Chapter 270
Chapter 270
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 270
Chapter Title: Subjugation (2)
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“Looks like you'll have to step in yourself.”
The Shadow Duke spoke. The shadow draped over his pale face left a deep impression. He was usually the sort who handled everything on his own, but it seemed he was facing serious trouble. Ronan, who had been lying down, propped himself up on his elbows.
“What, did the cult leader show up?”
“No. Two archbishops appeared. We couldn't even breach their barrier. Our forces have taken heavy losses.”
The Shadow Duke gave a brief rundown of the situation. Two archbishops had suddenly emerged from deep within the mountains, causing the alliance to lose three occupied strongholds. Ronan furrowed his brow.
“They'd been quiet lately, but they finally showed. But even after I beat them with Balor, it didn't work?”
“Yeah. Even striking down with a blade coated in the pure extract didn't leave a scratch.”
The Shadow Duke clicked his tongue. He wasn't showing it, but his pride was clearly wounded. It made sense—he was a man who, like Orse, had lived his life without ever knowing defeat. Ronan said,
“Guess I have no choice but to go. Though calling it 'pure extract' feels kinda weird. I'm not some juice.”
“It's basically the same to us. Anyway, the real problem is that they're buying time. There must be secret passages scattered throughout the mountains. At this rate, we might miss most of them.”
The duke was worried about the possibility of Nebula Klazie's escape. It was a valid concern. Burning the leaves and stems meant nothing if the roots survived. Ronan got to his feet.
“You could've called me sooner.”
Pluck! He yanked out the tube embedded in his arm. Didikan had warned against pulling it out carelessly, but Ronan's wounds healed so quickly it didn't matter. The brief trickle of blood soon stopped.
“Thanks.”
“Let's get going. I was getting bored anyway.”
Ronan followed the Shadow Duke out of the tent. A cold northern wind rushed in. The alliance's camps and the war-torn Pelgrand Mountains stretched out before them.
The Pelgrand Mountains, under simultaneous assault with the Pansia Fortress in the east, were one of the cult's premier strongholds. The rugged range, blanketed in rock and conifers, could almost be called Nebula Klazie's fortress in its entirety.
“Stubborn bastards.”
Ronan spat a curse. They'd already wasted over a fortnight here. The night's darkness was filled with shouts, screams, and the clash of steel.
“At least it's not all the way up north.”
With that, Ronan draped his cloak over his shoulders. Even in early summer, the northern chill kept the temperature low. White breath puffed out with every word or exhale, dissipating into the air.
He still shrank at the thought of Heiran and the Sea of Specters. The Sea of Specters. It suddenly hit Ronan anew that the Savior had little time left. He twisted his lips.
'About half a year remaining.'
To perfectly save the world and uncover his origins, he had to keep the Savior alive. And to save the Savior, he needed Cult Leader Abel's blood.
He'd been exchanging irregular letters with Elsia, but there'd been no miraculous improvement in her condition.
The silver lining was that at this pace, they'd reach the cult leader soon. The blacksmiths collaborating with the vampires had not only figured out ways to apply Ronan's blood to weapons beyond just coating them but were yielding real results. The Shadow Duke said,
“Then I'll head out first.”
“Yeah. Don't die waiting for me.”
Ronan waved. The Shadow Duke's body was enveloped in darkness and vanished. Time to go. Turning his head, he spotted Sita sitting quietly, gazing down at him.
“Pwe.”
“You're a pain to climb up on now. Who said you could get this big?”
Ronan chuckled. Her massive bulk aside, those sparkling eyes were still adorably cute.
Sita, reading Ronan's gaze, obediently lowered her head. Mounting her long neck, Ronan stroked the fluffy feathers and said,
“Let's go, buddy.”
“Pweeet!”
Sita spread her four wings and took flight. Despite her enormous size, her takeoff was ghostly silent. The soldiers in the nearby tents cheered in unison.
“Whoa, he's going himself!”
“Give 'em hell and come back!”
To them, Ronan was more than a hero. No one, regardless of rank or status, was unaware of his name.
Ronan responded to their cheers with a casual wave. Whoosh! With a single flap, Sita reached the mountain's foothills and let out a resounding roar.
“Pwaaahhh—!”
Blood scattered across the entire mountain range began converging on Sita. Countless droplets shot skyward, resembling rain falling in reverse.
This was the secret to her explosive growth. War spilled rivers of blood, and it all belonged to Sita. Her black, fluffy feathers absorbed it all voraciously without getting wet, retaining their glossy sheen. Finishing her meal, Sita grinned contentedly.
“Pwahaha!”
“Easy there, pig out much? What if you get even bigger?”
Ronan lightly pinched Sita's neck. Not that he meant it. It was too late to keep her as a house pet anyway—what did size matter?
Ronan and Sita arrived at the destination in under five minutes. From high altitude, the heart of the mountains—hidden from the horizon—was laid bare.
The Shadow Duke waited in the air with his subordinates. Dozens of vampires in black combat gear formed up around him. He greeted Ronan.
“You're here.”
“Yeah. Looks pretty sturdy.”
Ronan whistled as he peered below. No wonder he'd been summoned. A divine blessing unlike any he'd seen blanketed the mountain's core.
The hemispherical barrier shimmered in a murky hue between purple and red. Even to the naked eye, it looked impenetrable by ordinary means. Ronan asked,
“Any more troops for the breach?”
“Commanders 1, 4, and 12 with their units are handling the encirclement. We should be able to enter once the barrier breaks. They even positioned forces without tripping the detection nets.”
