Free Web NovelThe sunlight seemed to have turned cold.
Bergman's pupils contracted abruptly.
"The Sleeper?"
His voice was somewhat dry.
"Isn't that... the one Viscount Rosenthal was supposed to send to the Royal Research Institute—"
He stopped mid-sentence, suddenly realizing something.
His mouth opened and then closed again.
His handlebar mustache trembled slightly.
The Rosenthal Family's "special specimen."
The border trade route was attacked by an unknown organization, and the cargo was lost.
The General Staff Department dispatched the eldest daughter of the Schwartz Family to supervise the matter personally.
All the pieces of information connected—
Bergman cursed inwardly.
He knew he had been dragged into a political maelstrom far beyond his rank.
Those high and mighty figures were clearly engaged in some kind of power struggle.
And he, a mere director of studies, was just an insignificant pawn on the chessboard.
But...
If that was the case.
He took a deep breath, suppressing all his emotions.
Snap!
A standard military salute.
"Yes, Emissary Sir!"
Bergman's voice was loud and firm.
"On behalf of the Royal Knights Academy, I accept the order. The Academy will fully cooperate with the General Staff Department's actions to ensure the safe containment of the'Sleeper.'"
Eleanor nodded slightly.
She removed her military cap and casually spun it between her fingers.
The action carried a strange sense of ease, sharply contrasting with her previous seriousness.
"Relax a little, Colonel."
Her tone returned to one of casual indifference, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on her lips.
"The'Sleeper' was successfully delivered to the Royal Knights Academy's underground containment area by my people early this morning.'"
"I can assure you that currently, no unauthorized personnel know the location of the'Sleeper.' Not even your adjutant knows."
She turned her head, revealing a smile.
"Of course, you don't need to know the exact location either.'"
"...Yes."
Bergman's voice was somewhat stiff.
The two continued walking forward.
Eleanor's steps became much more relaxed; she even started humming an unfamiliar little tune.
"For the next little while, I will be staying in Eisenburg.'"
"Partly to supervise the containment work of the'Sleeper,' and partly... it's a rare chance to spend time with my two younger sisters.'"
"Especially Little Pa—she hasn't been in the Empire long and is still unfamiliar with the local customs. As her older sister, I must look after her a bit more.'"
Her tone carried a rare hint of softness.
"Colonel, I'll have to trouble you to look after her during this time. If she causes any minor trouble, just consider it doing me a favor and turn a blind eye.'"
Bergman let out two dry laughs.
"My Lady, rest assured, the Academy will certainly—"
As he was speaking, he suddenly felt a slight vibration under his feet.
"...?"
An earthquake?
No.
This kind of shaking...!
Bergman whipped his head around.
The next second—
BOOM——————!!!!
A world-shattering explosion erupted behind them.
The shockwave, like an invisible giant hand, violently shoved him forward, causing him to stumble.
Bergman reacted instantly—he lunged towards Eleanor, attempting to shield the Emissary from above beneath him.
He dared not let anything happen to this superior officer.
But his lunge met empty air.
Eleanor was no longer in her original position.
When Bergman scrambled up from the ground in disarray, he saw the young Lieutenant Colonel already standing several meters away.
Her posture was flawless; not even her uniform was askew by a fraction.
But her expression—
What kind of expression was that?
Bergman had served in the military for over thirty years and had seen countless reactions to danger.
But he had never seen an expression as complex as Eleanor's at that moment.
A little surprise, mixed with some understanding.
And perhaps a touch of helplessness.
"..."
Eleanor slowly turned her head, looking towards the direction of the explosion.
A small mushroom cloud was rising from a corner of the Academy, its golden fire illuminating half the sky.
Even from this distance, the searing heatwave could be felt.
"That is..."
Bergman's voice trembled.
"That's the direction of the main teaching building... No, it should be..."
His face turned ashen.
"The special teaching district... General Margaret's underground classroom..."
Eleanor said nothing.
She simply stood there, gazing at the slowly rising mushroom cloud.
Her expression shifted several times.
Finally, it settled into a smile of relief.
