Chapter 215
Chapter 215
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 215
Chapter Title: King of the North (9)
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Adeshan had first sensed the presence within her two years ago. It was the exact day she first met Ronan, so she remembered it clearly.
While nursing him after he lost consciousness from Naviroje's attack, a sudden headache struck. It subsided quickly, but even now, thinking back, it was a dizzying pain that made cold sweat trickle down her back.
In any case, after the headache vanished, Adeshan began to feel a sensation that someone existed inside her mind. That faint "someone" would occasionally speak to her, but until now, the voice had been too soft to make out.
But now, it had grown loud enough to understand. It was the calm, dignified voice of a woman. Adeshan's eyes widened round. Without realizing it, she opened her mouth.
"What did you just say...?"
"Huh? What's wrong?"
"Ah, no. Just a sec."
Ronan asked, but she shook her head to brush it off. Once more, the voice echoed from within her.
[W-Who are you? Why are you in my head?]
[How do you know my name...!]
Adeshan sent her questions telepathically, but no reply came. Ronan, who had been quietly watching her, raised an eyebrow.
'...What?'
For a brief moment, he had sensed the aura of the Grand General from her. Unlike her battered body, the mana blooming over her shoulders pulsed more fiercely than ever.
Her elongated shadow in the torchlight evoked memories of her past life. Thud. Adeshan, who had been staring into space as if entranced, suddenly slumped back down.
"You okay?"
"Yeah... I'll catch up soon, so go on ahead. You can't let him get away..."
Her wounds had healed, but she still needed time to recover fully. Adeshan held out the blood compass she possessed. Ronan, holding her hand, nodded.
"I won't let him escape."
"Please."
Adeshan gave a feeble smile. The blood compass she handed over pointed precisely toward the side door where Barca had fled.
Ronan steadied his resolve and moved. A dim corridor stretched ahead. It seemed like an emergency escape route. Bloodstains from the crossbow bolt marked his path.
'I can feel him. He hasn't gone far.'
He didn't even need the blood compass. Barca was still nearby. His footsteps echoed in the narrow, elongated space.
The passage wasn't long, and its end came into view quickly. Light leaked from the endpoint far ahead. The moment he passed through the already open stone door, a bone-chilling wind blasted forth, as if freezing his blood.
As expected, the passage led outside the hideout. Behind him loomed the massive underside of the ship. They had crossed beneath the vessel through the underground. The vast ice plain unique to the Ghost Sea stretched before his eyes.
"Hm?"
Suddenly, Ronan tilted his head. Beneath the endless ice, dark clumps were densely embedded.
Standing at irregular intervals, they resembled raisins studded in bread. The ominous feeling told him they weren't rocks. It didn't take long to realize they were all beastkin corpses.
"What the fuck is this?"
Ronan's brow furrowed at the truly grotesque sight. Even conservatively, there were thousands. Had they established this base in the Ghost Sea to freeze-preserve the bodies?
"Fucking creep..."
Ronan twisted his lips. The more he peeled back, the more loathsome layers appeared—like an onion grown in hell.
He wondered how he'd gathered so many, but that wasn't important now. As he scanned for Barca, a familiar voice rang out from nearby.
"To think you even took down Aradan... At this point, I have no choice but to acknowledge you."
"Huh?"
Ronan whipped his head around. His eyes widened at the sight of Barca. The man stood with arms crossed, not even ten paces away.
"You."
"Don't worry. I have no scrolls left, and that woman's crossbow bolt kept me from going far anyway... It wasn't an ordinary arrow."
Barca spoke in a weary voice. Indeed, a crossbow bolt was deeply embedded in his right thigh.
Red blood dripped from the unnaturally swollen wound. It must have been poisoned. Barca continued.
"But you didn't kill Aradan. He can't find eternal rest without my permission. Even if torn into a thousand pieces, he revives—that's my masterpiece, Aradan Turgan."
"You fucking bastard."
