Chapter 340
Chapter 340
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 340
Chapter Title: Side Story 24. Blue Spring to You (6)
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"Red Death... Red Death."
Naviroje muttered to herself.
The bearded man had said that the mastermind behind them was the Red Death.
It was definitely a term she had heard from Ronan's mouth once, but it wouldn't come to her clearly.
It was frustrating, like trying to sneeze but failing.
'Damn bastard. If I'd known it would come to this, I should've just killed him.'
She desperately rummaged through her memories while sprinting through the sewers.
Mold-covered stone walls flashed by on either side.
Her oil-slick smooth footwork evoked the image of a swallow skimming the ground.
'My body really is light. Was that bone purification and muscle transformation real after all?'
Amidst it all, she could definitely feel the changes in her body.
Even maintaining top speed, her breath didn't quicken at all.
It felt as if the gravity acting on her had halved.
Her smaller frame meant weaker raw strength, which was a drawback, but not a serious one.
Just a few more years of growth, and she'd be at her peak.
Naviroje halted amid these scattered thoughts.
'Is this the place?'
It was a dead end.
The open space where the water channel curved was wide enough for a soccer game.
The air was thick with mana density on a whole different level from before.
Looking up, she saw a hole about 5 meters in diameter.
Beyond the dizzying darkness, a tiny red light flickered like dust motes.
It was the light from the Flame Palace, the heart of Adren.
Naviroje smiled.
'Those guys really made a mess of it.'
Even without hearing the full tale of their exploits, she could infer.
That had to be the spot Ronan and the others, along with Orse, had broken through.
Back when the Flame Palace was still the Sky Tower.
She never imagined she'd trace her disciples' footsteps like this.
"Well then... shall we go?"
Naviroje lowered her stance and took a deep breath.
She had to leap a considerable distance in one go.
Mana pulsed from her heart, spreading throughout her body.
Her thighs, exposed beneath her skirt, swelled taut.
'This is one good thing.'
In that moment, Naviroje discovered the skirt's advantage for the first time.
Unlike pants, it was wide open, so much cooler.
Just as heat haze shimmered over her skin.
Her figure blurred for an instant and vanished from sight.
Kwaaaaaang-!!!!
A belated roar shook the sewers.
****
"Kuhuk... ughuk, damn it...! Damn it!"
The bearded man groaned.
If he relaxed even a little, he'd pass out.
His right eye socket burned like hot coals had been shoved in.
From the severed stumps of his limbs, red blood dripped steadily.
'I'm dying. This is really it.'
If he'd cast the hemostasis spell even a moment later, he'd be dead.
Clinging to his fading consciousness, he chanted another spell.
A faint glow enveloped his body, dulling the pain.
He wanted to flee right then, but he couldn't.
A sob escaped the man's lips as he barely regained his senses.
"Damn it, Lisa..."
The first to die by Naviroje's hand was his fiancée.
Even with her heart pierced and upper body half-sliced away, she'd activated a spatial magic scroll to save him.
Adding that he must complete the mission.
'What the hell is that girl?'
It felt like a nightmare.
The top five adventurers, acknowledged by all, had been ambushed without sensing a thing.
There was no chance to resist.
It took less than a minute for them to become mangled chunks of meat.
Despite all being aura awakeners.
Impossible without Sword Saint-level skill.
'I have to plant the bomb.'
He didn't know why the smooth operation had gone so wrong.
But planting the bomb quickly was the best he could do now.
If that girl tracked him, it was all over.
Surveying his surroundings, the man frowned.
"And just where is this...?"
It was definitely the Flame Palace.
But the scenery was far from what he'd imagined.
No ornate decorations, no grand pillars.
The vast palace interior was engulfed in flames.
The air crackled madly with incinerating roars.
'Just like hell.'
The man swallowed hard.
A massive vortex of flames swirled in the palace center.
At its heart floated a fireball evoking the sun.
The scorching orb, roaring ferociously, enveloped a dragon too massive for the eye to take in.
Scales glowing like heated iron, a pair of horns curving skyward.
It was Navardoje, one of this world's strongest—the Mother of Fire.
"...That's molting?"
An overwhelming sight.
Any ordinary person would lose their mind just beholding it.
The flame storm rotating around Navardoje was peeling away her old skin bit by bit.
The shed skin turned to fire the instant it fell, fueling the growing inferno.
Navardoje hung her head with eyes closed.
Her sleeping posture suggested the rumors were true: she couldn't move during molting.
No time to hesitate.
The man rolled his body, inching as close to her as possible.
With each roll, the surrounding temperature rose.
Amazing that he felt only this much heat.
Thanks to the thick defensive barrier containing the flames.
'So that's why they allowed the school trip. A shield like this.'
He'd anticipated it, but the real thing's majesty was indescribable.
