Chapter 192
Chapter 192
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 192
Chapter Title: Where the Sky Grows Thin (3)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
"Let's go inside and talk first."
Navardoje pulled on the door handle. The massive door opened smoothly, unbelievably so for something left abandoned for centuries. Ronan's eyes widened as he peered inside.
'Why is it so... ordinary?'
The room was just the right size for two people, feeling almost refreshingly comfortable. Contrary to Ronan's expectation of something bizarre like Professor Jared's or Secret's office, it was filled only with practical, everyday furnishings.
There was a long stone desk, a table and chairs for meals. The presence of two single beds suggested they weren't intimately involved. Or perhaps they were perverts who enjoyed the forced closeness of cramped quarters.
A quick glance at the desk revealed not a speck of dust. Ronan tilted his head.
"Didn't you say it had been abandoned for centuries?"
"I've cast a spell to keep it clean. In case that child ever returned... Well, since his son has come to find me, I suppose I've achieved my goal to some extent."
Navardoje scanned the room with eyes brimming with longing. The time spent with her "father" had been a mere three years—a blink for a dragon—yet it seemed she'd grown deeply attached.
"This room existed before the fortress was built. Dreemur was constructed atop the raised earth centered around this place. ■■ was also the fortress's designer."
"My father designed this fortress?"
"Yes. He desperately convinced me it was essential to block enemies from beyond the sky. I liked his boldness—telling me to eat him if he was wrong—so I agreed. As you can see, it was the right call."
Navardoje chuckled lightly. Considering she'd spouted such nonsense to the Mother of Fire, he clearly wasn't your average madman. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she continued.
"Now, tell me. How do you know Elisia?"
"Ah, well..."
Ronan faltered for a moment. The truth was a tangled mess. His father, presumed to be the current leader of Nebula Klazi, had cursed him. To break it, he'd journeyed to the Spirit World, possessed the body of Nebula Klazi's founding leader, and learned that his right-hand woman was Elisia. Convincingly conveying that lunacy wouldn't be easy.
'She won't betray the one who saved her son. Especially after I saved her daughter too.'
Sharing his deepest secret required caution. Still, Ronan steeled himself. Her innocence was already proven in his previous life.
'She fought to the end.'
He knew well how brutal the battle between Duaru and Navardoje had been. Besides, someone carrying such devastating firepower wouldn't lie.
Collecting his thoughts, Ronan recounted everything that had happened—omitting only his regression, to avoid confusion.
"A curse...? Ah, so that's why you couldn't understand ■■'s name."
"That's not all. Did he say nothing about the curse?"
"Regrettably, no. He left word shortly before conceiving a child, asking me to take care of you if we met."
Navardoje shook her head. A sudden curiosity flitted through Ronan's mind—a question he'd overlooked, assuming it obvious.
"Wait, one thing I'd like to ask. You seem certain that... whatever-his-name was my father. Is there proof beyond appearance?"
"The timing of his last visit matches your age perfectly. It was just over a decade ago—I remember clearly. You're not about to ask about lifespan, are you? ■■ is like Rorhon, whom you know well..."
"Ah, yeah, I know. No natural death for them."
It was a question he wouldn't have asked if the robed one weren't transcendent. By now, it was clear his father was some unknowable entity. Navardoje said,
"Back to Elisia... She came to me with ■■ about a thousand years ago. She called herself his assistant."
"Assistant."
"Yes. Unlike ■■, who vanished in an instant, Elisia was here in Dreemur until recently. She was the finest spiritist I'd ever seen—her sudden departure left me quite regretful."
"Recently meaning when? By dragon standards, that might be ages ago."
"About five years. Truly not long."
Ronan raised an eyebrow. Five years wasn't long even by human measure. If Elisia could be found, he needed to meet her ASAP. He had mountains of questions.
She held the key: Had Nebula Klazi truly disbanded? Was the robed one really the one who came with her? Who led Nebula Klazi now, and why had they helped his father? His eyes gleaming at this sliver of hope, Ronan asked,
"Do you know where Elisia went?"
"I remember. Though it might not help much. She only said 'the north.'"
"The north?"
"Yes. Maybe searching the room will turn up something."
Navardoje explained she'd given Elisia a massive severance without pressing for details, assuming she had her reasons.
Scanning the room, Ronan twisted his lips. No obvious hiding spots. Brushing back his bangs, he expressed gratitude.
"Thank you, Navardoje. I'll take a look around."
"No need for thanks. I only shared what I knew."
"Uh, one more thing, if that's okay?"
"Of course."
"How much longer can you hold out?"
The abrupt question stiffened Navardoje's face. It struck like an arrow to the heart. After a moment's silence, she forced an awkward smile.
