Chapter 126
Chapter 126
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 126
Chapter Title: Chasing the Scream (3)
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"Senior?"
Ronan's eyes widened. The one who stepped down from the carriage wasn't the sleazy son of Baron Dantel. A woman swept back her long hair and snapped venomously.
"Senior? What the hell are you talking about?"
Adeshan stood there. But aside from her face, she differed from the Adeshan he knew in so many ways.
The ridiculously luxurious suit draped over her body, the arrogant attitude devoid of her usual warmth. Her eyes, peeking through thick lashes, brimmed with icy contempt.
He couldn't even begin to point out what was wrong. Ronan, stunned speechless, finally managed to speak.
"...What are you doing here?"
"Ha, how dare a filthy beggar speak to me so casually."
Adeshan scoffed. She strode forward and slapped Ronan's cheek without warning. Slap! His face whipped to the side amid a stinging pain.
"Do you really have a death wish?"
"...Hah."
He was so shocked he hadn't even thought to dodge. A drop of blood trickled from his split lip. Suddenly, a startled cry came from inside the carriage.
"S-Senior...?!"
"What? What's going on?"
Amid the commotion, four more people climbed out. They were all familiar faces. Seeing them, Ronan let out a hollow laugh.
"This is too much."
They were members of the Elite Adventure Club. Asel, Marya, Ophelia, and Schlieffen were all dressed in sloppy outfits fit for thugs, as if by prior agreement.
Ronan narrowed his eyes. They wore the same clothes as the poachers he'd cut down in his previous life. Asel asked in a panicked voice.
"R-Ronan... you okay?"
"No."
Ronan placed his hand on his sword hilt. Even if it was a curse, this had gone too far. Asel, pale-faced, stumbled back.
"Eek! C-Calm down...!"
"Shut up, you fakes. Why are you impersonating my friends?"
"Ronan. We're not fakes."
Marya backed up Asel. Adeshan, still fuming after slapping him, kept grumbling. Marya clapped her hands to draw attention and shouted at Adeshan.
"Senior! Snap out of it already!"
"Don't get ahead of yourself! You lowly poachers, trying to act like equals!"
"She's too immersed..."
Ophelia, watching the scene, sighed. Schlieffen nodded in agreement.
Unlike Adeshan, the other four seemed unchanged in personality. Marya swiftly lunged and grabbed Adeshan from behind.
"Professor Secret said not to immerse too deeply."
"Let go! What do you think you're doing?!"
"Cutie, hurry up."
Adeshan struggled with all her might, but escaping Marya's strength was impossible. Asel hesitantly approached and whispered something in her ear.
Judging by the cadence, it seemed like an incantation. Suddenly, a short scream burst from Adeshan's lips.
"Aaack!"
Adeshan clutched her head, groaning in pain. After about a minute, she lifted her head. The venom in her eyes had softened.
"Wh-where...?"
"Ronan's inner world. Don't you remember?"
"Did I... black out again?"
Marya nodded. Adeshan's wandering gaze landed on Ronan. The handprint on his dirty cheek was still vivid. Her eyes widened.
"R-Ronan! What have I done...!"
Her reaction suggested she'd grasped the situation. She staggered forward and cupped Ronan's face in both hands. A watery voice leaked from her trembling lips.
"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry..."
"It's fine. What the hell is going on?"
"W-Well..."
Ronan asked. Her speech had returned to the Adeshan he knew. As she bowed her head to explain, the coachman—thrown from the carriage earlier—suddenly stirred.
"Ugh... wh-why am I..."
The hat covering his face had flown off somewhere. Seeing the coachman's face, Ronan cursed. It was a familiar mug.
"Fuck."
"...Ronan?"
Braum's lips twisted upon meeting Ronan's gaze. Red blood poured from his forehead. It was from the rock Ronan had thrown.
His ankle twisted unnaturally caught the eye—likely from the fall. Ophelia, who had been standing still, approached Braum.
"Braum... you okay?"
"Urgh... I can bear it. Looks like I got too immersed too."
"Be careful. Injuries here... carry over to reality."
"What?"
Ronan's expression twisted. He grabbed Marya's shoulders and demanded.
"What bullshit is that? Injuries in reality too?"
"...Exactly that. But we can heal them once we're back."
"You crazy bastards. What the hell have you done?"
