Doggone Academy

Chapter 94 The Shadow (17)

After about thirty minutes of waiting in the lobby, the researcher came out.

He handed me a glass bottle filled with black slime, saying,

“I understand you need it for alchemy research, but I sincerely hope you don’t have any plans to ingest this by adding it to a potion.”

Given the number of times he emphasized not to eat it, the substance must be rather toxic. Even the color suggests it’s something you shouldn’t consume.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” I assured him.

“I wish you the best of luck with your planned endeavors.”

“Thank you.”

Now that I had all the ingredients, all that was left was to let the Dofler’s blood be absorbed by the Maladirut and wait a day or two. Hopefully, there will be a proper effect.

“Thank you for your help. Oh, may I go down to the basement?”

“Are you referring to Miss Luna? She’s not likely to be conversational, given the brief intervals she maintains consciousness.”

“That’s fine.”

With the researcher’s permission, I went down to where Luna was kept in the basement.

Luna, visible through the bars, remained unchanged from before. Pale-faced, she didn’t seem to stir, as if she were deceased. Looking at her, the discomfort in my heart wouldn’t subside, the seed of torment sown by the black magician still not entirely removed.

I do not know why the Sword of Light fell to me. But certainly, it wasn’t bestowed upon me without reason. There is a use and a purpose for it.

Though no ancient texts, scriptures, or encyclopedias accurately define the purpose of my sword, I had been feeling it little by little, intuitively knowing what need be cut down with this blade.

It wasn’t logic or reasoning. It was closer to a spiritual resonance.

I remained involved in Luna’s affair because I still felt there were targets left for me to cut down.

I pulled a leather pouch from my waist and took out the Maladirut I had inside, dipping its roots into the jar of Dofler’s fluid.

Even if Zverev’s recipe doesn’t work, it’s alright. In one way or another, I’ll find a way to annihilate the scribes and rip to shreds the things that pierced through Luna and my abdomen.

***

Trisha arrived at the main entrance earlier than promised and got into the carriage. Lying on the carriage seat, she raised her head slightly, waiting for Damian. As she spotted him in the distance, she opened her script to cover her face, pretending to be engrossed and unaware of his arrival.

Damian entered the carriage, his demeanor showing signs of dejection. Without a word, he closed the door and prompted the carriage to set off.

Lying on the seat, Trisha mumbled lines from the script while occasionally sneaking glances at Damian.

He appeared as deep in thought as he had been that morning.

No evening greeting, no idle chitchat.

Trisha couldn’t hold back her impatience for him to start the conversation, so she decided to break the silence first.

“Stupid Damian.”

He turned his head slightly towards Trisha, remaining silent before speaking.

“…Did you just call me?”

Trisha replied in a gruff tone.

“No, just talking to myself.”

“…Why?”

“Don’t know… But did you meet with Cecil?”

“Yeah.”

“What did you talk about?”

“Not much, then we said goodbye.”

Her mood lifted somewhat upon hearing nothing substantial had happened. Perhaps the reason for his gloominess was not getting along with Cecil.

Concealing a smile, Trisha responded,

“Looks like things didn’t go well with Cecil, huh.”

“…”

“See? I told you she’s quite prickly to people she’s not close with.”

Damian remained silent, prompting Trisha to tease him with an air of superiority.

“Oh dear, our poor Damian, making friends isn’t so easy!”

“…Why are you in such high spirits?”

“I’m not at all excited,” she claimed, turning her attention back to the script and humming a jaunty tune. Then, as if struck by a sudden thought, she called out to Damian again.

“Hey, you know what?”

“What?”

“The day after tomorrow is the first day of the joint classes. Are you prepared?”

“…No, I’ve just found out.”

“Good heavens, if it weren’t for a friend like me, who would inform you about these things? Right!”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Peeking over her script, Trisha looked at Damian and asked cautiously,

“Anyway… so have you decided who you’re going to group with?”

“…What about you?”

“I’m grouping with Cecil, alchemist Bertang, and spiritist Marta. So, how about you?”

“Nothing. I guess I’ll just go with whoever’s left.”

Her tone implied she wasn’t the least bit concerned about her group partners. Trisha narrowed her eyes and voiced her anxiety with an unsettling tone,

“Hey, aren’t you being too complacent just because you did well in the entrance exam? Some from the Combat Department are fiercely training their eyes on the top spot!”

Her reference to Combat Department students like Victor and Gale, ferociously sharpening their swords and recruiting group members, was accurate, not to mention the obvious Sion.

“…”

When Damian looked down at Trisha, she quickly raised her script to cover her face.