That little brat...
Blew up the school on the very first day?
...
At the center of the explosion.
Amidst the devastated ruins.
The once level lawn had turned into a massive impact crater, easily twenty meters in diameter, with some holes appearing unfathomably deep.
The scorched earth was still emitting wisps of smoke, and the air was thick with the heavy smell of sulfur and some indescribable... metallic, rusty scent.
Strange objects were embedded in the crater walls—twisted pieces of metal, charred bricks, and several copper pipes of unknown origin.
These objects still glowed faintly, shimmering with delicate red patterns, as if they had just been pulled out of some hellish furnace.
Pavela lay curled up in a corner of the pit.
Her clothes had reverted to her school uniform the moment the void realm dissipated, but they were now tattered rags, barely covering vital areas.
Her silver short hair was messily spread across the scorched black earth, the tips of her hair burned off slightly, curled up, emitting an unpleasant odor.
Her face was streaked black and white.
Her body was a wreck. She was already covered in wounds before, and this explosion only compounded her misery.
The most severe injury was to her right arm, which now hung at an unnatural angle by her side, so painful it was almost numb.
Perhaps it was dislocated on top of a hairline fracture.
Perhaps it was completely broken.
Perhaps both.
But Pavela couldn't be bothered to think about it anymore.
Her ears were filled with a high-pitched ringing, as if a thousand flies were buzzing.
Distant alarms and screams could vaguely be heard, but those sounds seemed muffled, as if separated by a layer of water, indistinct.
Fortunately, the deep crimson ribbon sent by Irene was unharmed; she clutched it tightly with her remaining left hand.
"...Hah."
She let out a long breath. The movement of her chest pulled at her fractured ribs, causing her to gasp in pain.
But the corners of her mouth couldn't help but curve upwards.
She won.
Not won the battle, but won against the past version of herself.
In the moment the core was pierced by a single shot, that nightmare called the 'ghost of caldberg' finally shattered into pieces.
This sense of ease radiating from the depths of her soul made even # Nоvеlight # the intense pain bearable.
Future nightmares should have one less category to worry about.
She had survived, and she had survived in a way she never had before.
"Tough life, Pavela."
She muttered mockingly to herself, savoring this moment of relief.
She even started mentally replaying the battle, giving her final strike a perfect score.
As for causing trouble?
Tsk~ Back on the battlefield, blowing up an arsenal or accidentally hitting friendly troops was a common occurrence.
At worst, she'd have to face the disciplinary squads.
What new tricks could the Royal Knights Academy possibly have?
Her teachers and classmates weren't missing limbs.
At most, she'd receive demerits or have to pay some money.
At worst, she'd be confined to quarters.
She, Pavela von Schwartz, was a noble now, high or low. The people who demolished parts of the school yesterday were all safe and sound, let alone this level of destruction...
Wait a minute, something seems off...
Pavela blinked, her vision gradually sharpening from blurriness.
What came into view was a blood-red sky.
It stung her eyes painfully.
A few startled birds swept across the sky, crying out in alarm.
She looked at the sky above her, then glanced at the scorched earth surrounding her.
"...Birds?"
She was momentarily stunned.
She remembered clearly: she should have entered that so-called void realm inside the classroom on the second basement level.
That should have been a sealed, stone room buried deep underground.
Why could she see the sky now?
Why could she see birds?
She labored to turn her head, her gaze sweeping across the surroundings.
Then she suddenly felt that the scorched earth in the pit was somewhat scalding.
She saw the school gate, which had only been half-repaired that morning, was completely gone.
Along with it, a large section of the surrounding walls had vanished.
Only a few solitary stone pillars remained, still emitting wisps of smoke, as if silently protesting something.
Alarms, screams, running footsteps, and the clash of metal echoed wildly throughout the entire Academy.
And she was lying in a massive impact crater.
"..."
Crap.
She had caused a huge disaster.
She had blown up the school.
Her previous nonchalance vanished without a trace.
An explosion of this magnitude probably couldn't be easily covered up.
Setting aside casualties for a moment, a super explosion occurring on the first day of school at the Royal Knights Academy.
