Chapter 180
Chapter 180
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 180
Chapter Title: Aura (2)
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About thirty minutes had passed since the Lykopos raid. The sunset, now even more intense, was scorching the holy site. The crater, dyed entirely red, was personally demonstrating why this place was known by the epithet "the pool where light gathers."
But in stark contrast to such a beautiful scene, the situation was dire. The red hue staining the crater wasn't just from the sunset. Crimson stains from blood splattered across the snow lingered throughout the holy site. Corpses lay scattered amid the densely grown sword spirits. Darman spoke.
"Those who surrender now will be spared. Drop the barrier and your weapons."
"Shut your mouth."
"If you accept our invitation, we'll not only spare you but promise far better treatment than now. We'll even secure you a place among the saved on the impending day of doom. You and the Sword Saint qualify for wings."
"Your tongue wags better than any sword."
Naviroje growled. Even in her battered state, her eyes glaring at Darman burned without a hint of retreat.
A translucent barrier rippled between the two, blocking their path. The hemispherical shield enveloped not just Naviroje but all remaining survivors. It was the aura of Alogin, one of the elders. Three elders and fourteen participants lined the inner edge of the hemisphere, maintaining a vigilant stance.
"Can't we just kill her? She did this to me."
Azhe, standing beside Darman, muttered irritably. Her left elbow down had been cleanly severed. It was Naviroje's handiwork, exploiting the gap when Star's Grace ended. Darman shook his head.
"Endure it. Lord Alibríhe will regrow a limb anyway."
"True, but... it pisses me off."
Azhe hurled a dagger. Clang! The blade struck the barrier and bounced harmlessly away. Darman glanced toward Naviroje's rear and spoke.
"Pointless resistance. You know that old man's time is running out."
Instead of replying, Naviroje furrowed her brow. Infuriating, but not wrong. At the center of the hemisphere, Jaifa and Alogin leaned against a protruding rock.
Jaifa convulsed as if trapped in a nightmare. Blood still poured endlessly from Alogin's red-stained abdomen. It was a wound from Darman.
"...I'm fine, Naviroje. Hold on just a bit longer, please."
"Save your words, sir. The wound will reopen."
"Heh... Aura I never used in my life because I hated how it looked... cough, who knew it'd be this helpful..."
Alogin chuckled weakly. Each breath carried a precarious laugh, as if his soul might slip away.
His aura erected a powerful barrier fueled by his or others' mana. For Alogin, who had lived a rough life rivaling Naviroje or Jaifa's, that ability had been nothing but a source of shame and mockery.
How many times had he been told to hide behind a barrier like some girl? Yet now, that very power had become the lifeline saving him and the innocents. Life truly was unpredictable.
"It's... not bad, in its own way... urk."
"Alogin..."
Naviroje gritted her teeth. Though participants including herself supplied mana, Alogin's life was the real issue. The moment the barrier fell, most inside would be massacred—it was obvious.
Moreover, any hope was uncertain. The elders, including Alogin, said people would come once they sensed the disturbance, but seeing the thick smoke rising from below, she was half-resigned. Tragedy had likely struck down there already. But the issue shaking her heart most was something else.
'Ronan.'
Recalling her disciple's face, she twisted her lips. Ronan had vanished after a world-shaking roar. Part of the crater had collapsed, suggesting he'd fallen below, but there was no chance to rescue him. Schlieffen, glancing at her, sent a telepathic message.
[I'll go.]
[Don't be ridiculous, Schlieffen.]
[I can do it. I'll secure Ronan and return.]
[Even if you had two lives, I wouldn't allow it.]
Naviroje firmly refused. It was beyond brave—suicidal. If only Darman and Azhe were here, maybe they could try, but regrettably, the situation was worse. A man watching them from beyond the barrier spoke in an angry tone.
"Leave Grancia's young duke to me. Taking advantage of a lapse like this..."
A featureless mask covered his face. A sharp, deep gash ran from his left collarbone to his right flank. It was Schlieffen's storm blade wound.
He was one of about a dozen thugs who joined mid-battle. Six masked men and women prowled around the barrier.
The thugs, presumed Nebula Klazie members, were inferior to Darman or Azhe but fought systematically, claiming many participants' lives. Darman said.
"How many did the young duke kill?"
"Six."
"Impressive. A talent we must bring back with the two Sword Saints."
Darman chuckled dryly. He'd watched Schlieffen wield wind blades with deep impression. Unbelievable skill for his age. Calling him, alongside his own brother, the continent's top prospect wasn't exaggeration.
Tap tap. He rapped the barrier like knocking. A sword master's aura barrier indeed—immovable. Seeing the survivors' eyes blaze with resolve, Darman licked his lips.
"Very well. Negotiations failed."
Plan change. Looked like they'd kill most and take only a few. Darman extended his hand toward the barrier. Participants instinctively braced. His mouth opened.
In that instant, a pair of translucent wings unfurled from Darman's back. Kwaaaaa! A gale strong enough to sweep houses slammed the barrier. Blood sprayed from Alogin's mouth amid his defiant struggle.
"Cough!"
"Alogin!"
The barrier flickered like a dying candle. Darman signaled with his eyes. He, Azhe, and the thugs drew swords and attacked in unison. Echoes like mine explosions rang out rapidly. Ivy-like cracks spread across the hemisphere. Naviroje gritted her teeth.
"Damn it...!"
"Kill them all as it breaks. Spare only the three I mentioned."
Darman ordered indifferently. Participants paled. Predicting the massacre in seconds was easy. Then Azhe, humming while twirling her dagger, tilted her head.
"Huh? Who's that?"
"What?"
"Over there east. Someone came."
