"I heard he's a friend of my father. Given that my father... prefers deep friendships where he can truly open his heart rather than maintaining a wide social circle, I never imagined there would be someone I hadn't yet met."
Indeed, Elfihera was no pushover. Despite her young age, she had already mastered elven rhetoric.
That was an elven warning shot.
-"Are you really my father's friend? You seem like an impostor. My father doesn't have many friends. I've never seen a 'human' like you before."
The "pure-blooded elf" who had just attacked both her father and Ivan with a single overly polite sentence was nevertheless covering her mouth with a gentle, shy smile.
"We served on the same battlefield."
"Wow! So you were my father's comrade-in-arms. How impressive! If you stood on the same front line as my father during those times, you must have been quite remarkable!"
Elfihera glanced at Ivan's worn work clothes and carpenter's scarf while smiling sociably.
The implication was clear: I find it hard to believe you, but since this meeting was arranged by the eldest son of Baron Eastvelpen, a privy councilor, I'll at least hear what you have to say.
This was actually unavoidable.
It's only natural to be suspicious of any stranger who begins a sentence with "I'm a friend of your father—" unless what follows is "here's some pocket money for you."
Especially when the person is human. Convincing a sensible elf to accept her father's human friend is extremely difficult.
So Ivan decided not to bother trying to persuade her. It would be meaningless and a waste of time.
"I need interpretation of classical spells and protective spells. As you've heard, this is a matter of national security, so confidentiality is also required."
"How could I possibly refuse someone who is my father's friend? However, I regrettably am merely a student, so wouldn't it be better to use your country's wizards for such an important national task?"
This was exactly the response he had expected. Ivan had one more card to play.
"Do you know Beolgrin's hobby?"
"My father's... hobby?"
The most typical means of demonstrating familiarity. He was essentially saying, "Hey, do you even know what your father likes?"
"Lost ancient magic. Especially artifacts close to the mythical age. Am I wrong?"
"Uh, well... that's true...."
This was actually close to being every wizard's hobby. Generally, the more educated and high-ranking people are, the more likely they are to become obsessed with collecting antiques, and once they fall into it, they become so passionately immersed they'd sell the pillars of their house.
Most ancient magic lacks practical use. After all, academic disciplines naturally evolve with time. The notion that something becomes automatically powerful just because the word "ancient" is attached to it is only possible in games.
However, academy ancient artifacts are a different story. The power of ancient artifacts buried beneath an academy has been a standard trope since Hogwarts.
"I hear there's a recently excavated secret ruin under this university, with magic estimated to be at least 1,500 years old sleeping inside. Oh, feel free to spread the word. The official position of the Krasilov monarchy will be to dismiss it as 'groundless rumors' anyway."
"...If it's such an important mission, I find it rather suspicious. Why me of all people...?"
"Those with skill can't be trusted, and those who can be trusted lack skill."
"In your eyes, am I the former or the latter?"
"You're both trustworthy and skilled."
Ivan looked at Elfihera with serious eyes.
"Even if you talk, it's just the statement of a single student. It's not unusual for someone your age to be fascinated with conspiracy theories, and even if some fool believes you, they can't demand a direct investigation in this country, so it won't become public knowledge. That's why I trust you, and why I'm not seeking another 'professional' wizard."
"My father would believe me."
"But Beolgrin isn't stupid enough to pressure a nation just for artifact collection. Isn't that right?"
"Ugh..."
Ivan continued speaking to Elfihera, who was biting her lip.
"And I trust Beolgrin. I respect his abilities. If you're even half as exceptional as your father, your skills are beyond question."
"For your information, he has already checked Ms. Grikenkos' academic record."
"If you take on this task, you'll be able to gift your father 'an artifact from the ancient times beneath Pritzenkaya.' Will you do it?"
"...It seems I have no choice."
Elfihera extended her hand with a gentle smile.
Ivan, who had reflexively flinched, relaxed when he saw that her hand was positioned for a handshake.
"I look forward to working with you. Your name is?"
"Call me Ivan."
"I'm quite familiar with Krasilov culture, and I must say, that's an incredibly uncreative alias, even for a fake name."
"I know."
"...Humans."
Watching the two shake hands, Oswald had to somewhat revise his assessment of Ivan.
