Chapter 130
Chapter 130
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 130
Chapter Title: In Search of the Scream (7)
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"Is the leader of Nebula Klazie my father?"
"Hoo."
The shadow shrugged as if intrigued. Truth be told, it was a thought he'd harbored for quite some time. He'd buried it deep because leaving even a sliver of room for doubt felt pathetic.
'From the moment I could use their abilities, something felt off...'
But at this point, he had no choice but to entertain the possibility. It wasn't just because the man's face peeking from under the robe bore too striking a resemblance to his own.
If the hypothesis held true, a slew of mysteries would unravel. His talent for severing mana, the circumstances that allowed him to wield sparkling mana—such enigmas. The shadow, sipping his tea, finally spoke.
"The leader... It could be, or it couldn't."
"Spit it out straight."
"I have no obligation to. Why are you so certain that man is the leader?"
"...He didn't look like an idiot, at least."
Ronan gnashed his teeth as he recalled the memory. It had been his most humiliating defeat. He hadn't even established a proper fight before the man severed his head.
Even the overwhelming powerhouses Elsia and Alibrije had fallen without resistance. They'd been formidable before the betrayal, but after stripping the Savior's power, their strength became immeasurable.
"That bastard had power and ambition. Guys like that don't end up leading unless they're complete morons."
"Intriguing deduction."
"Fuck it, if you don't wanna talk, forget it."
Ronan spat curses and rose to his feet. He shook his head to dispel the swarm of questions buzzing in his mind. Family ties weren't what mattered now.
Whatever that white-haired freak's true identity, if he was Nebula Klazie's leader, he had to die. The plan to summon winged baldies and end the world remained unchanged. Ronan paced, hand to his forehead, then spoke.
"So, why show me that crap?"
"To give you a chance."
"A chance?"
"Yes. A chance at a better choice. This curse's caster wanted you never to awaken your true power."
The shadow spouted nonsense and stood. Gazing out the window, he continued.
"Fragrant flowers draw bugs... But you've not only broken three curses—you've made enemies of the cult."
"What're you getting at?"
"The stronger you grow, the harsher your fate. Still thinking of challenging the cult?"
Whoosh! Suddenly, the shadow's form expanded. Across his stretched body unfolded Ronan's battle with the robed man. From their clash on the cliff to his decapitation—it lasted less than five minutes.
'Shit.'
Ronan scowled at the hopeless gap replayed before him. Watching his own head roll in third person wasn't pleasant.
"That man still lives. Time has only made him stronger."
"Probably."
"If you keep seeking revenge against the cult, you'll face him again soon. No luck of reattaching your head next time."
Ronan clicked his tongue. His body hair stood on end. The shadow continued in a grave tone.
"But it's not too late. Abandon revenge now and return to a peaceful life. If you insist, I'll tell you what to cut—but I won't hide that it's foolish."
Swoosh... The shadow shrank back to normal. The vision faded, revealing his dark form once more. He said,
"Decide now. I'll respect your choice, but won't ask twice."
"Damn, all this bullshit just to say that?"
Ronan chuckled dryly. It echoed Secretia's pre-revenge question exactly. Urging safe surrender over risky defiance.
Of course, he was afraid. Imagining the rematch made his palms sweat. Maybe his head would hit the floor instantly, as the shadow warned.
'Fucking hell.'
But that didn't matter. Promises had to be kept. Spitting on the floor, Ronan replied without hesitation.
"Spill how to do revenge."
"Good. Follow me."
The shadow didn't mock or press. He strode out the front door.
Ronan followed. Crossing the threshold, his eyes widened. A massive boulder protruded from the garden's center.
"What's this now?"
"What you must cut for revenge."
It was an ugly rock. Like a giant chewed it up, spat it out, and left it in the desert for a millennium.
"It's the materialized core of your curse. Sealing your unawakened potential."
"This?"
"Yes. Touch it."
Ronan placed his hand on the rock. As promised, a powerful force thrashed deep within, desperate to break free.
'Hm?'
Something felt off. The rock itself emanated its own mana. A familiar sensation made him tilt his head. The shadow continued.
"Cut it, and you're free. Not easy, of course."
"Just a rock, no matter how tough."
Ronan drew his sword hilt. Crimson-dyed Lamancha gleamed. Before the shadow could speak, a slash struck the rock dead-on.
Clang! A ferocious clash echoed. Seeing the unscratched surface, Ronan twisted his lips.
"...Tough bastard."
"Told you. Not easy."
Its hardness exceeded expectations. Repeated strikes only dulled his blade; the rock stood firm. The chuckling shadow spoke.
"You'll need serious training. Your current skill can't destroy that core."
"Training?"
"Yes. Until you can cleave it."
