studiobondurri Chapter 206 : Turning Point (6)
Chapter 206 : Turning Point (6)
Airos was, as always, sitting slumped on a rock.“……”
Even so, his gaze remained unwaveringly fixed on the uninvited guest who had appeared before him.
The uninvited guest, completely cloaked in a robe, simply stood in silence under Airos’s stare, making no move.
“What is it?”
Airos asked curtly.
His voice carried a deep weariness.
“I had thought the commotion around here was annoying enough already. Don’t tell me you’re the intruder?”
“……”
Airos let out a quiet sigh.
“…If you’ve just taken a wrong turn, it would be best to leave right now. I’m only here to guard this place. I don’t care what happens to the Academy or anything else. If your goal lies elsewhere, I’ll pretend I never saw you. So just leave.”
However, the one cloaked in the robe continued to silently stare at Airos without giving a single response.
A faint crease appeared between Airos’s brows.
“I believe I’ve warned you enough by now. Still refusing to change your mind?”
“……”
Airos sighed once more.
“…In that case, I’ll now consider you a grave robber.”
As soon as he finished speaking, Airos rose to his feet with his heavy body.
With a thud, the ground shook lightly as he leapt down from the rock.
“The forest has yet to recover from the last incident, and now I have fresh fertilizer.”
Muttering to himself, Airos strode toward the figure.
There was no mercy left in his eyes.
The only thing left within him was the intent to tear apart this unknown intruder with his bare hands, whether they were a grave robber or not.
Then—
“……”
Shff.
The robed figure slowly raised their hand and began to pull back the robe.
‘Begging for their life, perhaps?’
Regardless, Airos had already made up his mind and continued to close the distance without hesitation.
Five steps.
Four steps.
Now, just three more steps and he’d be close enough to seize their neck and snap it on the spot…
“……!”
Airos stopped in his tracks as he caught sight of the figure’s fully revealed appearance.
“What the…?”
A look of utter disbelief and shock appeared on his face.
And deep confusion.
The eyes of the dragon, who had lived through countless ages, trembled with a weakness rarely seen.
“…You.”
Airos’s voice squeezed out of his throat with great difficulty.
“This is… impossible…”
Silence.
And then, stillness.
---
“…Mm.”
The Masked Man brushed off the flames clinging to his body and straightened his stance.
His clothes were already torn and ragged in several places from the ongoing, fierce battle.
Yet, there was not a hint of disturbance in his posture or presence.
“…There’s something I’d like to ask.”
Taking advantage of the temporary lull in the fight, Deiare asked in a low and heavy voice.
“Just who are you?”
The Masked Man slowly turned his head to look at her.
Deiare continued, her gaze steady and unwavering.
“For someone capable of using such deviant techniques, and possessing such strength, it’s unthinkable that your name wouldn’t be known. And yet, not only can I not recall any name in my memory, I can’t even think of a single one from history that fits.”
“……”
The man gave no answer.
Even so, Deiare went on.
“Moreover, I cannot understand why someone of your caliber remained hidden during the Great War. Why is there no record, no story, nothing? That’s why I’m asking.”
At her question, the Masked Man’s fingers twitched slightly.
Then, in a voice utterly devoid of humor and wholly grave, he answered.
“How foolish. And how shameless.”
“For asking your name?”
“Of course. What could be more insulting than that?”
As he spoke, the hand holding the mask kept twitching restlessly.
“How could you ask a demon their True Name?”
Beyond the mask in his hand, the eye area suspended in the empty air glowed as if aflame, gleaming with a crimson light.
“A demon, is it.”
Deiare adjusted her grip on her halberd.
Determination settled across her face.
“…Hup!”
Then, without hesitation, she gritted her teeth and cleaved through the body of the disciple who had been charging at her.
It was a single blow.
The reason she had been dragging out the fight until now wasn’t due to a lack of strength—but because the opponent was her own disciple.
“Impressive.”
The Masked Man clapped, as if genuinely impressed.
“To slay a child you practically raised from infancy without a moment’s hesitation. No wonder they call you a Hero—it wasn’t for nothing.”
“…With the greater good before me, I’m sure the child would understand.”
Deiare answered quietly.
Her voice was icy cold—but the end of it trembled ever so slightly.
“And if they don’t understand… I’ll simply offer my neck when we meet in the afterlife.”
“Oh my. If you’ve resolved yourself to that extent, why not do it now? And if you truly mean to do so, I’d like to purchase your corpse. I’m willing to pay whatever it’s worth—”
Despite the continued mockery, Deiare did not respond.
She only looked at the body of the disciple she had cut down—twisted astray by her own inadequacy.
“A puppet used like that… I doubt that child could have accepted it either.”
As she finished speaking, she gazed once more at the young man who lay crumpled on the ground.
“…Isn’t that right?”
As she murmured those words, tears began to fall silently, yet ceaselessly, from her eyes.
Yet there was not the slightest tremble in her hands.
Deiare slowly—yet meticulously—adjusted her grip on the halberd.
“I shall sever your neck and offer it at my disciple’s memorial, to soothe their soul.”
With those words, Deiare began walking toward the Masked Man.
