A brave man may not live, but he cannot die

Chapter 283 The Prequel to Aiswell's Past

"Merlin's Book"

He murmured those four words repeatedly.

A golden hanging ring, a wizard's hat, the Elder Wand, and a spellbook. It was a sacred relic left behind by Merlin, known as the Book of Merlin, kept at the top of the Whale's Bones Library. Every year, a new page would be turned, recording names, ages, and locations.

Those were Merlin's chosen students, from all over the world, anchoring those truly "talented" and worthy of being nurtured by Grindelwald amidst the tides of time. Horus was also chosen in this way; on his way home from Imperial Public School, he saw an owl standing at his doorstep, carrying an envelope stamped with Grindelwald's postmark.

Horus held the child tightly in his arms, looking warily at Hermes, the old man he knew all too well, in a tailcoat, with tortoiseshell glasses and a black snake coiled around his shoulder.

All of this happened so suddenly that he, who had already resolved to die, refused to believe it.

“Celia Britannia Augustus, a freshman in Grindelwald's Class of 1454, is one and a half years old and lives in the British capital.” Hermes read the note in his hand methodically, and said as always in a rigid manner, “We hope that every freshman can enter school in good health, so we have come to pick them up early.”

Upon hearing this, the portly man on the boat raised his whiskey and, quite inconsiderately, toasted, "I'm security guard. Never seen you before, huh? New hire, don't be afraid."

Horus did not put down the child in his arms.

“Prove it to me.” His words seemed to echo with the roar of a dragon, a sign that the arcane arts were all ready.

If these two cannot prove their identities, he will not hesitate to act even if the next spell will kill him.

"Proof?" The fat man on the boat was clearly drunk. He swayed left and right, complaining, "Damn it, I don't have a school janitor's ID. All I did was use the college's funds to buy alcohol. Is it really necessary to confiscate it? Stingy, Hermes, stingy—"

He Mo said calmly, "Preventing antique fraud is everyone's responsibility."

Horus's tense shoulders relaxed.

"He translated this thing into ancient Heramitian, and it looks exactly like the alchemical inscriptions in the textbook. Don't blame me."

"Actually, the shop owner is my student." He Mo smiled, a rare occurrence for him. "He's not short of money, he just has a penchant for being a scoundrel, and every year some freshmen get scammed. He saw that you liked that cauldron, so he deliberately sold it to that girl, waiting to see even more fun."

Horus smiled wryly and said, "Dean, it's been a long time. It's a pleasure to see you. I'm really happy."

His tone was like a stone hanging on a cliff finally falling to the ground.

“I’m also very happy to see you.” Hermes paused. “I would be even happier if you could share your research on that dragon language magic with the academy.”

"It seems like that opportunity is gone."

Horus carefully placed the child on the snow.

The child, hypnotized by sleep manipulation, was fast asleep, completely unaware of what had happened.

Children of this age don't remember much. Even if they witnessed their parents perish in a fire, they will forget these painful memories as they grow up.

"The 1454th class, fourteen years later... Doesn't the Book of Merlin only summon students from that year?" Horus asked as he wiped the blood from her wounds.

“There are times when students are admitted early.” He Mo looked at the adorable doll amidst the blood-stained clothes, a hint of regret in his eyes: “Where are her parents?”

Horus shook his head and said nothing.

“This child is sure to be a genius who will amaze everyone,” Hermes comforted him. “Even you couldn’t make the Book of Merlin reveal its name fourteen years ahead of schedule.”

Horus turned the clothes over so that the blood-free silk could wrap her tightly, leaving no gaps that could let the cold wind in.

He could only move one hand, but he still managed to lift the child up with difficulty and solemnly hand him to Hermes.

"Then I'll leave it to you."

Horus looked at her, as if he had been thinking for a long time, but in reality he only hesitated for a second before continuing, "If she can become a more powerful archmage than me, then let her come back, twist Aaron's head off, tell her who her parents are, and let her reclaim her country."

"If not, then forget it. Don't tell her anything. Let her grow up happily and be a carefree adult like her mother. That's my only request."

"By the way, her name is Celia," Horus repeated. "Her name is Celia."

"And what about you?" Hermes looked at the man who was swaying precariously.

"The academy does not participate in secular political struggles, so I can stay here."

Hermes did not deny it.

Grindelwald must maintain an absolutely pure academy structure, with everything geared towards arcane education and the fight against the Daedric Prince, and must not participate in any external political struggles—this is the ironclad rule left by Merlin.

Even if Horus were to die in the royal city, the Academy would not react. Any graduate who leaves Grindelwald is no longer under the Academy's responsibility, which is why the Academy does not interfere with the graduates' whereabouts.

