Chapter 252
Chapter 252
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 252
Chapter Title: Clash (5)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
“Kuh!”
The Blessing of the Stars struck Schlieffen. He didn’t even have time to react. His body was flung outward beyond the edge of the Sky Tower.
“Damn it, Schlieffen!”
Ronan shouted. Somehow, the situation was reversed from last time. He was about to manifest his own aura to pull Schlieffen back when Alon’s mouth opened softly.
“-Let there be a gale.”
“What?”
Suddenly, translucent wings sprouted from Alon’s back. In an instant, the surrounding air condensed sharply. Ronan’s eyes widened in shock.
“This fucking...”
It was a familiar sight. Ronan hurriedly tried to assume a defensive stance, but it was a bit too late. Paaaang-! A gale erupted from Alon, sweeping away everything around him.
“Keuk!”
Ronan, struck directly by the wind, flew backward like he’d been hit by a siege weapon. Alon immediately leaped after Schlieffen toward the base of the Sky Tower.
“Damn it, wait!”
Ronan spat curses mid-flight. As expected of an archbishop, the gale’s power was incomparable to any foe he’d faced before. Manifesting divine powers consecutively like this was downright unfair.
Regardless, he couldn’t just sit there twiddling his thumbs. If he didn’t act, he’d plummet to the bottom of the tower. Ronan switched his core and activated two auras simultaneously.
Shaaak! Glistening roots sprouted from his feet, binding his lower body. It was the aura he’d first stolen from Dolan.
Next, afterimages reminiscent of a feline beast’s forepaw wrapped around Ronan’s right arm. His forearm, enhanced by Baren’s aura, swelled as if it might burst.
“You senile old hag!”
Roaring, Ronan slammed his sword into the ground. Kagagagak! A long line scarred the top of the Sky Tower as his speed slowed. He came to a stop only after sliding nearly to the edge.
“Schlieffen!!”
Debris tumbled behind his half-protruding heel. Barely avoiding the fall, Ronan rushed to where Schlieffen had dropped. He looked down urgently, but the two were already nowhere in sight.
“Shit.”
Ronan bit his lip. He could guess Alon’s plan. He knew Schlieffen couldn’t break through the baldheads’ divine powers, like the Blessing of the Stars.
As he’d said before, Alon planned to quickly eliminate him and return. A truly villainous idea. Gazing down at the tower’s base, Ronan sighed deeply.
‘When the hell am I going down there again?’
Of course, what needed doing was clear. Even if he somehow survived the fall, leaving things be would mean Schlieffen’s death. Having resolved to leave the aftermath to his future self, Ronan was about to leap from the tower.
“With this... it’s over...”
“Huh?”
Suddenly, Schlieffen’s voice came from the floor below. Ronan’s body froze like a statue, mid-jump.
‘Are my ears broken?’
Ronan listened again. No more voices, but he clearly sensed movement and surging mana.
What the hell was going on? He spun around and descended the stairs. His tensed legs made booming thuds with each step.
Soon reaching the lower floor, Ronan gasped. An unbelievable scene unfolded before him.
“What the...!”
Schlieffen and Alon faced each other at arm’s length. Ronan had thought he’d plummeted to the bottom, but seeing him here suggested Schlieffen had done something with the wind.
“Keuk... kuhk...”
Red blood bubbled from Alon’s mouth. Schlieffen’s longsword pierced through his back. The fearsome blade gleamed coldly.
Blood trickling down the blade soaked Schlieffen’s hand. As if his heart had been pierced, Alon remained frozen in place. Ronan’s jaw dropped.
“You.”
He could hardly believe his eyes. The still-intact Blessing of the Stars enveloped Alon. Indeed, Schlieffen’s body was blocked by the eerie barrier, unable to advance further.
But the sword alone—the Grancia treasured blade he held—had pierced through the Blessing and embedded itself. Staring into Alon’s eyes, Schlieffen spoke.
“Our past grudge ends here.”
“How... keuk, how did you...”
