Chapter 378
Chapter 378
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 378
Chapter Title: Side Story 63. Sword and Star (8)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Parzan fell silent.
Even those ignorant of swords could tell that Schlieffen's attack just now had been extraordinary.
Five sword auras of a size he'd never seen before in his life.
And a technique that launched them from completely different directions—it was something he'd neither seen nor heard of.
"You..."
But Ronan dismantled it in an instant.
The one who first broke the silence was Schlieffen.
He stared at his sword auras, now scattered harmlessly, with eyes full of disbelief.
"The era has changed. It's a fine technique, but it won't get you to the Sword Saint's seat. If it had been that old coot Zaifa instead of me, he would've ended you before you could even exchange five blows."
Ronan said.
There wasn't a trace of fatigue on his face, despite blocking such a massive technique.
He didn't look like someone who'd just finished a brutal fight with Zaifa.
"...So at graduation, you were going easy on me."
"Who knows. Maybe."
"I thought it was an even match... but I'm this far behind."
Schlieffen muttered.
This Ronan felt completely different from the one he'd faced until now.
In truth, he'd suspected it.
That Ronan wasn't using his full strength.
A man who erased all curses and slew the king of giants couldn't possibly be at this level.
But to think it was true.
"Look at Ultar. Not focusing?"
Suddenly, Ronan's eyes narrowed.
His sword dyed itself in sunset hues.
Sensing the incoming force, Schlieffen tried to evade.
Ronan surged forward as if he'd anticipated it.
"This...!"
Schlieffen gasped.
The brighter light finally swallowed him whole.
The gap he'd barely created became useless.
He raised his sword to block, but Ronan's slash had already carved its mark.
Slash!
Blood spurted from above Schlieffen's left thigh.
"Urk!"
It was a deeper wound than the one on his shoulder.
Ronan didn't stop his assault.
Sparks like lightning flew with every clash of blades.
It looked like he was blocking them all at a glance, but the balance had clearly tilted.
Strikes he couldn't parry were etching wounds across Schlieffen's body.
'At this rate, I'll lose.'
He was already bleeding heavily.
He was somehow fending off lethal blows, but it was only a matter of time.
Ordinary methods wouldn't turn this disadvantage around.
'Give flesh to take bone.'
Schlieffen steeled himself.
The moment he changed tactics, an opportunity arose.
Another shoulder strike came flying in, just like before.
Schlieffen abandoned defense and twisted his body.
Blood sprayed from where the blade grazed him.
"What? Why didn't you block that?"
Ronan started to say something at the baffling valid hit.
Schlieffen kicked off the ground and retreated.
Blue winds coiled around his blade.
The instant he landed, he slammed his sword into the earth.
Ronan's eyes widened.
"Aw, shit."
It was a mistake.
Too late to dodge.
The moment Ronan assumed a defensive stance, the ground beneath him exploded.
Boom!
His body lifted into the air from the gale-force blast.
"Tch."
Ronan gritted his teeth.
It felt like getting punched by a giant's fist.
Schlieffen didn't miss the chance.
The sword embedded in the ground glowed blue.
A dozen whirlwinds that had ravaged Parzan earlier surged toward Ronan all at once.
Storm tentacles assailed him from every direction—front, back, left, right.
"Grah!"
"Ro, Ronan?!"
Iril cried out in horror.
With a final scream, her brother's form vanished.
The whirlwinds that engulfed Ronan tangled together, forming a massive sphere.
In normal circumstances, the fight would be over.
"...Not yet."
But Schlieffen knew.
His opponent wasn't the type to fall to something like that.
He had to finish it properly.
Silently, he pulled the sword from the ground.
"Huuuuh..."
His head spun from blood loss.
For a fleeting moment, he recalled climbing a mountain near Nimberton with his family.
Beneath a starry sky so beautiful it seemed ready to pour down, he'd gained enlightenment toward the next realm.
"The starlight was beautiful."
Even Schlieffen himself couldn't fully explain what that enlightenment was.
He hadn't fully made it his own yet.
It wasn't at a level he could describe in words.
But he could show it through action.
"Here I come, Ronan."
Schlieffen gripped his hilt.
An ultra-condensed storm wrapped around his blade. In that instant, every spectator felt an indescribable chill.
"M-Mommy!"
"Come here, Aria."
Aria whimpered and clung to Iril.
Alibrije and Elsia clutched their popcorn.
Naviroje instinctively glanced at Algyn and the Emperor, who looked as if facing a natural disaster.
As the storm's color deepened...
Flash!
The wind-wrapped blade emitted light.
The intense glare forced everyone in Parzan to shut their eyes.
