Chapter 376
Chapter 376
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 61
Chapter Title: Sword and Star (6)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Asel arrived at the scene at noon, when the sun hung high in the midday sky.
Dust rose in hazy clouds every time the wind blew.
A few days earlier, there had been numerous reports of a monster rampaging in the imperial west's wilderness.
Misidentified sightings came in from time to time, but dozens at once meant something serious had happened.
Asel circled overhead, scanning the area, and gasped in shock.
"Wh-what in the world? What is this?!"
There were no signs of monsters or volcanic eruptions.
But that wasn't the issue.
The barren wasteland had transformed into an indescribably complex terrain.
It was a sight believable only if a mountain-sized beast had rampaged through.
'What on earth happened? Was it really a monster?'
Thankfully, it was an uninhabited region.
Fissures tens of meters wide and up to hundreds long scarred the wasteland everywhere.
There were also numerous massive craters reminiscent of impact sites.
It looked like a meteor shower had hit, but there were no traces of meteor impacts.
Some fissures were pitch black.
They were so deep that even under the noon sun, their bottoms were invisible.
The sight of desertified sand pouring into the black cracks resembled a golden waterfall.
"Those traces...!"
Asel's eyes widened for a moment.
He lowered his altitude and approached one of the pitch-black fissures.
Up close, he was certain.
The black fissures weren't just endlessly deep cuts—they were tears in space itself.
And as far as he knew, only one person could do such a thing.
"Lord Zaifa."
It was unmistakably Zaifa's aura.
Which meant this horrific terrain destruction was likely the aftermath of Zaifa battling something.
But who could have done this?
And force someone who had undergone complete renewal and regained his youth to exert himself this much?
His mind reeled in confusion.
Asel decided to first check for any injured survivors nearby.
He closed his eyes and focused, sending out waves of mana that functioned like radar in all directions.
The radar, vast enough to blanket the entire wasteland, boasted superior performance compared to any mage.
"Found one."
Sure enough, Asel pinpointed the survivor in an instant.
The life signal came from deep within a fissure as vast and wide as a canyon.
Asel flew toward it at top speed.
En route, he didn't forget to restore the damaged terrain.
The dark fissure walls were as smooth as sliced soap.
The deeper he went, the thicker the fishy stench of blood grew.
Soon, upon reaching the survivor, Asel clamped both hands over his mouth.
"M-my God!"
****
"Lord Alogin. May I come in?"
"Ah... it's you. Come on in."
Naviroje turned the doorknob.
A spacious room came into view.
The interior was somewhat old-fashioned, but the weapons displayed everywhere created a menacing atmosphere.
Before a large fireplace.
An old man seated in a rocking chair greeted her.
"Come in. Sword Saint."
"I hope you've been well."
"Me? Same as always. But you... I never can quite figure you out. Why's someone like a Sword Saint so polite?"
The old man chuckled.
His cracked, desert-dry voice carried an unmistakable world-weariness.
It was Elder Alogin, once overseer of the Sword Festival.
His wrinkles, far more intricate than those of a typical elder, attested to his age.
"Because you're someone worthy of respect."
"Just an old man. The day the holy sword found its master, my position lost meaning. This lineup of portraits will end with my death too."
Alogin nodded toward the wall.
It was lined with portraits of past elders.
All but Alogin's bore white flowers.
"I thought I'd go first, but lifespan is unpredictable. No regrets left, yet here I linger. If I'd regained youth like you, maybe, but..."
"You could do it too, Elder. You once climbed to the Sword Saint's seat."
"No... it's beyond me. The wall you broke is too far for me. The privilege of lingering in one's desired season isn't for everyone."
Alogin stroked his beard and smiled.
It wasn't defeatist resignation, but objective recognition.
There are realms effort alone can't reach.
He had lived a rough life in his youth, no less than Naviroje, yet hadn't grown as strong as her—that proved it.
Naviroje fidgeted with her fingers, suddenly uneasy.
Each tiny gesture seemed to drain Alogin's soul.
Just as she was about to tell him to stop smiling...
"Still, I'm glad. To see you reclaim the Sword Saint title too. Only possible because I've lived so long, eh?"
"Hoo... one could see it that way. Though I may not remain Sword Saint after today."
"Hm? That's unlike you. So lacking confidence... Ah, right. Zaifa's joining, isn't he?"
Alogin snapped his fingers.
Indeed, it made sense why even Naviroje couldn't be certain.
Zaifa Turgen.
The monster who first taught her the bitterness of defeat had recently achieved complete renewal.
If anyone could best her now, it would only be that tiger.
Naviroje checked her watch and spoke.
"If you're ready, shall we go? Need a hand?"
"No need, lass. I can still walk on my own. Don't treat me like some incontinent geezer."
Alogin hopped down from the rocker.