“Hem-hem! Anyway, I heard this time it’s all about teamwork. Wouldn’t you be comfortable if you find compatible team members now so it’s smoother sailing for the next group practices?”

“…I should look into it soon,” Damian murmured, brushing his hair back and sighing silently. He seemed preoccupied, unable to spare a thought for the upcoming joint class despite it being imminent.

Trisha lowered her script again, cautiously gauging Damian’s reaction.

“So, um… would you… think about joining our group?”josei

“Aren’t you already four?”

“Bertang… I might try asking if we can switch him out for you… Cecil is likely to be the leader… We do need someone who wields a sword in our group…”

“Don’t you get along with Bertang?”

“No! It’s just really inconvenient to be around him. Cecil knows it’s a rough relationship, so she’s been keeping me apart from him intentionally. Anyway… will you come? With me there, it’ll be easier, won’t it?”

Damian’s expression was lukewarm, revealing nothing of his inner thoughts.

***

Bertang had seated his group members Marta and Cecil across the table from him. Cecil, evidently exhausted, slouched against the back of her chair.

“I’ve gathered you both for a reason. This information is crucial. The upcoming joint class is, in fact, weighted more heavily toward alchemy than spirit user.”

Cecil asked,

“Why?”

“Because all the professors overseeing the class are from the Alchemy Department. Moreover, the group leader must be an alchemy student. Strictly speaking, these group formations are centered around alchemy students to which students of other departments are attached. The plan and direction of the group’s activities will be solely determined by the alchemy student leader.”

Hearing this, both Cecil and Marta wore skeptical expressions. Cecil didn’t like the idea of being ruled by a leader she couldn’t trust.

Rubbing her temples, Cecil expressed her discontent,

“I don’t like this class. Why impose such restrictions?”

Marta chimed in as well,

“Do we really need an alchemist? We can do without one.”

“Come on, I get that you’re not thrilled, but I’m in this position, so I’ll do my best. Plus, there’s a caveat about group formation.”

“What is it?”

“Every time a group member is switched out, the group leader and that specific member lose points.”

Cecil countered,

“So shouldn’t that not concern us? We don’t need to switch anyone out.”

Bertang shook his head,

“No, the original group formation will be decided by random selection, so no one can escape the point deduction.”

***

Luna slowly opened her eyes. Sensations in her body felt subtly different than before. She hadn’t woken up feeling this refreshed and devoid of fatigue in a very long time.

She also felt good, though she didn’t know why. Had she received a new potion in her sleep?

Perhaps the details of a happy, peaceful dream had evaporated upon waking—only an indistinct emotional residue lingered.

Next to her bed were letters from her friends. Only part of Luna’s family knew of her situation, and her friends knew nothing. They were only three, but good people who tried to understand her.

Her friends believed Luna was living a happy life in Eternia.

They rejoiced to hear she had topped the ranks in Eternia and wanted to hear her stories, who she met, what classes she attended, the amazing events that unfolded, and how enjoyable her life was in Eternia.

They could never imagine she was physically wrecked from a curse, not attending classes but rather bound by chains in a prison of bars without even sunlight reaching her.

Leaning against the headboard of her bed, she pulled out a sheet of parchment and calmly started writing a reply to her friends.

Luna penned down stories of dreams—dreams she had long harboured as if they were real.

She wrote about Eternia’s beautiful landscapes that never wearied the eyes, mentioning occasional strolls through the student plaza and Grace Mountain.

How the quirky students of the Department of Magic performed strange experiments leading to funny and preposterous mishaps.

She told of energetic and cheerful classmates, not as bright as her friends but full of life, making her school days vibrant.

And then she added tales about a man who wasn’t particularly handsome or talented but, like her, bore many scars, and how she was slowly learning to open her heart to the opposite sex through interactions with him.

Thus claiming she was now so happy.

What she did not write was how, in reality, both her body and soul felt drowned in filth.

How each night, she trembled in fear, feeling abandoned by the world, before falling asleep.

After placing a full stop, she briefly hugged her knees and buried her face. Thinking of her situation made her tremble uncontrollably.

Some of her waking hours drifted by as she struggled to erase the pain.

During this time, Luna suddenly felt a faint stream of magic coming from somewhere.

She slowly turned her head towards it.

There it was, just lying outside the white bars that she couldn’t see beyond before.

A glass jar. Inside was a plant with roots extending out.

It was peculiar, a bare root without water in an empty jar.

Above the jar’s opening, a faintly magical flower poked out its head.

A strangely gorgeous and dark red flower, so lifelike and brimming with vitality as if it had just bloomed from a bud—something she had never seen in all her life.