Why is he suddenly so articulate...?
Why doesn't he speak like this normally...?
Unfortunately, this transmigrator who hadn't fully adapted to this pre-modern world didn't realize that sometimes there are things more persuasive than words.
But Ivan was a reasonable person, so he knew that persuasion is most effective when it's swift.
The fastest persuasion in the world occurs when one must choose between life and a nod.
Even in pre-modern times, large-scale buildings begin construction with groundwork. This means they know how to start civil engineering works from the underground foundation.
Moreover, this is a world where "sewers" exist. Most of the sewer systems spread throughout this city are older than the city itself, but even so, when constructing a new building, one must start with the underground structures.
And one more thing.
St. Yansk University is less than 20 years old.
It's a newly established university created during wartime. There's no reason, purpose, or capacity for something like a Chamber of Secrets in this building in the middle of the city.
For a secret ancient ruin to exist in the basement of such a building, and for no one to notice it, the physical depth would have to be significant.
Deeper than the sewage facilities in the university basement.
Deep enough to reach the lowest point of the "Pritzenkaya underground waterway," which is said to be older than the city itself.
"Ugh, urgh..."
Ivan ignored Elfihera, who was covering her nose and dry heaving beside him, and continued walking.
The Pritzenkaya underground waterway is certainly not a pleasant space. It's humid, dark, narrow, and filled with viscous streams of decaying sewage.
It's a place crawling with vermin like rats and cockroaches. Not somewhere a young elf could stroll through without discomfort.
"How much... urgh... further do we have to go...?"
"We're almost there."
"You've said that... ugh, urgh! Ten times already!"
"Hmm."
Ivan scanned his surroundings as he walked.
He read the numerous traces on the sewer walls with his eyes.
Artificial structures that aren't maintained inevitably collapse over time. The Pritzenkaya underground waterway is no exception. Unmanaged sections always risk ground collapse.
Signs of deterioration. For instance, you can tell by looking at how cracked and worn the bricks are.
He ignored bricks that had been rounded by pooled water and time, focusing only on traces that were still sharp enough at the edges for stone dust to fall.
These were traces distorted by the influence of dwarven excavation artifacts.
After walking for quite some time, following traces that spread out like an increasingly dense spider web...
"Wow..."
Elfihera stood dazed, forgetting even to cover her mouth.
-Swoooosh....
A massive cavity appeared before them, where underground water that had pooled from rainwater poured down like a waterfall.
Small mushrooms emitting blue light, and sparkling clusters of light that had flowed in from somewhere, circled the edge of the cavity, shining brilliantly.
The water stream pouring through the broken underground waterway conduit formed a waterfall flowing down into the bottomless depths at the center of this massive cavity.
"Is this... the ancient ruin?"
"No. It's the entrance."
Ivan stepped forward and read the traces. Despite being less than a week old, they were worn and eroded by the violent water stream.
'Collapse is imminent. It would have been dangerous if we had delayed.'
A week at most. The ground would collapse within that time. Ivan thought sharply as he scanned the surroundings.
"This is just the entrance? Is there some ancient demon sealed here or something? How can it be this scale...?"
"It's the work of dwarves."
"Dwarves?"
"This cliff itself has nothing to do with the underground ruins. This is merely the place where a dwarven artifact 'used to be.'"
Ivan straightened his back and stood up. He cracked his neck and drew his axe.
"Dwarven artifact? Used to be? What does that even mean, please explain."
"The earthquake in Pritzenkaya a week ago was the work of dwarves. They brought an excavation artifact and dug into this underground area."
"What?!"
"That cliff. What appears to be a cliff, that precipice, is where that artifact was."
Just as elves have aerial warships, dwarves had excavation artifacts.
Why wouldn't those skilled dwarves dare to rebuild such artifacts?
Because they require too many resources to rebuild due to their enormous size and the loss of technical knowledge needed for designing such complex and intricate components.
Just as the Kalion aerial warship was nicknamed the "Fortress in the Sky," the dwarven excavation artifact was nicknamed the "Siege Tower of the Underworld."
The function of the excavation artifact is solely to carve through the ground. It only moves through the deep underground while carrying dwarves.
