The Broken Possessors of the Infinite Regression Academy

18 – Dungeon Practice – 6

$Just felt like coming early. Why, can’t I?$

$What cheek you have. Can you guess what I would say to you?$

$Behave with manners? Sorry, I behaved the same way with the Pope. Maybe the Emperor, but not a fledgling crown prince. I mean I’m not sorry. I just wanted to throw words around a bit.$

“I shall warn you in advance. Do not cross the line. Beyond that, not even I can assure safety. Do you understand, Rosaria Leone de Micaela?”

“Yes, yes.”

Despite the stern warning from the crown prince, the woman known as Rosaria merely giggled. Her expression was far from one of fear.

At her disregard for his words, Laura swallowed down her boiling anger. The importance of being a candidate for sainthood allowed Laura such extraordinary patience.

If that woman ascended to the position of saint, the workload at the front lines would increase to the point where it seemed to mock Laura.

‘I heard she’s not usually like this.’

For some unknown reason, reality was far from the rumors. Instead of wasting time provoking unnecessary arguments, she had heard Rosaria was a sadistic nun who tortured her underlings.

Conversely, to Laura’s complicated thoughts, Priscilla seemed not to have any thoughts. She just wanted to feel the warmth of Myra as soon as possible.

‘How should I ask her to hug me this time?’

Should I ask her to wrap her arms around me from the back? Or should I make eye contact, touch foreheads, and ask her to hug me? Or maybe I should lay down next to her in bed and ask her to cover me entirely with a blanket while hugging me.

“What are you thinking about so hard?”

Rosaria suddenly leaned in front of Priscilla, who was lost in her fantasies. Priscilla, snapped out of her delusions, met Rosaria’s blood-red eyes.

“… It’s nothing.”

“Your face doesn’t look like it’s ‘nothing’. Why don’t you share what it is? Hmm?”

Rosaria nudged Priscilla with her elbow. Priscilla simply floated on her push, then lowered her head again.

“Really, it’s nothing.”

“Hmm, is that so? Got it.”

Rosaria, surprisingly obedient, backed off and mumbled to herself.

“It’s strange, she should’ve gotten mad at me by now. Did her personality change? Or maybe this is … no, forget it. Why should I care?”

Priscilla found it strange and couldn’t understand most of the mumbling that followed; not that she’d be interested, occupied as she was with her fantasies.

“So, are you ready to serve me? Don’t tell me you’re not ready yet?”

Astonished at Rosaria’s audacity in making these demands, Laura scowled and snapped back.

“You surely haven’t forgotten that you’ve arrived a full five days earlier than we originally agreed. It’s utterly outrageous.”

“Really, you’re not ready at all? That’s quite disappointing.”

“The problem lies with you who have come so abruptly, not us. There is no reason why we should prepare for your arrival five days in advance.”

“Hehe, me? A problem? Really?”

“Do you genuinely think that the cause of the current situation is anyone’s fault but yours?”

Laura chuckled and glanced over the crowd behind Rosaria. The carriage was covered in dirt from the hurried journey, numerous nuns anxiously anticipating unforeseen events, and a candidate for sainthood who expected too much.

“Of course. I am a candidate for sainthood. Has anyone else heard rumors about me over the past hundred years? No.”

Rosaria stood her ground without backing down. Despite all else, the fact that she could maintain a staring contest with an almost angry Laura showed she had nerves of steel.

“Do not dare to cross the line, Rosaria Leone de Micaela. Right now, I’m exercising a great deal of patience. Isn’t it unprecedented for a conversation to proceed so smoothly with someone as rude as you are? Or perhaps, is there something you trust about this situation?”

“Trust in something? Trust… well, I guess I can’t say I don’t entirely.”

Laura narrowed her eyes at the sarcastic smile on Rosaria’s lips.

‘So she trusts in the pope?’

But even the Pope couldn’t surpass the power of the empire. If it came down to choosing between the crown prince and a saint, the pope would undoubtedly side with the crown prince.

Whether that woman was behaving this way because she was unaware of this fact, or because she genuinely trusted in something remained unclear. Laura felt very confused after a long time.

And she was starting to get angry.

“Were the rumors about you greatly diminished in comparison to the truth, Saint Candidate?”

