**chapter 81**
—
A semester at Arcane University was largely divided into midterms and finals.
And now, with half the semester gone, the midterm season was approaching.
*‘Among them, Professor Chizzy’s lecture is replaced by a group project, the rest are just written exams. The swordsmanship lecture is…’*
According to Ellin, it was to be decided through sparring.
And the sparring opponent was none other than Ellin Leverkusen, standing right before him.
At that thought, Arthur realized why Ellin had come to find him.
“Kind of tricky, isn’t it?”
“Right?”
“Yes. What do you think, Ellin?”
Ellin smirked, the corners of her mouth rising.
“It feels both good and bad.”
“…?”
“On one hand, it feels bad thinking I have to spar with you and beat you. On the other hand, it feels good thinking I’ll win the duel.”
At her words, Arthur blinked.
*‘Oh… Ellin is certain of victory?’*
For some reason, she didn’t look like someone who intended to lose this match.
*‘Interesting… hmm.’*
Of course, her confidence was not baseless.
The granddaughter of one of the Empire’s only three Sword Masters.
And not just any family—the granddaughter of the Leverkusen family, a house renowned as the greatest swordsmanship clan. It would’ve been stranger if she *didn’t* show this kind of confidence.
*‘But I don’t intend to lose either.’*
He was now the rightful heir to House Bayern.
Never mind Yonel’s expectations—he needed qualifications befitting that position.
And to prove that qualification, Arthur was aiming for the top of Arcane University.
*‘One day I’ll inherit the family… What better proof of worth than graduating as the valedictorian of Arcane University?’*
With that in mind, defeat against Ellin was not an option.
Arthur raised the corners of his lips.
“Interesting. I don’t plan on losing either.”
Ellin chuckled and proposed,
“In that case, how about a bet?”
“A bet?”
“Isn’t it a waste to just decide it with a duel? After all…”
Ellin’s eyes gleamed as she trailed off.
“It’s our rematch after two years.”
Arthur nodded.
“Alright. What should the bet be?”
“Hm… how about one reasonable wish? Nothing too outrageous. It’s a bit cliché, but what do you think?”
“Oh? Not bad.”
Ellin raised a finger.
“Then it’s settled. No backing out later, alright?”
“Of course. Same goes for you, Ellin.”
At Arthur’s words, Ellin clenched her fists inwardly.
*‘Good! …Not bad at all!’*
In an unexpected situation, a surprisingly neat stage had been set.
*‘Turn a crisis into opportunity… as the old saying goes.’*
She muttered under her breath and smiled.
In truth, when she learned Arthur was her sparring partner, she had agonized over it.
And for good reason—crossing swords with someone she had feelings for wasn’t exactly enjoyable.
But now, she wondered if perhaps it was a good thing.
*‘Beyond liking someone, once I’ve picked up the sword, losing is not an option.’*
The truth was, she had never once lost since she first picked up a blade.
And the one who handed her that very first defeat had been Arthur Bayern.
*‘Sure, I was distracted that time… but a loss is still a loss. Arthur was the superior one that day.’*
And now, upon meeting him again, she felt another kind of defeat.
*‘That strike he showed in our first class… what in the world was that?’*
No matter how she thought about it, she couldn’t understand Arthur’s strike that day.
A blow so fluid it seemed to split a mineral clean in two during a wooden-sword test?
Of course, it had ultimately proven to be an illusion, but she still couldn’t erase the memory of that strike.
Perhaps because of that, she sometimes wondered if Arthur’s sword might actually be superior to her own.
Naturally, Ellin was not accustomed to these feelings.
*‘This duel will be a good chance to shake them off.’*
But merely avenging her defeat wouldn’t be enough.
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed.
*‘If I win the duel, then my wish will be…’*
Her lips curled in a sly grin at the thought.
Across from her, Arthur stroked his chin in thought.
*‘Hmm… what should I ask for as my wish?’*
For Arthur, the outcome was already decided.
No matter how skilled Ellin was, he simply couldn’t picture himself losing to anyone in a blade-to-blade match.
The only question left was what to claim as his prize.
As he pondered, something suitable came to mind.
*‘I wonder if repairing the Meteoric Iron Sword would be possible?’*
He wasn’t the sentimental type when it came to possessions—but his sword was different.
Especially his father’s only keepsake, the Meteoric Iron Sword.
