Chapter 162
Chapter 162
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 162
Chapter Title: Friendship
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“Hoo.... Hoo... Hooo....!”
The grueling close-quarters battle had finally come to an end.
The shadows that had enveloped his body melted away like wax, and Siwoo collapsed flat on the ground.
His upper body, which had been constantly exposed to the flames, stung as if it had been baked under the scorching sun all day long.
His cheekbones pressed into the dirt, his muscles twitching in near-shattering spasms.
The overtaxed mana circuits throbbed, and a sharp ache pulsed from his left eye.
The moment the adrenaline in his blood dropped after the fight, every part of his body screamed in protest.
“...Fuck.... Did I take her down?”
Even thinking back on it now, it was an insane, godlike performance.
The kind that would add another clip to the highlight reel for his funeral slideshow.
Of course, by Siwoo's judgment, luck had played a massive role in this victory.
His opponent, who wielded overwhelming mana that Siwoo couldn't hope to match, happened to be a slow starter.
On top of that, he had a ranged means to dispel and prevent her from ever getting her momentum going.
And she had already clashed with Sharon, so she was partially depleted to begin with.
But the single biggest factor in his win went without saying: Siwoo's eye.
He recalled hearing that magic battles were comparable to chess.
In such a duel, his left eye's ability to read mana flows was like a cheat code for predicting the opponent's next move.
In the end, it was all thanks to this eye that he could keep hounding Della relentlessly, dispel her relay spells with ease, and block her double counterattack at the very last moment.
“...At this point, I should give it a name.”
He thought he'd come up with something cool.
Like all those manga eyes—Evil Eye this or Straight Death that.
Was his face so burned that even his brain was frying?
Silly thoughts bubbled up sluggishly.
Siwoo rolled onto his back and sprawled out flat.
“Krah....”
Not exaggerating even a little—he felt like he was dying.
Even with the armor's support, he'd been full-swinging his sword nonstop for nearly twenty minutes.
All while constantly monitoring Della's mana, maneuvering ribbons to dismantle the floating magic arrays in midair.
To keep replenishing his rapidly draining mana, he'd probably triggered amplification at least thirty times.
No matter how sturdy and quick-regenerating a spirit body was, pushing it this far mentally and physically was bound to take a toll.
“Kuugh....! Sharon.”
Writhing on the ground like a maggot, Siwoo barely managed to haul himself up.
Sharon was still sprawled out on the pavement.
He had to prop her up before her jaw locked from the strain—and Della couldn't be left like this either.
She might recover her mana somehow and launch a counterattack.
“Sharon, hey!”
The inner barrier was slowly dissipating as the destroyed surroundings repaired themselves in reverse, like footage playing backward.
To be precise, it wasn't repair—the copies were fading, revealing the restored originals. But that hardly mattered now.
Siwoo scooped up the fully unconscious Sharon and lightly patted her cheeks.
No response.
Were her breasts making her this heavy?
As he struggled to prop up just her upper body, a groan came from Della, flung across to the opposite sidewalk.
“Kuh... Kruk....”
“Tch.”
Siwoo propped the limp Sharon against the bridge wall and dragged his feet over to Della.
Her clothes disheveled from tumbling across the ground, Della painfully forced her eyes open.
She clutched her side where the ribbon had struck, her delicate features twisted in agony.
But he didn't feel particularly sorry.
“I won.”
Della's eyes widened at the sight of Siwoo towering over her, and she frantically tried to scramble backward.
But it was mere intent—her mana utterly depleted and stamina drained, she could only inch away like a snail.
“I... lost... What do you want?”
Her once-arrogant eyes trembled side to side, stripped of confidence.
She looked just like a victim facing a serial killer.
Seeing this witch, whom he'd barely scraped a win against through sheer luck, cower like this left him feeling awkwardly sheepish.
Siwoo wasn't some psycho murderer, much less targeting her for any crime.
Would he really deliver the killing blow to an opponent too weak to resist?
But he didn't bother explaining.
Her fear made negotiations smoother.
“Della Redcliff, the witch, right?”
“...Baron....”
“Pardon?”
“Della Redcliff, Baron...”
Della desperately shoehorned in “Baron” before her own name, as if groveling.
Siwoo blinked blankly for a moment before catching on.
It was a subtle plea: I'm a baron, so don't get reckless—you'll regret it.
Seeing the once-haughty woman reduced to this was a mix of amusing and oddly satisfying...
“Ah, so you're a baron.”
At least she wasn't a criminal warrant.
Not that she'd seemed like one of those ruthless exiles like Ea—he'd already promised not to take her life out of deference to the Gemernai family's face.
This opened room for compromise.
“You asked what I want?”
“Yes....”
“I have no intention of harming you, Baron. But I'd appreciate it if you kept my existence under wraps.”
If she went blabbing everywhere, he'd be the one in trouble.
He couldn't very well silence her permanently, so he needed a workable compromise.
“I swear, I absolutely won't say a word. Even I don't want to openly defy the Gemernai family. Your secret is safe.”
