Chapter 118
Chapter 118
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 118
Chapter Title: Blood Soaks the Sand (9)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Thud. Yuria's head fell. Her body convulsed a beat later as it collapsed. Finally, red blood spurted from the severed neck.
"What the... fuck..."
Ronan muttered in disbelief. Yuria's eyes were still wide open, gleaming fiercely. The leopard, sensing its master's death, lunged at Schlieffen.
"Grraaah!"
Schlieffen swung his sword again. The wind following the blade's path grazed the leopard's nape. Clang! A white line appeared on its metal-covered neck, and its head fell off.
"Grrk?"
Thud. The leopard's rigid body toppled sideways. Confirming the area had fallen silent, Schlieffen lowered his sword. Staring blankly into the air, he dropped to one knee and collapsed.
"...Ugh."
"Hey, you okay?"
Ronan staggered over to Schlieffen. It was hard to keep his balance, like the morning after a night of heavy drinking. Mimicking Teranil's aura had consumed far more mana than expected.
"Huuu..."
Schlieffen didn't respond. Uneven breaths escaped his slightly parted lips. His face was pale; he looked in bad shape. Ronan's gaze fell on his sword, and he raised an eyebrow.
"This is..."
The blade was gone. Only the bloodstained hilt remained in Schlieffen's hand. Then, with a low whooshing sound, the vanished blade reappeared.
-Saaaaah...
It was like watching icicles grow rapidly. The swirling air currents coalesced into a bluish blade. The mana rising from it gave a completely different impression than before.
'Calm. But sharper.'
If the previous mana had been a wild gust battering chaotically, this evoked a steady tailwind over a tranquil sea—one that could anytime swell into a typhoon sweeping the ocean. Ronan let out an incredulous chuckle.
"Heh."
The growth speed far exceeded expectations. Even for the Empire's Rising Star, he hadn't thought he'd reach this level so soon. It was an Aura Awakening.
"Freakin' monster..."
Aura was one's unique mana and the abilities derived from it. Those who steadily honed their aura eventually experienced a drastic leap in power, called Aura Awakening.
Most saw expansions in range or power, but some underwent absurd transformations, like a caterpillar emerging as a butterfly. A guy who sparked static might shoot lightning from his eyes, or one specializing in skin hardening might sprout diamonds from his body...
Schlieffen was a prime example. Dismantling his sword into wind and wielding it—this was the true form of the Storm Blade, the symbol of the continent's greatest swordsman, Schlieffen.
It was also the technique that even the disinterested Ronan from his previous life had genuinely envied. With that, he could've torn apart all the flying giants.
'Damn, it still stings.'
The Storm Blade allowed infinite variations. Compressing wind into a single point created one-shot kills like just now; spreading it wide turned it into a strategic weapon rivaling armies. Ronan still remembered Schlieffen's madness blanketing the entire Romaira Mountains in storm to catch one Winter Witch.
It seemed feeble compared to his past life's power, but having stepped into awakening, further growth was only a matter of time. Ronan offered a potion to the fallen Schlieffen.
"Here. You unlucky bastard."
"...Ronan."
"Impressive. What happened?"
"What do you mean?"
"You awakened, man."
Schlieffen's eyes widened. He seemed unaware of his own awakening. Silently taking the potion, he nodded slowly.
"I see. So this is the sensation."
"Tch, some of us can't even bloom our Aura yet. Spill the secret."
Ronan grumbled. Schlieffen, applying potion to his shoulder wound, spoke up.
"...I heard the wind."
"The wind?"
"Yes. Fierce yet incredibly gentle... The first since I was eleven. The moment I heard it, I knew I could cut her down."
Eleven was the age Schlieffen had bloomed his Aura. He added that as the Star's Grace vanished, he'd focused every nerve on beheading Yuria. Ronan tilted his head.
"And?"
"That's it. It actually worked."
"You're insane."
Ronan frowned. He hadn't expected a normal explanation, but this was ridiculous. This is why I hate geniuses, he muttered, chuckling.
"Well, she's dead. Good enough."
Ronan extended a hand. It had worked out anyway. Schlieffen smiled faintly, accepting the help to stand. The potion had visibly improved his complexion.
"Ronan. One thing I'm curious about."
"Yeah?"
"How did you pierce that barrier?"
He'd tried everything but failed to break the Star's Grace—just like in his previous life at Sword Saint level. Ronan pondered briefly, then shook his head.
"No idea. It just happened."
"...I see."
Schlieffen nodded slowly, looking dissatisfied, but Ronan couldn't lie about not knowing.
'Must suck.'
A faint frustration laced Schlieffen's trembling voice. Even swaying on the verge of collapse, his steel-blue eyes burned with fighting spirit. Ronan said,
"Anyway, keep at it, and it'll happen."
It was another task to unravel alongside the Juwah. If others could break the Star's Grace, great; if not, he'd have to grow strong enough to crush them all alone. Stretching, Ronan turned.