Ronan growled low, glaring at the club members. He looked ready to draw his blade any second. The onlookers shrank back from the killing intent radiating from his shoulders.
"If you don't explain straight—"
"I'll... explain."
Adeshan stepped forward then. She looked pitiful, thoroughly deflated. Ronan barely swallowed his bark and nodded.
"...Try me."
"We came to help you. You know three months have passed outside already?"
"...You're joking, right?"
"It's true. You've been asleep in Sepharachio the whole time. Professor Secret said time flows differently in the inner world."
Ronan's face hardened. He couldn't make sense of it. He'd only entered the inner world a few hours ago—three months?
"We went to Professor Secret together since it seemed hopeless. Asked if there was any way to help. Begged day and night for three days, and he finally let us in."
"No way that's possible."
"It's the truth."
Schlieffen nodded in support. The explanation continued. On the fifteenth day since Ronan entered the inner world, Secret had succeeded in developing a spell to let others enter.
Secret had warned it was imperfect, but the club members ignored him. Risks like identity confusion—as with Adeshan or Braum—or wounds carrying over to reality were prime cautions.
That's why they sent multiple people for a simple mission: in case one lost it, the others could snap them out. Adeshan rummaged in her pocket and held something out.
"Glad we found you quick, at least. Here, take this."
"What's this?"
Ronan tilted his head. It was a palm-sized, flat hexahedron. Inside the glass plate, a red needle spun wildly.
"A compass to find the curse's source. Professor Secret made it with magic. Not wrong to say that's why we came."
Adeshan explained that following the needle's direction would lead to the curse's origin. A simple yet powerful effect.
Ronan accepted it skeptically. The moment he did, the spinning needle halted abruptly. Its red, sharp tip pointed behind him.
"What?"
Ronan turned. The girl was holding the dying Sita, sobbing.
No way. Ronan muttered under his breath and stepped toward their side. The needle slowly turned, pointing at the girl and Sita again.
"Bullshit."
Ronan laughed hollowly. If Adeshan was telling the truth, the implication was obvious. The girl, sensing the change in his eyes, clutched Sita tighter.
"Wh-why...?"
Ronan circled them without answering. The needle's tip stayed fixed on them no matter where he moved.
After a full lap, Ronan stopped. He suddenly noticed sparkling mana creeping up their bodies like mist. The club members approached the statue-still Ronan.
"Ronan. You have to accept it."
"E-Everyone's worried... wondering if you'll never wake up."
Asel said worriedly. He mentioned how Ronan's prolonged inner world stay had everyone anxious. Ronan bit his lip. Schlieffen, now close, offered his sword.
"Do what must be done."
Ronan took the sword as if entranced. It was a decent blade, sharply honed.
Schlieffen was right. No matter how reluctant, he had to cut them down. Ronan nodded and looked at the girl and Sita.
"...Yeah. Time to go back."
"Thanks for trusting us."
The club members' faces brightened. Ronan sighed faintly and drew his sword. Slash. A crescent arc sliced past the four except Adeshan.
"Hngh...!"
No time to resist. Four heads soared into the air. Splash! Blood sprayed like a fountain, splattering Ronan's face.
The headless bodies thudded to the ground. Screams erupted along the street. Ronan swung again. Sword energy shot along the path, straight at Braum. Slash! The immobile Braum's body split in half and collapsed. Adeshan's face went sheet-white.
"R-Ronan. What have you...!"
The Elite Adventure Club was annihilated. Adeshan collapsed, legs giving out. Ronan, sheathing his blade silently, spoke.
"Disappointing. Thought you'd at least cough up useful info."
"Th-they're all dead... why...!"
"Cut the act. They're fakes. If you meant to fool me, you shouldn't have brought that guy."
Ronan jerked his chin at Schlieffen's head. Adeshan crawled back, trembling.
"What... what are you saying?"
"That guy's an ass, but decent. No way he'd come when he has to protect my sister."
A guy who'd break his oath over three months' absence wasn't worth asking. Ronan approached Adeshan slowly. Backed to the carriage, she looked up at him in terror.
"And..."
"Gahk!"
Ronan grabbed her throat mid-sentence. She thrashed desperately, but he didn't loosen his grip. He shoved his face close until their foreheads touched and snarled.
"They all promised me. They'd work hard till I returned. Wouldn't let me down."
