# Enhanced Translation
The next day, Ivan headed to school as soon as he opened his eyes. There was something he still needed to confirm.
After Harry Potter and Tara Duncan (this one's a bit ambiguous) opened new horizons in the academy genre, otherworld magic schools always had to suffer from terrorism, tax audits, collapses due to failed experiments, disasters caused by magical creatures brought in at the insistence of mad professors, and tragedies originating from ancient ruins locked away underground.
Most of these issues had already been resolved now that they were entering their second year. St. Yansk University was a three-year program, but since no academy genre protagonist ever completed the full curriculum anyway, it didn't matter.
But what's worth noting is that in none of the academy stories Ivan had seen did the school ever "completely" collapse.
That was obvious, in a way. The academy genre revolves around stories centered on schools. Even Harry Potter, after dropping out, had to frequently visit the school to fight against terrorists targeting the combined elementary, middle, and high school educational facility.
So if he were to apply that cliché to his current situation...
"Not even a trace remains."
Ivan lamented blankly as he stared at the university grounds.
The half-demolished university grounds bore clear signs of battle. From the research building to the theology wing, the magic department, and the knight faculty—nothing remained intact.
He slowly walked through the campus, examining the traces. Destruction marks from magic and sword strikes were scattered everywhere.
Perhaps this was inevitable. Unless the military intervened, the university was the most powerful armed group in the city.
It was a training facility for magicians and knights, after all. And with foreign nobles present, they wouldn't have trusted this country's military enough to just stay home.
What hot-blooded aspiring magicians and knights would do in an emergency situation was predictable. They would have gathered at the university—a place filled with weapons and magical experimental tools—to organize a resistance.
And they must have been somewhat... excited. How thrilling it must have been to apply what they'd learned in a real-life situation. Especially when facing foreign corpses they didn't need to feel guilty about.
In the darkness that enveloped Pritzenkaya for days, the university had vanished without a trace...
"They took everything quite thoroughly."
He searched through the faculty building just in case, but nothing remained. The students had swept away all the research facilities, materials, reagents, and weapons under the pretext of emergency.
At this rate, even if they reopened, the university couldn't possibly function normally.
But more importantly...
"No students will come now anyway."
A military dictatorship that had gone through civil war and even launched foreign expeditions. A cost of living that was quite high for the environment. And now, with the entire capital having been invaded by demons.
That would be bad enough, but nowhere in the world was safe now. Tilles had been cut in half, the Six Southern Nations hadn't finished their war yet, Kalion was fractured into pieces, and Droan remained silent.
At such a critical time, no noble would send their precious child abroad to "study." Not only was the journey treacherous, but any student qualified to enter this university would be better utilized as an immediate asset if taught at home.
So, to summarize...
"The academy is out of business."
Ivan calmly confirmed this as he passed through the half-destroyed campus.
If the transmigrator trio had heard this, they might have lamented, "You've barely spent any time at school to begin with, so why bring this up now?"
But Ivan continued walking with a bitter feeling.
If his "page" had been an academy story, there could have been an ending to imagine.
The typical academy ending usually concludes with "the protagonist graduating, starting a happy family, and enrolling their child in the same school." In other words, a happy ending no matter what.
But what if this were a hero story?
From the origins of hero stories like King Arthur (male version), the legend of Charlemagne, to fictional characters like Tai and Link.
All of them died "tragically." Even Maximillian was faithfully following the "fallen hero" cliché in his narrative.
The fortunate thing was that the hero of this era wasn't him but Isabelle... though in that case, the "hero's mentor who dies in the final battle" cliché might still apply to him.
Ivan organized his thoughts as he headed toward Isabelle's house.
"I'll end this without anyone dying."
If he had to affirm his ultimate goal...
He wanted an ending where everyone could be satisfied.
Whether for "that hand in the sky" that had thrown him into this land...
Or for himself, who had endured for over 30 years after transmigration, unable to die...
Or for others who had gone ahead wishing for his happiness...
He would ensure that when the final page closed, no one would die.
And to achieve this, now was the time to prepare. Ivan checked his axe and pistol once more as he opened the door to Isabelle's mansion.
EP43. The Academy is Out of Business.
Three days after the situation was resolved, the Krasilov 2nd Corps finally arrived at the Pritzenkaya underground railway.
It was an impressively swift march. In fact, most countries in the Six Southern Nations hadn't even properly realized that the holy war had ended.
"Your Majesty, please wait!! The unloading isn't finished yet!!"
As soon as the train stopped, a guard officer rushed to desperately dissuade Elizabeta, who was about to smash the window.
"Move aside! What unloading? If you can't open the door, I'll break the window myself and get out!"
