Chapter 119
Chapter 119
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 119
Chapter Title: Blood Soaks the Sand (10)
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"Anyway, I'm definitely gonna end up with red stuff going in since I'm dying. I'll buy us some time."
"No, you idiot. It won't go in. And how the hell are you gonna do that?"
"Just wait a sec."
Suddenly, Raging Gale started fiddling with the cube. It looked like he was just mashing buttons randomly, but since Ronan knew nothing about it, he couldn't complain. Every time he pressed a button, a voice rang out.
"Hey, it went down even more."
"Wait. Hasty people don't live long."
"You talk a good game."
Despite Ronan's urging, Raging Gale silently kept pressing buttons. Soon, a different message came through.
That was the last announcement. The shaking, like being tossed in a storm, also subsided. Ronan let out an incredulous chuckle.
"Ha. It actually worked."
"Sorry. Can't extend it more."
"Nah. This is a huge win."
Ronan nodded. It wasn't forever, but it was way more than three minutes—enough to get a lot done. After Cita healed them further, the three stood up.
"Damn, I feel alive now. Thanks."
"Ppip!"
"One of the best decisions I made bringing you back... was not throwing you into the river when you were still an egg. Thought it was horse shit back then."
"Ppii?"
Ronan gently petted Cita. Cita tilted its head, eyes wide. Ronan headed first to the corpses of Teranil and Yuria as they climbed the stairs.
"...No way that's the white guy, is it?"
"Yup. Glorious end."
"What the hell did you do to make the body like... urp."
Raging Gale dry-heaved at the sight of Teranil's corpse. Even to a warrior of Duinhar, it was gruesome. The shockwave from inside had turned his body into the world's most avant-garde, disgusting vase.
"Lemme see..."
"Wh-what are you doing?"
Ronan started rummaging through the pile of meat that used to be Teranil. Gale recoiled in horror.
"Hold on. A bishop level guy's gotta have something on him..."
It was so mangled and bloody it was hard to find anything. Only after Cita absorbed all the bloodstains could Ronan pull out something useful.
"There we go."
Sizzle— Ronan tore a metal shard from the ragged cloth. It was the heptagonal badge pinned to Teranil's sleeve. Only Teranil among the cultists had worn it, so it probably symbolized a bishop.
"Fuck... what the hell is this made of?"
Ronan frowned examining the badge. Thick, glittery mana was condensed inside, so potent it felt chilling. Drinking it dissolved in water would probably make glittery piss.
Unpleasant.
Ronan grumbled but pocketed it. He had a feeling it'd come in handy.
Aside from the badge, nothing else worth taking from Teranil. Ronan picked up a dagger lying with severed vertebrae. Despite the chaos, the blade was flawless.
"Pretty damn good. Doron."
Ronan smirked, sheathing Imir. Less lethal than Ramancha but more versatile. Especially liked manifesting slashes from dagger range.
Turning, he saw Schlieffen inspecting Yuria's whip. Ronan sauntered over, eyebrow raised.
"What, into that kinda thing?"
"Just admiring the craftsmanship."
"Thought you'd gift it to my sis and beg for a spanking. Lemme see."
"You bastard...!"
Ignoring flushed Schlieffen, Ronan examined the whip. Materials screamed high-end; workmanship was exquisite. The hundred linked metals were intricately forged.
Impressive. Could detach each as a weapon no problem.
It felt like art, not a weapon. Fiddling with the handle—
Shhhrrk! The whip shrank into an elegant noble's cane.
"...Holy shit."
Ronan whistled. So refined even careful inspection wouldn't reveal it. Only a smith like Doron might attempt replication.
Whoever made it was top-tier on the continent. Yuria's words flashed: that Alibribe guy? Made killer prosthetics. Magic prosthetic arms were tech masterpieces needing fine work.
"Tch."
Ronan clicked his tongue. Hated that such talent aided fanatic trash. Pocketing the whip, he turned. No rush for the magic stones surprisingly.
"This'll set us for life."
The floor was littered with black crystals—Yuria's monsters' cores. Gale's tale of them swallowing black rocks checked out.
"Intriguing. Powered by magic stones, it seems."
"No wonder they went berserk after eating good stuff."
Ronan made a bundle from his coat and started collecting. Even picking prime ones, the haul was overwhelming. Unless Secret skimped, it'd cover a thousand favors.
Ronan even took Schlieffen's coat for more bundling. Before leaving, he had Cita absorb all native blood and neatly arrange bodies—for easy burial. Circling the lined corpses, Gale spoke softly.
"...Thanks."
"Whatever. Bury 'em good."
"They'll be thrilled. Thanks to you, our warriors die smiling."
Ronan twisted his lips. All chose death over spilling secrets. Honorable silence. Bowing slightly, Ronan murmured,
"Go to a good place."
Sending off comrades sucked, especially honorable dead.
After brief silence, they retraced steps. Return was quicker. Walking behind Gale, Ronan spoke.
"Sorry. Wanted to help find survivors, but no time."
"It's fine. Your thoughts suffice."
"Got this guy Asel who's killer at recovery work. Call him later?"