“Ah. Adeshan must've gone.”
Ronan nodded. The 4th Field Commander referred to Adeshan. Despite her youth, her stunning prowess in mock battles had led to her appointment as an alliance commander shortly after the purge began.
Though her forces were small, her unit boasted the alliance's highest win rate. This world's history hadn't unfolded that way yet, but her talent for devouring grand generals wasn't going anywhere. Feeling oddly cheered, Ronan turned to the duke.
“Then let's go right now. Follow me.”
“Wait, charging in recklessly like that...!”
“I'll handle one somehow, so just take the other.”
Thud! Suddenly, Ronan leaped off Sita's back. As if on cue, Sita folded her wings and dove.
“Wait!”
The momentarily stunned vampires began descending after him. Ronan, hand on his sword hilt, gazed at the rapidly approaching mountains.
The wind howled fiercely in his ears. Inside the murky force field, a man and woman in ornate robes caught his eye.
“Fucking assholes.”
A surge of rage boiled up. Without them, he'd be enjoying the Fairy Night Festival in Phileon by now. Laughing like idiots with friends or stargazing with Adeshan in festival garb.
Ronan gritted his teeth. Countless people had their daily happiness stolen—who could even guess how many? Reaching the barrier, he drew his sword. Shing! Lamancha traced a crisp arc, and the divine blessing shattered into pieces.
“What...!”
The Shadow Duke's eyes widened. Archbishop Alicia, sensing the anomaly, jerked her head up. Her lifetime-honed divine blessing crumbled. Black shadows rained down from above.
“Wait, Kylasis!”
She started to shout something. Swoosh! Ronan's descending slash, trailing red, cleaved Archbishop Kylasis from crown to groin in one stroke.
“...As expected, the original can't be matched. Should've called you sooner, like you said.”
The Shadow Duke exclaimed in admiration. Even the haughty vampires couldn't hide their awe. A stalemate of four days was broken in just two hours. Ronan shrugged nonchalantly.
“Told you. Call me early.”
Bathed in blood, he toed the corpse at his feet. It was Kylasis, bisected at the war's outset. The infamous archbishop, who had devoured over a thousand alliance troops, became a mere cautionary tale: no matter how skilled, ambushes were lethal.
The alliance surged in the moment the barrier fell. Archbishop Alicia fought desperately but couldn't withstand Ronan and the Shadow Duke's onslaught, retreating deep into the mountains. The long Pelgrand siege was nearing its end.
“Hey. Not bad.”
“Balzac.”
A familiar voice came from behind. Ronan raised an eyebrow. Balzac, the Shadow Duke's brother, approached chuckling.
“Hate to admit it, but you're stronger than me now. Can't believe you're the same punk from before.”
“Honored.”
“Why not quit the blood draws and just fight on the front lines? Things would go smoother.”
“If these bastards weren't scattered across the continent, I'd have done it already.”
Ronan shook his head. As Balzac said, Ronan was a spear that pierced any shield. He'd yield great results on the front, but the cult leader's main stronghold location was unknown, making such a strategy impossible.
'Gotta uproot them.'
The many remaining branches made it unfeasible too. Alliance forces without Ronan's diluted blood couldn't breach divine blessings. Balzac, pondering, snapped his fingers.
“Oh, right—you have a sister, don't you? Why not leave the bloodletting to her?”
“What?”
Ronan's eyebrow twitched for a split second. Adeshan, overhearing nearby, gasped. A bad premonition stirred.
“No thanks. She's small, wouldn't yield much blood.”
“Just try it. As kin, it'd have the same effect. More usable blood tips the scales.”
“Drop the sister talk. I already told Navardoje beforehand.”
Ronan took a deep breath. Veins bulged on his forehead, but he held his calm. Balzac smacked his lips at the firm refusal.
“Too bad.”
“I'm enough on my own. If you're rested, let's chase them down.”
“Sure. Still a shame, though. Curious what your sister's blood tastes like... Kahahaha!”
Suddenly, Balzac burst into boisterous laughter. Something snapped in Ronan's mind. He knew rationally it was a joke, but his hand was already on the hilt.
“Hey.”
“Hm? What's up?”
For a moment, Ronan froze. As Balzac turned, his sword flew. Lamancha hurtled at superhuman speed toward Balzac's tongue. Suddenly, someone hugged Ronan from the side.
“Ro, Ronan!”
“...Adeshan?”
Ronan's arm halted. Adeshan smiled awkwardly up at him.
Balzac's eyes bulged. The sword, clearly sheathed moments ago, gleamed inches from his face.
“You bastard, what the...!”
He couldn't comprehend why the blade was aimed at him. As Balzac started protesting angrily, the silent Shadow Duke spoke.
“Shut it, Balzac.”
“Brother?”
“The 4th Field Commander just saved your life. Ronan, I apologize on behalf of my brother.”
The duke stepped forward and bowed. Ronan brushed back his bangs and nodded.
“Don't. You're a duke.”
“Will you accept it?”
“Of course. I got too heated too.”
“Thank you.”
The Shadow Duke smiled. He led away Balzac, who looked utterly aggrieved. Ronan took another deep breath and turned to Adeshan.
“...Thanks. Gotta rein in this temper of mine.”
“It's fine, happens. I came to deliver a letter anyway.”
“Letter?”
“Yeah. From the capital... Wanna see?”
Adeshan smiled brightly and pulled an envelope from her bosom. Ronan's eyes widened as he took it.
“...A letter from Sis?”