Chapter 129
Chapter 129
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 129
Chapter Title: In Search of the Scream (6)
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Clang! A savage metallic ring echoed across the cliffside. The staggering Savior collapsed to the ground. The robed man tilted his head.
"What are you?"
"Urk...!"
Three blades clashed and ground against each other. Drops of the Savior's blood splattered from the edge. Ronan gritted his teeth. The man was fending off Lamancha and Imir with only his right hand.
"Doesn't seem like someone from around here. You don't know who we are?"
Meanwhile, even exerting his full strength, all Ronan could do was hold his ground. No enemy he'd faced so far could compare.
He's strong. Incredibly strong.
It felt like a massive tower loomed before his eyes. But he couldn't give up like this. Forcing the corners of his mouth up, Ronan spat mockingly.
"I know you're a fucking traitor bastard."
"Hmm, so you saw it from the start."
The bold provocation didn't faze the man. But the pressure on his sword increased. Ronan's heels slid backward. Letting out a faint sigh, the man spoke.
"Sorry, but I can't let you live."
Clang! In an instant, the man repelled Ronan's sword and counterattacked. A thrust reminiscent of a comet shot toward Ronan. His eyes widened at the blinding speed that far exceeded his expectations.
What the fu—!
All he could do was track it with his eyes. The gleaming white tip flew straight for his throat.
Blocking or parrying was impossible. Slash! As Ronan turned his head, the blade grazed his neck. The man's face twisted.
"...You dodged?"
Ronan didn't answer. He had no time for snark. He spun his body in the direction he'd turned and swung his sword. The man bent backward at the waist. Whoosh! The arc of the slash passed just above his nose bridge.
"Damn."
"A beast of a sword. Are you really human?"
The man faced Ronan squarely. Ronan kicked off the ground and unleashed a ferocious barrage. Clang-clang! Sparks flew each time the bloodstained Lamancha neared the man's body.
It won't connect.
Ronan furrowed his brow. Even mana-enhanced slashes were fully blocked or deflected. Blood trickled from wounds, pooling in his collarbone. Thud! The man, who'd only been countering, flipped backward and landed, creating distance. He intoned coldly.
"I don't know where you're from... but I need to learn your identity."
Boom! In that instant, the man's form vanished from sight. Stone fragments erupted from where he'd stood.
Ronan took a deep breath and focused. Time stretched, revealing the man's approach. He'd closed in right before him, sword raised high.
Whoosh! Dozens of comets hurtled toward him. Realizing they were all thrusts like before, Ronan cursed.
"Fuck...!"
Ronan hastily assumed a defensive stance. The deflected strikes licked at his body. Stab! Two thrusts he couldn't react to pierced his abdomen and left shoulder blade.
"Gah!"
A glob of dark red blood erupted from Ronan's mouth. It was just a mental image, yet it hurt like hell.
Clang! Tendons snapped, and Lamancha fell from his right hand. Analyzing the sword path, Ronan twisted his lips.
The Savior's swordsmanship...!
He recognized it instantly. It was the same technique the Savior used. Slightly different, but close enough.
This is fucking disgusting.
The gap in skill was too vast, bodies aside. Just as the man swung to sever Ronan's legs. Crunch! A massive hand from outside his vision seized the man.
"Mm?!"
A terrifying voice boomed. Ronan, barely clinging to life, leaned on a nearby rock to stand. The jet-black scaled hand was larger than a barn.
Ronan traced his gaze up the wrist. A colossal black dragon filled his vision, gripping the man. It was Alivrihe's true form. He bellowed in fury.
"Alivrihe. You agreed as well."
"I merely received power that would otherwise go to waste."
The man replied calmly. His dry tone held no more emotion than saying he'd watered a plant. Alivrihe roared again and slammed him into the ground.
Boom!! The ground upheaved, crumbling part of the cliff. Thick dust shrouded everything. An elven woman rushed from behind Alivrihe.
"S-Savior!"
"Urgh... ugh..."
Elsia supported the Savior. He still breathed, but dark red blood bubbled relentlessly from his stab wound. As she stanched it, her voice broke with sobs.
"P-Please wake up. You can't die."
It contrasted sharply with her usual icy demeanor. Tears streamed endlessly beneath her red eyes. Alivrihe glanced at the Savior and gnashed his teeth.
"Y-Yes...!"
Elsia's trembling voice chanted the incantation. Nearby mana swirled, forming a geometric magic circle high in the sky.
"Th-The fastest and strongest one...!"
Soon, a massive magic circle blanketed the cliff. A glowing blue eagle folded its wings and descended. It was nearly half Alivrihe's size. Ronan gaped at its majestic form.
Hiran...!
He'd learned of it at Phileon. Hiran, the supreme wind spirit called the Prince of Storms. He hadn't known any spiritist could manifest it.
Hiran landed before her with a flap. Whoosh! The gale scattered nearby flames and smoke. The Savior was cradled in the arms of a summoned monkey spirit.
"Please, Hiran. Take this man to my abode."
Hiran nodded. The monkey spirit climbed onto its back with the Savior. As Hiran spread its wings to take off, a familiar voice came from beneath Alivrihe's palm.
"That won't do."
Alivrihe whipped his head around. Slash. A red line traced above his wrist, and a shadow shot into the sky.
Splurt! Blood fountained from the line. The shadow landed and gazed at the Savior.
"He hasn't transferred all his power yet."
Alivrihe let out a agonized roar. Though his body recoiled, his left hand remained pinned on the man.
"N-No...!"
Elsia paled. The man brushed dust from his shoulders and said regretfully.
"At least you're a master of prosthetics. We can just make one and attach it."
"H-Hiran!!"
