Chapter 6: The Sixth Cup

Landon’s two brief words made everyone in the carriage give up speaking.

The reason was simple. People returning home to look for others had little desire to chat, especially in the eyes of those who had suffered an earthquake and heavy losses.

So they stopped talking about becoming heroes, earning credits, and the like. Only the person who first brought it up went on with people he knew about trivial matters.

Landon closed his eyes and, half asleep, followed the main group to the teleportation array gate, joining the imperial capital’s fifth reconstruction team.

There were military personnel, merchants, construction companies, the Church of the Goddess, and so on. Griffin’s students came last.

Mr. Bell, a teacher in the academy’s tactical defense department and instructor of Griffin Academy’s special course Magical Tactics, spoke with the military on behalf of all teachers and students.

But the military seemed to value Helentine more. They even asked about her recent situation.

Last time she took Olivia and Landon to a southern city-state for the high tide subjugation battle, Landon had wanted to ask where she got her connections. In the end, he was too busy pulling the two of them back from the battlefield and forgot.

This time he had to ask.

Soon, all thirty-three teachers and students of Griffin Academy merged into the main force and walked into a three-story domed building.

The nine portals, or teleportation arrays, Helentine had built in the Heilhorton Empire were actually huge circular arrays surrounded by dozens of black stone pillars. Each could hold hundreds of people and carriages at once.

There were four such arrays nearby, almost filling the entire suburbs. Because of this, the moat had been expanded outward, and the city walls were much taller than they had been a century ago.

Normally, merchant caravans, the Church of the Goddess, and other factions used this place, paying a toll.

After Landon stepped on, he gripped the carriage reins beside him as the lead teacher instructed, then closed his eyes. Light rose from below and filled his vision completely.

He had ridden the teleportation array twice, and each time it churned his stomach badly.

This time was the same. A dizziness like overturning mountains and seas surged from within. Wails and complaints came without end. After what felt like ages, Landon finally felt the trembling in his legs, opened his eyes, and found students collapsed all around him.

Some foamed at the mouth, some lay prone and vomited, and most covered their mouths, barely holding themselves together.

The military, merchants, and Church of the Goddess people naturally began regrouping and headed to the meeting point mentioned in communications.

The military pulled away the students who had collapsed by the carriages. Landon, one of the few still able to walk, was tasked with pulling a carriage forward.

The first-year students from his carriage had talked about becoming heroes before departure. Now they were sleeping peacefully.

Landon pulled the carriage out, enduring stomach cramps as he left the domed teleportation array, and squinted at the unfamiliar scene outside.

More than half a year had passed, and the West Ring City-State was still buried under its own bones. The evening colors were far too dim, without a trace of life.

The main street, if it could still be called a street, was like an ugly scar torn by a giant beast’s claws. Twisted, broken granite paving stones mixed with building debris, forming rolling hills of rubble.

Several dwarven engineering golems urgently transferred from neighboring territories now lay quietly at the edge of the ruins. Their massive bronze bodies were covered in mud, and the runes at their joints were dim, as if they too felt powerless before the endless cleanup.

Groups of sallow civilians in coarse cloth, under the direction of foremen holding blueprints and a few grim-faced apprentices, cleared smaller debris in the most primitive way: picks, shovels, hands, and ropes.

Magic lamps lit the main work areas and temporary shelters at night. Beyond the light lay vast, unsettling dark ruins.

Clean drinking water had to be replenished through daily water elemental summoning rituals and was rationed.

Food depended mainly on outside supplies to barely fill bellies. A small, relatively flat clearing had been cleared and packed with low wooden shacks and tents. This was the “new home” of most survivors.

The only buildings near the West Ring City-State teleportation array still intact were the military camp and related buildings.

These places were solid, and the underground cavities had not extended here.

Landon guessed the heretics had not dug this far down.

But these places were only a small part of the whole West Ring City-State, so they were probably packed with people now.

Landon did not know so many pairs of pupils staring at him. Each was so unfamiliar, so startling. The cloudy pupils seemed to be trying to make him read the sorrow they had endured, casting frightening looks again and again.

Landon unconsciously shifted his gaze.

A few students who had just regained the ability to move had already run into the refugee crowd to comfort them.

Landon disapproved, but asked the fourth batch reconstruction team stationed locally for the latest blueprints, missing persons report, and map.

“From Whisper Town?”

The person in charge, with deep dark circles under his eyes, looked up from the pile of documents, sized Landon up, then with great difficulty fished out a piece of tea-stained kraft paper from the stacks.

The missing persons report for Whisper Town was only one sheet. The whole town had 732 people, at least two years ago. Now the report was only this one sheet.

Usually the town was crowded enough that finding Liana took half a day. Now it took only an hour to find a sheet with half the town’s names and ages.

“Whisper Town is not part of this reconstruction mission… my condolences.”

“Then when…”

“Who the hell knows.”

The old man cursed, as if after countless appeals and arguments, only helpless self-mockery remained.

“Don’t waste your effort.”

After Landon left, he squatted under the magic lamp in the corridor and studied the paper for a long time.

He saw Uncle Lille from the bakery, the Mother Director at the little hill church, the blacksmith grandpa who had been so good to Landon…

So he hurried back to the rest point, took off the awkward school uniform, changed into military special tactical clothes, and packed dry rations, water, flint, a dagger, and a hairpin he had bought for Liana.

He carried as much food and water as possible. He took only one sleeping bag.

“Sneaking off again?”

Just as he sat on the ground tying his shoelaces, Helentine suddenly appeared before him, reeking of alcohol, the corner of her mouth curved up slightly.

She crossed her arms, face slightly flushed, eyes fixed on the large pack on Landon’s back.

“How much have you had today?”

“The sixth cup.”

“Then you should stop.”

“I’ll try.”

Landon did not answer her question. As usual, he urged her not to drink too much.

Helentine’s eyes held a bit of doting affection. In the end, she pretended to be drunk and pitched forward. Even though there were still a few steps between them, Landon caught her in one stride.

A soft, fragrant weight fell into his arms, but the smell of alcohol was heavy. Definitely more than six cups.

So Landon immediately adjusted his hold, intending to carry her to the room used as a classroom, only to find her arms had looped around his neck and locked tight.

“Take me with you, or you’re not going anywhere.”

📚 Also on NHV Novels

Our Guide to the Second World

CapableDevotedGuideverse

Read Now →
Not interested