For an instant, veins bulged on Ronan's forehead. He didn't even need to activate his aura. Boom! With one leap, he closed the distance and landed before Barca.
At this range, no variable could save him. Ronan growled, hand on his sword hilt.
"Is that all you have to say?"
"Not yet. How about we negotiate?"
"Negotiate?"
"Yes. I'll make an offer you can't refuse."
A somewhat relaxed smile played on Barca's lips. Speaking such words in this situation suggested he had something solid to rely on. After a moment of silence, Ronan spoke.
"Fine. Spit it out."
"Good. What I want is for you to let me go from here. I'll vanish without a trace. Do whatever you want with my hideout—burn it or hand it to the Empire."
"Begging for your life, huh. And what do you offer in return?"
"I'll lift the curse over the entire north and grant Aradan eternal rest. I'll tell you everything I know about Nebula Klazie too. Believe it or not, I'm the bishop of the northern diocese, and I plan to leave this foolish group anyway."
Ronan flinched at the final condition. He'd forgotten amid the bastard's depravity that this scum was with Nebula Klazie. Stroking his chin, he replied.
"Tempting, but not irresistible."
"Heh... I figured. That's why I prepared. Look over there for a moment?"
Barca grinned and nodded north. Fierce winds swept across the ice plain studded with corpses. Ronan frowned at a strange sound carried on the breeze.
"Grrr."
"Kieeeek...!"
The monstrous cries were familiar. Ronan narrowed his eyes toward the source. About a kilometer away, beastkin corpses were shattering the ice and rising. His face hardened.
"No way..."
"That's right. I released their control when you entered the hideout. By tomorrow night, all these corpses will break free from the ice. They can turn the north into hell at my command—or sleep peacefully again."
Barca added that he had over ten thousand usable corpses, all elite troops enhanced by his procedures. They were meant for the day he'd overthrow the Empire.
"Plus, the curse I've placed across the entire north is one you lot could never unravel. It looks simple, but I've invested over a decade refining it. Refuse my offer, and I'll make all the curses go berserk."
Barca spread his arms wide as he spoke. His antics mimicked an intelligent protagonist landing the final blow on the villain. He ended with a laughing question.
"Well? Can't refuse that, can you?"
Ronan didn't answer. It was indeed an offer hard to refuse, qualifying Barca to boast. Based on his abilities so far, it wasn't likely a bluff.
"We'll pretend nothing happened. Peace returns to the north, and when the truth spreads, my foolish kin will sing your praises."
Barca's sweetly tempting voice carried exhilaration. His intoxication with victory was palpable.
Fine. Decision made.
After much deliberation, Ronan finally spoke.
"Hm... Fuck off."
"What?"
Barca's eyes widened. Ronan drew his sword. Shing! As Lamancha reappeared in an instant, Barca's torso and limbs cleanly separated.
"Argh! Kraaaah!!"
No time for protests. The limbless Barca rolled on the ground. A spine-chilling scream echoed over the Ghost Sea.
"D-Didn't you hear me?! No one can stop these corpses if I die! You think you can take on ten thousand soldiers?!"
"Bring it."
"W-What about the curse?! Killing me won't lift it! You'll doom millions—tens of millions—to hell!"
"That's on them."
Ronan replied flatly. The leisure vanished from Barca's face.
"Y-You damned...! Fine, have it your way. The north will perish because of you!"
Writhing, he bellowed in rage. Simultaneously, a massive mana ripple spread from him.
The nauseating aura, like sewage from a drain, swept beyond the Ghost Sea to the horizon. Ronan pressed his blade to Barca's throat.
"Stop it now. I'll kill you painlessly at least."
"Too late. Even if I somehow survive and escape, nothing but hell awaits you!"
The sound of cracking ice echoed from all directions. Corpses awakening from slumber. Ronan scratched his head and raised his sword.
"Guess we'll go primitive then."
"Torture won't change anything!"
Barca explained he'd cast a spell to numb his pain. Ronan sighed, sensing a filthy fight ahead. Gouge the eyes and drag him to Rodolan? As he pondered transport,
"Ronan. Wait."