Elsia cried desperately. Hiran soared away from the cliff. A single flap covered kilometers.
"Hm."
Hiran shrank to a blue dot. Unfazed, the man swung his sword. Whoosh! Dozens of crescent blades along the sword path shot toward Hiran.
"What...!"
Ronan, watching, let out a hollow laugh. Each crescent was at least nine meters long—pure sword ki. The number, size, and range defied reason.
As Hiran crossed the battlefield, the man reaching for it suddenly clenched his fist. Crunch! A bizarre barrier blocked Hiran's path. Elsia's face contorted in horror.
"Th-The Star's Blessing from that far...!"
"Pyoo?!"
Hiran halted abruptly. A pursuing sword ki struck its left wing. Slash! Wingless, Hiran plummeted. Elsia reached out, screaming.
"Nooo!!"
"PyoOOOO...!"
An incoming sword ki bisected the monkey. The Savior tumbled. Their forms vanished into the inferno.
"Ah... aaaah...!"
"I didn't plan for this."
The robed man clicked his tongue. Elsia rushed to the cliff edge, but the Savior was gone. Intensified flames engulfed the field. Turning to the man, she screamed in rage.
"You!!"
Wooong! Dozens of large and small magic circles encircled the man. Massive beasts roared and charged. All high-grade spirits or above, by their auras. The man sighed deeply.
"Elsia. Don't waste your mana."
"You... you killed the Savior...!"
The spirits lunged savagely. The man's body spun sharply. A circular slash cleaved through them.
Sploooosh! Shredded mana sprayed like waves. Dozens of high-grade spirits vanished in one blow. Despairing, Elsia collapsed.
"Ahh..."
"You know magic doesn't work on me."
The man struck her nape with his sword hilt. Thud. Unconscious, Elsia slumped limply.
He turned, clenching his fist at Alivrihe. Wooong! The same barrier that stopped Hiran enveloped the dragon.
"Cool your head a bit."
Alivrihe, about to unleash breath, roared in frustration. But the Star's Blessing didn't even scratch. Having tidied the scene, the man turned to Ronan.
"Now it's a bit quieter."
"...Crazy bastard."
Ronan muttered curses. Still leaning on the rock, he panted.
This guy's seriously dangerous.
His body wouldn't move. Alivrihe's words about unhealing wounds seemed true. Blood pooled on the ground. The man strode up and loomed over him.
"I'll ask again. Who are you?"
"Your mom."
"If you won't talk, I'll kill you."
"Do it."
Ptoo! Ronan spat. The bloody glob arced to the man's feet. Staring at Ronan, the man tilted his head.
"Wait... now that I look, you do resemble a bit..."
"What?"
"You. Who's your mother?"
"What kinda bullshit is that?"
Ronan scowled. The man approached closer and grabbed his hair.
"Guh!"
"Excluding hair color, you really look alike. Hmm..."
He peered intently at Ronan's face, noses nearly touching.
"This fucker... gay or what?"
"Stay still."
Whatever this was, it pissed him off. Strength gathered in Ronan's hand on Imir.
This might be my only chance.
His heart raced. Rationality returned with the blood loss. Taunts didn't faze him; he needed a plan.
If that method works.
A decent idea flashed. No time to hesitate. Looking past the man's shoulder, Ronan spoke.
"Savior, you're alive?"
"What...!"
It worked. The man froze and whipped around. But only flames burned there.
Realizing the trick, he turned back. Gleaming Imir hurtled toward him.
"That power...!"
The man froze at the sparkling mana. Golden aura enveloped Ronan's arms—Baren's power amplifier.
"...You're full of surprises."
The man whistled in admiration. Ronan felt much stronger than their first clash. Gripping his hilt two-handed, he raised it. Blades about to meet, Ronan yelled.
"Die!!"
Fwooosh... Remaining mana ebbed like tide, Imir's blade shining brighter. Boom! A shockwave burst from Imir's flat. Bishop Teranil's technique. The instantly accelerated slash—dozens of times faster—deflected the man's sword.
"What...!"
The man's face hardened. Too late to react.
The slash drew a long line across his face. Splurt! Blood spurted; the robe tore. The hollow feedback made Ronan curse.
"Damn."
The trump card failed. Head thrown back, the man straightened. His face emerged. Ronan's eyes bulged.
"...Huh?"
"The wound...!"
A long gash crossed his nose bridge. Not deep, but bleeding plenty.
Panicking, the man touched his face. Seeing bloodied fingers, he raged.
"You bastard!"
He swung. But shock-rooted Ronan didn't dodge. His gaze fixed on the face.
Crimson eyes like sunset dusk clung to sharp brows. Sleek jawline razor-edged.
Whoosh... A timely hot gust tousled his hair. Snowy white locks sparkled in firelight.
Save hair color, the face mirrored his uncannily. Slash. The keen blade slit Ronan's throat.
...What?
Lightning pain flipped the world. Even then, the man's face filled his mind. Vision blackened; consciousness faded.
"Mm."
Ronan opened his eyes. The weathered wooden ceiling was familiar. Groggy like waking from sleep, it took time to clear his head. Hand to his neck, he sighed.
...Lost, huh.
No wound, but the sensation lingered vividly. Sitting up slowly revealed a humble farmhouse interior. He soon realized it was his hometown Nimbuton's house. Suddenly, a voice from behind.
"Enjoy the journey?"
Ronan turned. An amorphous shadow sat at the table, sipping tea. No visible mouth, but somehow drinking. Ronan walked over and sat.
"What did you show me?"
"Just reenacted the past."
"Did the Savior really die?"
"Who knows. Not me."
The shadow shook its head. Seemed unwilling to say more. After long silence, Ronan spoke.
"Is the Cult Leader my father?"