Chapter 171
Chapter 171
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 171
Chapter Title: Festival of Swords (14)
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Ronan gripped the hilt and yanked. In an instant, the demon's hand blurred. A harsh metallic clang shattered the dawn's silence.
"This...!"
Confirming his slash had been blocked, Ronan gritted his teeth. The demon's sword was far faster than expected. But the surprise seemed mutual. Regaining his stance, he swung his blade as if eager to end it quickly.
Ronan countered without flinching. Kaang! A slash launched at speeds the culprit could never perceive collided in midair. Sparks erupted repeatedly in the dim food warehouse. The clashes echoed irregularly, always a beat late.
They paused after about twenty exchanges. Their locked blades growled like beasts vying for territory. The demon staring at Ronan spoke up.
"Fast."
"You bastard, what the hell did you do?"
Ronan snarled. The demon gripped a sleek single-edged sword. Its long, gently curved blade was optimized for swift strikes.
Given it hadn't chipped against Ramancha, it was clearly a masterfully forged weapon. With no reply forthcoming despite the wait, Ronan tightened his grip on the hilt.
"I'm asking you. What did you do?"
"...!"
The taut balance shattered, pushing the curved sword back. The demon pushed too, but couldn't match Ronan's raw strength. Retreating a step, he muttered in admiration.
"...Not bad. You don't seem like an accomplice to these vermin."
"Accomplice?"
"Yes. Seems there's some misunderstanding on both sides. How about we lower our swords first?"
His tone was disorientingly calm. Only then did Ronan's rage-blurred vision clear, revealing the demon's face. Contrary to expectations, he was an ordinary-looking young man. His blood-matted hair was a dull white, his eyes a yellowish hue tinged with red.
'Traitor? No, different.'
No shining mana emanated from him. His hair and eye colors were vaguely similar, but his face bore little resemblance to the robed bastards. Yet an inexplicable sense of familiarity and several unnaturally ordinary traits sowed confusion in Ronan. His emotionless expression and demeanor were prime examples.
His flat, toneless voice amplified the eeriness. His slowly blinking eyes betrayed no joy, anger, sorrow, or pleasure. According to Russell, he'd once shed his skin entirely—a side effect, apparently.
He didn't feel human at all. The demon lowered his sword first, slowly. Ronan kept his guard up, blade tip at the demon's throat.
"Explain."
"All these corpses littering the place tried to kill me. They ambushed me here, anticipating my visit for fresh meat."
"What?"
"Their gear says it all. Lacking confidence in their swords, they brought every gadget imaginable."
The demon claimed victimhood, insisting his killings were self-defense. He added that the wrist-slitting torture was to uncover their backers.
Ronan examined the bodies. As claimed, all six were fully armored and armed. Auxiliary weapons and banned scrolls were plentiful, undeniable proof of their thorough preparation.
'...Really?'
Every circumstance backed the demon's story. As Ronan stood stunned by the unforeseen turn—
The demon dropped into a crouch and shot backward.
"You son of a—!"
Ronan's eyes widened. Unfamiliar mana, presumed to be Aura, coiled around the curved sword.
Sensing danger instinctively, Ronan raised his blade. The crouched man launched like an arrow. Unavoidable distance. Judging swiftly, Ronan slashed to intercept. The moment the swords clashed again, the mana wreathing the curved blade flared and exploded. Kwaang! The blast hurled Ronan, smashing through the warehouse wall.
"Kugh!"
Without blocking, his limbs would've been torn off. Like being struck by a battering ram, Ronan slammed his sword into the ground to halt his flight. Kagagak! A long gouge scarred the earth as he stopped.
'Damn it, showing an opening.'
A clear blunder. His back throbbed like hell, but no time for that. Ronan looked up. The blast had flung corpses and obliterated one wall of the warehouse. A gust scattered the smoke, revealing the demon standing dazed. Looking down at Ronan, he muttered incredulously.
"...Impressive."
Blood dripped from the demon's feet. A long gash diagonally crossed his chest. Ramancha's parting gift just before the blast. Ronan, with his shallower wound, spat curses. Damn, a bit deeper and he'd have shredded the heart.
"Talk about bad luck."
"You're dangerous. Accomplice or not, you need to die."
The demon said. Spitting blood from his mouth, Ronan rose. The demon showed no intent to retreat either. Slowly raising his sword, Ronan assumed stance. Aura-like haze shimmered along Ramancha, which had drunk the demon's blood.
Focusing his mind, the pitch-black blade turned a vivid crimson. The demon lowered again, into the same preparatory stance as before.
'Aiming to end it in one go.'
Outside remained dark. His nose had acclimated; the blood scent was gone. Somewhere, wind creaked a door open and shut. The two figures vanished from sight. In that instant, as they closed in to clash midway—
"That's enough."
"Shit, what the—?!"
Ronan and the demon froze simultaneously. Emergency braking nearly toppled them. Lowering their gazes, they saw blades hovering at their throats. A wrinkled old man held a sword in each hand, aimed at both.
"You..."
Ronan's eyes widened. It was the old man, Alogin, from Gran Parjan. Naviroje had introduced him as a former Sword Saint and one of the elders overseeing the Festival of Swords. Alternately eyeing Ronan, the corpses, and the demon, Alogin spoke.
"Explain yourself, Nodrek. What mess have you caused now?"
"Just an assassination attempt during breakfast. Evidence is plentiful."
"Assassination attempt... So contestant #44 here is the assassin?"
"No. These sprawled corpses are the assassins. I was about to kill this one, thinking him an accomplice."
