Chapter 296
Chapter 296
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 296
Chapter Title: Final Battle (5)
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A piercing explosion rang out. The sword that had never broken before—not even when slicing through Navardoje's scales—shattered into pieces. Abel's face twisted violently.
"Impossible."
It felt like a nightmare from hell. But he had no time to lose his soul to shock. Even after destroying the sword, Ronan didn't stop. He charged in immediately, slashing down vertically.
"Die!"
With no sword to block or parry, Abel barely dodged by twisting his shoulder. Shiiik! La Mancha's blade grazed the tip of his nose by a hair's breadth.
"Damn it...!"
"Oh? Dodged it?"
Ronan poured on the sword strikes relentlessly. Abel, dodging by the width of a sheet of paper, gritted his teeth. Unlike himself, whose breath was growing ragged, Ronan showed no signs of fatigue.
'Iril's still far off.'
This was very bad. He had two cards left that could turn the tide, including Iril, but they were useless if he died before playing them.
He had to fight. All he could do was pray for a single opening. Backing away step by step, Abel finally found himself with his back to the castle wall. Suddenly, Ronan's body spun sharply to the right.
"Your delusions end here!"
"...!"
Ronan shouted. Abel's eyes widened. The motion was large, as if it were a finishing blow. Seeing the open side, he let out a low chuckle.
"You're still young."
"What?"
Ronan furrowed his brow. Abel dropped low, gathering strength in his hand.
Like Ronan, he never forgot a technique he'd experienced once. La Mancha swept by in a wide arc, narrowly missing Abel's hair. Cain, watching the fight, yelled urgently.
"Ah, son, danger!"
"Too late. Didn't your brother teach you not to use the same technique twice!"
Ronan's side was still open. Abel thrust his spear-like hand straight forward. Though weakened, it was more than enough to shatter this brat's ribs and rupture his heart.
"This...!"
Ronan whipped his head around. Abel's hand flew toward his heart. Suddenly, one corner of Ronan's mouth twitched up.
"You idiot."
"Huh?"
Abel faltered. Just as his hand was about to reach Ronan. Boom! Kicking off the ground, Ronan leaped straight up.
"What?!"
"You think I wouldn't see that coming?"
Abel gasped. He realized too late that he'd been tricked. Pop! A hollow whoosh echoed as the attack missed.
"You...!"
Ronan's shadow loomed over Abel's face. There was no more room to dodge. Twisting his sword path mid-air, Ronan spun like a swallow and swung. Slash! Abel's right arm flew into the air as it was severed.
"Arghhh!"
"Got you at last, you rat."
Abel screamed. Ronan landed and slashed upward diagonally. Slice! Before he could react, the blade tore through Abel's throat.
"Gasp...!"
Abel clutched his neck and toppled forward. He couldn't breathe properly. Over half his windpipe and arteries were severed—he could feel it.
Blood gushed between his fingers clutching the wound. Neither human nor giant, his blood was a grotesque purple.
"Fuck. How are you still alive?"
Ronan raised an eyebrow. Sliced through the neck and still alive—this guy really was a monster. Of course, it didn't change anything, so he silently raised his sword again. Fine, he'd cut once more.
"Guh... no... hack, like this...!"
Abel writhed like he was begging, but that was none of Ronan's concern. He was about to deliver the final blow.
Rumble...! Suddenly, a heaven-shaking roar erupted overhead.
"What the hell?"
This wasn't something he could ignore. An indescribable ominous pressure crushed his body. Everyone, Ronan included, instinctively looked up.
"W-what is that?"
"The magic circle..."
Ronan looked up and furrowed his brow. An unprecedented sight unfolded. Dozens of magic circles linking the giants' world to this one were slowly disintegrating.
But they weren't vanishing completely. The circles' elements—letters and symbols—swirled massively, forming yet another magic circle.
It didn't look like anything good was about to happen. Clouds gathered once more. The savior looking at the sky clenched his fist.
"That's...!"
Lightning growled within the white clouds. Each flash revealed glimpses of something enormous inside the magic circle.
Wings? Human limbs? The giants attacking the battleship Dinhar halted in unison. One silent giant slowly spoke.
『He is coming.』
****
"Gasp... still... hack, far?!"
"Almost there."
Schlieffen replied dryly. Despite running the same distance, he wasn't even sweating. Marya gritted her teeth and pushed her legs harder.