“No? I think the rumors were a bit exaggerated. I used to do similar things in the past, but I don’t do that these days. Isn’t that right, girls?”

“Yes! That’s right!”

The nuns standing at attention shouted in unison.

That was the truth. Compared to the days when people were carried out battered about once a week, the past week had been nothing short of heaven.

A week ago, after Rosaria inexplicably jumped for joy in her room, violence had all but disappeared.

No, it wasn’t just that violence had disappeared. Rosaria herself seemed to have changed. The everyday violence that passing as torture, and the frosty atmosphere, were all gone.

Of course, there were times when her old self showed through, but that didn’t mean she had to endure being taken to the torture room, tied by her ankles and made to sit on a sharp triangle with weights attached.

That was satisfaction enough.

“…I warn you for the last time. Observe etiquette toward the royal family, Rosaria Leone of Michaela. No matter how high the Starlight Sect’s prestige, no matter if you are a Saint candidate, you are not above me.”

“Oh, really? What a pity, Crown Prince.”

Despite the honorifics, there was no sign of respect in her expression or demeanor, which made Laura’s expression even more severe. Amid the impending fight, Priscilla thought blankly.

‘She should at least wear her clothes properly.’

She didn’t even dress properly, a pervert. A patient with exhibitionism, calling a few scanty rags and half-stocking an outfit.

That was Priscilla’s impression of Rosaria and nothing more.

She didn’t think much of anything else. In the repetitions that occurred more than a hundred times, Rosaria was always the crazy woman. Such squabbles with the Crown Prince were not strange.

Just as the situation was about to explode, someone running from a distance spotted Rosaria and turned toward her with a surprised face. Rosaria and Laura’s atmosphere calmed down a bit as the figure, an avatar of Professor Jeina, sat next to them.

“Are you Candidate Rosaria Leone of Michaela?”

“Yeah. What’s up?”

“I’m one of Professor Jeina’s avatars. Could you give me a moment? The information I’m about to convey is confidential. Ah, it’s fine if the Crown Prince is here. And Priscilla, you stay too.”

At Rosaria’s gesture, the nuns moved away.

Rosaria, now alone, stood with her arms crossed under her chest. It was a gesture that invited an explanation. Her already enormous breasts were emphasized once more on her arms.

“Since I’ve done as you want, tell me. What is it that required all this?”

“Currently, Bellium Forest is experiencing an erosion phenomenon. In other words, demonification.”

Upon hearing this, not just the Crown Prince, but Rosaria and Priscilla’s faces hardened.

Especially Priscilla, knowing that now was the dungeon class time for Mira Crete, she went all the more pale. Her face paled to the brink of turning white.

“We need your help, Saint Candidate. Even though the chairman is personally involved, if we have the support of your sacred power, the task will be much easier.”

“Alright. Guide me immediately.”

Perhaps even Rosaria couldn’t laugh off the demonification phenomenon; she nodded with a completely serious face. The avatar of Jeina, who looked relieved, wagged his head.

“But did you foresee the current situation and arrive early? You were supposed to come next week.”

“Ah, is that so?”

Hearing this, Rosaria looked confused, her eyes darting from one side to the other before she laughed awkwardly.

“Right, yes. You’re right. The Goddess guided me.”

“…That’s impressive.”

Jeina’s avatar praised with a glint in his eyes. Whether she lacked the audacity to lie in the face of such genuine praise, Rosaria could only laugh awkwardly. The Crown Prince, recognizing her lie, snorted, and Priscilla ran toward Bellium Forest the instant she heard those words.

A gigantic mouth sprang from the dungeon floor tried to swallow me. I twisted my body in mid-air and drew an eternity vertically. The mouth was precisely cut to my height, and I escaped through the gap.

The sliced mouth was absorbed into the ground and disappeared. The sound of clapping could be heard from far away.

“Wonderful! Absolutely wonderful! Who could’ve imagined such a distinguished person as our guest!”

It was the figure called the Maker, explained by Priscilla, only after the real fight began.

“What is it? Am I still alive?”

“Partly! Of course, it’s excellent that you’re still alive, but there’s a better answer!”

“A better answer?”

