Invincible
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#183
🕑 Added 2025-01-15 15:16:48 +0000 UTCAcademy's Downfall (1)
I sat on a modestly crafted chair, sipping tea.
Though I called it tea, the cup carved from stone only held hot water.
Savoring its lack of aroma, I closed my eyes and organized my thoughts about the recent events.
The root of all this chaos lay in two incidents: Felia stealing the Grimoire of Crimson Jade and the future Dorosian handing over the Grimoire of Black Blood to Ecok.
Because of these actions, Ecok was able to accelerate the timeline.
Perhaps due to the temporal gap, even higher-ranking spirits, who shouldn't have appeared at this point, were summoned.
I had heard somewhere that time flows differently in the spirit realm compared to the human world.
That could explain why such phenomena aligned temporally.
This aspect felt deeply unsettling.
It was hard to shake the feeling that everything in this situation had been manipulated by the future Dorosian, who had the greatest involvement in the matter.
Why?
Because the information Ecok had gained through his resurrection was far more profound than I had anticipated.
Before our battle, Ecok spoke, revealing insights I had not been aware of.
His key points were as follows:
"Through Dordone's memories, I saw the humans of ancient times. Truly disgusting creatures. They acted without hesitation if it meant even the slightest gain. Do you know how many races were wiped out because of them?"
Through the unfolding scenarios, I had learned that there were other races in the past aside from humans.
"Eventually, they went too far, even purging their own kings. The Elven King, the Giant King, and even the Spirit King of Flames, Alkin, whom Dordone served—they all met gruesome ends."
As Ecok spoke, his expression seemed to merge with Dordone's, showing an intense blend of sorrow and rage.
"Yet, despite everything, Dordone never lost hope in humanity. Not everyone shared the same vile disposition, after all."
I listened closely to his words.
Never before, even during Ecok's attack that caused Frostheart's game-over scenario or his subsequent downfall, had I encountered such depth in his narrative.
"Perhaps a new era of peace will dawn once more. Just like when the one who ruled over all the kings was still alive."
"The one who ruled over all the kings?"
"A man known as the Immortal King. In modern times, he's arrogantly referred to as the Undying."
He was a figure who had often appeared in ancient myths.
However, the tales were predominantly negative, giving him a rather unsavory reputation.
"After his death, the world began to change. He was respected by all races, yet ironically, many humans despised him."
I briefly wondered how an "immortal king" could die.
"To them, the king was a force of restraint. He suppressed their desires—to own the elves, exploit the giants' labor, enjoy the spirits' blessings, and use demonic power to inflict suffering on their enemies."
It dawned on me that perhaps the root of all these calamities lay elsewhere.
"Surely, this isn’t the work of the Eyes of Eternity, is it?"
The moment the phrase "Eyes of Eternity" left my mouth, Ecok's demeanor shifted as though caught off guard.
"Do you know who they are?"
The reincarnators known as the Eyes of Eternity were the ultimate antagonists of Asares.
These entities had perpetrated unspeakable evils from ancient times to the present.
It seemed my suspicion about their involvement in such a grand scheme was correct.
When I asked Ecok about their origins, he responded:
"They are beings of endless malice. Though they revered the Immortal King outwardly, they were inwardly consumed by greed, always coveting his power. Then, an opportunity presented itself."
"An opportunity?"
"At the time, the Immortal King had just concluded a battle to preserve the world's existence. The toll was immense—he even lost a portion of his power."
This revelation partially answered the question of how an immortal being could perish.
It also shed light on how the Eyes of Eternity became reincarnators.
"They consumed fragments of him that had scattered across the world. From this, they gained the power of reincarnation. Their abilities are directly linked to the Immortal King."
"Having lost the ability to truly die, they accumulated knowledge and strength over time, plunging the world into chaos with their actions."
Finally, Ecok explained Dordone's rationale for attempting to conquer the human world:
"Humanity as it stands requires management. To prevent a recurrence of past atrocities, they must be confined and selected, weeding out those corrupted by evil."
The eradication of reincarnators.
To eliminate beings who reincarnated solely through human vessels, total annihilation of humanity seemed the only solution.
However, true to his peaceful nature, Dordone sought a path of reconciliation.
The war he initiated was under the pretense of managing humanity through conquest.
Though his ideology was extreme and hard to accept, it wasn’t entirely incomprehensible.