When the light faded and they opened them again, gasps of astonishment erupted.
"W-What is this?!"
"...Am I dreaming?"
The scenery had changed.
They stood not on the mountaintop, but in a vast plaza.
White marble paving stones lay underfoot.
Towering pillars, like those from a temple, rose here and there.
A thunderstorm circled the plaza slowly.
"Wh-Where are we? An illusion?"
"It feels too... real for that."
"Heh, I've never seen anything like this."
Even Alibrije marveled.
It didn't feel like an illusion spell.
Lifting their heads, they saw a clear sky without a single cloud.
Only directly above the plaza was clear, like the eye of a typhoon.
Schlieffen stood at the plaza's center.
His eyes closed, gathering his power.
The sphere from the tangled whirlwinds still floated in the air.
As the crowd's clamor grew...
Splatter!
The wind sphere burst like an explosion, revealing Ronan.
"Shit, that nearly killed me!"
Ronan stuck out his tongue upon landing.
Countless cuts covered his body outside the sphere.
No deep wounds, but so many shallow ones that he'd lost a fair amount of blood.
"Damn, that stings. When'd you learn a trick like that..."
He'd escaped only after swinging his sword countless times.
As he grumbled in annoyance, he furrowed his brow.
The surroundings had completely transformed.
Seeing the growling storm, Ronan raised an eyebrow.
"What, you already reached this far?"
He was genuinely surprised.
This was evolution in a different direction from shedding one's mortal form.
A second awakening, perhaps.
The aura, once confined to imagery, now overflowed to dominate the local space-time.
To reach this realm without living as long as Naviroje or Zaifa, or twice as long as himself—truly deserving of the title Empire's Rising Star.
"Power of love or whatever. Impressive."
Ronan admired.
Schlieffen didn't respond.
He was preparing the finisher.
The storm swirling around the plaza formed a massive vortex, sucked into Schlieffen's sword.
The moment preparation ended, this space born of his imagery would become the most destructive strike in the world.
"Guess I should show you mine too."
Leisure time was over.
Ronan gripped his hilt with both hands.
The playfulness vanished from his eyes.
A pure white glow began climbing his blade.
"You too...!"
Naviroje shot to her feet.
She recognized it immediately.
It was a technique on the same level as the space Schlieffen had created.
The warm, gentle radiance spread softly, overlaying Schlieffen's mental world.
Schlieffen frowned.
"That's..."
"Kill me? You're the second to see this. First time expanding it to full mental imagery."
Ronan grinned.
In truth, he'd developed it long ago, but with peace returning to the world, he hadn't had occasion to use it.
His blade was now fully white.
"Its name is Sunrise."
The new technique's name.
For reference, his existing aura was called Sunset.
He'd reached this realm watching the sunrise with his family.
Sunset is the sun's struggle.
It draws in the world's light because it doesn't want to die.
In that sense, this aura was the exact opposite.
Sunrise is the sun's advance.
The burgeoning sunlight pushes back the world's darkness with majestic force.
It was a miniaturized Sunrise that buried the rampaging Zaifa underground.
"...But is this okay?"
"Algyn! Sword Saint! Halt the match!"
"I don't wanna die!"
The stands descended into chaos.
The mages maintaining the barrier had long been pale-faced.
Instinctively, people sensed what would happen when Ronan and Schlieffen clashed.
Parzan, the holy site, even their own bodies.
Everything would be destroyed.
The calm ones were only Naviroje, Algyn, and Balon XLIV.
The Emperor gripped his highly tense son's hand and said,
"Have faith in those two."
"Father?"
"Nothing will happen. At least not to us. Maintaining composure in any situation is the mark of an emperor."
The Emperor's gaze was steady without a flicker.
The young emperor, about to speak, nodded instead.
He decided to trust the man who once led the empire's golden age. Right then, Ronan and Schlieffen, charging forward, swung their swords simultaneously.
"...!!!"
Silence fell.
Unexpectedly, no massive explosion or rainbow flash appeared.
The clash was serene and peaceful.
The surrounding backdrop became empty void.
People witnessed the storm-ravaged plaza and the rising sun over the hill—each as a single sword strike—colliding.
Antagonistic worlds.
Or simply crossing sword strikes.
Like spreading paint, Parzan's scenery returned.
The moment Ronan and Schlieffen's forms reappeared...
KABOOM!
A star-exploding roar unleashed a shockwave.
"Gaaah!"
"Grab on so we don't fly away!"
"Gods!"
As the Emperor predicted, the barrier held.
Still, every startled spectator fell on their asses without exception.
