Triban people glared at Cassian with clenched jaws.
Even as blood vessels burst in their eyes, turning them red, no one attacked.
They knew.
Every person here knew the martial power that the man called Cassian possessed.
"So it's a misunderstanding. It had better be. I hope it is."
"Indeed."
With a CREEEEAK, the castle gates opened.
A wizened court chamberlain with a neatly groomed beard stepped forward.
"His Majesty invites you inside to resolve this mutual misunderstanding."
It was, in effect, a declaration of surrender.
***
King Depalmer had aged catastrophically in a matter of days.
No—not days. Hours.
His black hair had turned stark white, and his eyes were sunken and lifeless.
"Cassian."
He slowly turned to face Cassian.
Cassian read fear in the King's every movement.
The King had called his name but couldn't produce a single word.
He seemed at a complete loss for what to say or how to say it.
So Cassian spoke first.
"Let's make a deal."
"......"
"Triban wants Dwayne because you fear a threat to your crown might return someday. And because of the stain of leaving a rebel alive."
"......I don't want to leave a danger to my descendants."
Many words churned in Cassian's mind.
That this course of action would ultimately destroy the royal house.
But instead, he extended an offer.
"I'll give you Aislard."
It was a powerful incentive—one they couldn't resist even knowing it was bait.
"Give us Aislard? What do you mean?"
"We've just finished clearing out every Underground Magic Tower and Imperial intelligence unit operating there."
And as a bonus, they'd swept through the local monsters and demons as well.
"We took in a large number of refugees, so the land is essentially empty—resources and territory with no people."
There might be survivors still hiding.
Finding them would be Triban's responsibility.
"Take it."
"You're saying you'll forgo all compensation for the work you've done there?"
"That's your business."
The nobles clustered around the King began whispering frantically among themselves.
The King did the same, pulling in his advisors for a hushed exchange.
"Can what he claims possibly be true?"
"Our intelligence indicates he brought back over a thousand people. Delivering that many unharmed lends credibility, Your Majesty."
"How large is Aislard's territory?"
"Larger than our kingdom, though much of it is barren."
"But there is a vast sea! Though it's an ice zone, if the ice-free ports are used well, it could enable an entirely new class of military development!"
Cassian watched the commotion in silence.
After a while.
The people before him, calculations apparently complete, turned back with eyes that had shed every trace of earlier uncertainty—replaced entirely by hunger.
"Aislard isn't yours. It never belonged to anyone. It's just land."
Cassian said nothing.
"Right. So all you did was clear out the monsters, take some people with you, and mention it to us in passing."
"With a small misunderstanding along the way."
"If we're governing two territories, relocating the capital makes sense. The walls here are crumbling from age, after all."
Crumbling from age.
A preposterous excuse, but that was exactly what made it fit this theatrical farce.
Which was precisely why a firm commitment was needed.
"With this, let all ill will between the Belmein Kingdom, Akarind Academy, and Triban be considered resolved."
"......Ahem."
The word "all" carried an implicit warning: stop bringing up Dwayne.
They'd gained land to grow their national power, and it would count as the current king's achievement.
But if Cassian or anyone else let slip the wrong words—
Triban's royal house would be branded as cowards who'd been helpless before a single man who'd walked into their palace.
"Agreed."
The King nodded.
Cassian turned and walked out the same way he'd come in.
Where every eye had tracked him on the way in—
Now, gazes scattered in every direction.
"Dispatch the army immediately! We must stake territorial claims before the Empire finds out!"
"There may be monsters—send knights!"
"Send envoys to contact the houses at once. Aislard is near our territories—this is our chance to expand."
"Get there before anyone else and scout the best land!"
His heightened senses picked up the greed blanketing the castle.
Whether the Triban court could maintain the strong centralized monarchy it desired amid all that avarice—
That remained to be seen.
***
"We've arrived."
The Aislard people stared around with wide eyes.
"Th-this place......"
Now even the Aislard people understood the wider world.
Beyond their homeland, it was warmer, more abundant, more advanced.
People were warm, and food was plentiful.
Above all, it was strong.
The massive castle.
Trained knight orders and warhorses.
Extraordinary formations and the art called Aura.
But what stunned them most was the enormous walls and the town.
How could structures of wood and stone be so vast?
How many people, over how many years, had built all this?
It felt as though a divine being had briefly descended to earth.
And yet, this Academy City was something else entirely.
WOOONG—!
Massive interlocking gears turned, venting steam from every quarter.
Skyward-reaching staircases moved at people's signals, and unfamiliar metal conveyances rolled along the roads.
The streets were broad enough for all of them to walk abreast, and some pathways moved on their own.
White-blossomed trees lined every corner, and every face looked happy.
"Akarind Academy. The world's largest Academy City."
The students spoke with pride swelling in their chests.
Even to them, the facilities here were astonishing.
This was the crystallization of over-technologia, forged by a 6th-circle Alchemist who'd marshaled every one of his graduate students.
For the Aislard people seeing it for the first time—
"See this? It's called a faucet. Turn it, and warm water comes out."
"Oh, ohhh......!"
"This is called a moving walkway. Just stand on it and the path moves for you."
"Wha, whoa......!"
The Aislard people gazed at the fixtures in a daze.
The Akarind students felt an odd mix of satisfaction and amusement watching them.
Understandably—even first-year freshmen didn't react this strongly.
'Why, why is this so fulfilling?'
'I want to teach them more!'
While the students burned with that strange desire.
The instructors who'd journeyed with them gathered.
"Now then. Let's prepare the final exam evaluations."
The students had surely forgotten.
That the Aislard expedition they'd just completed.
Was the field trip that replaced their final exams.
"This is called a bed! It's soft!"
"This is called water! Good for when you're thirsty!"
"......? Oh, ohhh? We actually know what that is, though......"
The students' brief dream.
And with the shocking grade assessments soon to follow, spring was departing.
Summer was almost here.
Break was about to begin.
And the Academic Exchange Conference season was approaching.
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