Academy’s Genius Swordmaster

Chapter 73: Valzac

“Yes. He’s the one who rules the world of the night…”

Ophelia was about to continue speaking when,

Kwaang!

Suddenly, the ground exploded, and a black shadow burst into the air. There was no time to react. The man with the flipped hood landed in front of the two of them.

A grim voice resonated.

“Where is Jhordin?”

It was a chilling pressure. Ronan couldn’t believe what he was seeing. There was not even a single scratch on the body of the man called Valzac after getting hit by Ophelia’s offensive magic.

“What the heck…”

Ronan reflexively threw out the stake he was holding. Valzac, who avoided Ronan’s attack by twisting his body at a bizarre angle, swung his hand towards Ronan’s throat. His sharp nails gleamed like five knives.

“Ugh!”

Ronan leaned back, Valzac’s pale palm narrowly grazing his nose bridge.

Thud!

A belated sound of impact echoed. Ronan, who had thrown the stake, drew out his sword.

‘He’s strong.’

He’s on a completely different level than those bloodthirsty idiots earlier. Just like the battle with Brighia, he has to seize a single opportunity to have a chance of winning. Amidst the precarious exchange of blows, a nearby shadow flickered, and a fierce wolf leaped out.

“Kyaahhh!”

“Damn it.”

‘I thought he was from a pure martial arts background, but it seems not.‘

The shadowy wolf bared its fangs and charged at Ronan head-on, while Valzac was rushing in from the rear, making it difficult for him to defend. Ronan, cursing under his breath, gripped the hilt of his blade.

“Let’s give this a try.”

Ronan spun in the direction of Valzac and swung his sword. It was an accelerated, super-fast strike, tapping into the flow of mana.

Swish!

The moment the blade was drawn, the upper jaw of the wolf separated from its head, and the creature lost its form and disappeared. For the first time, a groan of bewilderment escaped from inside the cloak.

“What the…!”

Sensing the danger, Valzac hastily retreated. The distance between the two of them was now just barely out of reach of the sword’s edge. There was a risk of counterattack, but Ronan didn’t stop. He had to succeed. Ronan, muttering inwardly, swung his sword with determination.

“Go to hell!”

For a moment, a jolt of electricity washed over Ronan.

Splat!

The sword energy, generated from the blade, shot towards Valzac’s head. Unlike before, it was no longer colourless but a crimson sword energy, much like blood.

“Ugh!”

Valzac quickly twisted his head, but it wasn’t a distance he could completely avoid.

Splat!

As the cloak was torn diagonally, blood sprayed up simultaneously. Ronan, looking at the exposed face, chuckled.

“Surprisingly, you look good. I expected you to look like shit to be honest.”

“You’re… quite interesting.”

Valzac’s appearance was more impressive than Ronan had anticipated. He appeared to be in his late twenties at most. His features were distinct, and his hair was a thick gray, like an owl’s.

The notable flaws were the lost light in his left eye and the scars inflicted by Ronan’s sword energy. Deep gouges ran from the corner of his right mouth down to below his ear. Valzac licked the blood flowing from the wounds and muttered.

“How long has it been since I shed blood unwillingly…”

However, the second flaw vanished quickly. Within seconds, as Ronan saw the wounds healing, he spat on the ground.

“You damn monster.”

“Well, this worked out nicely. I need you to fill this emptiness for me.”

A cracked smile spread across Valzac’s face.

Snap!

When he flicked his fingers into the air, darkness surged, and the same wolves as before began to reveal themselves one by one. Ronan noticed the growling sounds coming from various parts of the banquet hall. The gleaming eyes in the darkness numbered easily more than twenty pairs.

“Can you become Jhordin?”

Tl/N: Weird dialogue.

Valzac chanted in a crazed voice. In his hand, a blood-crafted spear had appeared, far superior in craftsmanship to what other vampires typically used. It seemed he was adept not only in dark magic but also blood magic.

“Seems like I’m really unlucky…”

Ronan chuckled bitterly and readied himself. He realised that Valzac wasn’t using his full power. Cita, perched on Ronan’s shoulder, spread its wings and let out a threatening roar.

“Beaaaah!”

“Argh!”

Perhaps the story would end here, Ronan thought, but there was nothing else he could do.

Bang!

The two men, clutching their weapons, rushed forward. It was the moment when black and crimson blades were about to clash. Suddenly, Ophelia appeared, blocking their path.

“Stop.”

“Damn it!”

Ronan applied a sudden brake by gripping his own wrist, and Valzac did the same. The two, who had been swaying as if about to fall, straightened up. Valzac’s eyes widened.

“…Ophelia?”

“Even though I’d like to intervene and stop you both, there was no way to get through. Both of you are being too rough.”

Ophelia, who had been alternating her gaze between Ronan and Valzac, sighed. Valzac was stumbling and unable to speak as if he had encountered a ghost.

The wolves, which had been poised to leap, all took their seats. Ronan shouted incredulously, “Hey, what are you doing so recklessly? Hurry up and run away!”

“It’s fine.”

“Wasn’t he an opponent we can’t handle?”

“Well, that’s true, but…”

Ophelia, trailing off her words, pursed her lips. Valzac spoke again.

“…Ophelia. Is it really you?”

“Yeah. It’s been a while, Valzac.”

It seemed that Valzac had only just realised Ophelia’s presence. Amidst all the commotion, it appeared he had been deeply engrossed in his struggle against Ronan.

“I see. So, that magic attack earlier was yours… If I had known, I would have welcomed it with open arms.”

He murmured, stroking his chin. Ophelia’s voice echoed in Ronan’s mind.

[This is why I didn’t want to deal with him.]

