Chapter 216
Chapter 216
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 216
Chapter Title: King of the North (10)
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"He's gone. Completely."
Ronan nodded as he checked Varka's pulse. Varka no longer stirred. Suffocating himself to death—fittingly pathetic end for trash like him. Adeshan, who had been silently watching, spoke up.
"...Is it really over this time?"
"If you're still worried, let's do this. Turn your head for a sec."
Ronan gripped his sword hilt and yanked it out. Dozens of lines slashed across Varka's corpse, now just head and torso. Pfbt! As Ronan sheathed his blade, the body shattered into pieces.
"Disgusting bastard."
Even if Varka's grandfather showed up now, he wouldn't be coming back. No trace of the vile were-tiger remained amid the scattered flesh and entrails rolling in the blood pool. The ferocious cold was already freezing the blood and meat chunks solid.
Whiiing... A flesh-cutting wind blew in. In less than a day, Varka's existence would dissolve into this icy sea.
Ronan turned away, job done. Adeshan had watched the gruesome dismemberment without averting her eyes. Ronan scratched the back of his head, embarrassed.
"I told you to look away. What's so great about it?"
"I wanted to see the knot tied."
Even after witnessing a scene that would kill anyone's appetite for days, Adeshan remained composed. Ronan twisted his lips silently.
'Knot, huh.'
Considering Varka's deeds, she'd essentially avenged her mother and brother. Coming to the northern edge, she'd put a bloody period at the end. Suddenly, Adeshan, standing still, swayed like a reed.
"Whoa, you okay?"
"Yeah... Just a bit tired..."
Adeshan gave an awkward smile. But her pale face didn't look good at all.
No wonder. Dominating Varka's mind must have drained her strength immensely. The power emanating from her now was less than a fifth of before.
Back then, Adeshan's strength had felt borrowed from something else—like when Ronan forcibly drew out his latent potential with the holy sword.
Right as he thought she might collapse—
Her legs gave out, and Adeshan lost balance, tumbling over.
"Ah."
"Knew it."
Ronan chuckled. He caught her just before her knees hit the ground, cradling her successfully. Adeshan, flustered, covered her flushed face with both hands.
"Th-thanks..."
"You did great. Rest up."
"I'll get up as soon as I can. But... what about those people?"
Adeshan peered through her spread fingers at the icy plain. The beastkin corpses, shallowly buried, were breaking through the ice and rising.
-Grraaah...
-Gyaaaaah...
The already awakened corpses wandered aimlessly. Soulless groans spread on the wind. With Varka's orders revoked upon his death, they seemed purposeless.
"Gotta grant them peace."
They didn't look dangerous, but it wasn't a pleasant sight. Corpses stayed corpses because they didn't move. Turning to bleached bones or ash for eternal rest was the natural order. Observing them, Ronan spoke.
"But we can handle that later. First things first. Hop on."
"Sorry."
Adeshan bowed her head. Her leg strength didn't return easily. Silently piggybacking her, Ronan headed toward the lab.
"I'm heavy."
"You say that every time, but you're not at all."
"Ugh... Liar."
Overcome with shame, Adeshan buried her face in his back. Ronan chuckled. Height-wise, she was actually light. Walking like this stirred up old memories.
"We did this during the White Tower Festival too, remember?"
"Yeah..."
"Still don't get why that alpha doppelganger turned into me. I really hated myself back then. Do doppelgangers mess up too?"
After slaying the poachers, Ronan had carried Adeshan back when they encountered the doppelganger. The alpha doppelganger, which transformed into one's favorite, had shockingly become Ronan himself.
It later shifted to Grand General Adeshan, but over two years later, the mystery lingered.
"Y-yeah...?"
Adeshan mumbled into his back. She could never admit the doppelganger had actually locked eyes with her, not Ronan.
'It changed without a second thought.'
Steering the conversation this way was dangerous. Memories of Hill of Four Seasons, the artificial respiration just hours ago—they chained together.
Her pounding heart and rising body heat might give her away. Desperately changing topics, Adeshan asked,
"B-by the way, what was that about?"
"What?"
"Th-the Dragon City thing."
"Oh, right. He did say that."
Ronan shrugged. Amid the chaos, he'd forgotten. Mind-controlled Varka had spilled info on Nebula Klazier too.
Most intriguing: the cult leader, appearing at a meeting after ages, said it was time to contact Dragon City Adren. This was days after Ronan's trip to Drimoor with Navardoje.
'Talk with Navardoje's done, though. Suspicious.'
Ronan's brow furrowed. He'd successfully warned the Mother of Fire about Nebula Klazier's threat.
Adren had its king, but Navardoje was the real power. Something was afoot. Nodding thoughtfully, Ronan said,
"Hmm... Guess I should reach out once this is wrapped up."
"To who?"
