Chapter 127
Chapter 127
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 127
Chapter Title: In Search of the Scream (4)
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“Let us go. Even today, the innocent await.”
“Very well.”
“I shall wait outside.”
The woman turned and stepped out the door. A faint lily scent lingered in the spot where she had stood. Ronan had been trying relentlessly to seize control and do something, but the body of this so-called Savior refused to relinquish command.
‘Damn it, what the hell is going on?’
It felt like he was being told to just sit back and watch, which soured his mood even more. The Savior walked to the desk and hung a crude heptagonal pendant around his neck.
Shimmering mana rose from the rough-hewn heptagram like mist. Once again, his lips moved on their own, murmuring softly.
“...May the blessing of the stars be upon us.”
The Savior straightened his robes and opened the door. With a creak of the hinges, an utterly unexpected scene unfolded before his eyes.
‘What...’
Ronan’s eyes widened. A small village reminiscent of Numburton sprawled beneath the blue sky. Wildflowers bloomed profusely, swaying and rising with each gust of wind.
The door and building he had emerged from had vanished without a trace. It was a common spatial shift in dreams or the world of the mind. Ronan glanced around and tilted his head.
‘Did a fire break out or something?’
Unlike its peaceful first impression, the village wasn’t entirely serene. Many of the wooden buildings lay collapsed or burned to the ground.
It looked less like a fire and more like an attack from something that breathed flames. Residents in soot-stained clothes bustled about. Then Ronan’s gaze locked onto one spot. Something extraordinary was happening.
‘That’s...’
Water buffalo, horses, monkeys... over a hundred diverse animals carried wood and stone. Their translucent bodies marked them as spirits conjured from magic.
The smaller and medium-sized spirits hauled materials and repaired ruined homes. The occasional massive spirits dug into the earth or piled soil into hills, handling the heavy labor.
It didn’t take long to realize they were drawing river water from afar. Ronan let out a hollow chuckle as he watched the spirits’ construction work.
‘Impressive.’
The identical mana wavelengths from the spirits suggested a single summoner. Compared to an average spiritist handling two or three at most, this was extraordinary skill.
The Savior headed toward the village center. The woman from earlier was surrounded by grateful residents. They bowed repeatedly in their shabby clothes.
“We thought we’d freeze to death this winter... Thank you so much!”
“T-To bring the river all the way to the village... You didn’t have to go that far...!”
“This land is fertile, so many more people will gather here in the future. We’ll finish the reconstruction first, then properly channel the river.”
The red-eyed elf woman commanded her spirits with flawless precision. The mana emanating from them flowed from her. She bowed politely as their eyes met.
“Savior.”
“Your skills have improved again, Elsia. They all seem mid-level spirits now.”
“It’s all thanks to you, Savior. The grimoire you personally compiled has been a great help.”
“Is that so? How does it compare to the first book?”
“Lerant was of course an excellent work... but I believe this latest one surpasses it. Oh, have you decided on a title?”
The woman pulled a book from inside her robe. Ronan’s brow furrowed like crumpled paper.
The pitch-black cover and pages were disgustingly familiar. The Savior’s lips parted again, dropping a bombshell.
“Bajura.”
“A fine name. I shall strive even harder.”
“Good. Bear with it just a bit longer.”
The woman bowed silently and focused on her spirit arts. Ronan, watching from the eye sockets, was plunged into shocked silence.
‘Fuck, how ancient is this?’
The fact that this Savior wrote Bajura was shocking enough, but the era was more horrifying. Aire, the librarian at Dawn Tower, had estimated it at least two thousand years old.
It was unbelievable. The scene before him dated back over a millennium.
Ronan stood frozen, forgetting to resist for a moment. Meanwhile, the Savior strode onward unperturbed. Residents clung to him with every step.
“Savior, thank you truly. To think you’d come to our village...”
“Sob... The monster, it burned everything and ate people...”
“Fear not. An exceptional warrior has gone to slay the beast.”
The Savior reached out and patted a crying child’s head while walking among the villagers.
A burly giant sat at the village edge. A massive heptagram tattoo—the symbol of Nebula Klazie—adorned his ray-like broad back.
“Eek...! It h-hurts!”
“Just endure a little. Connecting is always the worst part.”
A frail farmer lay before him, screaming. The giant gripped his leg, fumbling to attach something.
Ronan realized the farmer’s right leg was severed below the knee. The giant shouted.
“Alright, connecting now. Hngh!”
“Gaaahhh!!”
A long wail echoed. The watching wife and child covered their mouths. The farmer lifted his head, regaining his senses.
“Hah... H-heuk... Uuugh...?”
“Hahaha, you toughed it out well. Now stand.”
A metal leg had fused below the amputation. Sensation returned. The farmer rose cautiously and stepped forward gingerly, letting out an ecstatic cry.
“I-It moves...! I’m walking!”
“Uahaha! Of course you are. It’s a prosthetic I made!”
The man boomed with laughter. The farmer rushed to embrace his wife and child amid cheers. It was heartwarming. The Savior approached briskly.
“Well done. Your craftsmanship is always impressive.”
“Ah, you’re here.”
The giant stood. Easily over two meters tall, he seemed more beastkin than human. He pocketed his hands and continued.
“All thanks to the techniques you taught me. How do you even know this stuff?”
“Nothing special. Just a bit more experience than most.”
