Chapter 271
Chapter 271
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 271
Chapter Title: Extermination (3)
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"It's from Sis?"
Ronan opened the envelope. As he read the letter, a grin spread across his face. Confirming that the anger had completely vanished from his expression, Adeshan let out a sigh of relief.
"Thank goodness. Looks like you're feeling better."
"It's a letter from Sis. I couldn't read it with a frown. Thanks for passing it on."
Affection dripped from Ronan's eyes. It was an expression he rarely showed except when they were alone together. Watching him, Adeshan unconsciously smiled.
"You really love Lady Iril, don't you?"
"Of course. Why? As you know, Adeshan, I don't have parents."
For a moment, Adeshan was at a loss for words. She didn't know how to respond to something like that. Even though Ronan himself said it casually.
As Adeshan fell silent, he spoke up.
"Thinking about it, it's a real shit life. Mom died when I was little, so I've never even properly seen her face. And Dad's off slumbering at the northern edge of the world, keeping its secrets. So I don't really know things like maternal love or parental affection."
"Uh... yeah..."
"But I've never felt any resentment or lack about it. Because I had Sis. Sure, I was a bratty little shit as a kid, but that wasn't because I grew up without love—it was just my rotten nature."
Ronan chuckled. Adeshan forced a smile. The rear guard, having confirmed the star's blessing was gone, was entering the mountain path.
"Sis always raised me with love and care. I felt it from the moment I was strapped to her back, toddling around Numberton. She was too good for a punk like me."
"You don't have to say it like that."
"No. Really."
Ronan shook his head. He shared a few anecdotes from his childhood with Iril.
"Once, I threw a tantrum because I wanted to see the evil dragon Orse from the fairy tales. She could've brushed it off with 'you'll meet him in your dreams someday,' but she didn't. Guess what she did?"
"Hmm... drew a picture for me?"
"Close, but not quite. Sis spent a whole month, even cutting into her sleep, making a super realistic Orse costume. Then she wore it herself, ran around, and scared the crap out of me."
Recalling the memory, Ronan chuckled softly. Even by adult standards, it was an impressive costume. She'd made the four wings from real crow feathers. Adeshan covered her mouth in admiration.
"Wow."
"And I didn't even pretend to be surprised—just went back to my room. I'd already lost interest in Orse by then. Never showed any attention to that costume afterward, either."
"...Wow."
Adeshan admired again, though with a slightly different tone. Seeing her expression, Ronan gave a wry smile.
'What a little bastard I was.'
The more he thought back, the more he realized what an irredeemable spoiled brat he'd been as a child. He couldn't understand why he'd found his sister annoying, even when she'd changed his dirty diapers.
He'd never done anything cute, but Iril had always showered him with infinite, unconditional love. Right up until he'd run off without a word.
Good thing I came back, Ronan muttered inwardly and continued.
"Got a bit sidetracked. Guess I just wanted to show a little appreciation."
"Yeah. I can feel it."
"Thanks for saying that. Anyway, that's it. I just want to make Sis happy."
Ronan wrapped up. In truth, Iril's happiness was one of the biggest driving forces behind his decision to save the world. Tragedy didn't suit his lovely sister.
"Oh, can I head to the capital for a few hours tomorrow?"
"Huh? Of course that's fine, but why?"
"Didn't realize it myself, but tomorrow's my birthday apparently. Sis wants to spend it together after so long."
Ronan showed her the letter from Iril. On the parchment, her worm-like scribbles were neatly written.
It said to come home since it was his birthday, with a P.S. that the gift was already prepared. He'd long forgotten about birthdays. Adeshan nodded.
"You have to go. We'll have a rest period after taking Pelgrand anyway. I'll let them know."
"I'll be quick. Nothing going on with you, right, Senpai?"
"Huh? Well... um..."
Adeshan hesitated. Lately, she'd been experiencing something like auditory hallucinations. Ever since going north with Ronan, an unidentified woman's voice in her head had been growing louder day by day.
She wanted to tell him, but worried it would take too much time. Even if the tide had turned, they were still in the midst of battle. As she was about to speak...
"Hey. Looks like we need to retreat."
"Lord Balzac?"
Balzac approached from behind and spoke. Bruises marked his pale face—new ones. He'd been dragged off by the Shadow Archduke for "training" and thoroughly beaten. Ronan asked.
"What's up?"
"Just got a telegram from the east. Zaifa's 2nd Legion has taken Pansia Fortress. The hawk units are finishing up and heading here."
"Ah, they finally took Pansia. If that's the case, we bounce."
Ronan nodded. Exchanging glances with him, Adeshan dashed toward her unit. Soon, her voice echoed in his mind.
The telepathic message infused with shadow mana spread across the entire camp. The allied forces' offensive, which had been reaching its peak, halted abruptly.
They switched to full retreat mode. Even the vanguard, about to delve deep into the mountains, soon turned back.
"Th-the enemy is retreating!"
"What the hell?"
The zealots preparing for the final battle uttered their bewilderment. It was an inexplicable withdrawal. Just two more strongholds, and all of Pelgrand would fall to the allies—why pull back so easily?
"What is this...?"
Archbishop Alicia furrowed her brow. She'd been recovering at the stronghold after her defeat to Ronan and the Shadow Archduke. An approaching subordinate asked.
"Should we pursue?"
"...No. We're at a disadvantage. Focus on moving supplies and troops."
