flstandardbreds Chapter 172 : Chapter 172
Chapter 172 : Chapter 172
Chapter 172. Drinking
The next day, Logaris shut himself inside his private library.
It was less a study than a miniature archive. From Foundations of Magitech Runes to A Study of Magical Beast Biology, rare volumes of every kind were piled up like mountains.
And yet, even after turning over every ancient text that might possibly be relevant and spending half the day at it, he still came up empty-handed.
With a vexed sigh, Logaris snapped shut a thick parchment scroll and rubbed at the space between his brows. He hated this feeling of being out of control. This threat could be coming from anywhere—some ancient creature lying dormant, some catastrophic disaster on the verge of erupting, or perhaps merely a codename.
The unknown was always the greatest fear.
That afternoon, he set out for the Grand Library of the Northern Territory.
Its collection ranked among the finest in the entire kingdom. He needed a far larger pool of information.
Yet even there, most of the records concerning “Wrath” came from folk storybooks and street novels, stuffed with absurd, sensational nonsense and utterly lacking in reference value.
Just as he was about to give up, a familiar flash of gold slipped into the corner of his eye.
By the window, Saintess Aurora sat bathed in the afternoon sunlight, holding a book with elegant poise. Its cover was so gaudy it was almost laughable, depicting a muscle-bound knight gazing passionately at a princess—a textbook third-rate romance novel.
Ever since coming to the Northern Territory for her “inspection,” Her Highness the Saintess had behaved, outside of the necessary official appearances, like an idle holiday traveler with nothing better to do. She had been suspiciously well-behaved.
Logaris walked over.
Hearing his footsteps, Aurora lifted her head from the page. When she saw that it was him, she closed the book and put on that signature smile of hers—perfect, flawless, impenetrable.
“Professor Logaris. What a coincidence.”
Logaris skipped the pleasantries and went straight to the point. “I have a question.”
“If it is serious enough for you to ask in person, then I assume it is no small matter.” Aurora set the book down on the table, her golden eyes—eyes that seemed capable of seeing through everything—resting on him.
“Wrath.” Logaris kept it brief. “Have you ever heard that word before? It may refer to some specific existence, or to an event.”
Aurora did not answer at once. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, as if searching her memory. The sunlight rimmed her figure with a gentle halo, making her look like a sacred statue.
“Wrath...” she repeated softly, uncertainty threading through her voice. “I feel as though I have seen that word somewhere before. It sounds very familiar.”
“Where?” Logaris pressed.
“Perhaps... in the Holy Church’s ‘Silent Archive Room.’” Aurora’s brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. “The records there are never made public.”
“Is it that important?” Aurora asked in return.
“Possibly.” Logaris said no more than that.
Aurora studied the tense line of his face, then gave a soft laugh. “Then I suppose it is very important indeed, if it can make even a fearless professor like you wear an expression like that.”
She lifted the cup of black tea on the table and took a slow, measured sip.
“I can help you look into it,” she said. “I still have a few obedient little believers inside the Holy Church. But the Silent Archive Room is heavily guarded. If I am to obtain anything without leaving a trace, it will take time.”
“My thanks.” Logaris nodded.
“There is no need to be so polite.” Aurora set down her teacup, and a trace of amusement flickered in her eyes. “After all, we are old classmates, are we not? Consider it a return gift for all the help you have given Sylvia over the years.”
...
Meanwhile, in Winter City’s commercial district, the magitech streetlamps on either side of the road shed a warm yellow glow, making the drifting snowflakes look crystalline and translucent.
“Honestly, what is even worth going to in a place full of sweat stink and terrible malt liquor?”
Alice had three skewers of grilled squid in her hand, her mouth stuffed full, yet her body was still being dragged along by Alectos. As she chewed on squid tentacles, she protested through a muffled mouthful, “I want to go back to my room and work on my spell models! Let go of me, you crude barbarian!”
“Stop pretending. Who was it that sneaked into my stash and stole my liqueur chocolates in the middle of the night yesterday?” Alectos wore a loose casual outfit, his striking golden hair hidden beneath a hood. There was still a trace of training fatigue on his face, but his eyes were bright. “We do not have to get up early today, and these past few days of training have worn me half to death. This is the perfect chance to relax a little.”
During this period, he had been undergoing hellish special training under Leonard’s guidance, getting beaten black and blue by that old lion every single day. His nerves had long since been stretched to the breaking point.
“There are plenty of ways to relax, such as sleeping or reading!” Alice tried to anchor herself in place with a Levitation Spell, but Alectos simply grabbed her by the back of the collar and carried her along like a cat.
“I heard that place just got some southern musk melons. Squeezed into juice with a little ice, they taste incredible.”
“...Actually, experiencing the life of commoners is also part of a mage’s cultivation.” Alice instantly dispelled the Levitation Spell and casually tossed her last skewer into a roadside rubbish bin, her expression turning so serious it was as though she were discussing academic theory. “Lead the way.”
Alectos could not help but laugh. He pushed open the heavy oak door beneath the sign that read Tipsy Wildfruit.
“Boom—”
The moment the door opened a crack, a tremendous wave of sound rushed at them, mixed with heat and the fragrance of alcohol—the kind of noise that could only be produced by the purest combination of masculine bravado and fermented liquor.
The tavern was packed so tightly that not a drop of water could have slipped through. Nearly everyone was standing, and some had climbed right onto their chairs. Countless arms waved in the air to the rhythm of clapping and shouting.
“Eighteen! Eighteen! Eighteen!”
The perfectly synchronized roar was so loud that dust fell from the beams overhead.
“What are these people doing? Summoning an evil god?” Alice fanned the air in front of her nose in disgust and cast a small air filtration spell on herself.
“It looks like a drinking contest.” Alectos rose onto his toes for a better look. As a regular customer here, he was no stranger to this kind of atmosphere.
The tavern had a signature liquor called Winterfire, a spirit so strong it could practically be used as fuel. One glass was enough to drop an ordinary person.
And he, a freak with dragon blood in his veins, had once set the legendary record here by downing fifteen bottles in a row without falling. To this day, that record was still engraved in the most conspicuous spot behind the bar.
“Nineteen!!”
A fiercer burst of cheering erupted from the crowd.
Alectos froze for a moment. Nineteen bottles? His record had been broken?
Who the hell was that monstrous? Had that dwarf drill instructor from the legion, the one famous for his drinking capacity, come by?
Curious now, he pushed through the crowd. Relying on sheer physical strength, he forced a path open and made his way to the bar.
The sweat-soaked proprietor was hauling a fresh crate of liquor onto the table, his face red to the neck as he roared at the top of his lungs, equal parts thrilled and horrified to be witnessing history. “Bottle number twenty! This is undiluted distilled spirit at seventy percent purity! Does anyone still dare to place a bet?!”
When the proprietor saw Alectos push his way in, his eyes lit up, as if he had spotted either a savior or an even better show. He seized Alectos by the arm and shouted, “Oh! Look who it is! Our ‘Legend of Fifteen Bottles’! Ale, it looks like your record is coming down tonight!”
“Who can drink that much?” Alectos rolled up his sleeves in disbelief. “It is only twenty bottles. I can als—”
“Twenty-one!!”
The bartender in charge of counting suddenly let out a scream. That number was like some kind of forbidden spell. The entire tavern fell into deathly silence for an instant, only to explode into a howl loud enough to rip the roof off.
“By the Holy Light! Twenty-one bottles! He really drank them!”
“Is that even human? Is there a storage ring inside his stomach?!”
The crowd automatically parted, opening a narrow gap.
Alectos followed everyone’s gaze and looked over.