“If I asked what kind, you wouldn’t answer this time either, right?”
The Savior nodded silently. The man smirked and chuckled.
“Haha, you’re still the strangest mortal I’ve ever met.”
“I’d rather not hear that from a dragon making prosthetics for mortals. Alibrihe.”
‘Alibrihe...?’
Ronan’s eyes widened at the name. He’d heard it recently from Teranil and Yuria. A master of prosthetic limbs and arms.
He’d thought of meeting this legendary smith someday, but not like this. A dragon, though? Questions swirled just as a voice called from behind.
“Savior. We’ve slain the nearby beasts as ordered.”
Ronan startled at the belated presence. An aura far beyond Elsia or Alibrihe stabbed at his back.
The Savior turned. A man in a white robe pulled low over his face stood there. His waist-hung longsword dripped blood.
“There were so many, I just beheaded the leader and brought it.”
White light swirled around the blade, mana gleaming. A drake head larger than a house was strapped to his back. Alibrihe stroked his chin in admiration.
“Oho, just the head is this big. Could call it an honorary dragon.”
“Quite large. Likely the one that torched nearby cities and villages.”
“Not a drop of blood on your robes again. Impressive as always.”
The robed man bowed. His humility was likable, at least. The Savior spoke.
“Well done. ■■.”
“Thank you, Savior.”
“Rest now. Reconstruction is nearly done...”
Ronan frowned. The name was incomprehensible. As the man bowed again to leave, a dark shadow fell, then light flooded everywhere.
“Hm?”
Everyone looked up simultaneously—and gasped. Crimson flames poured down like a waterfall from the sky.
“What...!”
The blaze blanketed the visible heavens. Alibrihe’s face twisted in shock. Screams erupted across the village.
“Aaaah! F-Fire!”
“Save us!”
Elsia’s spirits reacted first, throwing up shields at the cost of their forms—but they lasted seconds before vanishing in flames.
Alibrihe shot water streams skyward, but they barely doused the inferno. Ronan yelled inwardly.
‘You idiot! Do something!’
Even in this dire crisis, the Savior stood calmly. When the flames were fifty paces away, he suddenly raised his right arm.
“All of you, stay calm.”
Screams halted instantly. Then the flames engulfed the village. Kwaaaa! The relentless torrent swallowed the village and surrounding land before stopping.
‘...What?’
Ronan, eyes shut against the heat, looked up. Nothing had happened. No deaths, no injuries, buildings unscathed.
The reason shimmered overhead. A violet, rippling hemispherical barrier blanketed the area.
‘Star's Blessing...!’
Ronan’s eyes bulged. Like Bajura, he’d seen it before—but this dwarfed all prior versions.
Thicker beyond compare, spanning kilometers. Comparable to Ahayute’s barrier.
【What trick did you use?】
A majestic voice boomed from above. Wingbeats grew nearer.
Whoosh! Smoke over the barrier scattered. A vast shadow cloaked faces. Winds from wings cleared smoke and embers. Soon, the culprit revealed itself.
‘Fuck.’
Ronan grimaced. Head to tail, over seventy meters. Its red scales defied worldly logic.
The pinnacle among dragons: a red dragon overlooked the village. Alibrihe scratched his head irritably.
“Damn, why’s that guy here?”
“You know it?”
“Yeah. Red Death Gargarrens. Infamous for its foul temper, but why come here...”
Alibrihe explained it was kin to Navardoje. Ronan knew her well.
The great dragon hailed as Mother of Fire, the only survivor of the final battle who slew a giant. The Savior spoke.
“Noble dragon, why do this?”
【Hand over the one who killed my servant.】
“Servant?”
【Yes. The servant who attended me for centuries just perished. The culprit is surely here.】
Ronan glanced at the robed man. Circumstantially, the drake he beheaded.
“I...”
“Stay put.”
As the man stepped forward, the Savior stopped him.
“Sorry, but that won’t be possible.”
【What do you mean?】
“We did kill it, true. But your servant trampled homes and devoured mortals at will. Shall we both acknowledge faults and move on?”
【Absurd. You equate my servant’s life to you vermin?】
“To me, yes.”
The Savior answered without hesitation. Dread silence fell. Everyone froze like statues. The red dragon’s mocking laugh echoed from above.
【Then it’s settled. You’ll all burn to ash.】
Its chest swelled. Flames roiled, ready to pour.
The Savior reached out, yanking the man’s sword hilt. Shing! The razor edge gleamed.
“Savior, allow me...!”
The Savior ignored him. Bang! His coiled body launched like a spring.
【What...!】
Distance closed in an instant. Shock filled the dragon’s eyes. Reaching eye level, the Savior swung.
A graceful slash traced a white line across the dragon’s horn. At ascent’s peak, he descended. Sschwick! The horn shattered into dozens of fragments.
【Graaaahhh!】
The dragon’s agonized roar shook heaven and earth. All below clutched ears. Crashing in pain, it barely recovered before hitting ground.
“Waaaah!!”
“Th-The dragon’s fleeing!”
The clash ended abruptly. Cheers erupted as the Savior landed. Most fixated on the fleeing dragon, but not Ronan.
‘My god.’
The sword path floated in his mind. Barely trackable visually, yet unmistakable.
The Savior’s swordsmanship closely resembled Naviroje’s. The technique taught by that wanderer in the forest long ago.