The reason why Hermes and the guards waited here, rather than in the royal city or somewhere closer, was the same.

“You can come with us.” Hermes didn’t look at him, as if he were doing things by the book as always. He explained his reasoning: “We are taking Celia to enroll new students. The academy has an obligation to ensure the safety of the chosen ones of the Book of Merlin. This does not violate any principles.”

"But given that she is not yet of school age, we need to find her a guardian."

"Of course, if you want revenge, Grindelwald will not offer you any help, and will also forbid you from using students who have not yet graduated." His tone was exceptionally ruthless, but it sounded as if he was trying to justify his actions.

Hermes really liked this student.

"Thank you, Dean."

Horus gave a bitter laugh and lifted the back of his clothes, which were stained with blood.

A deep, bone-revealing arrow wound ran across his back, his muscles were pale, and his skin had turned a pale purple from the cold and blood loss, with a corpse-like bluish-gray tinge. Heaven knows how he managed to hold on until now.

"Left by the Grand Master of the Dragonblood Knights. If it weren't for the 'scapegoat,' I would be dead by now, but as you can see, even a seventh-tier defensive arcane spell couldn't stop this arrow. That guy sits next to me in Parliament; I know him well. An archer, Sequence 3. This wound will allow him to chase me back to the Empire."

"If he finds out I've returned to Aswell, the academy will be in big trouble. The Church won't let this opportunity pass, and the Holy See is splitting the four major schools; I can't go back now."

The security guard beside him agreed, "The Traveler? That means they can chase you to the ends of the earth. Spatial teleportation is useless against them; their dog-like noses can even reach the spirit world."

Hermes did not answer, but instead began to examine Horus's wounds.

Arcane masters are always straightforward: they ask questions and solve problems, rather than wasting time on pointless persuasion and excuses. He was wondering if he could heal the injury.

Unfortunately, he wasn't a White Cult transcendent skilled in healing, nor did he have the means to cast high-level healing spells. Forget healing him; this was a Sequence Three injury, and if Horus didn't return to the academy soon, he would die here.

"The 'scapegoat' won't last long; my mana is burned out. He'll realize where I am in no time; that distance is nothing more than a matter of seconds for a traveler. You must take the princess away quickly."

Suddenly, he heard a voice coming from the sky.

"Where are you going?"

Indifferent, detached, as if speaking to ants at one's feet. He turned and looked at the dragon-blooded knight floating in the air, holding a large bow made from a dragon's rib.

Before he could even draw his bow, his gaze fell upon the two men on the ground, frozen in place. No matter how powerful an arcanist, being caught off guard by a superhuman in close combat was tantamount to certain death.

"Is there still Mana?" the Dragonblood Knight Commander asked his former colleague.

Horus took a deep breath and did not answer the question.

His voice, compared to the man in the air, was as powerless as a bird falling to the ground compared to an eagle.

“Arthur respects you from the bottom of his heart, just as he did the late king. You're a fool to betray him and choose Aaron.”

He exhaled, a mocking tone in his voice, and Horus didn't even look at him anymore, disdaining to associate with him. Hastings said coldly, "I have served four kings, and it makes no difference to me who sits on this throne. My loyalty is to Britain."

Horus said no more, instead focusing his remaining mental energy on arcane magic.

Dragon language magic doesn't require much mana; it's more like a word of power, a "divine word" that drives rules with words. He had never used the spell he researched, and didn't know if it would succeed, but Horus thought it might be able to stop this guy.

Hastings looked at the old man next to Horus.

"Two hundred years ago, on the front lines of the Empire's war against demons, I saw you." This might be the reason why Hastings didn't act immediately.

Hemo nodded slightly and replied indifferently, "I've never seen you before."

“Back then, I was just a nobody.” Hastings placed his hand on the spear behind his back.

Those were not arrows, but weapons that could be called spears, each one a dragon's tail spike. Paired with that great bow, he could even shoot down stars.

"Grindelwald Academy, Director of the School Affairs Office, Executive Vice President." Hermes didn't bother with pretense and introduced himself: "Hermes."

Hastings paused, not out of fear, but because he needed to ascertain the other party's stance before committing the murder.

"Grindelwald is going to get involved in British affairs?"

Hermes shook his head slightly.

"I'm just here to take my student away."

"which one?"

"two."

The black snake swam into Hermes' hand and transformed into a magic wand. He showed no intention of taking the child, saying only "Let's go," before chanting a spatial magic spell as if no one else was around.

