Chapter 97
Chapter 97
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 97
Chapter Title: Shoot Towards the Dawn (10)
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"Not exactly the coziest house, huh?"
Ronan brushed back his seawater-soaked hair and laughed. His eyes, which had been stained black, were returning to their original color. Vajura's desperate screams echoed through his mind.
【Kaaak! Kraaa!】
"Get to know it well. And you idiot, how do you think I found you hiding in that altar?"
Ronan snickered. He'd noticed from the start that Vajura was trying to pull some hallucination trick. There hadn't been a single glimmer of mana from Vajura, who had just stood there letting him attack.
Still, it was a stroke of luck that his gamble of offering his body had paid off. It was a hasty plan inspired by the time Jarodin had nearly died trying to fix his mana impotence.
'What the hell kind of curse is this?'
A tiny fragment of the curse had nearly killed a former tower mage. With the original curses writhing inside its body, even the Devil's Grimoire would struggle against it.
He'd considered trying it during their first encounter, but Vajura had been too powerful back then. Recalling the situation, Ronan let out a sigh of relief.
'That was close. Really fucking close.'
A string of lucky breaks had led to his victory. If he hadn't inflicted a fatal wound on the main body hiding in the altar, it would've been no exaggeration to say he'd have lost for sure.
The eastern sky was brightening. Red light flickered beyond the low-hanging clouds on the horizon.
Ronan sheathed Ramancha and turned his head. Far off on the mainland, the Dawn Magic Tower rose like a massive lighthouse.
'They must've put out the fire.'
The inferno that had raged in the garden had died down. Embers hinting at a massive blaze drifted on the wind. Just as Ronan stretched, the voice of the now-silent Vajura rang in his head again.
【...Kuhak! You think I'll go down like this?!】
"Urk!"
Sudden nausea hit Ronan hard, and he clamped his mouth shut. Black mist seeped out between his fingers and vanished. Vajura's consciousness was trying to escape his body.
"Persistent bastard...!"
Ronan bit down hard on his cheek. Hot blood welled up. He swallowed the lingering traces of Vajura's presence along with it.
【Hurk...!】
The nausea receded from his throat. Vajura screamed desperately once more.
【L-Listen to me! Don't you want to be a swordsman who leaves his mark on the world?!】
"Not really."
【Fool...! Don't you want Navardoje's head as a wall trophy? Don't you want to see the Emperor kissing your feet? Join me, and it's possible. You could even cleave the heavens themselves!】
Vajura's presence was fading fast. Its frantic tongue-wagging suggested things were dire inside. Cleaving the heavens, huh. Ronan chuckled, briefly recalling his past life.
"I know. And I will."
【Wha...!】
"So I don't need your help."
【W-Wait just a moment...! Then how about th—Kaaaak!!】
The voice cut off. No reply came after that final death rattle. Soon, Vajura's presence vanished entirely. Ronan instinctively knew its ego had been completely extinguished.
"Hm?"
Suddenly sensing a strange foreign sensation, Ronan tilted his head. Something in his left chest pulsed out of sync with his heartbeat.
Did some remnant of Vajura's thoughts linger?
He focused, but detected nothing suspicious. Feeling oddly uneasy, Ronan furrowed his brow.
"Damn, what's this?"
Placing his hand on his chest, he felt only his heart beating a bit faster than usual. The odd sensation had vanished without a trace. Shrugging, Ronan spat out the blood remaining in his mouth.
'Probably nothing.'
Ptui! The bloody glob flew on the sea breeze and landed on a book sprawled atop the rocks—the true body of the forbidden tome Vajura that had terrorized the continent.
"...Just a book now, huh?"
Ronan picked up Vajura. The pitch-black book, cover to pages, was soaked in blood.
He skimmed through it, but no gloomy voice spoke, no tentacles sprouted. Still, the incomprehensible text and the sparkling mana seeping from the white letters grated on his nerves.
'A book written by a devil.'
The author of Destruction's Vajura was said to be a devil. And the scent of Nebula Klage wafted strongly from it.
'Might come in handy somewhere.'
It felt like he was brushing against some massive secret. Ronan rolled up the tattered Vajura and tucked it into his back pocket. A fitting spot for such trash.
"Ugh... Uuugh..."
Then, a pained groan came from somewhere. Ronan looked down toward the sound. Tower Lord Lardan, collapsed at his feet, was twitching.
"Right, snap out of it, old timer."
"Am... Am I speaking of my own will...?"