Though broken, he had kept it all this time, and now seemed like the perfect chance.
*‘It may never serve as a practical combat weapon again, but if it’s just restoring it to its original state, surely the Leverkusen family could manage it…’*
Arthur nodded at the thought.
If anyone could repair the Meteoric Iron Sword, it would be the Leverkusens, famed masters of the blade.
Finishing his thoughts, Arthur smirked.
“I’m looking forward to it, Ellin.”
“Same here.”
“I won’t be holding back.”
“That’s my line.”
With those words, they stood and parted for their respective lectures.
“Midterms are finally starting. Next week will just be brief exam instructions…”
In the following classes, the instructors explained the midterm process.
Fortunately, none of the exams were as unusual as Professor Chizzy’s or the swordsmanship exam.
Still, the study load was enormous—just as one would expect of Arcane University.
*‘Doesn’t look easy…’*
Arder twirled his pen, thinking.
*‘But maybe that’s a good thing…’*
His thoughts drifted back to past memories.
*‘If I recall, Sir Willet said the black market opens this weekend, right?’*
—
—
About three months ago, Willet had gifted him a black market ticket, under the pretense of a “present.”
*‘I heard it’s the largest black market held in Arcane?’*
And since Arcane itself was founded on immense wealth, the largest black market here meant the largest in the entire continent.
In his previous life, Arthur had purchased bloodlines, elixirs, and various rare items from such black markets.
This time, he felt that same anticipation.
*‘If I’m lucky, I might even find a decent sword, not just bloodlines or elixirs.’*
Back in his days of madness, equipment hadn’t meant much to him.
But now, with a clear head, he realized how much top-tier artifacts and gear could change the tide of battle.
*‘Just look at the Beast. With the continent’s biggest black market, there’s bound to be something worthwhile.’*
So, before focusing on midterms, he decided his last outside task would be visiting the black market.
*‘Once midterms are over, I’ll be out hunting again anyway. Fixing my broken sword and meeting Sir Willet now wouldn’t be a bad idea.’*
And so, the weekend morning arrived.
Arthur rose early and visited the tailor shop in District A-1, *“Manners Make the Man.”*
“Good morning, Sir Willet.”
Willet, reading a newspaper, blinked at him.
“…Donn. Is that you?”
“Yes, it’s me.”
“…Not a hallucination?”
Arthur tilted his head.
“Have you been drinking this morning?”
“…Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m sober.”
“Then why are you calling me a hallucination?”
Instead of answering, Willet sighed.
“It’s just surprising you’re alive.”
“…Wow. Were you hoping I was dead?”
“That’s not it, but I thought you were, after the incident you caused.”
Arthur chuckled.
“Well… it was dangerous, but I handled it pretty well.”
“You call that handling it well?”
Willet let out a dry laugh, shaking his head.
“Well… we’ll talk downstairs. You came for the black market, right?”
When Arthur nodded, Willet led him down into the underground tavern.
There, more mercenaries than usual were drinking heavily.
But the moment Arthur stepped inside, all of them paused and turned their gazes on him.
*‘Oh… is this because of the recent incident?’*
Arthur smirked at the mixture of curiosity, unease, and expectation in their eyes—along with less favorable feelings.
He’d seen such looks countless times in his past life.
That familiar, unpleasant gaze made him mutter,
*‘Looks like things will get troublesome again… people who give me those looks never fail to cause trouble.’*
And all of those who caused trouble had ended up dying by his hand.
Arthur hoped it wouldn’t come to that this time, as he entered Willet’s office.
“You felt it, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then you understand why I was surprised to see you alive.”
Arthur nodded.
Willet didn’t press further and instead pulled out a golden goblet, the same one Arthur had seen before.
“When I first heard the story, I couldn’t believe it. So I have to ask—was it intentional?”
Pouring vodka, Willet gave him a sharp look.
Arthur tilted his head.
“Who knows.”
“…?”
“Maybe it was intentional, maybe it wasn’t.”
Willet’s hand trembled slightly, the goblet pausing midair.
“…You’ve gotten sly, haven’t you?”
Arthur grinned.
“Not sly. I learned. From you, Sir.”
“I don’t recall teaching you. Did you steal it from me?”
Willet laughed, seemingly pleased, and filled the cup.