The words tumbled out of Della at breakneck speed, laced with desperation.
It made perfect sense from her perspective.
A man suddenly appearing with a stigma + magic and combat prowess specialized against grand witches + a Gemernai family ring.
In Della's mind, Siwoo was either a living weapon born from the count family’s massive secret project or a hunting dog crafted to kill criminals and homunculi.
She had zero intention of spreading that around.
Even the Gemernai family, which ignored petty squabbles, would react differently if their classified project got exposed.
p> No matter how bold Della was, openly betraying Albireo and Deneb was too risky.
Plus, she was in no position to refuse—whatever “ensuring silence” might entail.
“No offense, but how can I trust that?”
Siwoo, oblivious to her wild theories, had zero guarantees she wouldn't talk.
If the family's wrath scared her that much, she shouldn't have started the fight.
“A contract... I'll write a contract. Swearing on the honor of Redcliff that I won't reveal a single fact.”
“Hm.....”
In witch society, swearing on one's witch name was no light matter.
It didn't impose any magical binding.
But pledging the name built over generations carried immense gravity and sincerity.
For a textbook witch like Della—a noble at that—the weight was even greater.
In five years in Gehenna, he'd witnessed such oaths maybe three times.
“Alright, then. Go ahead and write it.”
He could barely stand as it was, and holding onto consciousness any longer made him want to puke.
At Siwoo's approval, Della hastily pulled out a calling card and scribbled furiously in tiny script.
A quick scan showed nothing fancy: a pledge on the Redcliff name not to divulge Siwoo's identity, plus her signature.
Siwoo signed it too and shoved it in his pocket.
“Can... Can I go now?”
Her earlier domineering tone gone, replaced by a meek whisper.
Siwoo nodded, and she staggered to her feet, still clutching her side.
“Ah, and one more thing.”
Almost forgot.
Della jolted in terror and whipped around as she limped away.
“I don't know the details between you two. But don't bully Sharon.”
“....Yes, understood.”
With that final exchange, Della vanished at a brisk pace.
Afterward, lacking the strength to carry the unconscious Sharon home, Siwoo used a coordinate transfer spell.
Securing mana through three rounds of amplification, his fogged brain—like after two sleepless nights—forcing through the calculations to teleport them together.
After that, his memory cut out.
He'd laid Sharon on the bed and promptly blacked out.
2.
“Grooo....”
Siwoo awoke with a bizarre groan.
The lingering agony and headache instantly confirmed that his memories weren't some illusion or dream.
Or rather, the pain had dragged him awake.
It was Sharon's bedroom.
Spirit bodies were incomparably tougher than human ones, true—but that didn't mean they could be treated like indestructible rocks.
When extreme fatigue hit, they collapsed into sleep or unconsciousness just the same.
But reaching that point usually wasn't easy.
It proved just how desperate his struggle had been.
“Huh?”
As Siwoo pushed himself up, he noticed the gentle touch of nursing care.
A lukewarm wet cloth draped over his forehead.
He'd collapsed fully clothed, but now his shirt was off, revealing the abs that formed naturally in spirit form.
Sharon must have done this for treatment.
“Stings...”
Not as red-hot as before, but his upper body still burned.
His face especially felt like it'd been doused in chemicals.
-Click!
“Siwoo! You're awake?”
Sharon, entering with a cup of water, spotted him half-risen and rushed over.
Unlike her near-withered state earlier, she looked lively now, her stamina somewhat recovered. A relief.
“Let me see, are you okay? Nowhere especially hurting?”
Sharon fussed anxiously, afraid to even touch him lest it hurt.
Tears of worry welled up in her eyes.
“Uh, are you okay?”
“Uk... Hic... Sorry... I'm so sorry....”
Her intense reaction flustered him into an awkward reply, while Sharon's tears burst forth like a dam breaking.
It was her fault for getting into it with Della, dragging Siwoo into injury.
Guilt and remorse stabbed at her heart.
“Because of me... you got hurt too....”
“Hey, hey, no need to get all embarrassed. We help each other when it's tough.”
“Hic... Hic... Sorry.... Sorry....”
“I said it's fine.”
He really was okay.
No one had forced him—it was his own choice.
Plus, it wasn't some humiliating defeat; he'd claimed a hard-fought victory brimming with satisfaction.
He understood her feelings, but this needed explaining.
“That Della, right?”
“Yeah... What did that bitch say to you? Nothing bad besides the injuries, right?”
“Ah, well... Actually, I won.”
“What?”
Sharon's eyes went wide as saucers.
“We traded magic blows, and I came out on top. Even got her to promise not to mess with you anymore.”
Sharon gaped at him for a long moment before suddenly pulling him into a hug.
Siwoo sitting, Sharon standing—his entire face sank into her soft bosom.
The E-cup volume was palpable even through her clothes.
“I know, yeah yeah... I believe you.”
“No, really, it's true.”
“Yeah, I really believe you.”
Sharon clung tight for a good while, sobbing as she pressed Siwoo's face to her chest.