"Yep. Lucky you didn't kick the bucket. Though it'd be a pain if you did after all that."
Lardan opened his eyes. Freed from Vajura's control, they shone clear blue. Barely able to move, he leaned on Ronan to sit up.
"...Thank you."
"Where to start? You pulled off quite the show."
"No need to explain. I saw it all."
"You saw?"
"Yes. Every last bit."
Lardan's gaze lingered on the waves crashing against the rocks. He remembered everything Vajura had done with his body.
Lardan explained that from last winter, when he'd been possessed, until now—nearly a year—he'd endured with a clear mind.
"I had to watch that devil commit atrocities with my body. Every day was hell. If I could, I'd throw myself into the sea right now."
"I trust you won't pull any stupid stunts like that."
Ronan warned him. Just thinking about the effort to capture him alive made veins bulge on his forehead. Besides, the old man still had work to do. Lardan said,
"Of course I know I must take responsibility. Though as Tower Lord, that might be impossible."
"What do you—oh."
Ronan stopped mid-sentence. Now that Lardan had his body back, no mana emanated from him.
It wasn't just weakened. Squinting at his chest, Ronan saw no mana rings around the heart.
"Damn."
"Don't worry about it. Saving my life is enough. The world even looks clearer now—not bad at all."
Lardan stroked his beard and smiled. Vajura hadn't just taken his body. Ronan asked,
"Not pissed? That's a lifetime of built-up mana."
"I'll say it again: I'm satisfied just to be alive. Do you know how many wronged spirits' screams I heard while captive to that devil? For sparing me their fate, I'd gladly polish your shoes with my tongue."
"I'd rather you didn't."
Ronan chuckled dryly. Far too composed and cheerful for someone who'd lost nearly everything. Lardan was no longer a mage.
A sudden question arose. Where had all the power Vajura accumulated over eons gone? As he pondered, Lardan, gazing at the Dawn Magic Tower, spoke.
"...What's that? Can you see it?"
"See what?"
"Something coming from the tower."
Ronan looked where Lardan pointed. Sure enough, something sparkling approached rapidly from afar. Recognizing the shape, Ronan frowned.
"...A wolf?"
A massive wolf raced across the sea. Each paw on the surface sent water spraying joyfully. Its sandy reddish fur stood out clearly even in the dark.
"Shit, what the hell?"
Ronan gripped his sword hilt. It was at least 4 meters tall at the shoulder. Splash! It halted before him in an instant, kicking up a long wake. A familiar voice emerged from its grinning maw.
"Lord Ronan! You're safe!"
"...Aire?"
"Yes! Here to pick you up!"
Surprisingly, the wolf spoke in Aire's voice. Ronan realized this was her true form. That explained why she'd hidden it at the library.
Aire reported that her evolution was complete, there were injuries but no deaths, and Aun Pila was safe too. Ronan sighed in relief.
"Good to hear. What happened in the forbidden stacks?"
"Oh, that!"
Aire's voice brightened. She and Aun Pila had been teleported elsewhere the moment they separated from him. Clearing her throat, she continued.
"I still can't believe it. The forbidden section shook, and when I opened my eyes, I was on a hill far from the tower. Weird, right? I hadn't left the Dawn Tower... but check this out! The seal was broken!"
"Congrats. Slow down and explain."
"Freedom after centuries! Ah, this air! This sea water!"
Her voice brimmed with excessive cheer—she was thrilled. Aire circled the rocks disbelievingly.
Vajura must've forcibly torn the seal. Suddenly locking eyes with Lardan, she leaped in place.
"T-T-Tower Lord?!"
"...Long time no see. I lack the face to meet your gaze, so don't stare."
"A-Are you okay? I heard Vajura got you...!"
"I'm fine. This young man saved me. Vajura is gone."
Lardan nodded toward Ronan. Hearing Vajura had perished, Aire's fur bristled.
"V-Vajura's gone? You don't mean Lord Ronan...?"
"Pretty much."
"That's insane...! G-Get on first. You'll catch a cold out here."
Aire lowered her head. Ronan helped Lardan onto her back, then climbed up. Gripping her fluffy nape, they shot off across the water.
'It's over.'
The sea breeze whipping his forelocks felt refreshing. The ride was bumpy, but his mind was at ease.
Seeing the tower gilded in gold, Ronan turned away. The clouds on the horizon had vanished, leaving only clear dawn bursting forth, scattering light across the world.
'Took long enough.'