I chose not to mention it to Ecok, who bore Dordone's memories, but deep within the demonic realm, there were still remnants of races that had survived the massacres.
Of course, Ecok was likely aware of this too.
Once the reincarnators were dealt with, he would probably move to pursue the dream of prosperity once more.
That concluded my conversation with Ecok.
Overall, it was insightful.
I learned things I hadn't known about the Eyes of Eternity.
Still, wasn't this going too far?
Looking down at the students crouched on the dirt ground, I let out a long sigh.
“W-Where are we supposed to sleep now?”
“I have no idea.”
“What about food?”
“Forget food; shouldn’t we be treating these injuries first? Ugh, I’m in pain.”
The snow that had blanketed the mountain range had all evaporated into steam.
With such devastating destruction, it was impossible for the fortress to remain intact.
The only structures that had survived were the heavily secured barrier control room, the treasure hall, and the restricted archives, which were constructed with extra care.
Everything else had been reduced to dust, leaving no trace behind.
At this point, I didn’t know what to do.
Was this the end of Frostheart’s assigned story arc?
Or was this just the beginning of a new obstacle?
“This... this feels like the academy is done for. Can I just go home now?”
“I want to sit by the fireplace and have some warm soup. I’m so sick of this place.”
Haha, you’re telling me.
I’d like nothing more than to go home myself.
***
At the center of the training ground, a single tent had been set up.
The tent was made hastily from blankets stolen from sick and injured students.
Inside, Rockefeller paced nervously, biting his nails.
“Is... is the principal going to be alright?”
Rockefeller’s question made Bellman’s hand tremble as he held a needle.
“...My hands are shaking from the tension. This is hard enough as it is, so please let me focus.”
The surgical environment was so makeshift they had to rely on portable tools they happened to have on hand.
Even though the medical professor lying on the ground offered words of encouragement, Bellman’s hands showed no signs of calming.
“I’ve disinfected everything properly, and the bleeding is under control. Now, carefully suture that blood vessel.”
“If I make even a small mistake, it could be fatal. Please, explain more precisely—how many stitches do I need?”
Despite his anxiety, Bellman moved his hands.
Rockefeller turned pale every time Arkandrick’s body twitched.
“Did... did it work?”
“For now, at least.”
Hearing this, Rockefeller quickly cast a healing spell.
Only a few more steps remained.
Bellman slumped his shoulders, taking a brief break from his work, and asked, “By the way, Professor, what happens to the academy now?”
Rockefeller couldn’t answer.
The fortress, with its proud and long history, was gone.
He had repeatedly assessed the damage, wondering if recovery was even possible.
The conclusion was always the same: complete restoration was impossible.
At best, they could rebuild a shell of the structure.
‘Even if reconstruction starts, it’ll just be a hollow imitation. Unless Archmage Adrigal devotes himself again... but that’s an unreasonable expectation.’
The cost of constructing even the shell of the fortress was comparable to purchasing a small estate.
Given the budget constraints caused by repairing the damage from the recent Luon incident, there wasn’t even enough money to rebuild the dormitories.
‘If we forced the students to work, maybe we could manage some construction... but is that even acceptable?’
This was an academy for training Pathfinders, not a training ground for construction workers.
Rockefeller racked his brain, trying to devise a solution to the current crisis.
Meanwhile, Bellman, clearly lacking patience, prodded him again.
“Professor, judging by the students’ mood, most of them are convinced the academy is done for. If you don’t present a concrete plan soon, there could be a revolt.”
“They’re mostly injured. They don’t have the strength for a revolt. Don’t worry.”
“T-That’s not what I meant...”
Rockefeller swallowed hard, sinking deeper into thought.
‘We need a massive influx of funds. But from where? A bank? No, we can’t afford to repay a loan. This isn’t a business venture. So... is there really no solution?’
He sighed deeply.
“I’ll have to report this to headquarters.”
The damage was far too extensive to conceal.
There would inevitably be evaluations of the faculty and severe reprimands for negligence.
‘Even if future support gets cut off, at least we can extinguish this immediate crisis.’
Above all, the drastically reduced budget loomed large.
Rockefeller decided to set aside thoughts of the future and focus on the present.
But Bellman, squinting his eyes, asked, “So, there’s no solution outside the Central Headquarters, is there? What do you plan to write in the report?”
