Chapter 184
Chapter 184
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 184
Chapter Title: The Call
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The sound of a human skull shattering is much like a watermelon bursting.
That was the first thought Arsen had as a child, when he smashed the head of a raider.
Ever since becoming a knight and living by piercing and slashing enemies with spears or swords, he rarely heard that sound anymore.
But now, hearing the endless cracking of watermelons that he hadn't heard in so long suddenly brought back those memories.
“Gahk—!”
With a thud, another headless corpse joined the pile.
Arsen gripped a single mace and wildly rampaged, smashing the skulls of the knights encircling him.
He didn't use the gravity enhancement function embedded in the mace. It had the power of a one-strike kill, but the side effects were no joke.
Even using it as an ordinary mace, though, Arsen overwhelmed the regular knights.
“Die!”
“Take this!”
Three spears shot fiercely toward his body.
He dodged two, but the third came too close, so Arsen blocked it with his unarmed arm.
As the spear pierced through the flesh between his radius and ulna, Arsen timed it perfectly and twisted his arm to deflect the spear's trajectory.
“No...!”
The knight who had thrust the spear recoiled in horror and tried to pull it back, but Arsen clamped down hard on the spear with his pierced arm.
Holding the spear with crossed bones—an impossible feat—the opponent froze with his mouth agape.
No reason to let that slide, so Arsen shoved the mace right into the open mouth.
The enemy's lower jaw and collarbone shattered as he collapsed limply.
“Next!”
Roaring, Arsen stood amid the corpses of over ten headless bodies piled at the feet of the black lion he rode.
Naturally, the black lion's four paws were soaked in the enemies' blood and brains.
“Monster...”
Arsen's sharp senses didn't miss the voice.
Turning toward it, he saw a knight whimpering in terror before biting the dust.
He turned back, and another similar sound rang out.
The knights surrounding Arsen were all trembling. Not from rage or excitement.
It was fear.
"Come on."
As the black lion took a sudden step forward, the encirclement shook all at once, creating an opening.
“Brother! We're here!”
“Boss!”
At that moment, Bazkal and Rino led the charge, swinging weapons to carve a path through the knights.
Arsen's army surged in, forming a standoff against the kingdom's forces.
Arsen caught his breath and shook off his mace while asking Bazkal about the situation.
“Casualties?”
“Almost none. They were trying to capture us alive. At the end, they went berserk and killed a few, but...”
Glancing over, he saw familiar faces and felt relieved.
The dead were probably from Byulburmi's soldiers or mages. Several combat golems were missing too.
“Prepare to charge. I'll take the front.”
“Wouldn't it be better to rest, sir? You don't look so good yourself, Sir Arsen.”
At Anun's suggestion, Arsen looked down at his body.
It had been a one-sided slaughter, but with ten knights charging at once, he couldn't emerge unscathed.
Some were skilled, leaving his armor scratched and torn in places.
Blood trickled from the fresh hole in his forearm, and only now did the throbbing pain hit.
Apparently, the adrenaline surge had blocked the pain until moments ago.
“This is nothing...”
“Indeed, you look fine. Better than me, anyway.”
A voice like scraping metal cut him off.
Turning, Arsen saw Nardock staggering to his feet in his steaming armor.
The surrounding knights tried to stop their king.
“Y-Your Majesty.”
“You mustn't move!”
Arsen wasn't fully intact, but it paled compared to the giant king who had been engulfed in burning armor.
His helmet was gone—discarded or shattered—and his exposed face revealed his dire state.
Looking at him, Arsen said flatly,
“You look like hell.”
“Thanks to you!”
Nardock chuckled, his face grotesquely burned.
His skin was charred, covered in angry blisters, with beard, eyebrows, and hair all burned away.
One eye couldn't even open properly, the eyelid melted and drooping.
“I never imagined the ones we let slip away would bring a monster like you. If I had, I'd have chased them to the end.”
“That's life.”
As they chatted, a kingdom mage came running, panting.
“Your Majesty, a healing spell...!”
“No need.”
“Your Majesty!”
“This isn't a wound I survive with that. My insides are cooked. The armor's functions are all that's keeping me alive.”
The giant king calmly declared his own end.
The kingdom knights bowed their heads in gloom, while the mages collapsed weeping.
“Your Majesty...”
To Byulburmi, he was the villain behind an outrageous atrocity, but to the southern kingdom mages, Nardock was their savior.
Arsen could understand their grief to some extent.
Standing blankly as they wailed, Nardock turned to Arsen.
“Now that I think about it, I never got your name. What is it, young lion?”
“Arsen.”
Nardock laughed, coughing-like, at the reply.
Smoke billowed from his mouth with each laugh.
“Fine name. So, Arsen—can you spare my men? Show mercy, and they'll stand down without resistance. I'll offer my life cleanly too. Worthless as it is now.”
Nardock knew this battle was lost.
No successor in sight, himself as good as dead, while his mighty foe needed just a few healing spells to be good as new.
At best, with luck, they might repel him briefly, but holding the advantage long was impossible.
Conscripting more from the capital or other estates might tip the scales, but it would shatter the kingdom itself.
If the forces here—the king's guard—went intact to the prince, the kingdom might endure.