"Navardoje, obviously. Not sure if she'll reply—she's swamped."
"...You really know everyone."
Adeshan muttered in disbelief. Emperor wasn't enough; now the Mother of Fire. Worry flickered across her face.
'Can I even like him?'
Her flushed ears cooled rapidly. The Ronan she knew always chased the greater good. She feared her personal feelings might block his path.
Anyway, they reached the lab. A fiercer stench assaulted them—spilled contents from broken tools and samples.
The once-tidy space looked like a drunken ogre family had crashed overnight. Adeshan said,
"No signs of life."
"Me neither."
"I can walk now. Thanks for the ride."
Strength returning to her legs, Adeshan slid off. They prowled the lab, senses sharp. Soon, Ronan halted.
"Here."
"Found it."
Adeshan approached. Side by side, they looked down at Aradan Tergun's corpse.
He lay peacefully in repose. Hard to believe this was the man who'd thrashed like he was on fire moments ago.
His regenerated body was in better shape than before Ronan diced it. Eyes closed serenely, he looked asleep, not dead. Ronan tilted his head.
"Huh, how's he so intact?"
"Timing lined up perfectly. Varka released his soul as the body repaired."
"...A miracle."
Ronan murmured. The monstrously grown right arm, the grotesque tentacles—all gone. Only the were-tiger boy who'd once admired his father remained, at eternal rest. Watching him, Adeshan spoke.
"Why'd he have to go through this?"
Her voice was heavy, like storm clouds. Ronan didn't answer. Couldn't, perhaps. Both were victims of madman Varka's tragedy.
Why? No one knew. Life's rule was doing what you could, so Ronan silently embraced the weeping Adeshan. After her shoulders shook briefly, she whispered,
"...Thanks."
Her breathing steadied. Luckily, she recovered in under five minutes and stood. Too much left to do for sentimentality.
They searched the lab thoroughly. They gathered evidence of Varka's atrocities, destroying exploitable magic tools on-site.
Not just the basement—the massive ship was Varka's hideout too, so it took far longer than expected. Stuffing documents into his pack, Ronan muttered,
"Will this fix the North?"
"Probably. Realizing they'd been duped will spark big changes."
"Hope so."
Tasks done, they packed. Adeshan shouldered both packs; Ronan hoisted Aradan's body. The boy, warrior even in death, deserved a sunlit grave.
Now, grant peace to the wandering corpses, and done. As they passed the entry passage and opened the stone door—Whoosh! An abrupt heatwave singed their hair.
"Ugh?!"
"Kyaa!"
The hot, dry gust carried embers. A crematorium stench filled the air. Barely opening their eyes, they froze.
"Damn, what the hell is this shit?"
"Wh-what...!"
A madman's fever dream unfolded. Aurora like green pleated skirts crossed the dim sky. Below, hellish flame waves scorched the icy plain.
-Kieeeek!
-Gyaaaak!
Varka's hoarded corpses all burned. Revived ones flailed screaming into ash; the rest lay still, fueling the blaze like logs.
Whether apt or not, no survivors remained. As Ronan stared, stunned—
Adeshan suddenly pointed skyward, yelling,
"R-Ronan! There!"
"Huh?"
Her already big eyes widened further. Ronan turned. Spotting the sky, he froze.
"Oh, fuck."
A massive eagle, nearly Itargand-sized, hovered in place. Each wingbeat sent gusts snuffing flames.
Its sculpted body gleamed blue. Ronan's eyes narrowed. An inexplicable familiarity emanated from it. Soon recalling, he gasped.
"Hiran...!"
No doubt. Hiran, the high wind spirit dubbed Storm Prince. Ronan remembered seeing him during his two-year sea voyage.
'If Hiran's here, does that mean...'
Few could contract high spirits. Only one Ronan knew. Suddenly, the map from his father's room surfaced in his mind. Its endpoint: the Ghost Sea.
Finally, the flames blanketing the Ghost Sea died. No corpses visible in the meteor-cratered ice pit. A trembling voice escaped Adeshan's lips.
"H-he's not coming this way... right?"
Her gaze fixed on hovering Hiran. The Storm Prince stared blankly down. After a minute, fixated on Ronan, Hiran roared.
"Pyoooooo!"
"Eek!"
Startled, Adeshan clung to Ronan. Hiran folded wings and descended, circling wide before landing on a nearby cliff.
Close enough to observe. Scanning around Hiran, Ronan's eyes bulged.
"That's...!"
An elf woman stroked Hiran's head. Her silver hair, aurora-kissed, shimmered dusky green.
Even after millennia, ruby-embedded crimson eyes remained unfaded. Her desperate efforts to revive the Savior lingered in memory.
The great spirit summoner. Nebula Klazier's co-founder, shadowing the Savior. Ronan's mouth parted softly.
"Elsia."