His already diminutive stature had shrunk further with age.
Naviroje inwardly sighed in relief that he didn't keel over on landing.
The pair left the elder's room and entered the corridor.
"By the way, you..."
"Yes?"
"You've become stunning. Back in my day, I had my share of ladies swooning, but next to you, I was just a sword-swinging scarecrow."
She had been beautiful even before renewal, but now words failed.
Her bobbed hair suited her especially well.
When asked who suggested it, she said it was advice from close friends.
"You had friends? Surprising."
"A handful, enough to count on one hand. And I was always beautiful."
"Hahaha, that's the Naviroje I know."
"Time to drop the grin. People are waiting."
"Ah... right. My last Sword Saint showdown in life. I'll watch with all I've got."
"And cut the ill omens."
The two walked side by side and soon reached the corridor's end.
Murmurs came from beyond the massive double doors.
Naviroje straightened her attire and flung the doors open.
A cold wind tousled her bangs.
The vast crater's landscape unfolded before her.
"Everyone! She's finally here!"
The announcer's voice boomed simultaneously.
The holy site, once site of the holy sword search, was packed with thousands.
They had come to witness the unprecedented Sword Saint showdown.
No separate stands; they lined the crater's rim.
All eyes focused on Naviroje and Alogin the moment they appeared.
The announcer spun the mana-tech megaphone and shouted again.
"The supreme elder who has guarded Parzan for decades, Lord Alogin! And the Serpent Empress reclaiming her throne, Sword Saint Naviroje!"
"Waaaaaaaaah!!!"
The dead volcano briefly dreamed of rebirth.
Fervent cheers erupted from the crater's rim.
Unlike Naviroje's worries, Alogin didn't clutch his heart and collapse.
Instead, he waved kindly to the distant spectators.
"Pleased to meet you all. I am Alogin, judge of this Sword Saint showdown."
"Naviroje."
She gave a light bow.
She had separately saluted the emperor.
Seats for them were in prime view of the site.
Confirming they were seated, the announcer continued.
"This Sword Saint showdown is unprecedented in many ways. Held in Parzan, not the Grand Circle. And two challengers remain till the end. Since neither withdrew, these two will decide here who challenges the Sword Saint."
It was already widely known, so no stir.
Only one could challenge the Sword Saint.
The winner here would face her.
Of course, they'd receive full treatment until fully recovered for fairness.
Two gates marked the crater rim enclosing the site.
The announcer pointed to the north gate and yelled.
"First challenger, enter! Schlieffen Sinivan de Grancia!"
Cheers and applause poured out.
A tall man strode from the smoothly opening doors.
His refined features, dark blue hair, and uniform exuded nobility.
Aria, standing on tiptoes in the seats, cupped her hands to her mouth and shouted.
"Oppa! You got this!"
"The storm-summoning sword, the peerless genius returns! Can he redeem his past defeat?!"
Schlieffen said nothing.
In utmost focus, he had no spare glance even for his beloved wife and daughter.
His blue gaze fixed on the opposite gate where his foe would emerge.
Truth be told, the real final might be now, not against Naviroje.
"Next, the second challenger! No less famed than Schlieffen. The black whirlwind sweeping the north, hailed for decades as the strongest Sword Saint ever! Zaifa Turgen!!"
Cheers no less fervent exploded.
Schlieffen unconsciously clenched his fist.
Crossing swords with Zaifa for the first time since the old man stole the Sword Saint seat long ago.
The great doors slowly opened, and a shadow stepped out.
An unexpected voice rang out.
"Sorry to burst yer bubble."
"What?"
Silence fell over the seats for a moment.
The emerging silhouette wasn't Zaifa's.
Far smaller than a beastman, it was human-shaped.
As the shadow took another step, its identity emerged from the shadows.
"Huh...? That's not Zaifa."
Alogin's brows furrowed slightly.
Black hair, sunset-orange eyes.
That carefree habit of tapping the sword hilt even here.
Naviroje shot to her feet.
"Why are you...!"
"Long time no see here. Miss it."
Ronan whistled.
Innumerable weapons adorned the place like stars.
The cloudless high sky was dyed in colors unseen in the capital.
Familiar scenery.
Familiar faces.
His slowly scanning gaze locked on Schlieffen.
"Been well, thief?"
"Ronan. Why are you...?"
"Circumstances. Zaifa ain't coming."
Ronan smirked.
His clothes torn and slashed everywhere, like he'd been in a brawl.
Schlieffen frowned.
"You bastard. Don't tell me."
"Skip the chit-chat. The old tiger ain't the issue now, right?"
Ronan drew his sword hilt.
The holy sword, once Parzan's raison d'être, slid free silently.
Its tip gleamed in the sunlight, aimed at Schlieffen.
"Thy opponent is me. Schlieffen."