“Fine. What will it take for you to hand me that information?”
“Mm… not now. Could I sell it to you later?”
“Not if the price doesn’t match its worth.”
“Come on. The inside story of an entire slave market disappearing? You can’t lowball me on that.”
Willet downed the vodka in one gulp and muttered.
“You’re not sly—you’re irritating. But fine… let’s hear it.”
So Arthur began to explain.
With anyone else, Willet would have demanded firmer guarantees. But not with Arthur.
As he listened, Willet’s expression grew unreadable.
“…So you blew up a mana plant?”
“Yes.”
“Are you insane?”
Arthur shrugged.
Willet frowned deeply.
“You do realize, don’t you? The rule here is never to touch city property.”
“Oh, I know. I only meant to cut the power, but then… boom! Still, it all wrapped up nicely.”
“…You call that wrapped up?”
“Yes. So you don’t need to worry.”
Willet twitched his lips.
“…You’re terrifying sometimes.”
“Me?”
“Wouldn’t you be? Reckless as hell, yet somehow you survive. Makes me envious of that luck.”
Arthur smirked.
“If luck repeats, isn’t it just skill?”
Willet gave a dry laugh.
“Maybe… who knows.”
“Yes. That’s all there is. Nothing much afterward.”
Arthur deliberately left out his meeting with Whitebeard.
Thankfully, Willet didn’t pry further.
Instead, he tapped the table thoughtfully before muttering,
“…As I said before, our office can’t protect you.”
“That’s fine.”
“But I can at least tell you this—what you did has stirred quite a commotion in this city.”
Arthur tilted his head.
“A commotion? What kind?”
Willet placed a cigar between his lips.
“The big names of the underworld have started taking an interest in you.”
Arthur’s eyes narrowed.
“\[The Seven Sovereigns], \[The Pirates], even \[Pilot] and \[Bond]. They’ve all asked for information about you.”
At that, Arthur recalled,
*‘The Seven Sovereigns and the Pirates—I’ve run into them before.’*
They were the two major organizations that practically controlled Arcane’s underworld.
Sure, Sky Island was another, but that was a continent-spanning force, not one tied to Arcane itself.
Willet exhaled smoke as he continued,
“I didn’t give them anything—for now. But one way or another, they’ll get wind of the rumors. Then they’ll reach out to you in their own ways.”
Arthur nodded.
“So you’re saying it’ll be up to me from there.”
“There’s always the option of retiring.”
“Bit too young for that.”
Willet chuckled.
“You might get forced into retirement. Anyway… what I’m saying is, maybe you should skip this black market.”
Arthur tilted his head.
“Why? I went to the trouble of getting a ticket.”
“Because the very organizations I mentioned will be there.”
Arthur whistled.
“Oh… so you’re suggesting I lie low for now?”
“Exactly. To be blunt, the host of this black market is the \[Seven Sovereigns].”
Willet snapped his fingers.
“One of the groups interested in you. Personally, I think it’s safer not to go.”
Arthur stroked his chin.
*‘Hmm… logically, he’s right.’*
There was no need to attract more attention now.
If his memory was correct, the Seven Sovereigns and the Pirates were filled with dangerous people—even if not at Whitebeard’s level.
*‘But do I really need to avoid it?’*
Arthur smirked.
If he hadn’t wanted to stand out, he shouldn’t have caused an explosion in the first place.
But what was done was done—no point in complaining about the consequences.
*‘Besides, I need a decent sword. Given that, going is the right call.’*
When Arthur raised his head, Willet muttered,
“So you’re going, then?”
“Huh? I didn’t even answer. How did you know?”
“Your face says it all.”
Arthur grinned, and Willet shook his head.
Now he could even predict Arthur’s answers just from that smile.
*‘I hate that I’m getting used to him…’*
Willet muttered under his breath and handed him a slip of paper.
Arthur glanced at it.
“District B-13? The black market is here?”
Willet replied,
“Correct. To be precise, it’s one of the many entrances to it.”
“So there are others too?”
“Most places where Black Spires stand serve as gateways to the black market.”
Arthur paused mid-nod.
*‘Huh?’*
Black Spire?
The term sounded familiar.
And then it clicked.
*‘Whitebeard of Sky Island.’*
The place he’d said to come find him—if Arthur wished to see him again—was this very *Black Spire*.
—
