Chapter 63 - St. Jansk University and the Chamber of Secrets (6)

"I hear you're a friend of my father's. My father... prefers a few close friendships in which he can speak his mind to a wide circle of acquaintances, so I never imagined there might still be a friend of his I hadn't met."

Elpihera was no easy opponent. Young as she was, she had already mastered the elven art of conversation. That had been an elven warning shot.

'Are you really my dad's friend? You sound like an impostor. My dad doesn't have many friends. I've never seen a "human" like you before.'

Having taken a shot at both her father and Ivan with one exquisitely polite remark, the "pureblood elf" nevertheless covered her mouth with a gentle, bashful smile.

"We served on the same battlefield."

"Oh! You were one of Father's comrades. How impressive! If you fought on the same front as him back then, you must have been quite extraordinary!"

Elpihera glanced at Ivan's worn work clothes and the towel around his neck, smiling sociably. She meant that she found his claim hard to believe, but would hear him out since the eldest son of Viscount Eastvelfen, a privy councilor, had arranged the meeting.

In truth, that was only to be expected. If a strange man approached you with "I'm a friend of your dad's," it was perfectly normal to distrust whatever followed unless it was "Here's some pocket money." And this man was human, no less. Convincing any sensible elf that their father had a human friend was exceedingly difficult.

So Ivan decided not to bother convincing her. It would be pointless, and a waste of time.

"I need classical spell interpretation and protective spells. As you've heard, this involves state secrets, so I'll also need confidentiality."

"How could I possibly refuse a friend of Father's? Unfortunately, I'm only a student. For an important mission of state, wouldn't it be better to employ your own country's mages?"

That was precisely the answer he'd expected. Ivan still had one move left.

"Do you know Veolgrin's hobby?"

"Father's... hobby?"

He had deployed the classic means of flaunting a friendship: "Hey, do you even know what your dad likes?"

"Lost ancient magic. Particularly things close to the Age of Myth. Am I wrong?"

"Uh, um... Well, yes, that's true..."

In truth, it was practically every mage's hobby. The more educated and influential people were, the more readily they fell into collecting antiques. And once they did, didn't they become so passionately obsessed that they'd sell the very pillars of their houses?

Most ancient magic had no practical use. Academic disciplines naturally advanced with time. Slapping "ancient" in front of something only made it automatically powerful in games.

An ancient artifact at an academy, however, was another matter. Powerful ancient artifacts buried beneath academies had been an established formula since the days of Hogw*rts.

"A ruin was recently unearthed beneath this university in secret. I'm told magic estimated to be at least fifteen hundred years old lies dormant inside. Oh, you're welcome to tell people. The Krasilof monarchy's official position will be to dismiss it as 'a baseless rumor.'"

"... If the mission is that important, it only makes me more suspicious. Why me, of all people?"

"Those with the skill can't be trusted. Those I can trust lack the skill."

"And which category do you place me in, sir?"

"You're trustworthy and skilled."

Ivan looked at Elpihera with earnest eyes.

"Even if you talk, it'll only be one student's claim. An obsession with conspiracy theories isn't unusual at your age. Even if some idiot believes you, they can't demand an investigation from this country, so it won't become a public issue. That's why I trust you, and why I'm not looking for another 'professional' mage."

"My father would believe me."

"But Veolgrin isn't foolish enough to pressure a nation merely to collect an artifact. Is he?"

"Urgh..."

As Elpihera bit her lip, Ivan continued.

"And I trust Veolgrin. I respect his abilities. If you're even half as exceptional as your father, your skill is already beyond question."

"For the record, he's already checked your transcript, Miss Grikencos."

"Take this job, and you could give your father an 'artifact of remote antiquity from beneath Prizhenkaya.' Will you do it?"

"... You leave me no choice."

Elpihera smiled gently and extended her hand. Ivan flinched reflexively, then relaxed when he saw that she was offering a handshake.

"I look forward to working with you. What is your name, sir?"

"Call me Ivan."

"I'm fairly familiar with Krasilof's culture, you know. You realize that's terribly unimaginative, even for an alias?"

"I do."

"... Humans."