With every step she took, the *sound of hooves* echoed chillingly—*tak, tak*.
“How terrifying.”
The Masked Man responded with feigned puzzlement.
“But isn’t it strange? I have no neck for you to cut, nor a head to bow in apology.”
It was blatant mockery once again.
Even so, Deiare’s expression and movements remained utterly unshaken.
The Masked Man, watching her, shifted his stance—this time, seemingly in genuine admiration.
“…Well, I’m a rather timid sort, so I tend to do my research thoroughly. I also tend to prepare—needlessly, perhaps. And even so… this is proving more difficult than expected.”
With that, he pulled out more **pieces of black cloth** from within his robes and scattered them into the air.
Wherever the cloth fragments fell, black holes opened in their place—and through them, people began to surge forth.
Those emerging from the void each wielded various weapons—swords, spears, bows, and **wands**.
“……”
“…Ah.”
Both Yeriel and Deiare visibly stiffened upon seeing them.
Yeriel even let out a short sigh of dismay.
The people emerging from the void were once well-known, renowned warriors from their time—figures they had both recognized in life.
Not a trace of vitality remained in their eyes, and without exception, **iron needles** were embedded in their chests.
“Well, well.”
The Masked Man said with satisfaction.
“These are but a few of the collectibles I acquired while exhausting my fortune and traveling across the continent. There's still plenty more where that came from. Now then—!”
Before he could finish speaking, someone dropped from the sky and struck down with a sword.
The Masked Man barely dodged by reflex, throwing himself out of harm’s way.
The attacker was none other than **Professor Shagas**.
“Demon Hunter…! Ah, yes, your name was on my list as well.”
“……”
Even at the man’s admiring remark, Shagas said nothing, silently swinging his sword.
His sword strikes were fierce and relentless—but the Masked Man avoided them with ease, as if dancing.
“Hup!”
“Guh…?!”
Suddenly, Shagas’s sword twisted in an unusual arc, releasing a sharp gleam.
The Masked Man hastily dodged, leaping backward.
But where he landed, someone else had already anticipated his movement and charged in.
“Demon.”
It was **Yuran**.
Her right hand had already transformed into something grotesque and threatening, like a **dragon’s claw**, covered in blazing **blue flames** and **lightning**.
Without hesitation, she swung with all her strength at the Masked Man.
*Crunch!*
With a dull cracking sound, the Masked Man’s **mask** fractured.
He didn’t even scream—just slammed violently into the ground and rolled across it.
“…Tch.”
Yuran didn’t waste a moment and moved to strike again, but the **corpses** that rushed in to shield him prevented her from following through.
“Ugh…”
The Masked Man staggered as he barely escaped the crisis.
His body trembled uncontrollably from the recent impact.
“…You’re strong.”
He murmured.
His voice now carried a clear tension, so unlike before.
“Far beyond what I had anticipated.”
As he muttered this, his **mask** turned toward Yuran.
Then he spoke again, barely a whisper.
“…How unfortunate. I want you now, too.”
Even as he said that, he clutched the area where he had been struck.
But then, as if something felt off, he began examining his body.
His wounds—unlike before—showed no signs of healing.
“This is…”
He murmured, then sighed.
“It’s earlier than I expected, but it seems I’ll have to retreat for now.”
“And who said you could leave?”
Yeriel shouted sharply, swinging his hand.
But one of the corpses threw itself into the attack’s path and exploded, shielding the Masked Man without leaving a scratch on him.
The Masked Man chuckled softly.
“…I’ll be honest. I’m weak—I don’t have the confidence to defeat you. But I am very good at running away, and I’m confident you won’t catch me.”
Then, until next time.
As he finished speaking, his body began to crumble—like fine sand.
In the blink of an eye, before anyone could react, he was swept away by the wind and vanished.
It had all happened in an instant.
“……”
Even as Yeriel struck down the corpses rushing at him, his mind was consumed by turmoil.
‘…What was he after?’
His thoughts spun rapidly.
Was it a mere **declaration of war**? A spontaneous outburst?
That didn’t match his demeanor or words in the slightest.
A demon, he had said.
Could it truly be that he was a demon?
Or perhaps a **high-ranking demon** claiming to be one—an entity so unknown it hadn’t even a name?
The power to animate corpses.
A force rivaling that of the high-ranking demons.
A being of such mystery that even its identity was untraceable.
Why would such an entity come to the **Academy**, draw attention in such a dramatic fashion?
“Ah.”
As if struck by realization, Yeriel’s eyes trembled.
‘…No way.’
He exhaled in a breath close to a sigh.
Then, apologizing to those around him, he shouted for them to handle things here—and took off at full speed toward one direction.
The destination: the **Forest of Secrets**.
“Haa… haa…”
When he finally arrived, all he could do was stand there, gasping.
“…Impossible.”
Before his eyes lay a sight he couldn’t believe.
**Airos**.
An **Ancient Dragon**, one who had lived beyond countable time.
He now lay crumpled on the ground, the spot where his heart should have been torn open.
That alone was shocking enough.
But it wasn’t the only thing.
“……”
The **Sanctum**, always firmly sealed—
Had been utterly destroyed, to the point where not even a trace remained.