"...Adeshan?"
Ronan turned at the familiar voice. Adeshan, having left the lab, approached unsteadily.
"...I think I can do it."
Her staggering gait resembled drunkenness. She stopped before Barca. Looking up, he sneered.
"Ha, planning to mess with my mind with that weird sorcery? We already confirmed it doesn't work."
"Yeah. Not earlier."
"Ridiculous. Think it works now? Only fools fall for that..."
As Barca spoke, Adeshan knelt and placed her hand on his head. His body stiffened instantly.
"Hngh...!"
Ronan stepped back in surprise. The shadow mana blooming over Adeshan's shoulders intensified to a head-splitting degree.
'What happened?'
Her growth had always been fast, but this was too abrupt. It reminded him of Schlieffen awakening his aura in Dainhar.
"Falls... falls... falls..."
Barca repeated like a parrot. His eyes clouded like storm-filled skies—a sign mental domination had taken hold. Adeshan, staring coldly, spoke.
"Barca. Lift every curse you've spread."
"...I shall."
Barca nodded. Ronan's eyes widened. His entire demeanor, speech included, was polite like a serf to a noblewoman.
As he mumbled, another mana wave swept beyond the horizon. Unlike before, it felt clear and pure as it cut through the wind.
"My god."
Ronan instinctively sensed the curse lifting and exclaimed. This rivaled her past life's domination. Adeshan continued.
"Barca. Stop raising the corpses."
"...I shall. But I cannot control those already risen."
"Doesn't matter."
Barca nodded and mumbled again. The ice-cracking sounds around them abruptly quieted. All but those already emerged had halted.
Adeshan demanded more: extract info, release Aradan's binding curse.
"...I shall."
Barca complied soullessly. Shocking Nebula Klazie details emerged, but nothing topped the scene before them. Finally, Adeshan withdrew her hand.
"Barca. Open your eyes and look at me."
"I shall... Hngh?!"
Languor fled Barca's voice. Regaining sanity, his eyes bulged.
"W-What did you do to me?!"
"Barca. One last chance. Apologize to those who've suffered from your evil deeds."
"Don't make me laugh, you filthy worm! Tell me what you did right now!"
Barca snarled, fangs bared. He seemed to remember nothing from the domination.
Of course, limbless, he posed no threat. Adeshan gazed coldly and said to Ronan.
"Ronan. Remember our promise?"
"Promise...? Ah."
Ronan nodded. She meant the ice cave vow—he'd yield Barca's death right to her.
"I remember. Do what you want."
"Thanks."
Adeshan smiled. But it was fleeting, like moonlight piercing a storm. Composed again, she looked down at Barca.
"W-What... What are you going to do?"
Her sunken gaze seemed to freeze blood on sight. Sensing primal dread, Barca writhed. Something horrific loomed. Adeshan spoke, staring.
"Barca. From now on, no matter what, do not breathe."
"What nonsense is that? Why would I listen to—Hngh."
Barca's words choked off. He couldn't breathe. His throat had sealed tighter than a droplet could pass. Watching, Ronan chuckled.
"Pathetic. Better than ripping limbs, maybe."
"I thought about it. Physically impossible normally, but with this power..."
Adeshan nodded. Her gaze fixed on Barca's eyes. Ashen irises reflected his whitening, dying face.
"Everything you've built will vanish. If hell exists, your soul will burn there."
"Guhk...! Guuuuhk!"
"No miracles. You'll die accomplishing nothing. Never even tasting kingship to the end."
"Kaaaaah! Guk, guhek!"
Barca twisted his limbless torso in agony. Survival instinct drove his death throes. Unfazed, Adeshan continued.
"And in the north, restored to peace, laughter will echo once more."
"......!"
About five minutes passed; movement ceased. Barca's face twisted in utter despair. Ronan sauntered over, checked his neck. No pulse. He nodded.
"He's gone. Completely.