Chapter 298: End of Semester (3)

“Ugh, I’m thirsty. Where’s the well, young man?”

A plain-looking old woman asked Vikir.

But Vikir couldn’t treat her just like an ordinary old woman.

“……Nabokov I Quovadis”

The Pope of the Rune Religion. The Leader of the Quovadis Clan.

She was the one of the Oldest saintess from the earlier era. Alive for over 200 years, she had seem everything from the Chaotic Warring state era to the Unified Imperial Era.

‘I only knew her as history in my past life.’

Before Vikir’s regression, Pope Nabokov was an already deceased person.

Originally, she was rumored to be assassinated by Humbert, who was blinded by power.

But with Humbert missing and nowhere to be found, her life extended beyond the originally planned future.

“The future has changed.”

That’s why she is considered the biggest variable in this semester’s parent’s meet.

How much will Pope Nabokov contribute to the future of humanity that will unfold?

Vikir had no idea, as he had never experienced anything like this, even in his past.

‘Now that I see her in person… It doesn’t seem like she’ll be much help.’

The state of Pope Nabokov I wasn’t great.

Judging solely by appearance, she seems not reliable, she had a frail physique, eyes so dull that she couldn’t recognize objects properly, and even a hint of dementia.

At that moment.

“Water! Give me some water, young man!”

Pope Nabokov began to get upset.

She used her trembling hands to pat Vikir’s head.

Vikir momentarily closed his mouth in response to the attack, which had no strength at all.

‘…My comrades who fought on the front line of destruction together always sighed whenever there was a chance. ‘If Pope Nabokov had survived, the Human Alliance wouldn’t have fallen so behind,’ they would say.”

Of course, Vikir didn’t believe anything at that time unless he experienced it himself.

But no matter how you look at it, he felt no power from the old lady in front of him.

It was a completely different atmosphere than when he met the similarly aged Count Cane Corso.

In the end, Vikir sighed and lowered his head.

“If you’re looking for the water source, it’s this way. I’ll fetch some water for you.”

“I’m thirsty, young one. Hurry up!”

Vikir led Nabokov to the water source in front of them.

The large well was full of clear water, and next to it were bowls neatly placed.

It looked like an ordinary spring.

Vikir picked up one of the bowls.

The moment he scooped up the clear water with it.

…Drip!

Water started leaking under the bowl. There was a hole in the bottom.

“Oh no. It’s leaking. Let me get another one for you.”

As Vikir put the bowl down and reached for another one.

Splash!

Suddenly another bowl sank into the water.

“?”

When Vikir turned his head, Nabokov, who had approached without him noticing, tossed another bowl in the water and covered the cracked bowl with the bigger one.

“Now, this one won’t leak.”

“….”

Nabokov chuckled, and Vikir silently watched her.

The gold-rimmed bowl, having completely submerged in the water, indeed wasn’t leaking. Nabokov spoke to Vikir.

“Natural is always the best.”

“…Natural? What do you mean?”

“What’s natural is natural, you know. Do I have to explain that?”

Nabokov’s eyes, gently observing Vikir’s face, curled with kindness.

“Bottoms with cracks or holes should be left as is. Just use something bigger, and you can fill in the gaps. Hohoho-”

However.

“But wouldn’t this make it undrinkable?”

At Vikir’s words, Nabokov widened her eyes.

“If you do this, won’t the water become undrinkable?”

“Hmm? Well, I suppose…”

“And since it’s a communal drinking water, such unhygienic actions shouldn’t be done.”

“…”

When Nabokov was left somewhat speechless, Dolores came running from afar.

“Pope! You’re here! I’ve been waiting for you!”

“Hohoho…”

Mozgus approached quickly and lifted Nabokov.

“What about Luther?”

“Unfortunately, today there’s a performance for the elderly, so he couldn’t make it.”

“Ah, that guy.”

“Are you here to drink water? Shall I fetch a cup for you?”

“It’s fine. I won’t drink.”

“Then why are you here…”

Nabokov, taking her gaze away from the perplexed Mozgus, looked back at Vikir.

Her eyes, once again, softened with compassion at the sight of Vikir standing still and the disheveled Dolores beside her.

“Don’t force yourself to fill the gap. It’s best to embrace everything naturally.”

?”

“Thanks, young one. Thanks to you, I can go in peace.”

After finishing her words, Nabokov patted Mozgus’ shoulders.

Leaving behind cryptic words, she turned away, and the cracked bowl slowly submerged in the water.

* * *

“……”

“……”

Vikir and Dolores were left alone together.

“Goodbye, Uncle!”

Even Pomeranian who had just held Vikir’s hand had now scampered away.

After a brief silence.

“Um. About that…”

Dolores was the first to speak.