Ronan quietly closed his eyes. Much had happened, but the sun rose anyway. The gentle waves announced the four-day journey's end.
"Check for any embers left underground!"
"Ah, the Rokumber scarlet. Glad you're alive...!"
Ronan soon arrived at the Dawn Magic Tower. The mages, having survived the tower's longest night since its founding, were assessing fire damage. Some sifted ashes with rakes for embers; others salvaged plants with living roots.
'So that's where the forbidden stacks were. No wonder it didn't feel embedded in the tower.'
A massive hole, 15 meters wide, gaped in the garden's northwest corner—traces of high flames like Hell Prominence exploding in sequence.
"Nancy! Over here!"
Smoke still billowed from the pit. A salamander raised in the tower, Nancy, bustled about devouring remnants.
Peering down, Ronan shrugged. As Aire said, scarcely any scorched books remained amid the debris.
'She really saved them. Impressive librarian.'
Aire had rushed back upon her seal breaking and rescued the burning tomes. About thirty percent in the same space as Vajura had burned completely, but she'd salvaged most from the labyrinth depths.
Good thing. Evil books or not, they held potential to advance magic.
She'd dropped them off and gone to find Aun Pila, saying she'd return soon—but she hadn't, so things must be hectic.
Makes sense. Strolling the garden with hands behind his back, a familiar voice called from behind.
"Lord Ronan!"
"Erzsebet?"
He turned. Erzsebet stood in her uniform, hand tightly holding Sion de Grancia's. Ronan chuckled dryly.
"When did you two get so chummy?"
"...I'll explain later. Sion, go to the adults for now. You know where."
"Okay, sis."
Sion obediently turned away. After ten steps, she spun back, bowed to Ronan, and said,
"Thank youuu."
"Uh? Oh, sure."
Ronan waved awkwardly. Sion headed to the tower. Watching her, Erzsebet muttered disapprovingly.
"Really... I need to reteach her manners. How's a noble supposed to bow like that?"
"You did great. Heard you had a rough night."
"It was nothing."
Aire had recounted her feats en route. Erzsebet haughtily tossed her head.
Exhausted enough for three sleepless days, yet her pride remained stiff. Denying her achievements, she asked in flustered tones,
"B-By the way, what happened? I saw it all last night. You and that old man..."
"I'll explain later. It's a long story."
"...Fine. But what's with those wounds? Doesn't it hurt?"
"Wounds?"
"Yes. On the back of your neck. Looks painful."
He had no idea. Ronan touched his nape. As she said, the feel was off.
Pulling his hand away, his palm was slick with blood and pus. His eyes widened.
"Goddamn...!"
Sudden agony raced through him. From nape to waist burned like fire.
Ronan yanked off his shirt. Startled by the sudden move, Erzsebet covered her face.
"L-Lord Ronan?!"
"Hiss... Damn, this hurts like hell."
"It hurts? What— Kyaa!"
Peeking through her fingers, she screamed. Angry red burns covered his chiseled torso.
"Th-Those wounds...!"
"Shit, that's why you need elementalization or whatever."
He hadn't noticed until she mentioned it. Wounds from fighting Vajura.
Mostly from chasing flame teleports. Pale-faced, Erzsebet flailed.
"Don't look. I'll get someone!"
"Agh... Wait. Let me try this first."
Shaking his head, Ronan pulled three potions from his coat pocket—gifts from Baren before arriving.
"Wanted to test them anyway. New brew."
"Test? On that?!"
Erzsebet gaped incredulously. Thinking of experiments amid such injuries?
Ronan uncorked two and slathered the burns. Sss... Like spring breeze drying sweat, the wounds healed cleanly.
"Works like a charm."
"Heavens...! Which workshop?"
"Talking Lion."
Erzsebet's eyes widened. Even Acalusia's medics lacked such fast-acting potions. Ronan handed her the last one.
"Rub some on my back."
"M-Me?!"
"Yeah, can't reach. Friends do that much, right?"
His tone held no ulterior motive. Hesitating, she nodded.
"A-Alright. Can't be helped if you can't reach."
Deep breath, then she applied it to his back. First time touching a man's bare skin. The rock-hard texture, so unlike hers or Adeshan's, dizzied her.
"...Huh?"
Rubbing below his left shoulder blade, Erzsebet paused. A profound aura pulsed within him, unlike before. Tilting her head, she asked,
"Lord Ronan."
"Yeah?"
"...Did you always have a core?"