Chapter 92
Chapter 92
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 92
Chapter Title: Shoot Toward the Dawn (5)
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Why the person who was supposed to have vanished was wandering around here was a mystery. But Ronan instinctively knew what he had to do. Rustle, rustle. Soft footsteps, like trampling dust, followed behind her.
"I have zero talent for tailing."
It was an untimely nighttime stroll. The irregularly protruding pillar-shaped bookshelves evoked the image of ancient forest giants. An unnatural chill, unfit for summer, lingered around the shelves.
"...Feels like a haunted forest."
Ronan twisted his lips. Today's library felt eerily ominous somehow. It was as if he could hear the resentful spirits of the trees slaughtered to make these books. Even the moonlight took on a murky blue hue, like the glow of a rotting corpse. Maintaining a steady distance as he tailed the woman, he furrowed his brow.
"Damn, where the hell is she going?"
It felt like they'd been walking for at least twenty minutes, yet she showed no sign of stopping. Ronan's body was drenched in sweat. He'd been pouring all his focus into moving silently. Just then, the woman came to a halt.
"Finally."
Ronan held his breath and slowly backed away. Crunch! Suddenly, her upper body arched backward, revealing her pale face. Seeing the back of her head nearly touch her waist, Ronan gasped involuntarily.
"...!"
It was a posture structurally impossible for a human. Her eyes were entirely pitch black. A grotesque voice leaked from her gaping mouth.
"Ah... aaah... ah."
Ronan swiftly ducked behind a pillar. His heart pounded as if it would tear through his chest. Swallowing the curse that rose to his throat was no easy feat.
"Fuck, what the hell did I just see?"
It was closer to a monster than a human. Soon after, the eerie voice cut off. Taking a deep breath, Ronan cautiously peeked out. The woman had vanished without a trace.
"...Where'd she go?"
No more footsteps echoed. Ronan approached where she'd stood, hand on his sword hilt.
He carefully scanned the surroundings but found no trace of her anywhere. Only dust floated in the eerie moonlight.
"This can't be..."
Ronan focused all his senses, observing every direction. The cylindrical bookshelves packed tightly with books, the floor of unknown white stone, and the faint trace of mana proving she'd been here—all came into view.
"Come to think of it..."
Suddenly, he recalled entering the secret space with Iril a few days ago. She'd opened the hidden door by pulling out a book.
Maybe here too? Ronan ran his hand over the bookshelf again. His gaze stopped on one spot. On the spine of a book titled [Backstep], the woman's mana lingered like a fingerprint.
"Found it."
Ronan carefully pulled out the book. Contrary to expectations, the shelf didn't slide back, nor did the floor sink.
Wrong book? The moment he placed his hand on the shelf in puzzlement, his hand passed right through it.
"Huh?"
Ronan's eyes widened. He waved his arm around, but felt nothing. The bookshelf's substance had vanished, replaced by a mere illusory shell.
"They put some serious effort into this."
It was extremely advanced magic. Confirming the inside was empty, he stepped through the bookshelf. A narrow, descending staircase stretched before him.
"...No way I'm dying here."
Ronan slowly descended. It was unbelievably deep for a space between the 4th and 3rd floors. Surprisingly, there were no wards or defensive spells. As he descended for a while, he frowned.
"It's dark."
No light pierced the pitch-black passage, not even moonlight. This wasn't darkness one could adapt to over time.
Suddenly, a clever idea struck him. He drew Ramancha. Focusing his mind, a red glow soon crept along the blade.
"There we go."
It wasn't as good as a torch, but far better than nothing. Soon, the stairs ended, giving way to a long corridor.
It was narrow enough for only two people abreast but nearly 4 meters high—an odd structure. Holding Ramancha aloft, he proceeded. Thud. Thud. Thud. The woman was still nowhere in sight.
"That aside... what the hell is this place?"
Hypotheses abounded, but nothing certain. Wizards' buildings were full of secrets by nature. Lost in thought, he came upon a fork in the path.
"Damn, a maze layout."
Ronan clicked his tongue. The most annoying type. As he pondered which way to go, an eerie whisper echoed in his ear.
"Fuck!"
He couldn't hold back this time. Ronan swung his sword toward the voice. Whoosh! The horizontal slash left a red afterimage in the darkness.
Feeling no impact, he aimed again. No one was there. The voice echoed once more.
"What?"
It was an androgynous voice, gender indeterminate. Listening closely, it resonated not in his ears but in his mind. Frowning at the word "curse," Ronan asked,
"Where are you speaking from?"
The voice cut off. The initial shock and fear swiftly turned to rage.
"...What bullshit."
Spitting on the floor, Ronan headed right. He'd had enough of this nonsense. He didn't know who was playing these games, but he intended to make them pay.
Whenever a fork appeared, the voice guided him. Ronan followed its directions. The interior was quite complex; finding the woman here wouldn't be easy. Then, a dead end.
Where now? As Ronan irritably prepared to question it, something by the wall caught his eye. A wooden pedestal waist-high, with a single book atop it.
"That’s..."
It was thick enough to use as a pillow. An ominous aura seeped from its cover, crudely bound in unidentified leather. Ronan's face hardened. His long-held suspicion turned to certainty.