To avoid tumbling down the mountain, they inevitably clutched those beside them.
As the shock subsided, a barren crater revealed itself.
Weapons once stuck in the ground lay scattered everywhere.
Ronan and Schlieffen faced each other at the center.
Swords locked, unmoving—like statues. In the quieted world, the wind howled loudly.
After a long silence, Schlieffen spoke first.
"...Ronan."
"Yeah."
"Did my sword reach you?"
"What kinda ridiculous question is that?"
Ronan chuckled dryly.
Only then did they lower their swords and stand at ease.
Ronan pointed to the wounds covering his body.
"Does this look like tomato ketchup to you?"
"That's not what I mean."
"Then what do you mean?"
"That you went easy on me. Did you fight this match in earnest?"
His sword-blue eyes burned.
His voice was so grave it bordered on solemn.
In that moment, cracks spiderwebbed across Schlieffen's sword.
Shatter!
The blade fragmented and rained to the ground.
"Pale Lord...!"
Algyn's eyes bulged.
Pale Lord.
The frost sword symbolizing Grancia met its end.
Thud.
The hilt slipped from Schlieffen's hand and fell atop the shards.
Ronan raked a hand through his hair and spoke.
"Of course I did, you idiot."
No reply came.
Schlieffen's gaze lingered on empty air.
Ronan slung an arm over his standing-yet-unconscious friend's shoulder.
"You're the best swordsman I've ever seen. Counting both lives."
And collapsed together.
His legs had given out.
Zaifa back-to-back was too tough an opponent.
"Sorry about your sword. But you should make your own soon."
Schlieffen would reclaim the Sword Saint title in no time.
Ronan lay sprawled, arm over Schlieffen's shoulder.
The autumn sky held not a single cloud.
As encroaching fatigue weighed his eyelids...
"I said go back! What were you thinking fighting in that state!"
"What? Already over?"
A familiar voice came from somewhere.
Turning his head slightly, he saw Asel floating midair and Zaifa, who looked like he'd just landed.
His black, bulky body bore the wounds from fighting Ronan intact.
Meeting eyes, Ronan snickered.
"Up already?"
"Ronan. Looks like you won, but I'm a bit late to the party."
Zaifa chuckled.
"Kinda disappointing. If it were me, I'd have crushed that greenhorn ages ago and taken the Sword Saint seat."
"Dunno. You might've lost."
"Zaifa, that bastard...!"
Naviroje, watching, gripped her hilt.
Thick veins bulged on her forehead.
Her greatsword gleamed coldly drawn from its sheath.
"Who gave a loser like you the right to set foot here?!"
"C-Calm down, Sword Saint!"
Naviroje charged.
The Emperor tried to stop her, to no avail.
Asel freaked and hastily unleashed telekinesis.
Both froze midair.
"B-Both of you, calm down! Hic, why'd it turn into this?!"
"Mage Asel! Release me!"
"Kuhahaha, don't be like that, Archmage. Let go for a sec. I'll show you a good show."
Zaifa bared his teeth in laughter.
His rejuvenated body seemed to have youthened his brain too—no trace of his former detachment.
As the two swordmasters flailed in Asel's telekinesis...
"D-Daddy!"
"Father!"
Another familiar voice rang out.
Ronan turned, astonished.
Adeshan, Lance, and Erin were running toward him.
Right behind, Citta flapped her four wings.
"What... how'd you all get here?"
"How could we not know about something this big? You hurt anywhere?"
Adeshan knelt on one knee and supported him.
Her tone was calm, but her breathing ragged.
Her usually neat hair was a mess from the wind.
Moisture glistened in her ash-gray eyes.
Ronan, biting his lip, nodded.
"Yeah. Sorry."
"Good..."
Adeshan smiled.
Even in such disarray, she was stunning.
Lance and Erin massaged his immobile limbs vigorously.
From their state, he absolutely couldn't fight Big Sis Naviroje.
At least not today.
She'd be furious, but what could she do if he couldn't move?
"Oh god, honey! Ronan!"
"Oppa! Waaah!"
Iril and Aria were scrambling over too.
The spectators debated heatedly what the next match would bring.
Ronan surveyed the surroundings, then looked up at the sky again.
The drifting clouds were beautiful.
The exact opposite of the chaotic ground below.
He slowly opened his mouth.
"...I love you all."
"Wh-What?"
"You heard me. Don't make your dad say it twice."
Lance gaped.
He couldn't believe the words from his father's mouth.
Ronan decided to repeat it specially.
Normally he never would again, but today he just wanted to.
A single early star twinkled in the darkening sky.
"I love you. You idiots."