Chapter 112
Chapter 112
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 112
Chapter Title: Blood Soaks the Sand (3)
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"Perfect timing. I was wondering about its performance anyway."
Ronan, arms crossed, yanked both sword hilts at once. The pitch-black Lamancha and a sword he'd never seen before came into view. Schlieffen fixed his gaze on Ronan's left hand and spoke.
"A dagger, huh. Unexpected."
"Even I was wondering what the hell it was when I first got it."
Ronan's new weapon was a dagger. This unfamiliar blade, barely thirty centimeters long in total, gave off an impression utterly opposite to Lamancha in every way.
Its blade curved in a graceful arc. The hilt, engraved with unknown runes, gleamed with a pure white like starlight on a winter night. Ronan spun the dagger habitually and let out a hollow chuckle.
"Damn, it's ridiculously heavy as expected."
His shoulder dropped noticeably, as if he were wielding a two-handed sword. The excessive weight was another stark contrast to Lamancha.
Without reinforcing his muscles with mana, it would be hard to handle freely. Recalling the moment he received the weapon, Ronan furrowed his brow.
"Can't remember the name. Didican told me... Imir... something like that."
"The blade itself looks fine. But what did you do to the hilt?"
Schlieffen glared at the dagger as he spoke. Unlike the pristine white blade, the hilt was a deep black. He had sensed the ominous aura emanating from there throughout their journey.
Ronan knew it was because the hilt was finished with a fragment of Bajura. The glittering mana of Nebula Clazje was creeping up over the dagger.
"Who knows."
But instead of answering, Ronan shrugged. It was too long a story to explain in this situation.
The torchlight and shouts were drawing closer. Suddenly, the wind picked up, and the clouds veiling the moon parted. The faces of the enraged mob came into view.
"There they are! Grab them!"
"Judging by the tornado, one of them's a mage. Take him out first!"
"Damn it, to think we'd get attacked first...!"
Seven men and three women. As expected, the group was the losers from Dinhar.
Too flashy to be mere bandits, that confirmed it. They had swindled adventurers geared up to challenge Dinhar, so fleecing just a couple would have been plenty profitable.
Schlieffen assumed a stance. Cita, already in combat readiness, prepared her blood magic. Suddenly, Ronan stepped forward, blocking Schlieffen.
"What are you doing?"
"Hold on a sec. Got something I want to try."
"Something to try?"
"Yeah. New weapon, gotta see if it's any good. Cita, you wait too."
"Pii."
Cita absorbed the blood she had gathered for a blood bullet. Schlieffen reluctantly fell back. Suddenly, a shout rose from the group's center.
"Stone Hand!"
"Oh?"
Ronan rounded his mouth at the incantation. Bandits with a mage in tow, apparently.
Boom! The ground before them exploded, and a rocky hand burst forth. The palm, easily three meters across, descended toward the two.
"You idiots. With this, you could make a living without stealing."
Ronan spat on the ground and swung Lamancha. Several lines etched across the rocky surface. Crack! The shattered stone hand lost form and exploded. The woman who cast the spell's eyes widened.
"W-what?!"
"You're the one."
Spotting the mage, Ronan hurled the dagger. Its heft made it feel like throwing a shot put. Whoosh! The white dagger flew in a perfect straight line toward her.
"Watch out!"
A frontliner raised his shield, blocking her path. His quick reflexes marked him as skilled. But that didn't matter. Splat! The dagger smashed the shield and pierced his throat.
"Gah...!"
Blood sprayed. The crunch of shattering bone echoed. As the woman belatedly screamed, stab! The blade tip tore through the man's nape and into her forehead. Her body flew back and slammed into the ground. The surrounding bandits recoiled in horror.
"M-Mindy! Damn it...!"
"Hell, did that dagger just pierce a shield?!"
Undeniable instant death. The two corpses twitched. Ronan whistled in satisfaction.
"Usable."
Beyond expected penetration. Just the flight path showed how well-crafted it was.
Suddenly, Ronan raised his right foot. Nimble foes like these had to be crushed before scattering like cockroaches. He turned to Schlieffen.
"Hey. When I stomp, hit 'em with a whirlwind."
"What kind of nonsense is that?"
Schlieffen tilted his head. Ignoring him, Ronan stomped. Thud! As the sound reverberated, a mana ripple spread.
Not from his foot, but centered on the dagger embedded deep in the woman's forehead. Rumble! Glistening roots suddenly sprouted, ensnaring the bandits around her.
"W-what is this?!"
"My legs...!"
The bandits thrashed in panic, feet bound. Schlieffen's eyes widened. He knew whose technique that was.
"Lord Dolan's...! How do you use that?!"
"I'll explain later. Clear them out first. Still weaker than I thought."
Ronan jerked his chin at the bandits. As he said, some were already shaking off the roots. Regaining composure, Schlieffen gripped his hilt. Aura charged with storm surged along the blade.
"Fine."
Schlieffen swung toward the bandits. A sharp blade beam shot along the arc, slamming into their midst. Whoosh! A ten-meter-wide whirlwind devoured them.
"Gaaaaah!!"
"...Save...!"
Root-bound bandits couldn't escape. Muffled screams diluted in the wind. Scattered blood rained like mist. Limbs shredded by the blade gale danced on the breeze.
The wind died down. Splat! Thud! Corpses that reached the vortex's peak plummeted one by one. A gruesome scene unfolded like spilled meat stew, simmered with hot peppers and tomatoes.
"Ugh, fuck."
Ronan grimaced. No appetite for days. Schlieffen's storm sword was far stronger than at midterms. This, along with Naviroje's sword arts, was impossible to mimic.
"How do you not know moderation?"
"No mercy for villains."
