Chapter 219
Chapter 219
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 219
Chapter Title: Elsia (2)
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"It's a blood transfusion from Abel, my twin brother."
"...What did you say?"
Ronan furrowed his brow. Even if someone told him to pick up and eat dog shit, it wouldn't have been this bewildering. Snapping out of his daze, he spoke up.
"Why would you need to do something like that?"
"The Savior's wounds aren't healing because he's short on blood. And no other race's blood is compatible with him. He said it himself, so it has to be true."
Elsia explained that Abel had used poison made from her own blood when he stabbed the Savior. It was a strategy to weaken him and rot his wounds—a way to take down a brother far stronger than herself.
And the plan had worked. The Savior, who had lived for an immeasurable time, was reduced to a terminally ill patient, while the great spirit caller Elsia became his full-time nurse.
She said she'd tried everything to treat him. She'd gathered every herb she could find to make remedies and even delved into healing magic, despite it not suiting her talents.
Over more than a thousand years, she'd developed countless treatments, but none had shown any real effect. Her voice grew a little somber as she continued.
"So I came up with a plan. To get Abel's blood. But no matter how much I thought about it, I couldn't find a way."
Elsia let out a deep sigh. It was understandable—her target was the leader of Nebula Klazie, a swordsman on par with the Savior himself.
Acquiring his blood was nearly impossible, even for a powerful spirit caller like her. And in her secluded state, she couldn't reveal her identity either.
'Tricky.'
Ronan twisted his lips. Beyond the awkwardness, he was struck by her incredible devotion. He wondered if even a birth parent could match this level of dedication.
"But Elsia, is there a reason you're going this far?"
"Pardon?"
"You're incredibly devoted to the Savior. It's not just from serving him for thousands of years—it seems like saving him has become your entire purpose in life. There must be some story behind it."
Suddenly, he grew curious about Elsia's true identity. He'd been so fixated on the Savior and the betrayer that he realized he knew nothing about her. After hesitating, she spoke.
"Well... the Savior literally saved my life. That's all I can say."
"Saved you."
She gave an awkward smile to dodge the question. It seemed she had circumstances she couldn't share, so Ronan didn't press further.
Besides, his head was already throbbing from all the information. His focus shifted back to the Savior's treatment.
Blood. He needs blood. After pondering for a moment, Ronan spoke.
"What about my blood? I'm his son."
"Ah, I suggested that too, but the Savior wasn't keen on it. He even said that even if it worked, the blood would be too diluted for much effect."
"So you haven't even tried it yet."
Suddenly, Ronan rolled up his left sleeve, revealing a muscular arm. Looking at the flustered Elsia, he said,
"Draw it."
"I-I couldn't. The Savior himself said he didn't want to use his son's blood."
"He said he didn't like it, not that he'd refuse it even on his deathbed."
"Well..."
"Elsia. I need to talk to him. I have a mountain of questions, and I might even get a lead on getting Abel's blood."
Impatience colored Ronan's voice. There was no time to waste. Even if they had the upper hand against Nebula Klazie, a year was too short.
"And don't let appearances fool you—I'm pretty capable."
Ronan briefly listed his accomplishments so far. He hated sounding boastful, but it was necessary to sway her stubbornness.
Brigía, Teranil, Barca... With each name of the executives he'd taken down, her eyes wavered. When he mentioned some of Dawn's authorities, Elsia raised an eyebrow.
"You can get support from the Imperial Army? You're a soldier?"
"Something like that."
"If you've reached that level..."
Elsia muttered to herself. She seemed to see hope in obtaining Abel's blood. After some deliberation, she slowly nodded.
"Alright. Let's give it a try."
Elsia left the room to fetch tools for drawing and transfusing blood. Adeshan, who had been watching silently, asked worriedly,
"Ronan. You sure about this?"
"What's there to worry about? We'll head out as soon as this is done."
"Huh? I could stay longer... He's the father you've been searching for."
"I was searching for the Savior, not my father."
Ronan glanced at the Savior. Honestly, it still didn't feel real. Grand titles like Savior or Nebula Klazie's founder aside, to Ronan, this man was just the bastard who hadn't only abandoned his mother and children but had even cursed them before leaving.