"Your Majesty! You must comfort the soldiers who have completed the expedition and proudly announce the results of the campaign!!"
The guard officer tried to convey "please maintain your dignity" as diplomatically as possible, but Elizabeta's fist was already striking the train window.
The window shattered into pieces like the guard officer's heart. Elizabeta's fist, having reached the realm of the transcendent, remained clean without a single scratch.
She roughly brushed away the glass fragments caught in the broken window and said:
"How can I wait! Who knows what Vanka has done!"
"What could Lord Yeremov possibly do to this city?!"
"I don't know! That's why I'm even more afraid!!"
She'd sent him to the university, and he'd rummaged through underground ancient ruins and caused earthquakes throughout the city.
She'd dispatched him to the dwarf civil war, and he'd smashed the minions of the Seven Dragon Generals and returned.
She'd let him go to Tilles, and a civil war broke out.
He'd smuggled himself out to Kalion, and Kalion evolved from a nation into city-states.
He'd followed the Saintess to the Six Southern Nations, and now a holy war had erupted.
And at the end of all that, his destination after saying "I have urgent business and must go ahead" was Pritzenkaya.
It was difficult to even imagine what had happened to her beloved city. She couldn't send scouts ahead either. No scout could have been faster than the dwarf-made train.
Except, of course, for that one scout who was a high-ranking officer of the Annihilation Squad.
But how much of a time difference could there be? At most five days, at least three. Only that much time had passed since Ivan arrived in this city.
So this was just needless anxiety... just that and nothing more...
"Your Majesty, Your Majesty!! P-please forgive my impertinence!!"
"...Dmitri?"
As she was about to jump off the train and head to the surface, Dmitri, who had apparently gone ahead to check outside, came running back with his prosthetic leg clanking. He hurriedly prostrated himself before her.
"Take a... take a deep breath, Your Majesty."
"It seems to me that you're the one who needs to catch your breath, not I."
"Well... um... perhaps it would be better if you didn't go to the surface right now..."
"Speak plainly. Do you wish to be disciplined?"
At the commanding voice of the war monarch who had led every war to victory since the civil war, Dmitri closed his eyes tightly and spoke with a sigh.
"I was too late, Your Majesty."
"What do you mean?"
"Senior... Lord Yeremov seems to have already arrived in Pritzenkaya. Please forgive the urgency of my report. This is, this is..."
"I already anticipated that Vanka would arrive in this city first. Don't stall. Move aside! I must see for myself!!"
Unable to dissuade Elizabeta, Dmitri stepped back with a guilty expression. He quickly whispered to the guard officer.
"Where are the ladies-in-waiting?"
"They're following behind, Lord Cherkatov."
"Tell them to hurry and attend to Her Majesty. Before her royal body is harmed."
"...Pardon? Her royal body harmed...?"
"Someone needs to catch her if she faints, and we can't do it ourselves!"
The guard officer's expression twisted strangely at Dmitri's exclamation.
At that moment, Elizabeta was striding (as much as dignity would allow, she couldn't actually run) toward the surface.
After passing through a long corridor and taking an elevator up, she finally saw the sky. Having spent over two weeks underground on trains, she had missed the sky.
On a clear, bright summer noon, she smiled slightly, savoring the feeling of returning home. Smoke rising into the sky was a pleasant sight, showing her people cooking meals and working.
Good, now I can rest in the inner palace for a while with Vanka—
With Vanka...
"...?"
Smoke rising.
But was cooking smoke usually black...?
"...????"
The elevator stopped with a stiff friction sound. The doors opened with a clatter, revealing the cityscape of the country she loved.
People were flooding the streets in panic, numerous palisades stood from the palace avenue all the way to the distant gate tower,
Soldiers patrolling the main roads threatened citizens with ominously gleaming weapons...
Black smoke rising from broken houses and debris...
"Are they... burning corpses??"
Elizabeta found herself muttering blankly.
Pritzenkaya had become a city bearing three skulls. Arithmetically and physically, it had probably received many more skulls than that.
She laughed, "Haha," and shook her head.
"Dizziness... Yes, dizziness! I must be experiencing land sickness. I've heard about this. Something sailors often experience."
Oh my.
She forced a laugh, tightly closed her eyes, and rubbed her forehead for a while before shaking her head. No matter what, as a monarch, she had dignity to maintain and couldn't show such a reaction.
She smiled brightly and opened her eyes again.
There still lay the view of Pritzenkaya bearing three skulls.
"...Vanka."
Who else could be the source of the calamity that had befallen this city?
"Vanka...!!"
Her hand gripping the ceremonial sword turned white with tension.
Trembling, she shouted:
"Bring Vanka before my eyes immediately. Now!!"
Her scream echoed for a long time over the Krasilov palace.