The demon pointed at Ronan with his sword tip. Nodrek seemed his true name.
"Earlier you said he didn't seem like one."
"Said that to lower his guard. But now I'm certain he's not. Different caliber from this trash."
Nodrek's gaze swept the bodies. His brazen nonchalance nearly drew a hollow laugh. Hadn't he just declared him dangerous enough to kill? Alogin narrowed his eyes at Ronan.
"You got nothing to say?"
His eyes gleamed undimmed beneath wrinkled lids. After a moment's thought, Ronan nodded.
"...No."
"Very well. Follow me. Whatever happened, you two need investigating."
Alogin turned and walked. The demon meekly followed. Suddenly, Ronan realized Alogin wasn't alone. On the roof, alley corners, behind trees... three or four unseen elders watched them like hawks.
'The elders.'
Chill goosebumps raced up his spine. He'd sensed nothing until they were this close. Even amid battle's sensory overload, it was phenomenal skill.
His gaze fell on a rolling head. Blast-shattered Russell's was missing everything below the jaw. The mercenary band hadn't sufficed; even he had perished by the demon's hand.
Told him not to be stupid. Licking his lips, Ronan closed Russell's still-glassy eyes.
"Dumbass."
Riley's remains were headless fragments. After brief silent prayer, Ronan followed Alogin.
The elders watched unblinking until they vanished from sight. Soon, arriving officials cleared the bodies. By the time woken contestants arrived, drawn by the commotion, all traces of the tragedy were gone.
"You look beat. Something happen?"
"...No."
Dawn broke. Ronan waved off Lin's question. They headed to the final exam site.
He'd only returned to base at breakfast. Parjan's interrogations had dragged on longer than expected.
The affair's secrecy meant other contestants knew nothing of the predawn incident. Lin furrowed her brow at Ronan's unresisting compliance to her butt-poke.
"Hmm. Doesn't seem like it."
Long story short: the demon—Nodrek—got self-defense clearance. Evidence of the ambush was irrefutable.
Investigations revealed all dead, Russell included, harbored deep grudges against Nodrek. Some for family, some friends. Contestant Layla, eager for Naviroje, had lost her lover's wrist to Nodrek in the first exam.
But their grudges weren't excused. Simple reason: post-entry, Nodrek had never openly broken rules or committed crimes.
The assassination fizzled as attempt; the perpetrators became dishonorable criminals. Pitiful end, but no sympathy. Their methods weren't right. Just shitty.
"H-Here's the final gateway to the holy site...!"
"Thrilling."
Arriving at the destination, people gasped in awe. The final exam arena outshone any Parjan building. The oval coliseum of white marble and jewels evoked a gem casket for the gods.
Contestants arrayed by affiliation. Numbers noticeably thinned from last night's debacle. Amid murmurs of bewilderment, a familiar elder stepped forward.
"My deepest respects to you all for reaching here. As you know, the final exam is 1v1 duels between Aran Parjan and Gran Parjan contestants. I, Alogin, and Sword Saint Zaifa will oversee this sacred bout."
Elder Alogin was proctor. The morning's menace gone, he was kindly grandpa again. Beside him loomed a grim-faced were-tiger. Scanning contestants lazily, he grunted.
"Zaifa."
Murmurs rose. Despite the perfunctory greeting, most contestants reacted like meeting their deity. Empire's Sword Saints were idols to all sword-eaters, after all.
"Instructor, you okay?"
"Quiet."
Glancing back, Naviroje deep-breathed to suppress fury. Veins bulged at her temples. Alogin's explanation continued.
"Opponents drawn randomly. Third-exam priority holders may nominate. First to incapacitate within time wins."
He noted four Gran Parjan byes due to Aran shortages. Draws happened immediately; Lin and three others advanced sans fight. Lin shoved her winning lot at Ronan.
"Ta-da."
"Lucky."
"See you later. Ask again at the holy site, and I'll really consider it."
Ronan chuckled in reply. Lin playfully smacked his butt and headed to seats. Soon, majestic trumpets heralded the final exam's start. First and second matches set by priority nominators.
"Contestant #1, Nodrek. Nominate your opponent."
Alogin said. Silence blanketed the arena. Demon rumors had spread. People averted eyes, bowed heads.
'Probably me.'
Ronan calmly prepared. Half-certain Nodrek would pick him. After declaring him kill-worthy then backing off, legal murder here seemed likely.
"Pass."
Indeed, no hesitation. Hand shot up the instant Alogin finished. But he pointed unexpectedly. Ronan frowned at Nodrek's finger squarely on Naviroje.
"...Huh?"
"Naviroje. You're my opponent."
Nodrek said. Voice still flat, tone suddenly coarse. Everyone in the arena gaped. Zaifa perked ears intriguingly. Bewildered buzz spread rapidly.
"My god."
"H-He insane? Even with confidence..."
Naviroje, nominated, showed no reaction. Calmly ascending, she faced Nodrek.
"You know me?"
"Better than anyone."
"I don't know you. Rumor you're disciple of Storm Sword Croden—avenging your master?"
"Disciple."
Nodrek scoffed. Battle horn blared. Instantly, Nodrek vanished from sight. Ronan's eyes bulged.
"Eh?"
He'd missed the motion briefly. Far beyond his earlier speed against Ronan. Naviroje thrust forward; clash erupted. Kwaaaang! Massive blast hurled her body back.
"Ugh...!"
Explosion's power vastly amplified too. Twisting midair, Naviroje landed. Smoke from the epicenter obscured view. Wiping nosebleed with sleeve, she murmured softly.
"You're alive. Storm Sword."