A forbidden tome.
This was the forbidden section Iril had warned him about. The sealed domain of malevolent books. Staring at it, Ronan twisted his lips.
"...Now I get why she told me to be so careful."
Its mere existence was intensely seductive. He had the gut feeling that opening it would reveal all answers. Mesmerized, Ronan approached and stood before the book. Right now, breaking the curse was paramount.
"Alright."
Resolving himself, Ronan flipped open the cover. Scrawled words that seemed the title were written in an unfamiliar script he couldn't read.
"Some foreign language?"
He turned the next page. The same characters filled it densely, interspersed with five or six bizarrely shaped magic circles.
"This is..."
The moment he leaned in close, the text and circles blazed brightly, and pitch-black tentacles burst from the book.
"Ugh?!"
Splash! The tentacles instantly ensnared Ronan, leaving only his head free. A chilling laugh echoed. It was the same voice that had guided him.
Only then did Ronan realize the entity he'd been conversing with was this book. It didn't take long to grasp the situation. This was what it meant for forbidden tomes to devour people.
"Fuck."
Trapped in the tentacles, Ronan spat a curse. His judgment, clouded by obsession with the curse, sharpened rapidly. He asked, as if exhaling a sigh,
"Being able to lift the curse... that was a lie from the start?"
"I see... so that's how it is."
He'd asked just in case, and as expected. In that instant, dozens of red lines slashed across the tentacles. Splash! Purple blood sprayed along the lines. Severed tentacles rained down. A panicked cry echoed.
"You dare deceive me, you scrap of paper?"
Ronan growled. Freed, he gripped the blinking red Ramancha. He'd already sliced the tentacles before they could bind him fully.
He thrust the sword straight into the book. Stab! As the tip pierced deep into the pages, a spine-chilling scream resounded.
"Feels pain, huh? Fitting."
"What?"
As he drew back for the finishing blow, the book suddenly spoke nonsense.
Suddenly, the area brightened, and heat seared the back of his head. Ronan whipped around. A wave of flames filled the corridor, surging toward him.
"What the—?!"
High-level magic. But not unbeatable. Steadying himself, Ronan raised his sword vertically. Splash! The flame wave split in two, flowing past him. Reuniting along the walls, the fiery torrent engulfed the book.
Engulfed in flames, the book screamed again. He'd been careful to prevent such backlash when blocking fireballs aimed at airships.
The screams gradually faded, silence descending. The flames died with it. Seeing the woman across the corridor, Ronan lowered his sword.
"So that's how it was."
"Ah... aaah..."
Flame afterimages flickered from her outstretched hand toward Ronan. Her blackened eyes regained their original color.
"Aaah..."
The moaning woman collapsed. Ronan rushed to support her.
Controlled by the book.
From the talk of puppets, she'd clearly lost her body in a similar way. Probably how the other missing people vanished too. Turning, he saw the forbidden tome's charred remains.
"Pathetic."
What a stupid end. He had mountains of questions, but saving her came first. Hoisting the woman, Ronan said,
"Damn it, come on, snap out of it."
"Ah... aaah..."
She looked in bad shape. She needed treatment pronto. Having memorized the path, returning was easy. As he exited the stairs,
Dazzling lights poured down, stinging his eyes.
"Damn, what?"
Ronan squinted. The windows were still dark; it wasn't opening time yet. Murmurs echoed from afar.
"Fire or something...?"
The commotion was unusual. As he turned toward it, a hellishly low voice boomed through the entire library.
Ronan froze. Indescribable chills raced through his body. Something immeasurably evil and immense loomed behind him.
"What the...!"
He dreaded turning around. His only chance was a single strike. Drawing Ramancha, Ronan spun. Crunch! The diagonal blade sank deep into the bookshelf.
"Hah, huff...!"
Sliced books fluttered down. Ronan exhaled the breath he'd held. The entrance to the forbidden vault had reverted to a normal bookshelf.
"What... was that?"
The evil presence had vanished. While he was still reeling, the woman on his back groaned again.
"Ahh... ugh."
"Ah, damn. Sorry."
Snapping to, Ronan ran toward the noise. Soon, Iril came into view, floating helplessly in the air with a lost expression. He shouted,
"Iril!"
"Ronan! Where have you been? And who’s that?"
"One of the missing. One of the six."
"What?!"
"Hurry and take her. She needs treatment."
Her eyes widened. Ronan handed the woman to Iril, who stammered, unable to keep up,
"Y-you need to explain...!"
"Later. Iril, did you hear any weird voices?"
"Voices?"
"Yeah. Super low and raspy. Utterly horrific."
"No, I didn't hear anything...?"
Iril shook her head. Despite the volume, if she hadn't heard it, it must be like with Langzijum—only he could.
He needed to assess the situation first. Calming with a deep breath, Ronan spoke again.
"Phew... anyway, what's going on? Lights on in the middle of the night."
"The airship incident culprit's been caught."
"Oh, I was hoping to see their face. Perfect timing. Who is it?"
Ronan raised a brow. Iril hesitated before gravely saying,
"...The third daughter of the Grancia family."
"Pardon?"