Without it, he'd have been incinerated to nothing upon transfer.
After hundreds of rolls, he reached the barrier.
His head spun, but he had to do it.
He jammed fingers down his throat, vomiting up the contents.
"Urk."
A small gem dropped before his chin.
The bomb to obliterate the Flame Palace.
A crimson flame flickered within the octahedral crystal.
Faint as if about to extinguish, yet the client swore it was the only way to succeed.
"Next..."
He'd gotten the bomb out, but steps remained.
Twisting his body, he pulled an item from his inner pocket.
A pack of dark red liquid.
His adventurer group had sunk a year's budget into acquiring this palm-sized thing.
Tearing it open with his teeth, he poured it over the bomb.
The crystal inside and out soaked to deep crimson.
'Please.'
The liquid touching his tongue was fishy.
It was Hero Ronan's blood.
A substance that decomposed mana without cost—one of the world's most dangerous.
Hard-won from the black market, from the Nebula Klazier war era.
The Ronan-blood-coated bomb would shred the barrier upon detonation.
"Now... the final step."
Preparations complete.
Steeling himself, the man gritted his teeth.
Fiancée dead, limbs severed.
One eye gouged—what compensation from the client meant anything now?
So he'd complete the mission perfectly.
Originally, plant and flee—but he'd detonate it himself, embracing death.
Fortunately, enough mana remained.
As he glared at the bomb to chant—
"......Ah?"
Suddenly, the world went black.
Flame storm, Navardoje—all vanished.
No more incinerating roars.
The detonation spell circled his ruined throat.
In a world devoid of senses, only thought remained.
What?
What's happening?
As he panicked—
"Not bad mobility for someone missing limbs."
"......!!!"
A familiar voice echoed in his mind.
Unmistakably the murderous girl's.
Naviroje, now beside him, continued.
"So that's the bomb... Using Ronan's blood like this."
The Flame Palace was so vast she'd barely caught up.
Her gaze fixed on the crystal.
Precisely, the liquid coating it.
When she recalled his talk of a "trump card," guessing its nature was easy.
Her usual composure twisted in rage.
"My disciple's blood."
".........!!"
Naviroje's voice was cold enough to freeze guts.
Yellow urine leaked from the sobbing man's pants.
No need to look—he felt it.
A serpent larger than a building glaring down.
If memory served, that was former Sword Saint Naviroje's aura: Mansia.
"Spa... spare m..."
She'd just called Ronan her disciple.
The speck of lingering hope vanished.
Why was such a monster here, in that form? Questions swirled, but irrelevant now.
As he mustered all strength to beg—
Sgak!
The sword in Naviroje's hand arced.
"Do you know what that child felt squeezing out his blood?"
Naviroje asked, but he couldn't answer.
His head hit the floor, severed from his body.
Now all five were dead.
"Filthy scum."
Naviroje snarled.
More infuriating than the near-terror on Adren was the abuse of her disciple's blood.
Blood Ronan had drawn over months.
To save the world from alien invaders.
'I'll ask the Emperor to tighten enforcement. Never imagined any remained.'
She hadn't dreamed leftovers existed.
Ronan's blood had been strictly collected under law since war's end.
Fortunate to thwart the terror belatedly.
'But in that state, no talking to her.'
Licking her lips while watching the Mother of Fire, Naviroje sighed inwardly.
Terror stopped, but her consultation seemed impossible.
No choice.
Head back and wait.
As Naviroje reached for the crystal—
A sinister voice echoed through the Flame Palace.
Simultaneously, the crystal floated up, emitting blinding light.
"What."
Bad premonition.
Naviroje instinctively reached for it.
But it slipped her fingers by a hair, burrowing into the barrier.
The flame storm raged like poured oil.
Kwaaaaaaaa-!!
The swirling blaze was sucked into the tiny crystal.
About half the palace's flames absorbed—
The voice returned.
The crystal shattered, revealing a massive form.
Red scales, twin pairs of horns.
The dragon, half-formed of flame, strongly resembled the Mother of Fire.
Naviroje gripped her sword hilt.
"You..."
She'd seen an illustration once in Baren's office.
70 meters long, four viciously curved horns proving his identity.
Gargarrens, the red dragon supposedly slain by Orse.
"Red Death...!"
Only now did Naviroje recall what "Red Death" meant.
It referred to this dragon.
Ronan had said, in the curse-born phantom world, he'd seen the savior sever Gargarrens' horns.
How was he alive?
Doubts surged, but no time for questions.
Gargarrens gazed at molting Navardoje, speaking with a mocking tone.
Flame wings unfurled, whipping up a gale.
The flames encircling Navardoje's body began absorbing into him again.
"...Should've brought my sword."
Naviroje sighed.
Thoroughly disconcerted, but she knew what to do.
She smeared Ronan's blood on her blade and tore into the barrier.