'Sis had it rough.'
Recalling his snot-nosed kid days, Ronan clicked his tongue. Of course, the Ronan in the mental world had raged at the Savior's death and fought Abel. But that was because Abel was such a little shit, and he hadn't known this man was his father back then.
The only reason Ronan was donating blood was to keep his promise to the Grand General of his past life. He'd vowed to save the world, and for that, he needed this man's help. As he mulled this over, Elsia returned.
"All set. Want to take a look?"
In her hands were syringes, tubes, and various tools for the transfusion. The procedure finished much faster than expected.
Elsia, who'd lived like a doctor for over a thousand years, swiftly transfused Ronan's drawn blood into the Savior. Rubbing the needle mark, Ronan chuckled.
"Quick work."
"It's routine. I wouldn't get your hopes up, but... I hope there's progress."
Blood flowed through the tube connected to the Savior's right arm. Thinking about it, Ronan had only ever spilled his blood from injuries—this was his first proper donation.
Unlike Ronan and Adeshan, who harbored some hope, Elsia's face was utterly impassive, likely scarred from centuries of hope and disappointment.
As they chatted to pass the time, Adeshan suddenly gasped.
"L-Look! He's awake!"
"What?!"
Ronan and Elsia whipped their heads around. Their eyes widened as they looked at the Savior. His closed eyelids had cracked open slightly.
"Oh my god... Are you conscious?"
Tears suddenly streamed down Elsia's cheeks. Her intense reaction revealed the depth of her efforts. Silently watching him, Ronan spoke.
"Savior."
As expected, the Savior's eyes were crimson. The sunset hue shimmering in them perfectly matched Ronan's and Iril's.
The moment their eyes met, Ronan instinctively knew this man was truly his father. The betrayer's eyes were the same sunset color, but the impression they gave was entirely different.
Uncomfortably warm, perhaps. He could feel what people called affection. Wiping her tears, Elsia tilted her head.
"...Savior?"
But that was it. No matter how long they waited, he only blinked—no other response. Even after all the blood had transfused, nothing changed. Losing patience, Ronan tapped the glass tube with his palm.
"Say something."
No reply came. It seemed this was the limit of what his blood could do. Wiping her tears, Elsia spoke bitterly.
"Just as he said. The blood's too diluted."
"Damn it. Can't we draw more and try again?"
"...I'm sorry."
Hearing her apology, Ronan bit his lip. The Savior's words had rung true. His blood, mixed with his human mother's, wasn't enough to heal this monster.
"Shit..."
Ronan cursed. The Savior still stared only at him. His eyes were barely open, but his consciousness seemed intact.
The two locked eyes for a long while. Before his mind grew more tangled, Ronan needed to decide. After some thought, he spoke.
"...Elsia. We'll head out for now."
"Already?"
"Yeah. There's a risk of pursuit... and we still have business up north. We'll come back later."
"Ah, alright then. Hiran will take you to your destination."
It felt too soon, but there was no choice. Now they had to focus on getting Abel's blood.
Moreover, if the cult noticed Barca's death and sent search parties, it'd be a disaster. That damned tiger held the rank of bishop, after all.
They needed to finish up quickly, leave, and sneak back later. Ronan and Adeshan began preparing to depart. Elsia said,
"Oh, there's something I should tell you."
"Hm? What is it?"
"If you've read his memories, you know Alivrihe. I heard he's residing in the dragon city of Adren. Not sure if he's abandoned the cult like me, but... anyway."
"...Alivrihe?"
Ronan's eyes widened. He remembered the name clearly. The dragon whose bizarre hobby was crafting prosthetic arms was one of Nebula Klazie's founders, just like Elsia. The scene of Abel severing his left hand was still vivid.
Whether he'd join their side was another matter. Given Adeshan's whip was likely his work, he might still be with the cult. Still, this was valuable intel.
"Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."
"No problem. Shall we head out? I need to call Hiran."
The three headed for the exit. Just before leaving the room, Ronan turned back. The Savior was still staring at him intently.
"Tch, damn it."
