I regressed and became the Sword Ice King - Chapter 379

Chapter 379: Chapter 379- Festival 110- Raid on a Rainy Night 49
With a nod of approval, the duo walked away from the group. Destination in mind. Wills intact, and sharp minds spinning with each passing moment.

Now it got critical. The time for the System Uprisers to finally arise like their name speculated.

All the waiting. All the silent planning. All the initiation of students.

Everything was for this very moment. This night.

The weight of it hung in the air, an hourglass trickling down in quicksand as the moment of desperation began.

It was now or never.

Javier and his group stood behind for a moment. A long while, watching as Katherin and Crown retreated from the Lecture Theaters. They had one goal now.

The Staff Building, and from there, the Headmaster’s office.

Time ticked, and with it was the ever-increasing danger to their plan.

“Javier Wright.”

His gaze flickered slightly. Snapping back into reality as his head turned to the source of the call.

A slight wrinkle creased between his brows as the others did the same.

“You called, Mister Roland.”

Roland stared at him for a moment.

His eyes closed in a slit while a smirk hung below his nose, adjusting slightly with the silhouette of crimson that basked his skin.

His arms were folded, his silver armour glistening with integral pride.

Javier had always found him difficult. A highly suspicious man, difficult to discern, yet easy to relate to.

He easily made himself approachable while applying a thick line that should never be crossed. One that you would notice a mile away.

His heritage was nothing short of blessed.

A Magic Swordsman after all. At an unprecedented level at that.

He had reached the crux of his skills and adequacy as a person.

If anything, Roland was someone who was never lacking in any regard.

‘And yet, here he is. Acting the job of a rebel in a rebel’s world.’ He thought, a sigh escaping his lips. His gaze shifted away momentarily, a loud explosion catching his attention in that second.

“Get me, Mister Yori.”

He said. His voice was low, yet pitched with a bit of femininity that sparked with his features. Dark purple hair and bright, black eyes. His features bloomed with the ever-increasing chaos around them.

Javier glanced at him with a raised brow. An expression of realisation and understanding.

Aurora’s gaze seemed to have widened slightly while Yon groaned low.

They knew what that meant.

Yori Kan, a Lecturer in his department. A man of great secrecy and silence….as well as dark secrets.

Javier’s face tensed.

‘We were told never to approach him unless told.’ He thought.

At first, it was merely curiosity and stubbornness that caused him to defy them and try again. But after encountering him, he had learnt the hard way.

‘There are forces that are not meant to be played with….and Yori Kan is one of them.’

“He only listens to Katherin.” He said.

Roland furrowed his brow, his smirk widening for a bit. A flick of something deep. Amusing. Shimmering in his eyes he blinked.

“Don’t play coy with me. I know Katherin told you how to instruct him.”

His gaze shifted across the battlefield. The scenery of destruction playing out in HD.

For a while, silence hung between them but in the next moment, his gaze froze.

“Hah. There he is.”

Turning to the direction he glanced at, Aurora and Yon Duke spotted the man with the crowd of robed figures who attempted to bring down Ignis. Their synchronized strategies and weapons. With three or four mages behind.

Spirit animals or beasts were just as difficult to deal with as Demons, depending on their ranks and tiers.

Ignis was a 5th-tier royal beast, third in Rank and fifth in the tier. He was equivalent to the typical level 90+, and that made things extremely difficult on their end.

“Once you tell him to go ahead. You three can join the others. I will remain here and observe until the Silvan boy has been taken care of. If not, I will act…” He stopped mid-sentence. His gaze shifted upwards for a moment, as if in thought. “….but let’s not let things get to that point. I sincerely hope you won’t.”

He remained silent after that, and so did Javier and the others.

A scowl formed on Javier’s face as he stared at Roland. Nothing serious. Just a glare that showcased his displeasure in the matter.

He clenched his fist. Hard. Fingers biting into the palm of his hands in an attempt to pass through.

His chest rose and fell as he breathed heavily, clicking his tongue after a few seconds before turning around with a groan.

“Come on.”

He instructed and the others followed suit.

To be clear, the Lecturers were very capable individuals. In fact, most weren’t admitted unless proven so, and that involved a threshold of the 70th level.

Most made use of the System to further their growth and thus, unique Professions arose even amongst them.

However, prominent figures like Roland, Katherin and a lot of other Professors of the Academy had taken most of the attention. Serving as the arms of power of the Academy. It should be noted that a lot of other Lecturers weren’t too far behind. Most weren’t at all, but it included a small portion of the rest.

Yori Kan was one of those Lecturers. Acting only in the shadows and when he was called upon.

He was hardly mentioned unless required and taught most of the Higher classes. His skill sets and level, though, were hidden. Masked behind his overall facade of boorishness and laziness.

He played the part of a lethargic Lecturer who would rather die than come early for a lecture and teach his students.