Alon said in a trembling voice. The sensation of the blade in his chest was vividly real. Gasping roughly, he chuckled self-mockingly.
“No... this is my punishment. For failing to resist that moment of pleasure...”
“Punishment?”
Ronan asked. Alon nodded weakly.
“Yes. Grancia, who rose by the sword, should have ended it with the sword, risks be damned... Hah, but I succumbed to the temptation of using divine power to easily dispatch the enemy...”
Regret dripped from his cracked voice. At least he still had some warrior’s pride left to say that much.
Of course, succumbing to temptation left no room for mercy. No elegy for a fool who’d sold his soul to the baldheads.
Clang. The swords in Alon’s hands dropped to the floor.
The Blessing surrounding him shattered slowly. The dark blue eyes, so like Schlieffen’s, dimmed gradually.
Confirming Alon breathed no more, Schlieffen withdrew his sword. Thud. The once-tall frame crumpled like bamboo.
He didn’t know the full details, but it was an anticlimactic end. A position among the top five in the church for an archbishop, yet to go out like this. Ptoo! Ronan spat on the corpse and wiped his mouth, muttering.
“What the hell did you do?”
“I don’t know. In desperation, I thrust my sword, and it went right in.”
Schlieffen briefly explained from the moment he fell. As Ronan expected, Alon had planned to deal with him separately since he couldn’t break the divine powers.
He’d tried to impale Schlieffen’s chest mid-air, and Schlieffen resisted with all his might, swinging his sword. He continued.
“As you know, Alon was a perfect swordsman in offense and defense. But the instant he lunged to kill me, like the other zealots, he ignored defense. That allowed me to stab his heart.”
“So that’s why he said that at the end.”
Ronan nodded. If Alon had repelled Schlieffen and used pure swordsmanship instead of the Blessing, his divide-and-conquer plan would likely have succeeded.
Worth regretting. Licking his lips, Ronan blurted.
“...We almost died.”
“Agreed.”
Schlieffen sighed faintly. Regardless of the hollow end, Alon had been truly strong.
Facing both him and the future Empire’s Greatest Swordsman alone defied reason. Even accounting for his youth.
The aura ambush succeeded, and Schlieffen caught him off-guard; otherwise, the Sky Tower could easily have been their grave.
A chill ran up his spine. But now wasn’t the time to dwell on survival. One crucial issue remained. Taking a deep breath, Ronan spoke.
“So how did you pierce the Blessing of the Stars?”
“As I said, it just went in.”
Schlieffen explained he’d swung and the Blessing tore. Not smoothly like cutting water as Ronan did, but like slicing thick hide—requiring great force. Ronan frowned.
“Damn it, think harder. Anything different from usual?”
“Hmm...”
Schlieffen groaned. Ronan impatiently raked his hair.
His heart raced. This was the first time he’d seen someone besides himself, the Savior, or Abel breach the Blessing.
Whether Schlieffen met some condition or awakened an unknown power, he didn’t know. But one thing was certain: this could be a world-saving breakthrough.
‘We can fight them.’
Ronan remembered the catastrophe. Despite top powerhouses’ efforts, the giants turned the world to hell in twenty days.
The Empire’s army, archmages, even dragons called heavenly beings fell to the damn baldheads largely because they couldn’t pierce that accursed barrier. Destructive power aside, unblockable attacks meant one-sided beatings.
‘What variable changed?’
Ronan’s mind raced. He needed to sort his thoughts now. Find what differed from usual.
His overheated brain scanned from yesterday to now: Adren’s entry, meeting Orse, the thrilling chase with the Dragon King, up to the recent battle.
“...Wait a sec.”
Suddenly, a difference flashed like lightning. Lowering his gaze, he looked at Schlieffen’s sword.
“Didn’t my blood get on that today, by any chance?”
“What?”
Schlieffen raised an eyebrow. It was the only clue-worthy event.
Not sure if related, but the ailing Savior needed Abel’s blood—his brother’s—to recover. Cain, Abel, and Ronan himself: three could cut the Blessing and magic.