"No need. We can handle it. Rocks erode in wind but never vanish."
Gale replied stoutly. Ronan smiled bitterly, seeing the forced toughness.
Judging by Yuria and Teranil's types, few survivors likely. Gale knew too.
They walked silently. Near entrance, a boy gnawing nails paced. Ronan nudged Gale.
"That your bro?"
"Hm?"
Dreaming Thunder, Gale's brother. Spotting them, he jumped.
"Bro! Everyone!"
"You good?"
Ronan waved. Thunder dashed up, panting before Gale.
"Huff... thought you died not coming back. Everyone worried...!"
"Sorry. Without our benefactors, we really would've."
"Glad you're alive. Come on, gotta show bro something."
"Show what?"
"You'll freak. Follow me!"
Dreaming Thunder bounded ahead. They followed puzzled. Soon, cave panorama widened eyes.
"This...!"
"Bro. Tribe lives. This many survived."
Two hundred natives bustled.
All ragged, but no injured. Spotting Gale and group, cheers erupted.
"Look, Raging Gale's back!"
"Benefactors safe! Miracle...!"
Natives swarmed. Trembling voice from Gale,
"Ronan. Am I dreaming?"
"Doesn't feel like it."
"Hope it doesn't end even if dream. For real."
Gale scanned faces—all thought dead. Enough to rebuild. Thunder pointed at Cita, grinning.
"No dream. Bird led to people. Followed red path, found bleeding ones."
Gale's eyes widened. Happened during Ronan's fight.
Rescue: natives fetched wounded, Cita healed. Ppiiit! Cita on Ronan's head puffed proudly.
"This... really... I..."
Tears welled in Gale's eyes. Lips tight, he turned. Broad shoulders shook soon.
"Big as a mountain, yet bawling."
Ronan chuckled. Gale wiped eyes roughly with hand back, faced Ronan, bowed deep.
"Thanks! Won't forget!"
"Whatever. When chief, treat me."
"Repay this. We'll be allies forever. I'll make su—"
Gale continued. A woman's voice echoed after silence.
"Ha, already?"
Ronan looked up. Rumble! Cave shook wildly. Panicked murmurs. Wiping final tears, Gale bellowed,
"Calm down! Short quake! Gather women and kids center!"
Voice brimmed charisma. People rallied.
Hard to believe crier from moments ago. Brother Thunder guided scared folks everywhere.
"This way. Careful not to fall."
"Not bad."
Ronan grinned. Chief joke? Might actually happen. Voice again.
Bang! Mana wave swept everyone from unknown source. Ronan's eyes widened.
"That's..."
Natives' tattoos glowed. Only he, Schlieffen, Cita unchanged. ID codes? As Ronan muttered,
Whoom! Blue light engulfed Ronan and Schlieffen. Panicking Cita got swallowed too.
Wide-eyed natives screamed in shock. Rumble... vibrations continued.
"Gah! What?!"
"Ngh...!"
Sudden brightness. Ronan cursed, ass planted. Dry wind with fine sand dusted face.
"Where..."
Ronan rose slowly. Clear high sky overhead. Red dunes to horizon. Cita struggled free from dune.
"Ppeht! Ppuh!"
"Unexpected. Spatial magic variant."
Schlieffen straightened clothes. Cita shook sand frantically. They were mid-Red Sand Desert.
Duinhar loomed afar like crown. Mirage haze: two days' trek.
Scanning, massive roc corpse. Drying monster's flank had familiar harpoon.
Yuria's beasts' weapon. Recognizing Thunder's ride, Ronan muttered,
"Feels like a ghost nibbling my earlobe..."
Warned of expulsion, but real kick-out felt unreal. Good: gear scattered around intact.
"...Well, head back?"
As Ronan turned— Rumble! Desert quaked harder than before. Glancing Duinhar, eyes bulged.
"Wh-what?!"
Kaboom! Duinhar moved. Flame-like rock masses layered up organically. Underground metals coiled around.
Hundred Zarodin-level earth mages couldn't stage this. Recall: Duinhar announcement.
"Security system...?"
Finally got why unnatural. Never natural formation.
Quake eased after dozens minutes. Transformed Duinhar tripled size. Sky-piercing rock cluster like fortress. Stunned Ronan,
"No one's getting in now."
"Agreed. Barrier covers whole terrain."
"What?"
"Very strong one. Even imperial army'd struggle."
Schlieffen nodded. Ronan squinted: bluish mana barrier over all Duinhar.
True fortress prepped for something. Silence, then Schlieffen,
"Anyway, Ronan. Keep promise."
"Promise?"
Schlieffen stared wordlessly. Awkward quiet. Finally getting it, Ronan chuckled dryly.
"You're insane."
Ronan pulled paper from back pocket. Palm-sized, beaming Iril drawing. Schlieffen's voice quivered.
"Th-this..."
"Frame it. Try anything funny, you're dead."
Schlieffen cradled like imperial edict. Staring, murmured,
"...Treasure."
"Lunatic."
Ronan shook head. Reaction triple awakening Stormblade. Dune ripples signaled adventure's end.
They retraced path. Bandits' bloodstains in sand vanished traceless.