The reason such things are daringly called "artifacts" and become strategic targets that must be thoroughly destroyed is simple.
'It's too big.'
Enormous mass becomes a weapon in itself. Ground penetrated by an excavation artifact inevitably collapses, and if such an artifact is activated, it's so massive that it causes earthquakes in the process.
Magic capable of instantly destroying such an object, no, such a "structure," had been used here.
"Can you interpret anything?"
"What, what?!"
"I'm asking if you can see any visible magical power or traces of magic being used."
"No. Just water... and while the magical concentration is dense, it's only at the level of natural phenomena..."
"I'll have to use the alternative then."
He hadn't expected much to begin with. What he had expected from Elfihera wasn't finding the entrance to the artifact.
If that had been possible, Elizabeta would have detected it when she sent an analysis team in advance. That's only natural.
So, he had to do what needed to be done. Ivan slowly adjusted his posture and took a deep breath.
"Um, excuse me. What...? What are you doing?"
"Prepare a protective spell."
"...I'm getting really nervous now, but why do I need to do that?"
"Because you'll need it."
Magic seeps into his bloodstream. With a tingling sensation, time begins to slowly segment.
The floating clusters of light bend slowly, and dust particles in the air become individually traceable.
His head heated up as magic accelerated his neural network. It was like a flood of sensory information.
Heightened touch, sharpened vision, tense smell, finely opened hearing—all bringing a tsunami of sensations.
Enhanced senses thus overwork the brain's capacity. Human sensory organs weren't designed to absorb this level of information.
So, he cuts off his hearing.
-Crack!!
Just as hearing sharpens when you close your eyes.
Human sensory organs weren't made to function independently. Whenever one sense is restricted, the total sensory capacity improves significantly.
As soon as he loses his hearing, magic in his nervous system runs wild with a brief tinnitus. He carefully calibrates it, and once more.
-Crack!!
After hearing comes smell.
In exchange for sacrificing two useless sensory systems, his reaction nerves forcibly break through limits he wouldn't dare cross otherwise.
In this gap where time tilts precariously.
-Shing....
"Feeling" the axe blade being drawn out ominously, he quietly adjusted his posture.
Eyes looking straight ahead, red covers his vision. It's because the blood vessels in his eyeballs have burst.
But there's no need to worry. The function itself is fine.
So, he confirms the "direction" the dwarven excavation artifact was heading.
Those traces. One by one.
'Front right 15 degrees. Center bottom 22 degrees.'
He precisely captures the direction in which the dwarven excavation artifact was activated by reverse-engineering the traces.
Simultaneously, he spins the axe blade backward.
-Crack!!!
Legs planted on the ground, twisted waist, bundles of muscle fibers extending from the external oblique, tensed triceps across the deltoid.
Activation of nerves where magic flows, the tension in each tendon reaching its peak at that moment.
What he pictures in his mind is the most perfect single-breath strike.
'Maximillian's.'
Recalling the posture of that golden-haired young man from those days, when he lifted his head to look at the night sky.
Remembering the most intense strike he knows.
'Morning Star Slash.'
-Whoosh....
A low breath flows.
-Ping...!
A flash violates the empty air.
-KWAAAAAAAA—!!!
The impact came belatedly.
"What is this... nonsense?"
Elizabeta had to read the short, concise report three times.
Despite being written in the Krasilov common language and in perfect block letters following the proper reporting system, it was incredibly difficult to understand.
She slowly put down the report and picked up her teacup.
-The magical reaction at the site was only confirmed from the dwarven excavation artifact.
-Therefore, cross-verification under the same conditions is necessary to confirm the existence and location of the site.
-Since the dwarven excavation artifact has been lost, there is no way to prove it by reusing the excavation artifact.
-Therefore, at the field agent's discretion, we will project an impact equivalent to the estimated impact of the excavation artifact on the area to match the conditions as closely as possible.
-Attachment) The wizard analyzing the magic of the ancient ruin must be able to use a high-level "protective spell."
"What on earth are you trying to do..."
Elizabeta gave up trying to understand, clutched her forehead, and sighed.
When he returns, definitely, this time really definitely.
She vowed to teach this guy about "compliance with the advance reporting system" or "leaving field decisions to Elizabeta."