“We clearly didn’t meet for the first time today, did we? But strangely, it feels as if you know from your movements how I am going to attack! Particularly, avoiding my crucial blow earlier.”

I should have pretended to see and avoid it. That thought occurred to me suddenly. Priscilla didn’t reveal all the patterns, so I had to rely on my strength to break through a few, but it seemed absurdly irrelevant.

“Why aren’t you answering, huh?”

Spinning his neck round and round, he prolonged the last syllable as if urging an answer.

“Because the question isn’t worth answering?”

“Oh! There it is! You got me again!”

The Maker dramatically slapped his forehead. Then, chuckling, he flicked his finger.

“Since you’ve given me a good answer, I’ll give you a reward! The opportunity to participate in my art!”

“I don’t need such opportunity, so take it back, okay?”

“Ahahah! This customer is so shy! We bear all the costs, so don’t feel burdened!”

The monstrosity slowly approached me, a fusion of an ogre and a troll. Its right hand held a massive cudgel made out of roughly eight troll legs.

“I’ll prominently display your head on the top! And the body… oh! Between the legs would suit the best!”

An additional reason just surfaced to tear apart the eyesore in front of me.

We had not unleashed our true powers until now. It was pointless to expose all my cards in a fight to which death wouldn’t result anyway. But now it was different.

As he began to seriously aim to kill me, I had to respond in kind. I grasped Eternal on my side as if I were to draw a sword.

“Oh, oh. What are you trying to do now?”

The Maker made a surprised face, probably intrigued by my unusual sword draw without a scabbard. A finger was flicked again, and the carcass was clad in a suit of armor made from human bones.

If that armor was as robust as the one worn by the Maker himself, ordinary weapons wouldn’t leave a scratch.

It didn’t matter.

I dashed toward it first. The monster reacted by extending its right arm and swinging it horizontally. A slow, hum of the wind seemed to echo around me.

I imbued Eternal with mana. The mana spun clockwise on the left edge and counter-clockwise on the right, creating a peculiar ripple at the center of the sword as the mana collided.

Eternal was quickly brought in against the cudgel now swung directly beside me. As soon as the ripple clashed with the cudgel made of troll legs, the cudgel shattered instantly.

Literally. Flesh, blood, and bones splattered from my left side. Behind me, I noticed Maker’s eyes wide open in shock.

Without giving him a moment to respond, I thrust my arm straight forward, the tip of the sword aimed at the monster’s heart. Either it depended on the resilience of the bone armor or it wasn’t able to react in time, it didn’t try to dodge the sword tip.

A ripple from Eternal shattered the bone armor and drilled inside. The monster’s face flashed with surprise for a split second as Eternal pierced through the tough skin of the ogre and hit the heart.

And that was the end.

A large hole formed at its back, flesh flying out from within. Troll arms and legs adhered all over its body began to split apart one by one.

The ultimate twist. This was a typical martial art technique that fell under the category of ‘you have to learn it the hard way’.

This was enough. I pulled Eternal back and kicked the monster’s body. Even with the ripple gone, the ogre’s body was still distorting, bursting, and splattering blood and flesh.

I landed. The ripple flowing in the blade disappeared. The Maker, staring at the monstrous pile of flesh, was outraged.

“What is that? That’s cheating! Cheating!”

“What cheating?”

Not worth listening to.

“I’ll never forgive you!”

The Maker prolonged the last syllable and grew in size. According to Priscilla, this was signifying the start of the second phase and meant the Maker was seriously angry.

Everything was going as I thought. It seemed the time had come to execute my plan. It was a strategy to weaken him to the point where he couldn’t operate in the human world for a while, even though I couldn’t kill him.

If a legion commander is taken out every few months, that’s going to be quite a blow to them. Unbeknownst to myself, I had already smirked at the Maker, who had grown about three times my height, with my sword at the ready.

“You’re truly hideous. I must admit, I have a much better aesthetic sense than you.”

“How dare youuuuuu! You have the audacity to utter such blasphemyyyyy!!”

He looked at me with a scowl, his voice even more distorted as he seemed to want to devour me whole. I was secretly readying a spell while pretending to draw my sword. He still wasn’t aware that I had control over magic.

Therefore, this move should be the ultimate blow.