Darman turned. Indeed, someone stood. A young man slowly approached, back to the crater wall he'd collapsed. Recognizing the familiar silhouette, Darman raised a brow.
"Already up? Still some way to go."
"...Ronan?"
Naviroje's eyes widened. Ronan approaching in the sunset glow resembled a statue poured from molten gold. In his right hand was a sword similar to his usual but giving a wholly different impression. Naviroje, gasping, shouted loudly.
"You idiot... run away!!"
Of course, the sword wasn't the point now. Having barely survived, why come back instead of fleeing or hiding? His ragged clothes showed he was in bad shape. Darman, smirking, ordered the masked ones.
"Perfect. Fetch my brother."
"Yes."
Half the thugs pounding the barrier turned toward Ronan. Their perfectly synchronized charge resembled shared-brain puppets. A man reached Ronan instantly, raising his sword.
"Resistance only brings pain!"
Simultaneously, flanking women drew ropes and swords. Their movements were like a dance troupe—systematic. Ronan, watching indifferently, lifted his sword. In a blink, his arm vanished from sight. White lines scribbled chaotically over the thugs' bodies.
"...Hm?"
The moment the man sensed something off and tilted his head—Splurt! The lines tore open, shredding their bodies into dozens of chunks. Blood and guts sprayed fan-like across the snow. Uniformly diced meat piles scattered on the ground.
"What?"
Darman and Azhe's eyes widened. Attacking thugs froze. Silence blanketed the holy site. Tyr, fighting inside the barrier, spoke.
"...What did that young man just do?"
Naviroje didn't answer despite hearing. She'd missed Ronan's movement in that instant.
He approached slowly, trampling the meat chunks. Each step squelched guts and flesh spreading outward.
Having butchered three, his face remained serene. Suddenly, neck hairs stood on end. Was that really her disciple? Azhe, eyeing Ronan, snorted intrigued.
"Hmm... Atmosphere's totally changed. Not just me, right?"
"Something happened down there, apparently. Got some fairy-tale opportunity?"
"Fun. I'll check."
Azhe smiled with her eyes. Ignoring Darman's warning, she walked toward Ronan. She'd glimpsed his movements earlier—slower than hers. She could dodge, and if needed, escape with Star's Grace or other powers.
"Hi, cutie. I'm your big sis."
Azhe waved playfully. Her snow-white bob fluttered in the wind. Hearing "sis," Ronan tilted his head.
"...Big sis?"
"Yeah. Darman's your bro, right? Makes me sis."
Azhe beamed. Of course, playfulness was surface. Through crescent eyes, she scrutinized Ronan's vitals.
'Honestly, nothing special. Speed sword? Darman's superior.'
Up close, his emanating mana seemed less than average. Twirling her dagger, she prepared to lunge. Shaaa...! Ronan's sword blazed bright in his hand.
"Ugh?!"
Crimson flash engulfed her. Blinded momentarily by intensity, Azhe closed her eyes. Opening to scold, she froze. Ronan, over fifty paces away, was now nose-to-nose.
"...Huh?"
Azhe's eyes bulged. Barely half a step separated them. Her prized dynamic vision caught nothing—no leap, no dash. He'd used something, but what? Gazing down like at a bug, Ronan spat.
"I never had a sister like you."
"What...!"
Of course, not the point now. Azhe hurriedly assumed stance, gripping her dagger. But Ronan's sword was already incoming.
'No.'
Unlike the first two, her sharp eyes faintly traced the quicksword's path. But her body couldn't keep up—meaningless. The blade slid diagonally, slicing right arm and thigh simultaneously. Twisting like a swallow skimming water, it carved her left thigh too.
No time for Star's Grace. Sensations of skin, muscle, bone severing hit fully. Azhe's face contorted. Red lines traced the sword's path. As she tried to scream—
"Wait...!"
Shraaaack! Limbs severed along lines flew skyward. Torso and head alone, she collapsed. Delayed agony tore into Azhe. A chilling scream echoed.
"KyaAAAAH! KEEAAAK!"
Everyone present shuddered. Wordlessly, Ronan stomped her face hard. Thwack! An inhuman facial crunch sounded as five or six white teeth flew. Azhe went limp, unconscious.
"Tch."
Kicking her aside like trash, Ronan advanced. Darman muttered admiringly.
"Impressive. What happened down there?"
Ronan didn't reply. Madness emanated from his silent steps. As Darman smirked for a witty taunt—his form blurred, vanishing from sight.
"Hm...!"
Darman reflexively raised his sword. Kaaaaang! Ferocious metal clash exploded before him. Despite full power, he was pushed back.
"Grh!"
"You blocked."
Ronan said flatly. Power and speed incomparable to before. He swung relentlessly. Reversed from earlier, Darman was one-sidedly overwhelmed. Kag! Clang! Sparks flew amid harsh clashes. Darman twisted his lips.
'This is dangerous.'
Cold sweat trickled temples. Whatever he'd done, Ronan was a different person. Overwhelming like receiving the Hierophant's sword at Lykopos initiation.
Need to assess first. Murmuring inwardly, Darman activated his power. Wings unfurled again. Kwaaaaa! Explosive gale hit Ronan as Darman flew back. He exclaimed incredulously.
"Ha, even this you endure?"
Ronan didn't budge. Sword planted, he'd withstood the gale. No matter. Distance gained as intended. Then La Mancha's blade blazed anew.
"Hm?!"
Crimson flash evoking sunset. Light tendrils like grasping hands ensnared Darman. For a split second, he felt powerfully pulled from behind. A voice whispered in his ear.
"Where you running, 'bro'?"
"What...?"
Darman's eyes nearly popped. Ronan glared right before him. Stab. Before he could speak, La Mancha pierced his chest.