“I saw earlier that you were talking about filling water in the gold-rimmed bowl. The Pope’s mind has been a bit unclear lately. Don’t pay too much attention. She often speaks strange things these days…”

However, despite saying this, Dolores seemed to be deeply pondering Nabokov’s words from earlier.

‘I should be able to freely manipulate the resonance phenomenon I felt when casting a blessing buff on Night Hound. For that, the Pope’s advice is crucial.’

The Pope, the oldest and most noble saint of the Rune religion.

‘Some of the feisty saintess’ used to talk about awakening-related matters in the old days. Don’t dismiss those vague words as nonsense; engrave them a little more.’

This was a part Dolores keenly felt when fighting against Dantalian.

Since then, Dolores had been seeking Nabokov’s advice to better aid Night Hound.

Though there wasn’t much advice due to Nabokov showing symptoms of dementia.

Dolores clasped her chin with a serious expression, recalling the recent fight with Belial.

‘There’s no need to struggle alone. Because we are comrades.’

She, who once laughed and cried at a single word from Night Hound, felt a warm flame rise in her chest when he acknowledged her as a comrade.

However, compared to the resonance phenomenon felt during the battle with Dantalian, it was like night and day. Hence, Dolores gathered courage and asked:

‘Night Hound! Please tell me your full name!’

To narrow the gap between her and Night Hound, to understand him better, she requested his name.

‘To increase sacred power, I need that resonance phenomenon from before! Even if it’s not a full name, a small nickname by which I can address you… Can you tell me just a fragment of your name?’

Certainly, there was a bit of personal desire involved.

And at that moment, she heard a fragment of his name for the first time.

“…Van.”

The name she had been so curious about.

The sensation of his warm breath against her ear, which she still vividly remembered, reddened Dolores’ ear once again.

Communal Naming. The process of getting to know each other through names.

There was indeed a mysterious power embedded in names.

Just hearing it allowed Dolores to lead her exhausted body and create incredible miracles.

‘Done, it’s done!’

A phenomenon that couldn’t be experienced or explained to anyone else.

Only Night hound… No, ‘Van’ can get her this excited.

As Dolores recalled that moment, she felt her heart beating rapidly again.

Simultaneously, her mind worked quickly.

‘When I heard a portion of Night Hound’s name, the resonance intensity increased dramatically. Perhaps the issue was the distance between us. The sacred buff has a stronger effect as you get closer. How can I reduce the distance between Night Hound and myself? How can I achieve a slightly stronger resonance…?’

The gap between Night Hound and Dolores still existed.

As long as this gap persisted, Dolores’ sacred power couldn’t resonate perfectly with Night Hound’s soul.

A companion of the soul.

For soul resonance, there needed to be emotional harmony, which required mutual understanding.

Dolores wanted to know more about Night Hound.

She was prepared to understand his destiny, empathize with his pain, and sacrifice for him.

Perhaps that’s why Dolores was feeling anxious.

The more anxious, the more uncertain the future became. This applied to dreams, hopes, futures, and human relationships.

‘Night Hound, I want to know more about you. I want to meet you.’

Right at that moment.

[…Yes! With this, the final winner of the 2nd-year ranking battle has been decided! Now, let’s move on to the highly anticipated 3rd-year! The ultimate ranking battle to determine the top student of the 3rd year!]

From afar, a broadcast announcing the finalists for the 3rd-year finals in the arena could be heard. Dolores spoke hurriedly.

“Oh, Vikir! There. Actually, I came to find you because I have something to say. Ah, but it seems like I’ve run out of time instead.”

“I was planning to go down as well. Speak while we walk.”

“Oh, uh, will you? Thanks. It’s actually about Sinclaire. I wanted to talk to her, and I thought maybe you could arrange a place for us to…”

Vikir nodded in response to Dolores’s words.

‘Perhaps there won’t be much gain even if they talk.’

Sinclaire seemed determined, and a few words from others might not change that.

So, instead of focusing on Dolores’s words, Vikir observed other things.

‘…The trees and magic stones.’

Throughout the path leading to the arena, there were densely planted trees and magic barriers rising along the academy’s outer wall.

Vikir scanned them with a sharp gaze.

‘The arrangement of tree roots and magic stones is quite exquisite.’

When trees and magic stones are placed separately, it doesn’t matter much, but if they are cleverly intertwined like this, there’s a risk of security incidents.

Moreover, in these newly introduced magic stones, there was a faint but unmistakable ‘smell.’

The ‘demon’s scent’ that only Night Hound could detect.

‘It’s time to leave the academy.’

A considerable amount of time had passed since coming here. It was a place where he had somewhat grown attached.

“…”

Nevertheless, Vikir decisively turned his head.

Making all lingering attachments futile.

A desperate battle that might never allow him to return here again could unfold soon.