"Damn it...!"
Good thing the armor kept her chest from bouncing. The three raced toward the top of the pale castle.
The ritual summoning giants and the presumed location of the captive Iril were both there. Schlieffen's interrogation—severing cultists' limbs one by one until they talked—had yielded solid results.
It had taken time due to the scale. Piles of dismembered corpses littered the path behind them. It was a human wall that had exhausted even Marya and Braum, who prided themselves on stamina. Marya said,
"By the way... huff, Iril unnie as these fanatics' saintess? What the hell happened?"
"No idea... huff."
Braum shook his head. Learning the truth had shocked them. Kidnapping Iril to crown her their church's saintess?
Of course, no one raised suspicions of betrayal. They'd all met her. Still, the bizarre affair demanded verification.
"Our blood's running low now... huff, we need to wrap this up fast."
"Yeah."
Braum muttered worriedly. Marya bit her lower lip. As he said, Ronan's blood was nearing empty.
Schlieffen was in a similar state, though unmentioned. This was grave— the Star's Blessing couldn't be overcome by skill alone.
One misstep, and they'd lose to mere fodder who barely wielded it. No one wanted that ending, so they silently picked up speed. Just as the trio reached the top floor and stepped into the corridor, Braum's eyes bulged.
"Everyone, danger!"
"What?"
Marya started to speak. Braum blocked her path abruptly, raising his shield. Simultaneously, a massive explosion detonated with a roar. Boom! A cloud of flame and lightning engulfed everything ahead of the shield.
"Nngh...!"
"Braum!"
Braum gritted his teeth. His arm felt like it would rip off. A moment later, and they'd have been in serious trouble. Then, from the settling explosion, a voice emerged.
"Tch, blocked it."
"Who are you!"
Marya focused and swung her greatsword wide. Whoosh! The crescent blade aura shot out, blowing away the corridor's smoke. A lanky man appeared.
"Thought Zaifa got caught... unlucky me."
"You're..."
Marya narrowed her eyes. The badge on his sleeve marked him as bishop-level. The man, hands behind his back, glared.
"Brats. Do you even know where you are?"
"Kuh...!"
Marya and Braum hunched. The killing intent pouring from him was no joke. Far beyond the cultists they'd faced.
"I'm asking. Lost your way?"
No answer came, so he snapped irritably. Lightning and flames flickered around him like before. Marya and Braum exchanged quick glances. They needed a coordinated strike.
"Go when I signal."
"Got it."
Marya gripped her hilt. Braum nodded, ready to charge. Schlieffen, silently scanning the corridor, spoke.
"Is the ritual happening beyond there?"
"What?"
The man frowned. Schlieffen's gaze fixed on the massive doors behind him. No higher to go—if intel was right, the ritual was there.
"I asked if the giant-summoning ritual is beyond those doors."
"...Ha, bold brat. Fine, that's why you're here."
The man chuckled hollowly. His demeanor suggested he'd enjoy some entertainment. Living as the Empire's Rising Star bred overconfidence, naturally.
As next Grand Bishop, he was unbeatable. He'd heard a few died to Schlieffen, but always with wild cards like Ronan or Zaifa nearby.
These ragtags didn't look the part. He could toy with them until Zaifa arrived. He spoke.
"Regrettably, no. I'd gladly take such an honor. Damn it, making me, soon-to-be Grand Bishop, babysit a girl..."
"...What?"
"Babysit a girl, I said. Fine, I'll play a bit. I was bored anyway..."
As he continued, Schlieffen vanished from sight. Before the man could react. Whoosh... Wind blew, and Schlieffen appeared behind him.
"Wha...!"
"Thanks for the info."
Schlieffen said. A longsword gleaming bluish was now in his hand. The man tried turning, but his body froze. Red lines traced over his rigid form.
"Guh... ack."
"But calling her that lowly? Unforgivable."
Click. Schlieffen sheathed his sword. The dismembered body collapsed. Crash! Limbs frozen by Pale Lord shattered on impact. Schlieffen dashed forward, slashing the doors.
Boom! They shattered, revealing the interior. A luxurious room fit for a princess. A massive throne-like chair sat in the center.
A familiar woman slept atop it. Clothes different, but definitely her. Schlieffen's eyes widened. Approaching slowly, he spoke.
"...Miss Iril."