"Then your corpse will become evidence of the cult's attack on the academy. I regret it, Lord Hermes." With the sound of the longbow being drawn, it was like a giant pulling the tendons out of a dragon's corpse. The sound of the bowstring vibrating alone drowned out the roar of the great river, and even the flying snow became chaotic!
"Horus, I will remember you. You exceeded my expectations, and you were very brave."

Horus looked at the dean, his eyes filled with nothing but nonchalance.

He knew he couldn't do it; dragon language magic was ultimately not a power that mortals could control. But the good news was that he seemed to be able to squeeze out a little more magic power. Perhaps he could hold out until the Dean finished casting his spatial magic.

Horus meant to tell her to take good care of her.

It hadn't been long before he vaguely realized that he was actually starting to feel a little reluctant to part with the little guy.

But just as he was about to abandon the princess and turn to fight,

A furious roar, completely devoid of drunkenness, suddenly rang out beside me—

"You bastard! When did knights become such pathetic creatures? I'm going to blast you to pieces!!"

Not only him, but Hastings in the sky also noticed another person. A bald man wearing a tank top, beach shorts, and flip-flops.

bass--!!

The snapping of the bowstring nearly pierced Horus's eardrums, and he desperately covered the ears of the princess in his arms. The arrow, not fully drawn, was released, not aimed at the two holding the princess, but at the seemingly harmless man standing nearby!

This was an instinctive reaction from a Sequence 3 transcendent.

Like a wolf baring its teeth and howling at the darkness when facing danger.

Horus turned around in surprise, ready to lend a hand to the "security guard," but without arcane magic, he was just a mortal and could only see the end of the battle.

The dragonbone spear shattered in mid-air, exploding into boiling, lava-like dragon flames, sending up a surging shockwave. He seemed to hear the sound of a sword being drawn. Like a solitary melody that swept away all sounds—the wind, the waves, the bowstring, the explosions—he saw the sword light part the smoke.

The drunken man on the boat was gone.

He didn't know what it was. The crimson sword light engulfed the Dragonblood Knight Commander, and the world seemed to be briefly paused.

Until the wind from the knight's sword brushed against his forehead.

The dark clouds parted in a fan shape, following the angle from which the sword had cleaved, and the clear moonlight streamed down. He found his vision suddenly wide open; the surrounding forest had vanished, the earth appeared as if it had been plowed, and the river had become calm. Half of the dragon bone bow fell from the sky, shattering into pieces upon impact with the ground.

This place seemed to be governed by some kind of rule, even the extraction of the extraordinary characteristics of Sequence Three was temporarily suppressed. He heard a man's disdainful voice: "Apple Knight."

"Who are you?" Horus asked, bewildered.

The crimson knight's sword vanished into thin air, and the bald man chuckled, "Me? I am the Andromeda Knight."

"Um, what does Android mean?"

"I don't know, but it's bigger than an apple," the man said, uttering abstract phrases he'd picked up from who-knows-where.

“Let’s go.” Hermes planted his wand in the ground.

A "door" appeared out of thin air.

“Has anyone seen us break the rules?” Hermes asked.

"I didn't see it," the Android security guard shook his head.

"Heh, I didn't see it either."

His vision went black for a moment. Horus, having finished his Grindelwald-esque joke, collapsed silently onto the snow, cradling the princess the little nun had entrusted to him.

It seems that, from beginning to end, the foolish student who was deceived wasn't very smart in some ways.

"He was seriously injured."

The boss scratched his toes. "I don't know how the academy managed to bring him back to life, but the destruction of the arcane circuits is a fact, and even the best tuner can't save him. You should know what the destruction of arcane circuits means for a powerful arcane mage."

"So that's why you asked if he's dead?" Quinn murmured.

He remembered that Celia's adoptive father looked very healthy.

It seems like one of my hands isn't very dexterous, but it shouldn't be to the point of affecting my daily life.

"I did my best," the boss shrugged.

"So you mean the peerless expert invited by the academy 'croaked' and blew up the Dragonblood Knights' commander, and if Hermes hadn't knelt down and begged him not to go, he would have taken his sword and killed King Aaron for entertainment?" Quinn asked, both amused and exasperated.

"How would I know?" The boss rolled his eyes. "I heard it from the previous security guard."

"Impressive," Quinn commented, remaining skeptical for the time being.

"Get lost, get lost! I've told you everything I know, I'm going to sleep."

Grandma Servi came down the stairs carrying a plate of steaming hot, golden-brown fried food and said to the two people chatting, "Fish and chips, fresh out of the oven, eat them while they're hot—"

The boss looked like he'd seen a ghost: "Shit, when did this happen? Get it away, get it away! Mom, stop making this kind of food-wasting stuff."

"I learned this from the sisters in church. Quinn, would you like to pack some to eat at work?"

(End of this chapter)