Feeling oddly unsettled, Ronan clicked his tongue. He shouldn't have looked back. That sunset gaze still held warmth. Muttering under his breath, he blurted,
"Just hang on a bit."
No answer came. Of course not—that was why he was leaving. After his farewell, Ronan stepped out. The iron door closed with a whoosh.
The outside was cold and dark. Beneath a night sky brimming with stars, green auroras writhed. Looking up at the house-sized eagle, Adeshan said in a trembling voice,
"Th-this... I mean, can I really ride on its back?"
"Of course. Hiran's my friend. He said he'd gladly help with this much."
"Th-then, thank you kindly..."
Adeshan grabbed Ronan's hand and climbed onto Hiran's back. Realizing how high it was, she freaked out again.
Elsia had even made a saddle, but it didn't ease her nerves. Smiling, Elsia waved.
"Come again. Oh, you have what I gave you, right?"
"Got it."
Ronan pulled out the scrolls from his inner pocket. The rolled parchments held spatial transfer magic straight to the Sea of Specters.
Elsia had said to use them if anything came up or there was progress. She'd also handed over bundles of documents compiling everything she knew about Nebula Klazie. Combined with what they'd squeezed from Barca, they might uncover something big.
Elsia pressed her forehead to Hiran's and murmured,
"Take care of them."
-Pyu-yo!
Hiran flapped his wings in response. Startled, Adeshan clung to Ronan's neck. Just before takeoff, Ronan snapped his fingers.
"Oh, Elsia."
"Yes? What is it?"
"I never got the Savior's name."
He'd almost overlooked it. Elsia blinked in surprise.
"Oh, really? It's not a hard one."
"What is it?"
"Cain."
She said it casually. It rang clear now that he'd seen his face. Cain. Fittingly ordinary and not overly complex.
"Thanks. See you soon."
"Th-thank you... Kyaaah!"
Elsia waved instead of replying. Hiran launched into the sky. Kwaaaa! The Prince of Storms soared near the clouds in just a couple flaps. The wind roared in their ears.
"Gonna kill me...!"
"Kyaaa! Eek!"
The ride rivaled Itargand's. Adeshan screamed with eyes squeezed shut. It was hard to tell who was the bird—Hiran or her.
Far off, flickering lights danced. Whether Jeiga's men were searching for their missing boss or it was just Rundalian city lights reaching here, who knew. Beneath the slowly beating wings, the icy sea rippled with floating bergs.
The sky was clear. In place of auroras and thunderclouds, pure blue shone brightly. The morning sun rising over the sea bathed the world in light.
"Ahhh... We finally made it."
"Th-thank you... Thanks to you, it was comfy..."
The two arrived at Heiran at dawn. Retrieving Aradan Tergun's body from the Sea of Specters had delayed them a bit.
-Pyu-yooo!
The Prince of Storms dropped them off and flew straight back to Elsia without a glance. Watching his receding figure, Ronan shook his head.
"What a straightforward bird. Takes after his owner, huh."
"Maybe..."
Adeshan replied in a voice dripping with exhaustion. Last night's events felt like a dream.
Seed vaults, glowing diodes, Ronan's father in a glass tube—all straight out of a novel, utterly unreal. Her gaze fell on Aradan, and she murmured worriedly,
"We need to bury him before he decomposes."
"Yeah. No word yet?"
The were-tiger boy's corpse slumped over Ronan's back. The cold preserved it for now, but warmer temps would rot it fast. Hearing "word," Adeshan tilted her head.
"Word from who?"
"You know, the letter I wrote on the way here..."
As Ronan started to explain, both sensed a familiar presence and turned.
Two silhouettes approached from the distant snowfield. Their builds differed vastly, but their auras were equally intense. Ronan's lips curved up.
"Ah. His Majesty's being merciful."
The figures sharpened into view. Adeshan's already large eyes widened further. From the smaller one—Naviroje—came a grumbling voice.
"Look at the mess you've dragged me into, cat."
"Finally here."
Zaifa stretched casually. How he'd come north despite restrictions was a mystery. Taking a deep breath, Ronan strode toward them, Aradan's body on his back—the son of the Sword Saint.