Ronan, who made eye contact with her, nodded. Ophelia continued.

“You’re still as insane as ever. Can’t you stop now that you’ve seen my face?”

“I suppose so. Fake Jhordin turned out to be unexpectedly interesting.”

Suddenly, Valzac flicked his fingers, and the wolves that had been lurking in the darkness disappeared. It was an oddly anticlimactic conclusion. Ophelia let out a relieved sigh and spoke.

“How have you been? It’s been almost 80 years.”

“Actually, it’s been 83 years. But what’s with that adorable look?”

“I had to attend human schools temporarily. Didn’t want to stand out unnecessarily.”

“I see. I remember the times when you were living in our castle. It was enjoyable.”

“Yeah, there were such times.”

“By the way, you calling my name…”

Valzac, who had lowered his spear, took a step towards Ophelia. She inclined her head, and he extended his palm.

“Sorry. Please don’t come any closer than this.”

“You still haven’t forgiven me, have you?”

“No.”

“I see. Fair enough.”

Valzac stopped gently. Ronan frowned at his obedient attitude. He couldn’t believe he was fighting this guy until just now.

‘Could he be a childhood friend of Ophelia?’

However, the way they seemed close yet maintained some boundaries bothered Ronan. Ophelia continued the conversation.

“So, Valzac, why are you here in a place like this? You’re not at the level to play with these kids, are you?”

“I came to settle a score with Jhordin Stone Song. It’s all been messed up, though.”

“So, you fought Jhordin as well. Surprisingly, you both survived.”

“He was a great mage. You have no idea how desperate I was when this fake pulled out a sword instead of chanting a spell. ”

Valzac’s explanation followed. He had a pretty unusual idea for a vampire, wanting to be stronger than anyone else. Traveling around the world, competing with the strong, and drinking their blood were the reasons why Valzac lived.

The match against Jhordin took place on the western outskirts of the continent. It was said that the battle, which began around the time of dusk, was not over until the next morning.

“We had to settle for a draw because of that accursed sun rising on the horizon. It had been a while since I had such a close match.”

They said that the place where the battle took place still has piles of jagged rocks rising up. It was a trace of Jhordin’s earth magic. Valzac spoke with a bitter voice.

“I couldn’t find a clue about him anywhere, but these little brats not only managed to track him down but also concocted a plan to lure him in. He said he was looking for the essence of pure blood, so I lent them one.”

“What?”

Ronan’s eyes widened as he overheard the conversation.

‘What did he lend them?’

“Lent them? What do you mean? Could you really lend something like that?”

“Who dare you butt into our conversation, Fake Jhordin?”

“Don’t be like that, Valzac. He’s a friend I made after several centuries.”

“Come over here and have a seat. It must be hard to hear from that distance.”

Valzac tapped on a chair made of stone. Ronan grumbled to himself and approached.

“This damned bastard…”

“You should have told me earlier. If I’d known you were friends with Ophelia, I wouldn’t have treated you so roughly.”

“I wish the blade would’ve severed your lower jaw.”

Valzac reminds him of Shullifen in many ways, including the pride that comes with strength and the loss of taste in front of certain individuals.

Valzac spoke, “Exactly. I have three essences.”

“Damn, why do you have so many? Ophelia, didn’t you say you only have one?”

“Yeah, most people usually have none or just one. It’s strange that Valzac has so many.”

The essence of pure blood was a type of core in which a vampire’s power was condensed and generated within their body. Unlike the common mana cores that could be created with a few years of training, it took decades or even centuries for one to form.

Valzac grumbled, “These days, the youngsters don’t even have an essence, let alone a formed core. I completed my first core at the age of thirty.”

“You’re the weird one.”

“My brother has seven.”

“Then you and the Grand Duke are weird.”

While natural talent played a role, it was the relentless training and the determination to exceed limits that were more important in increasing the number or size of cores. Valzac was a vampire who fulfilled all these conditions.

“Now that I think about it, I almost forgot about the gathering.”

Snap!

Valzac suddenly flicked his fingers, and a wolf that had emerged from the darkness bit into the neck of the lying Zwei.

“Ah, ah-ack!”

Zwei struggled, his severed limb wriggling, but it was in vain. The wolf tossed him at Valzac’s feet and then vanished. Valzac lifted Zwei by the neck and said,

“The plan failed, so I’ll have to take back the essence.”

“Wait, just wait a moment! I can still…”

Valzac didn’t respond. His hand plunged deeply into Zwei’s chest. A bone-chilling scream resounded through the banquet hall.

“Aaaaaaaargh!”

In Valzac’s grasp, the still-beating heart was tightly clenched. The crimson mana seen earlier faintly flickered around the heart. Zwei stared at his own heart, which had been pulled out from his chest.

“Sp… spare me…”

Quack!

Valzac gripped his heart relentlessly. The blood that had accumulated scattered in all directions, and at the same time, the body was stretched. The essence of blood was absorbed into Valzac’s body as if it were regaining its original place.

“Tsk, you trash.”

Valzac tossed Zwei’s lifeless body aside as if it were nothing more than trash. Ronan, who had been deep in thought, finally spoke up.

“Hey, how about we make a bet?”

“A bet?”

“Yeah. Let’s bet on it. The essence of pure blood. With three of them, it could be interesting, don’t you think?”

Valzac and Ophelia exchanged glances. Ronan took out the item he had prepared earlier and placed it on the table. It was a parchment made of purebred sheepskin, used for conducting blood pacts.

A heavy silence hung in the air, filled with the tension of a gamble. Finally, Valzac snorted and spoke.

“Why should I?”

“You damn mosquito bastard.”