Perhaps that mysterious power stemmed from blood. Far-fetched maybe, but worth testing.
As he opened his mouth to tell Schlieffen, Kuwaaaang!! The wall crumbled, a massive bulk pouring in. Alon’s corpse vanished with a grotesque sound. Startled, Ronan cursed.
“Fuck, what is that?!”
[Keuk, kuhk!]
A low, thick cough echoed. The black-scaled body bore countless wounds. Seeing the torn wing membrane, Ronan exclaimed in dismay.
“Orse?”
Unmistakably the demon dragon Orse. Some wounds were too gruesome to witness, but white ice encased them, stemming the blood. Then, a familiar face popped up from the thick neck.
“O, Orse! We need to move. If we stay...”
[Kuh... I know, mage.]
Orse coughed in response. Ronan’s eyes widened at Asel’s equally battered state.
“Asel?”
“Ro, Ronan?! Schlieffen? Why are you here...!”
“Long story. Why’s that woman with you?”
Ronan asked. His gaze fixed on the woman slumped against Asel: Naransonia, the Dragon King’s subordinate.
She was unconscious, eyes closed. Her back soaked in blood suggested severe injury.
Ronan, unaware of her involvement, couldn’t grasp the situation. Curious, but no time to ask. A thunderous voice boomed from above, as if the sky itself spoke.
[Cease your futile resistance.]
The three humans and one dragon looked up simultaneously—and froze. Beyond the gaping wall, the world’s second-largest dragon flapped its wings, glaring down.
[This is your end.]
Azidahaka declared. His form had changed: nearly all parts except the center and right heads were dyed white.
“...Fuck.”
Ronan narrowed his eyes. An eerie white, like the giants’ skin he’d seen before. Subordinate dragons circled nearby.
A异質 airflow swirled in the brightening night sky, hinting something—not rain—would descend.
[...What in the world happened here?]
Navardoje muttered. She’d just awakened from her first sleep in a month. An unbearable sight lay before her. Dozens of corpses littered the interior frontlines of Drimuere, the sky fortress.
Corpses were commonplace. Exterminating Outer Universe monsters was their duty and routine.
But the difference: these weren’t monsters, but fellow Immortals who’d fought beside her. Kin who once soared the skies together, elves who chose greater cause over peace, comrades who abandoned promised tranquility to save the world—all torn to shreds.
Even her own blood kin. Navardoje’s gaze turned to Brnihar.
[My daughter.]
[M-Mother...]
Brnihar opened her mouth. One of the few survivors, she plugged a hole in the Star Armor with her body—a rift torn by a giant. Everyone here had clung to stop him, but it was impossible.
“Kieeeek!”
“Karruk!”
Behind the hole, monsters swarmed like another black wall—the largest horde ever. As their sharp teeth and claws gnashed her scales, Brnihar groaned in agony.
Her form evoked tales of a boy plugging a burst dam with his body. Stunned, Navardoje gestured lightly. An invisible force pushed Brnihar aside.
[M-Mother! The rift!]
Her eyes widened. As predicted, the masses poured like an avalanche. Kuwaaa!
“Kyaaaaaaa!”
“Kurruk! Krurek!”
Indescribable roars filled the air. The monstrous cloud surged with bizarre movements, threatening to engulf Drimuere. Navardoje inhaled deeply.
[How dare you...]
The atmosphere stirred. Winds howled under starlight. Within her expanding flame sac, a glowing ember boiled.
[N-No way!]
Brnihar shrank, realizing. Navardoje meant to breathe fire. Dragging her wounded body, she moved groaning survivors deeper into the fortress.
The horde reached Navardoje. Her jaws parted, unleashing a flaming tsunami. Kuwaaaaa!!! A flash like the universe’s first light illuminated the void.
[Euk!]
Brnihar turned away, spreading wings to shield comrades’ eyes. No death cries sounded. The fire dragon’s blaze incinerated the monsters in under a second.
Hoo, exhaling residual embers, she spoke.
[Assemble the young ones to seal the rift. I’m heading to Adren immediately.]