Of course, no survivors. Amid the carnage, a glint caught his eye. Ronan sauntered over and picked up the dagger buried in entrails.
"This one's good."
Why he'd ordered the storm sword despite risking the blade. Suddenly, the forgotten name flashed in his mind. Shaking blood off, Ronan muttered.
"Imir."
Some giant's name, if he recalled. Giants didn't sit well, but name aside, he liked the new weapon.
Its deceptive weight and ability to cast root aura via mana shine were bonuses. He gathered what he could and turned.
"Cita. Clean up."
"Pi!"
Cita spread her four wings wide. Blood splattered everywhere coalesced into droplets and floated.
Including on the boys' bodies and clothes. In under three minutes, Cita absorbed it all.
"Good job. Still got your touch."
"Pia~"
Ronan scratched her neck; Cita purred, eyes closed. Per Ophelia, absorbing blood strengthened blood magic, so feed her whenever possible.
"...Capable."
Schlieffen murmured, checking his clean clothes. Having swept the losers, they resumed. He wanted to raze their base, but time was short.
"Damn it. Finally here."
"This is it? First time seeing it for real."
Schlieffen muttered intrigued. Endless dunes with sharp wave patterns crumbled in the wind. The starry sea overhead seemed ready to flood the horizon.
Fifth night since starting on foot. They entered the Red Sand Desert. Ronan stretched and grumbled.
"Huuuuh... Wasted too much energy on those bastards."
"Right choice. Fewer casualties now."
"True."
As planned, five more days on foot. Four sunrises and sets, thirty-two losers culled. Mostly Schlieffen sensing, striking first; Ronan finishing.
Rumors spread; bandits got tactical, but became mincemeat regardless. Overwhelming force nullified tactics. Glancing at Schlieffen, Ronan nodded.
'Brought the right guy.'
Skill aside, no hesitation slaying villains. Thus, swift desert entry despite sweeps. Ronan pointed ahead.
"There it is. Dinhar."
Schlieffen turned. Jagged rock mountains clustered distantly, like crowns or inverted fists.
Staring at Dinhar, Schlieffen twisted his lips.
"The aura... It's ominous."
"Right? Get closer, you'll see why it's a demon realm. Do exactly as I say."
Recalling past hell, Ronan shivered. Dodge sandworms, rock birds, native traps—should manage. He tossed his pack.
"Anyway, good work. Camp here tonight."
Schlieffen nodded. They built a fire, unrolled bags. Desert nights chilled; thick leather needed. Breath fogged white.
Schlieffen's turn first watch. He stood rigid, scanning. Wrapped in his bag, Ronan beckoned Cita.
"Come here, Cita."
"Pi?"
Cita toddled from dozing by the fire. Ronan opened the bag; she curled on his chest inside.
He hugged her tight. Warmth seeped through fluffy feathers.
"That's it. Damn, livable now."
"Pia~"
Pet's true purpose. Cita purred happily. As Ronan drifted off—
"...I heard you saved Sion."
"Huh?"
"While I was oblivious as her brother."
Ronan lifted his head. Schlieffen stared at the sand.
He realized it was about Dawn Tower.
"Oh, that kid's your sister. How's she doing?"
"Fine. Sent our family physician immediately. No health issues, luckily."
"Glad. She's cuter than you."
"Raised with love. Only one in our family with magic talent."
Ronan sighed relief. He'd wondered.
Manipulated to bomb and burn a centuries-old library—no small feat. Schlieffen continued.
"Chattered nonstop about you and the Acalusia lady those two days. Nearly sisters with her, despite enmity."
"Spit it out. What's the point?"
"Nothing much. Just..."
Ronan shrugged. Schlieffen was dragging deliberately. After silence, he turned.
"Thanks for saving my sister."
"Huh."
He bowed. Ronan chuckled. Never thought he'd see this guy bow. Uncomfortable, he waved it off.
"No biggie. Whatever."
"The whole house knows your deed. Grancia swears repayment."
"Repayment my ass. If that grateful, take an extra hour watch. I'm sleeping."
Ronan rolled over. Gratitude for duty felt off.
Cita's snores gurgled. Warmth brought sleep. Eyelids... slowly... drooped...
.
...Thud!
.
"Ronan. Wake up."
"...Huh?"
Ronan opened his eyes. Starry sky unchanged. Crimson nebula beyond the galaxy.
He sat up slowly. Fatigue lingered. Schlieffen stood as before.
"What? How long did I sleep...?"
"About thirty minutes."
"You ungrateful bastard... Extra hour my ass, wake me after two and a half? Human?"
"Look there."
Schlieffen pointed mid-desert, ignoring. Ronan grumbled, looked. Eyes widened.
"What the fuck. Why's that monster here?"
"Flew from Dinhar, crashed. You know it?"
"Kinda..."
He'd half-heard a crash in sleep. Fifty paces away, a massive black bird lay sprawled. Six-meter wingspan neared wyvern size.
Ronan knew it: Rock Bird, Dinhar endemic monster. Shaking drowsiness, he said.
"Let's check."
They rushed. Cita followed, groggy. Ronan arrived first, clicked tongue.
"Damn, dead."
Neck snapped. Wings stiff. Ronan tilted head.
"Why crawl here?"
Rock Birds lived solely inside Dinhar. Past chases vivid. Inspecting the corpse—
"Ugh... uuu..."
A groan from under the wing. Ronan's eyes widened. He lifted it with both arms.
"Shit."
He gritted teeth. A boy huddled, moaning. Bare torso tattooed with five designs.
"Uaa... uuu... a-all...!"
"Pull him out quick."
Native by garb. Schlieffen lifted him. Ronan asked the boy.
"Hey, snap out. What happened?"
"......All... dead."
The boy murmured and passed out. Ronan instinctively knew: shit had hit the fan.