"...It's over."
The battle was done—the fiercest and riskiest since his rebirth. Only as tension eased did he take in the surroundings.
Not a picturesque scene. Bloodstains and broken metal littered like mold. The once-smooth marble ruins looked like they'd endured three wars, reduced to rubble.
"Fucking bastards."
Bam! Suddenly pissed, Ronan booted Yuria's head. It sailed in a long arc, landing sprawled before the Dainhar Magic Stone. Gazing at it, Ronan spoke.
"Why the hell did they go berserk all of a sudden?"
"...No idea."
Schlieffen shook his head. The massive magic stone—bigger than a farmhouse—still radiated brilliant light everywhere. The overflowing mana made his head spin.
Then, a face flashed in Ronan's mind. Freezing in place, he cursed.
"Shit."
"Ronan?"
The Raging Gale was missing. He'd forgotten amid the fight. Shoving Schlieffen aside, Ronan raced to where the gale had fallen. Glancing down the stairs, his face twisted.
The space below was still filled with natives' blood and corpses. Amid them stood the cube holding the ruins' secret. The Raging Gale lay sprawled atop it.
"Damn it, Gale!"
Ronan shouted. He bounded down what looked like three hundred steps in just three leaps. Boom! Boom! Boom! Reaching him instantly, Ronan shook his shoulder.
"Damn it. Wake up."
No response. Red handprints smeared the ten buttons. Clearly, the Gale had operated it.
"Urgh... ughhh..."
Fortunately, he was still alive. Ronan poured all his potions onto the Gale. Sizzle...! Wounds healed quickly, but he remained unconscious—likely from massive blood loss.
"Don't die."
Sarente's face flashed before him. The old elf guarding the ruins had failed to heal and turned into a dumb rock.
He couldn't let that happen twice. Looking up the stairs, Ronan bellowed.
"Cita!!!"
His voice echoed. Exactly three minutes later, a black shadow appeared atop the stairs. Spotting Ronan, Cita folded its wings and dove.
"Pwaak!"
"Over here, hurry!"
Ronan yelled, supporting the dying Gale. Landing on Ronan's shoulder, Cita immediately cast healing magic.
Whoosh... Red light enveloped the Gale. Blood flowing from him reversed back into his body. As Ronan straightened twisted limbs and pulled out embedded metal, the Gale's color rapidly improved. Finally, his fingers twitched, and he opened his eyes.
"...Ronan?"
"Fuck, you're awake?"
"Monsters... those weird ones...?"
"Me and this guy killed 'em all. Real damn thoroughly."
Ronan clapped Schlieffen's shoulder. The Gale's eyes widened. Ronan explained everything: Teranil and Yuria's purpose here, their strength, their miserable ends. Hearing it, the Raging Gale laughed heartily.
"Haha... Impressive. You two are true warriors."
"Hey, don't laugh—your wounds'll reopen. That your doing?"
Ronan nodded toward the stairs. Light beams from the magic stone crisscrossed the air. The Raging Gale nodded heavily.
"Yes. I broke the rules. You seemed in danger; I wanted to help somehow."
"Rules?"
"All tribesmen know how to use it. But none do. Only on the Day of Promise."
It was the Gale's work. Stroking the cube, he continued. The Raging Gale said his great-great-great-grandfather—immemorially long ago—had passed down how to operate it.
Guard it with your life, never touch it freely; operate only on the Day of Promise. Ronan shrugged.
"What's the Day of Promise?"
"I don't know. But they'll know when it comes."
"Unbelievable."
Ronan chuckled dryly. It was hard to believe so many died over such a vague promise. The Raging Gale nodded calmly.
"I broke the rules, so if I die, I swim in the red water forever. No regrets."
"You're innocent, man. The ones who cursed like that deserve the lava."
"Thanks for saying that. I think I'm healed now."
"Healed my ass. Lie still. Any survivors, me and this guy'll..."
As Ronan spoke, rumble! The entire space shook violently, like an earthquake. The artificial voice resounded again.
"Huh?"
Ronan frowned at the nonsense. Too many unfamiliar words again.
"Security system... identification code... what the hell?"
"Doesn't feel good."
"Sounds like it'll kick us out in 3 minutes... damn it."
He didn't know how it'd expel them, but his gut said bad news. Vibrations intensified.
The mana pouring from the magic stone thickened to an unbearable density. Something was about to happen. Rising, Ronan glanced at Schlieffen and Cita.
"Hurry, guys. Looks like we're fucked."
Three minutes—enough to grab a magic stone, but still regrettable.
Do what they could for now. Drawing his sword, Ronan was about to dash when the Raging Gale suddenly grabbed his wrist.
"Wait. Can't let my benefactor go like this."
"What?"
"I'm dying and heading to the red water anyway. I'll buy some time."