But behind that facade, was a level 90 Blood Summoner. An ancient profession seen only in a tribe, beyond the East.

The members of the Cult, especially those who were close to Katherin, their leader, were aware of this fact.

And though, he was hardly mentioned. His presence was especially respected.

Roland’s lips parted as a brief sigh escaped his lips.

Gaze tracing the movement of Darrell Silvan who rained terror on his subordinates.

His weapons continued to strike at every given turn, but the constant wear was beginning to tear him down.

Showing small signs of sluggishness and close calls. Darrell was beginning to lose mana.

‘Nice.’ He thought as his smirk stuck firm. ‘The Red Peacemakers truly thought they had fully made us immobile…’

Though, one person couldn’t possibly make that much of a change.

‘….who needs a change. When we can have time.’

He remained fixed on his spot. Standing on the patio in front of Class Two, arms folded and his scarlet cape dancing down his shoulder guard.

It was only a matter of time now.

****

“aarggh!”

Carl screamed. Adrenaline surged in his veins, blood pumping with a heart that assumed the place of a machine. Sweat dripping, muscles tensing, tendons dragging and mind reeling as his body moved with mechanical precision.

Blood bursts out of his shoulder like a fountain. Like a bottle of highly condensed liquid was suddenly forced open, and allowed to squirt out with such force that it could as well be a rocket.

A punctured hole lay bare in his shoulder, arms dripping scarlet with a dark hue that flicked down his armoured gauntlets.

Flesh and cloth hung at the tip of his metal claws, a constant reminder of the foes faced under his carnage.

His armour took the appearance of a beast. A tiger, white, jagged and sharp. Twice as large as his typical figure.

It appeared like a futuristic robot, but it was merely reinforced magic iron and animalistic features.

As a Beast Warrior, he was gifted with the ability to take the shape of beasts.

The number, though, was limited to his level, and the strength of each beast was singular to his overall strength.

This gave him an edge over many others before him as he could reach the peak with different forms.

Yet, it came with a downside. Levelling up became extremely difficult to fully utilize.

Where others simply levelled up and added attribute points which was necessary, he had to level up each beast and add the attribute points to each of them. Thus, his generalized stats were the average of all of them.

But on the battlefield, using a specific form was his best bet to victory.

Carl blurred past the group of robed figures as they closed in on him.

Attempting to cut loose the tight rope they had tried to wrap him in.

It was admirable the amount of time he had spent avoiding and shielding himself from them.

‘But how long is this going to keep me alive?’

He wondered as he ran through the broken field. Ground soldered with flames and heated with lava, disfigured from what it once was.

His helmet, in the shape of a tiger’s head, darted around, danger prickling his skin in full force.

He shuddered.

‘What…what is this feeling?’ He wondered when a migraine-inducing force bashed through him like an automobile.

A sudden blast of energy, a boom of silence that sent a quiver through his armour as it blasted him back.

He flew through the air with a grunt of pain, skidding across the ground and rolling down hot earth until he slammed against a loose boulder.

His armour groaned under the weight of his body, eyes flaring open within his helmet as a choke of blood hung on his throat.

Laying on the ground, his gaze hazed. Flaring with the persistent smoke and crimson flames that hung in the air.

He slowly pulled off his helmet, the silver metal flickering into bits of light as it dispersed in the rain. Blood dribbled down the corners of his lips as he heaved sharp and large breaths.

‘What was that? What hit me?’

Rising his gaze towards the scene, movement flicked at the periphery of his vision.

He blinked once, then twice, watching as the number of incoming Robed figures increased as they approached him slowly.

“Hah…” He muttered under his breath. His words were worn thin by the gush of blood that oozed out from it.

“Carl Dunham.” A figure said. One with a familiar face. A familiar expression and a well-known name.

“Lecturer Jin…” Carl said through the gritted pain. He bared his teeth, clenching his jaws while keeping his brain active. Pushing himself further away from falling unconscious.

“…or should I call you Cult Rebel Jin. I didn’t think you were a part of this.” He said. The back of his throat hoarse with pain.

The man stopped, tilting his head slightly with a raised brow.

Another robed figure walked up to him, leaning into his ear as he whispered into it.

“Oh,” Jin said. Words of realization, a stifled chuckle escaping his lips.

Carl raised a brow, curiosity etched in his worn-out face. “What?” He muttered. “What’s so funny.”

Jin didn’t respond. What he did was to simply hold an expression. One where his lips tugged at the side in a smirk, yet his eyes held something deeper. Something extremely malevolent. A dark secret.

He clapped his hands together, ignoring the glare from the boy, his lips parting open slightly. “Oh, you poor, ignorant fool.”

Carl’s head tilted, his brows furrowed in confusion. ‘What?’ He thought, in an attempt to protest, but–

“Oh, Brethren of Mayura! Rise, we have come to proclaim our right.”