This was guaranteed to make the headlines.
It might even attract an investigation from the Imperial Security Bureau. freёwebnovel.com
But these weren't the biggest issues.
Pavela remembered something even more important.
Eleanor was apparently still at the school.
And just yesterday, she had specifically warned her to be "somewhat more law-abiding" while at school.
Pavela's throat moved with difficulty.
If it were just facing disciplinary action from the school administration or an investigation by the Security Bureau, she was confident she could handle it appropriately.
But if she had to face Eleanor...
She couldn't quite articulate the feeling.
It wasn't fear.
Pavela von Schwartz no longer feared anyone, that much she was certain of.
Nor was it guilt—at least, not entirely.
Although blowing up the school was undeniably related to her, it couldn't be said to be entirely her fault.
But no matter what.
It was... a sense of unease.
Perhaps it was because Eleanor was the first person who made her feel trusted.
Not the kind of trust on the battlefield where you cover each other's backs; that trust was fundamentally an exchange of interests—you don't stab me, I don't stab you, we all go home alive.
Eleanor's trust was different.
It was a kind of trust devoid of any preconditions, almost absurd.
Knowing exactly what kind of person she was, knowing she might have many skeletons in her closet, yet still choosing to pull her out of the mud, giving her an identity, giving her a home.
And even yesterday, she earnestly reminded her to be "somewhat law-abiding."
That tone wasn't a command, but rather an older sister's expectation for a younger sister, tinged with a bit of helplessness.
Pavela had disappointed many people's expectations before.
Those of her superiors, her comrades, and those civilians.
She never thought much of it.
Living meant constantly disappointing others.
It was no big deal.
But Eleanor's expectation was different.
The weight of that expectation came precisely from its lightness.
Eleanor had never demanded that she become a good person, never demanded that she change the bad habits carried back from the battlefield, and never even demanded what she should become.
She only said, "Be a little more law-abiding."
Just that one sentence.
Light as a feather.
But precisely because it was light, it was heavy.
Because it meant Eleanor's bottom line for her had dropped to this level.
Not expecting her to achieve anything great, just hoping she wouldn't blow up the school.
And then she blew up the school.
Pavela closed her eyes and took a deep breath; a piercing pain shot through her ribs again.
She wasn't afraid of Eleanor being angry.
She was afraid of seeing Eleanor's expression of 'I knew it all along.'
That expression of, 'I held onto a sliver of hope, but you couldn't even hold onto that little bit of hope.'
That expression was more agonizing than any scolding.
Because scolding at least meant the other person still cared, still bothered to expend energy getting angry at you.
But 'I knew it all along' meant the other person was starting to accept reality.
Pavela didn't want Eleanor to accept that reality.
She didn't want Eleanor to think, 'Pavela is just this kind of person, there's nothing to be done about it.'
Even though she truly was that kind of person.
Even though it was highly likely there was nothing to be done.
So, the moment she thought about Eleanor looking at her with that kind of gaze—
She just...
Ah...
She suddenly felt that perhaps being blown up in that last explosion might have been the better ending.
Clean and neat.
Ending everything.
No need to face Eleanor's eyes that seemed to understand everything.
No need to explain questions like, 'Why did you blow up the school just a few hours after leaving my sight?'
Too bad her life was too tough.
She had survived again.
What a pity.
Pavela relaxed her tension and looked up at the sky.
"I can only hope Eleanor finds out a little later,'"
She muttered to herself.
Just then, all the light was suddenly blocked.
A long shadow fell, covering her face exactly.
The surrounding noisy alarms and screams seemed to vanish at that moment.
Pavela felt the temperature in the air drop sharply, even colder than the void realm moments ago.
A familiar voice sounded next to her ear.
That voice usually carried a hint of laziness and elegance, but now, it was calm to the point of being chilling.
"Congratulations."
Eleanor von Schwartz stood to one side, looking down at her sister in the bottom of the pit.
She bent down slightly, her dark long hair cascading down, almost touching Pavela's dust-covered cheek.
"I know now."