Watching the two shake hands, Oswald had to revise his assessment of Ivan somewhat.

Why was he so good with words...?

Why wasn't he like this normally...?

Unfortunately, this Possessor, not yet fully acclimated to the premodern world, did not know that some things could be more persuasive than words. Ivan, however, was a rational man, and knew that persuasion was more effective the faster it worked. The fastest persuasion in the world came from making someone choose between their life and a nod.

* * *

Even in premodern times, ground was leveled before large buildings were constructed. In other words, people knew how to carry out civil engineering work starting with underground foundations.

Moreover, this world had sewers. Most of the sewer system running throughout the city predated the city itself, but even so, putting up a new building required starting with its underground structures.

There was one more thing. St. Jansk University had been founded less than twenty years ago. It was a new university built during the war, a structure in the middle of the city with no reason, purpose, or room for a Chamber of Secrets.

For secret ancient ruins to exist beneath such a building without anyone noticing, they first had to be physically deep underground. Deeper than the sewage facilities beneath the university. Deep enough to reach the very bottom of Prizhenkaya's underground waterways, which were said to predate the city.

"Urk, uuurk..."

Ivan walked on, ignoring Elpihera as she covered her nose and gagged beside him. Prizhenkaya's underground waterways were certainly not pleasant. They were damp, dark, and cramped, with sluggish streams of rotting sewage. Rats, cockroaches, and other vermin scurried everywhere. It was not a place a young elf could stroll through unperturbed.

"How... urgh... much farther...?"

"Almost there."

"That's... urk, uuurk! The tenth time you've said that!"

"Hmm."

Ivan walked on, scanning his surroundings, reading the countless marks on the sewer walls.

Without maintenance, man-made structures inevitably crumbled with time. Prizhenkaya's underground waterways were no exception. Neglected sections always carried a risk of ground collapse. Signs of deterioration—the extent of cracks and wear in the bricks, for example—offered warning.

He ignored broken bricks worn round by standing water and time, reading only the sharp-edged breaks still shedding stone dust. These were signs of deformation caused by the Dwarves' excavation artifact.

They followed the traces for some time as they spread ever more densely, like a spiderweb.

"Oh... wow..."

Elpihera stood transfixed, forgetting even to cover her mouth.

SHHHHH...

An enormous cavern opened before them, with water gathered from the rain pouring down in waterfalls. Small mushrooms glowed blue, and glittering clusters of light that had drifted in from somewhere hovered along the cavern's edges, shining brilliantly. Water gushing from the underground waterway's broken pipes became waterfalls, plunging into the unfathomable depths of a hole at the center of the enormous cavern.

"Are these... the ancient ruins...?"

"No. Their entrance."

Ivan stepped forward to read the traces. Though less than a week old, they had already been scoured and worn by the violent torrents.

'It won't be long before this collapses. Delaying would have been dangerous.'

A week at most. The ground would collapse within that time, Ivan thought, his gaze sweeping sharply over his surroundings.

"This is just the entrance? What, is there an ancient devil sealed down here? How can it be this huge...?"

"The Dwarves did this."

"Dwarves?"

"This cliff itself has nothing to do with the underground ruins. This is simply where the Dwarves' artifact 'used to be.'"

Ivan straightened up. He cracked his neck and drew his axe.

"Dwarven artifact? Used to be? What does that even—No, please explain."

"The earthquake in Prizhenkaya a week ago was the Dwarves' doing. They brought an excavation artifact and tunneled down here."

"What...?!"

"That cliff. That precipice that looks like a cliff is where the artifact stood."

Just as the elves had aerial warships, the Dwarves had excavation artifacts. Why would those dexterous little people not even dare attempt to rebuild their artifacts? Because their immense size required too many resources to reconstruct, and the technology for designing their complex, intricate components had been lost.

Just as Kallion's aerial warships were nicknamed "fortresses in the sky," the Dwarves' excavation artifacts were called "subterranean siege towers."

An excavation artifact's sole function was to cut away earth. All it did was travel deep underground, carrying Dwarves. There was one simple reason such things warranted the name "artifact" and became strategic targets that had to be utterly destroyed.

'They're too big.'