Rockefeller’s expression drooped.
"I’ll have to write the truth. Lying in a report is a grave crime. If that's the case, it’s better not to write anything at all. That’s why we’ve tried to cover things up until now."
Adjusting his sliding glasses, Bellman responded in a deliberate, emotionless tone:
"You're going to write that spirits invaded, accompanied by slug, fish, and whales, and that a black sun destroyed the academy?"
Hearing that, Rockefeller fully grasped how absurd it all sounded.
But there was no other choice.
"It’s foolish, but there’s no other way. My reputation will be in tatters, but I’ll have to rely on a report that might sound believable to someone."
Rockefeller glanced around, searching for writing materials.
But the surroundings were barren.
"Bellman Tol Gers, do you have a pen and paper by any chance?"
Bellman shook his head and thought to himself:
This is the end for Frostheart.
The academy is utterly ruined.
***
Meanwhile, at the Central Pathfinder Headquarters, chaos buzzed through the halls.
Rumors swirled: an increase in monster sightings prompting large-scale hunting parties, militia mobilizations to restore order, and rampant criminal organizations exploiting the turmoil.
A middle-aged clerk stamping documents sent from those entering the demonic realm clicked his tongue.
"The world’s in shambles."
The young man beside him nodded. "You’re right. But... I’m worried about my brother. He just got into Wisdom Academy. I think I heard something happened there, too."
"Hah. If you’re worried, you should’ve sent him to Frostheart. Things have been quiet there."
The young man chuckled dryly. "Come on, don’t joke. Frostheart’s tradition is to cover things up, isn’t it?"
As graduates of Frostheart, they knew all too well.
Whenever something happened, the academy’s response was to stay silent and pretend it didn’t.
After focusing on his work for a moment, the older clerk flipped a page and added, "Oh, by the way, did you know? My father works in the finance department at the imperial palace."
"I know. Why?"
"Well, I heard something interesting. Wisdom, Valiant, Everblaze, and Scarlet Academy are all requesting massive budgets."
"Really?"
"And the reasons are absurd. One academy claims their grounds suddenly turned into a jungle. Another says a translucent fortress appeared in the skies, causing catastrophic damage."
The young man smirked, nearly scoffing.
"Sounds like lies. It’s obvious they’re exaggerating to squeeze money out. These imperial-managed academies are so spoiled—they’ve grown downright shameless."
"Even so," the older clerk sighed, "so many witnesses testified to it that my father’s been ordered to verify it. The poor man, in his old age, has to travel now."
As he let out a bitter sigh, the clerk flipped through more papers and froze at the sight of crimson writing on coarse, cheap material.
"What... what is this?"
The “paper” was little more than a thinly sliced wooden plank.
The writing wasn’t ink but carvings filled with red paint—likely blood.
"Ugh, it reeks of blood. This is blood, isn’t it?"
The older man flinched at the bold letters engraved on the first plank: Frostheart.
Swallowing hard, he turned the page, only to be greeted by text wholly unsuited for an official report.
"I don’t know if you’ll believe this, but..."
"What kind of emotion-laden nonsense is this? Who’s the head professor over there?"
"Uh... last I checked, Professor Rockefeller."
"Rockefeller? That guy? He doesn’t seem the type. Let’s read further."
As they read, the expressions on their faces grew increasingly baffled.
"Whales appeared in the mountains. A spirit king, they say. And a student defeated it."
"Rockefeller... he’s lost his mind, hasn’t he?"
"Shouldn’t we report this immediately? They need to replace him."
"Yeah, probably."
The older clerk carefully packed the planks into a box and began drafting a formal report to send up the chain.
The box eventually reached Sir Noras, secretary to the Pathfinder Council Elders.
Cleaning his glasses repeatedly, Noras reviewed the contents with disbelief.
"What? They’re asking for 30 years’ worth of funding in advance based on this nonsense?"
Noras tightened his grip on the box.
"Have they gone mad? How dare they send this drivel to Headquarters?"
It felt like a blatant act of rebellion against the upper ranks, worthy of immediate punishment.
Yet something gnawed at him.
"Still, they did recruit Dorosian and Mircel... perhaps their circumstances deserve consideration."
Moreover, Arental had shown interest in Hersel, adding to the feeling that an investigation was warranted.
Sighing, Noras picked up the box and headed for Elder Arental’s office.