"...You noticed?"
"Yes. The rift today didn't seem like the first."
"Ahaha... Sharp eyes."
Navardoje gave a wry smile, averting her gaze as if ashamed. She spoke.
"At best... five years. No, maybe seven."
"As I thought."
Ronan clenched his fist. He'd suspected since Brnihar and Iraniel's handling was too practiced. The barrier blocking two skies was nearing the end of its lifespan. Navardoje continued, eyes fixed on the ceiling.
"The barrier's aging is one thing, but those vile things growing stronger is the real problem. Just a century ago, no monster could withstand Brnihar's flames. Soon, even I might not handle some of them."
"Can't you repair or reinforce the barrier?"
"Impossible. ■■ called it armor. It's the shield our star has had since birth—no ordinary method can restore it."
Navardoje explained the supernatural "armor" enveloped the entire planet evenly. Existing before the first spark of life, it protected the star and its inhabitants from external foes—the ones he'd just slain.
For some reason, part of the armor had worn thin, allowing invasion. Even the ragtag monsters from the sky-beyond-sky wielded absurd power. Letting them invade would doom the empire, the world—obvious as day.
That's why Dreemur existed: to buy time, blocking the thinning sky. Piecing together past-life memories like a puzzle, Ronan grimaced.
'It fits perfectly. Seven years.'
Seven years matched the giants' descent exactly. Regardless, Dreemur's fall was tied to the Descent.
'Those baldies with wings—are they the same breed? From beyond the sky...'
A doubt since first seeing the monsters. Winged baldies were overwhelmingly superior in every way, but their alien wrongness eerily mirrored these abominations. Finishing her explanation, Navardoje rose.
"That's why ■■ left. To find a way to save everyone."
"A way to save everyone?"
"Yes. He resided here for that research. Creating a barrier rivaling the star's armor, or enabling others to wield his power. Truly remarkable child."
Suddenly, Navardoje caressed Ronan's cheek. Her hand was still warm. He felt her seeking memories of her father in his face. Toying with his earlobe, she spoke as if struck by a thought.
"Come to think of it, child, I've thought of a reward for you."
"Pardon?"
Ronan shrugged his brows. Navardoje smiled with her eyes.
"Lie down on the bed first."
"...Pardon?"
"Hurry. We don't know when those things will attack again—let's finish quickly."
Her tone held no hesitation. A whirlwind of thoughts hit him, making the room look different. Sealed chamber, beds, stunning noblewoman. The reddish lighting biased his imagination further. Flustered, Ronan backed away.
"I-I'm not confident if we rush it."
"I'll handle everything, so don't worry. Oh, take off your top too."
"Handle it yourself...? No way...!"
Ronan gasped. Was this a dragoness in wedlock? Had this wicked wyrm lured him underground for this from the start? Amazed at the immortal race's cunning, he flung off his shirt and lay down anyway.
"I'm lying down."
"Good boy. Relax your body."
Her devastating firepower made lying down a mercy—he couldn't see her face. Ah! This is why his sister warned against following strangers!
Refusal meant ashes, so unavoidable. As he grimaced in desperate lament, an unexpected line slipped from Navardoje's lips.
"I know the curse binding you isn't ordinary."
"Pardon? What suddenly...?"
"■■ was ruthless. Even for a greater purpose, cursing his child like this... I trust him, but this crosses a line."
Navardoje clicked her tongue. Ronan craned his neck and finally noticed her gazing at his heart.
"The reward is... the curse?"
"Yes. I could rip it out forcibly, but your body wouldn't survive. But there's one curse born of fire. That, I can handle."
Regrettably, his wild guess didn't happen. But her offer eclipsed that disappointment—it was extraordinary. Calming himself, Ronan asked,
"...What do I need to do?"
"Nothing. Just relax and lie there, as I said."
"That's refreshingly simple."
Unbelievable. He'd agonized over each curse removal, yet here it dissolved so easily. Navardoje placed her hand on his chest.
"Relax. The pain is only at first."
"You've been saying that on purpose, haven't you?"
Instead of answering, Navardoje chuckled. The red dragon's unique warmth reached his heart. Examining it closely, she let out a weary laugh.
"Looking now, you've got quite the collection. Impressive you're even functional."
"I didn't choose this."
"Six curses... No idea how, but some have coalesced into cores... Hm, what's this? Familiar, yet I can't place it."
Navardoje tilted her head. Something even she didn't recognize lurked in his heart. As Ronan recalled a likely suspect to speak, she dismissed it casually.
"Well, doesn't matter."
"Urk?!"
In an instant, her hand blazed red. Fierce heat engulfed his heart.