Enormous mass was a weapon in itself. Ground into which an excavation artifact tunneled inevitably collapsed. They were so huge that merely operating one caused earthquakes. And here there had been magic powerful enough to make an object—no, a structure—of that size vanish in an instant.

"Is there anything you can interpret?"

"Y-yes?!"

"I mean, can you see mana, or any traces of magic being used?"

"No. Just water, and... The mana concentration is high, but only at the level of a natural phenomenon..."

"We'll have to use the alternative."

He hadn't expected anything in the first place. Finding the entrance to the artifact wasn't what he had wanted from Elpihera. If that were possible, the analysis team Elizaveta had sent beforehand would have detected it. That went without saying.

Then he would do what had to be done. Ivan slowly settled into his stance and drew deep breaths.

"E-excuse me. What...? What are you doing?"

"Prepare a protective spell."

"... I'm getting really nervous. May I ask why?"

"You'll need it."

Mana seeped into his bloodstream. With a tingling sensation, time slowly began to break into discrete segments. The drifting clusters of light curved lazily, and he could track each individual dust mote in the air.

As mana accelerated his nervous system, his head grew scorching hot. It was a flood of sensory information—a tidal wave delivered by his heightened touch, sharpened vision, taut sense of smell, and exquisitely sensitive hearing.

Heightened senses strained the brain's capacity this way. Human sensory organs were not designed to absorb this much information. So he cut off his hearing.

CRACK!!

Just as hearing sharpened when the eyes were closed, human sensory organs were not designed to function independently. Each time one sense was restricted, overall sensory capacity increased dramatically.

The instant he lost his hearing, a brief ringing accompanied a surge of mana through his nervous system. He delicately regulated it, then did it once more.

CRUNCH!!

After hearing came smell. In exchange for sacrificing two useless sensory systems, his reflexes forced their way beyond a limit he had never dared cross.

Within this interval where time tilted askew.

SHIIING...

"Feeling" the axe blade slide free with a sinister edge, he quietly steadied his stance. His eyes faced forward, and red flooded his vision. The blood vessels in his eyes had burst. But he needn't concern himself with that. Their function remained intact.

So he checked the "direction" in which the Dwarves' excavation artifact had been heading. Its traces. One by one.

'Fifteen degrees to the right of straight ahead. Twenty-two degrees below center.'

Working backward from the traces, he pinpointed the direction in which the Dwarves' excavation artifact had operated. At the same time, he wheeled the axe blade back.

CRRRUNCH!!!

His legs planted against the earth, his waist twisted, bundles of muscle fibers running from his external obliques through his deltoids to his tensed triceps. The activation of nerves coursing with mana, the instant tension in every tendon reached its peak. What he pictured in his mind was the most perfect blow, delivered in a single breath.

'Maximilien's.'

The stance that brilliantly golden-haired young man had taken back then, when he raised his head to gaze at the night sky. Recalling the most powerful strike he remembered.

'Morning Star Slash.'

HUUU...

A low breath escaped.

ZIIING...!

A flash of light violated the air.

KRAAAAAAASH—!!!

The impact returned a moment later.

* * *

"What... does this mean?"

Elizaveta had to read the short, concise report three times. Though it was written in Krasilof's common tongue, in neat block letters, and adhered perfectly to reporting protocol, it was extraordinarily difficult to understand. She slowly set down the report and picked up her teacup.

[A magical reaction from the ruins in question has been confirmed only in connection with the Dwarven excavation artifact. Therefore, cross-verification under identical conditions is required to establish the ruins' existence and pinpoint their location. As the Dwarven excavation artifact has vanished, verification through reuse of the artifact is not possible. Therefore, to reproduce the conditions as closely as possible, the field agent will, at his discretion, deliver an impact to the area equivalent to the excavation artifact's estimated impact. Attachment) The mage analyzing the ancient ruins' magic must be capable of casting high-level "protective spells."]

"What are you planning to do...?"

Giving up on understanding, Elizaveta held her forehead and sighed. When he came back, she would make absolutely certain—this time, truly, absolutely certain. She swore she would teach that bastard to "adhere to advance reporting protocols," or to "leave field decisions to Elizaveta."