Snap! The shadow flicked his fingers. The scenery rippled like water, Nimbutton's home vanishing. Blinking, Ronan found himself in the club district training ground, shaking his head.
"Not even surprised anymore."
"Not to your liking? I thought it optimal for training."
"...Keep going."
Nimbutton's house had become the elite adventure club building. The ugly rock jutted from the spacious training floor. Equipment and tools lined the edges neatly. The shadow nodded.
"Anything you want, I can manifest. Sleep and eat in the building. Focus solely on shattering the rock."
"Feels like you're pushing me to settle in, but I don't have endless time."
"Didn't I mention? Ten days here is one hour outside."
Ronan's eyes widened. First he'd heard of it.
"Only three days passed outside. Training in the mental world affects your real body—not a bad deal."
"Suddenly so generous. Night and day from trying to dissuade me."
"Respecting your choice is the caster's will too. And this is possible."
Surveying the field, the shadow snapped again. Creak—the club door opened, an annoyingly handsome boy striding out. Context-free Schlieffen made Ronan frown.
"Shit, what's this now."
"Long time no see, Ronan."
Schlieffen said. Even the voice matched. Approaching the training golems, he drew his sword.
Slash! A sharp gust bisected the field; thirty golems' heads fell simultaneously. Sheathing, he turned.
"Care for a spar?"
"Hah."
Ronan snorted. The shadow added he could summon any training partner. Proving it, the door creaked open again.
A tall woman emerged. Dressed ideally in imperial uniform, high leather boots—Adeshan from her Grand General days. Ronan's gift whip hung at her waist. Her heels clicked as she cupped his face.
"Private. You've been through hell."
"...Grand General."
"No need to brood alone. I'll aid you alongside the Empire's Rising Star."
Her gray eyes shone beautifully. Stray locks tickled his face. Knowing it was illusion stirred nostalgia. Squeezing his eyes shut, Ronan growled low.
"Get rid of 'em."
"As you wish."
Snap. Opening his eyes, Schlieffen and Adeshan were gone. Gazing at the rock, Ronan sighed deeply.
"Yeah... Tempting offer."
Honestly, no reason to refuse. Everything desired provided, plus sparring partners. Time dilation's value needed no explanation.
"Call if needed. I'll come right away."
"Hold up."
But only if it wasn't a lie.
"Hm?"
The summoned shadow paused. Ronan drew. A red comet streaked toward it.
"What...!"
The shadow twisted frantically. But the incomparably swift slash gave no quarter. Schwick! A red line slashed across its body.
"Gahk!"
The bisected mass flopped. Its surface bubbled like foam. Looking up at Ronan, it spoke.
"Knew from the start?"
"Something like that."
"Hah... Thought my acting was flawless."
The shadow muttered ruefully. Severed at its essence, it wouldn't regenerate.
Whoosh... The space crumbled to dust. Club building, ugly rock, dying shadow, Ronan's body—all disintegrating. Jutting his chin at the rock, Ronan said.
"That thrashing underneath? That's the curse."
The shadow didn't reply. He'd sensed it midway.
Beneath wasn't his potential. A far deadlier curse than his current revenge boiled, ready to erupt.
The rock contained it. Destroying it would unleash the curse, consuming him. As it faded, the shadow spoke.
"How'd you know? I masked it as non-curse."
"Who knows..."
Ronan trailed off. He might've missed it before. As the shadow said, camouflage spells veiled the curse.
But post-memory journey, his senses sharpened. Like fog lifting from his eyes.
Plus, the rock pulsed with mana like Seniel's statue. The elves' revered will. Hard to imagine it blocking his growth.
'Even looks similar.'
Ronan smirked. The dissolving scenery meant success. The curse's source was the shadow.
Shrinking to less than ash, its consciousness faded. In the vanishing world, its voice echoed.
"As expected... Sharp eyes."
****
"Ugh..."
Ronan opened his eyes. His mind fogged like after eons of sleep. Thick blue walls like glacial ice hemmed him in.
"...What the hell is this?"
The mystery walls cocooned him like a chrysalis. Barely room to move limbs; no view outside.
'What a pain. Still in the mental world?'
A chill unease flickered. No telltale disconnect suggested otherwise, but caution remained.
Reaching slowly, he touched the wall. Crash! Thick cracks spiderwebbed; it shattered.
"Fuck, startled me...!"
Ronan scrambled up. Easier than expected. No injuries from shards. Surveying, familiar sights emerged.
"...Separachio."
The sealed study brimmed with books. The magic circle from his revenge dive intact on the floor.
Suddenly, Ronan noticed his elevated viewpoint. Limbs sized like in the Savior's body.
'Damn, how long was I trapped?'
As he reached for his face, a familiar voice came from behind.
"......It's been so long, Ronan."