At least preserve the capital estate where Nardock had been lord.
“Well? Good deal, no?”
Arsen scanned the enemies at Nardock's proposal.
About twenty-five knights left, a hundred regular soldiers, nearly all the mages intact.
“If we fight?”
His men were mostly alive but many had lost combat ability—heads bashed, limbs severed.
If the enemy scattered in despair, fine—but if they fought to the death, his side would suffer heavy losses. They'd fight to kill now, unlike before.
And for Arsen, who needed the library before heading far to Belluan, no need to risk that just to cripple them here.
“I hear there's a transfer gate here. If they all go home nicely through it.”
“Deal.”
Nardock, staggering up, shouted to his subordinates.
“You all heard?”
“Your Majesty, we can still fight!”
“Please, preserve your sacred body...”
The knights shouted loyalty in droves.
Arsen found it absurd, having seen them trembling too scared to charge moments ago.
"Save the lip service."
Byulburmi's mages focused on reattaching severed limbs.
Few could fully restore them, but many could at least stick them back.
Later, full function could be regained.
“How's it?”
“Better.”
Naturally, Arsen got treated by Eloise herself.
Not fully rested, but back to fighting shape.
Her spells healed the hole in his arm and all minor wounds.
Beside them, Nardock bellowed persuasively to his men.
Despite fierce resistance, he convinced them somehow—the kingdom army would withdraw.
Soon after, Arsen's rested army herded them to the transfer gate.
At the gate, Nardock waved his hand.
“Go on, all of you.”
“Your Majesty.”
“Go—the prince needs you.”
Fatigue etched Nardock's face.
His body, at its limit, held only by armor and drugs—any moment could be his last.
Leaving him, the kingdom army vanished through the gate, tears streaming.
Hundreds gone didn't take long.
“Quickly—recover it before enemy reinforcements return!”
“Understood!”
Under Lattis's command, Byulburmi mages dismantled the gate, shrinking it to portable size.
Soon, house-sized to a box the size of a torso.
No way back now.
“Good work, Elder Lattis.”
“No, no. More importantly...”
Lattis eyed Nardock.
Burned and collapsing, the giant sat on his rear yet matched Lattis's eye level.
Facing him, Lattis asked calmly.
“Will you even remember me? Probably not.”
“Dunno, but I can guess. Your age—you one of Byulburmi's survivors back then?”
“Yes.”
Surprisingly, Lattis's face held little venom.
Perhaps seeing his lifelong foe's misery, or vengeance at hand—Arsen could only guess.
“You... still no remorse?”
“I told you. I repelled invaders and took spoils. A lord's right. Where's the regret?”
Even facing death—because of it—Nardock spoke defiantly.
Lattis stared incredulously, then shook his head wearily.
“Right, pointless talk... What to say to a corpse.”
Lattis apologized to Arsen for intruding politely and withdrew.
“Done?”
“Yes. What use words between those who see differently? Especially to the dying.”
Relief and emptiness mixed oddly on Lattis's face.
Arsen nodded silently, then took up Isht's Spear to end it, standing before Nardock.
“You'll finish me? An honor.”
“Least I can do.”
Isht's Spear whirred, spinning slowly.
Watching, Nardock murmured low.
“When I purged the mages and claimed the relic, it felt like I'd conquered the world. The thrill of conquest, subjugation, planting my flag—nothing compares. But... I'm conquered too.”
Arsen listened quietly, then thrust the spear at max speed into Nardock's exposed neck.
The drill tore through charred flesh and white bone with a crunch, severing the head.
Thus ended the great giant king who had seized countless southern estates.
* * *
After the fight, they rested just enough to walk, then climbed again.
The goal was in sight—lingering hours risked eternal regret if trouble arose.
“Come on, push!”
“Just a bit more!”
Healing spells helped, but mana limits prevented full recovery for all.
Those with useless legs or lost mounts rode with comrades' golems or beasts up the mountain.
Already near the peak, they soon reached the summit.
Not sharply pointed as imagined.
Flat as if sliced horizontally by a blade, easy for all to ascend.
Cold and thin air made rest uncomfortable, though.
“This is it...”
At the center of the flat summit stood a massive structure like two stacked golden rings.
A man-sized square pyramidal pillar rose in the middle—the library caller, easy to guess.
Post-battle, the orb was reset, so Bakran chimed in.
[Delman alloy.]
[Delman?]
[Yeah. One of the immutable materials. Makes sense for disaster-proof gear—no deformation from external forces. Damn expensive. But it survived the mana storm.]
Now it gleamed valuably.
Tempted to pry it, Arsen shelved the thought and urged his black lion forward slowly.
All watched breathlessly.
“Touch that pillar,” Lattis advised.
Arsen placed his hand.
The familiar voice returned.
[Welcome. To use this emergency aid satellite caller, approval required from heads of Reman, Dashat, Origon, Plaman nations and International Alliance... Emergency detected, national systems collapsed, restrictions lifted... Requesting password.]
It stuttered like a glitching computer, spewing text.
Would it work? Anxiously, Arsen recited the password.
Phrases pieced from conquered ruins, plus the last from the Byulburmi hardliners' site.
“We, sailing the sea above the sky, have come here.”