Alicia shook her head. She didn't know why, but it was a stroke of luck. Ronan's ability to unconditionally strip blessings was like lightning from a clear sky. Without other archbishops, a sloppy engagement could lead to heavier losses.
"What the hell is the Pope doing...?"
Mulling over the defeat, she muttered softly. Despite the organization facing life-or-death crisis, the Pope hadn't shown himself for over a month. She'd initially thought he was away for some plan, but now even that faith was wavering.
"...All is as the stars will."
But she couldn't give up here. It was that Pope, after all. He'd led them right so far—he'd surely do it again.
Clap clap. Slapping her cheeks to steel her resolve, Alicia stood. As she was about to issue orders to her subordinates, screams erupted from the eastern watchtower.
"S-something's coming from the north!"
"Something? What?"
"Ahh... My god, look at the sky—the sky!"
The area grew chaotic. Alicia looked east and raised her head. Like the others, she froze. Above the horizon, seven massive dragons flew in formation.
"What."
It was the hawk unit handling the allies' firepower. With weakened forces and the star's blessing gone, Nebula Klazie had no means to stop them. Itargand, leading the vanguard, roared with mouth agape.
【Kraaaaaah-!!!】
Navardoje's youngest son was small but spewed the hottest flames among the seven. His resounding voice shook the mountains. Despair settled on Alicia's face.
The seven dragons' scales gleamed ruby red. Known as the strongest among all dragons, inheritors of Navardoje's blood—divine creations.
"So that's why they suddenly retreated...!"
She now understood the abrupt withdrawal. The moment the seven dragons entered the mountains, they breathed fire. Kwaaaaa! Crimson flames like molten iron scorched strongholds untouched by allied feet.
"R-run! Into the citadel!"
"Too late...!"
"Lady Alicia! Th-the star's blessing...!"
Screams burst everywhere. Despite the zealots' pleas, Alicia couldn't activate the blessing. It needed more time to regenerate after destruction.
The dragons reached overhead in an instant. Itargand, scanning the ground, bellowed in fury.
The sky turned red simultaneously. A torrent of flames poured over Alicia. Zealots hastily cast defensive magic, but lasted mere seconds. Looking up, Alicia let out a hollow laugh.
"This is too much."
Kwaaaaa! Like a thousand forests igniting at once, flames engulfed the citadel. In a blink, they decomposed organics, infiltrating buildings to incinerate fleeing troops and supplies without mercy.
Where dragonfire passed, not even screams remained. A northern chill swept the mountains, scattering ash and embers. Thus, the northern pillar of Pelgrand fell to the allies.
It was a refreshing noon. Sheep-like clouds drifted across the capital's sky. Early summer breeze seeped through the half-open window.
"Today's finally here."
The temperature was high but dry, not humid. Iril smiled gazing out the window. Perfect day to celebrate her beloved little brother's birthday.
"Can't wait to see him. My little brother."
Iril murmured. Lately, Ronan had been too busy to see properly. Same for friends like Asel or Schlieffen.
Before her, a table groaned under food. Centered on potato stew, twenty dishes—all handmade by her.
Tedious work, but thinking of Ronan's face made it effortless. And today wasn't an ordinary birthday, so extra effort was due.
Today's gift held much deeper meaning than usual. Wiping hands on her apron, she suddenly snapped her fingers.
"Oh, almost forgot the most important thing."
Realizing she hadn't set out the gift, Iril headed to her room. Stopping before the bed, she bent over deeply. Deep inside, the box with the blood needle was visible.
"Eeeeeek...!"
Reaching under, Iril gritted her teeth. No matter how she strained, fingertips barely grazed it. After struggling, she straightened up.
"Hoo... too far in?"
She wiped sweat from her brow. Looked like she'd have to move the whole bed. Rolling up sleeves, she prepared to act.
Knock knock.
A knock came from the front door.
"Coming~!"
The cheerful knock was familiar. He'd said he might be late, but arrived early? Beaming, Iril opened the door.
"Ronan! Come in! Are you hungry... Huh?"
Iril's eyes widened. No one outside. Just an eerily empty street in silence.
"...What?"
Iril tilted her head. She'd felt presence, but must've been mistaken. Thud. Closing the door casually, she turned.
"Did I mishear... Kyaaaaah!!"
A shrill scream escaped Iril. The house was a sea of blood. Dozens of black-clad men lay headless on the floor.
"Wh-what... the hell...?"
Blood stench assaulted her nose. Iril clamped her mouth. All wore the Baron Empire crest—elite Imperial guards dispatched to protect her at Ronan's request.
No survivors. Blood spurted unreal red from neck stumps. As she gasped and nearly collapsed...
"Nice to meet you. First time seeing you in person."
"Gasp...!"
Whirling, Iril froze. Someone sat at the empty table. The white-haired man nonchalantly shoveled her potato stew.
"Your cooking's top-notch. Good no blood splattered here."
"D-Dad...?"
Iril trailed off. He resembled her remembered father strikingly.
But something fundamentally different. No fatherly kindness in those sunset eyes. Calming her breath with effort, Iril asked.
"...No. Who are you?"
"As expected of Brother's blood kin. Makes this somewhat historic. You might know, but formally:"
The man stood abruptly from his stew. Scratching his head, he approached and spoke.
"I'm Abel. The current Pope of Nebula Klazie."