"R-Ronan...!"
"Dare to insult my friends?"
A metallic rasp escaped his bloodless lips. Ronan never relented. Adeshan's struggles ceased; her body went limp. Ronan spat as he stood.
"Above all... my senior isn't ugly like you."
Ronan closed and opened his eyes. The person in his grasp had changed. Adeshan was gone; a pudgy young man stuck out his tongue in death. The son of Baron Dantel from his past life slaughter.
"Fucking idiots."
The beheaded club members' bodies had become the poachers he'd seen back then. Ronan tossed the youth aside and turned.
The crowds and buildings had vanished, leaving only a long, wide avenue stretching into the distance. Sita and the girl, now fine, stared at him silently.
"So, what are you?"
Ronan said. No more sparkling mana emanated from them. The girl smiled brightly and bowed at the waist.
"Thank you."
"Woof!"
Sita barked loudly, tail wagging furiously. Her lolling tongue and panting looked just like a grin. Suddenly, Ronan's vision blurred white.
"Stupid mutt."
Those who should have died hadn't. It felt like atoning for past mistakes. Ronan wiped his eyes with his sleeve and spoke.
"Don't show your faces to me again."
No reply. When Ronan looked again, they were gone without a trace. Only the empty avenue stretched out.
"Damn it..."
Ronan sighed, rubbing his forehead. He'd done nothing strenuous, yet felt exhausted like after a war.
Even knowing they were fakes, killing those close to him wasn't easy. Then, a familiar voice came from right behind.
"Not bad."
Chills raced down his spine. No footsteps until it was too late. Ronan whirled, hand on hilt. The salt-crusted beggar stood with hands in pockets.
"You...!"
"You've got the insight to make the right call. Ready for the next stage."
Ronan's eyes bulged. The beggar's face rippled with dark shadow. Just like his father's shadow he'd seen before. Instinct told Ronan this beggar was the curse's source.
"You've grown so much. Mortals' growth never ceases to amaze."
"Die!"
Ronan slashed reflexively. The beggar dodged by twisting his neck lightly.
Even follow-up strikes were evaded as his body shifted freely. Clang! The beggar caught the blade in shadow and spoke.
"Calm down. I'm not who you need to cut."
"What nonsense is that?"
"I'll tell you how to gain power and escape. But first, something you must see."
Incomprehensible. As Ronan opened his mouth, the shadow exploded outward, engulfing him. In pitch darkness, a eerie voice echoed.
"By the time you leave here, you'll have to decide."
"...!"
Despite the brain-tingling dread, he couldn't move. His body melted into liquid. Senses faded one by one. Even hearing was dissolving into distant dark.
"What's right and wrong... black and white."
The shadow whispered lowly. Ronan's fading consciousness snapped. His fully liquified body began flowing somewhere.
"Haaah!"
Ronan bolted upright. His senses returned. Sensing wrongness, he scanned rapidly.
"Where...?"
A plain room. Better than Zardin’s office, but barely. The gray-white stone space held only a bed, desk, and chair.
Noticing his viewpoint much higher, Ronan glanced at his hands and feet. The large palms protruding from white sleeves weren't his.
"Damn, what the hell?"
Ronan staggered to the desk. On the worn wooden surface lay a few parchment sheets, a quill, and a small pendant. Picking it up, his eyes widened.
"This is...!"
The crudely carved stone pendant was heptagonal. Same shape as the badge on Bishop Teranil's sleeve from Nebula Klazie. Secret's past words flashed: 'Father's memories.'
He'd said father's memories might have flowed in during the curse. In the prior inner world trip, Ronan had wandered Numberton from father's memories.
Then this now too? As Ronan pondered possibilities, a short knock preceded the door opening. A woman in pure white robes entered, bowing. Long, pointed ears matching her shoulders marked her race.
"Savior. Are you alright?"
"...What?"
"I heard your scream. Nightmare?"
A stranger. But her robe was familiar. Same as Nebula Klazie's followers, save poorer quality. As Ronan stood speechless, his lips moved on their own.
"No. I'm fine."
Ronan's eyes widened. He couldn't add words; no voice came. His body wouldn't obey—like his soul trapped inside.
"Good. Relieved."
The elf woman looked up. A beauty with ruby-embedded eyes. She smiled and gestured to the door.
"Then shall we? Innocents await today as well."