Chapter 313
Chapter 313
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 15
Chapter Title: Can One Who Has Seen the End of the World Plant an Apple Tree? (18)
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Thwack!
Scraaaape, grrrk!
‘These bastards won’t give an inch, filthy leeches!’
Splat-!
A flashy solid hit earned after dozens of sword swings.
Professor’s lips curled into a brief smile as he watched the warrior with a caved-in chest soar through the air, but his face twisted savagely when the warrior’s shamanic tattoo glowed and he sprang back up.
He had to admit it. His estimate of these brainwashed warriors’ combat prowess had been way off—in the worst possible way for him.
Aura? Just as faintly pathetic as expected. Corrupted minds, warped foundations. With the groundwork for proper aura utterly shattered, the fact that they could even infuse their weapons with that level of aura was worthy of praise for their sheer willpower.
But the true value of the Desert Slave Warrior Legion lay elsewhere.
Swoosh!
A scimitar grazed his cheek before curving through the air to stab at his back.
“Pierce him, my blood brother! For our king!”
Fists and insteps hardened like stone after decades of training charged straight at Professor’s face, while the warrior’s detached blade flew toward his spine, shoulder, and Achilles tendon.
He barely deflected both, only for the weapon to magnetically reattach to its owner like a magnet, the desert warrior acrobatically lunging forward.
Dozens of them, moving as one without a single inch of error.
From behind, shamans activated all sorts of tattoos and buffs on the warriors, while the rest hurled curses and debuffs at him.
Too relentless and perfectly coordinated in their wheel formation to break through like this.
[Can’t you just monster out and sweep them away? Smash ‘em so they can’t recover and be done with it.]
‘Sure, that’d handle these guys. But then those two named freaks lurking back there would charge in like they’d been waiting for it and land the first blow.’
Melee and weapon mastery on both fronts, plus free control over their detached weapons.
Hell, the shards implanted in their brains acted like terminals, letting shamans manifest spells through their bodies without hesitation.
That alone made them no joke, and after the first strike, the two named mutants—Termakian and Nigmi—had just been spectating.
Even trying to focus on the fight in front of him, with those two named ones watching from afar, it was hard to show his full hand—
“Heh heh heh. We’re just staying put ‘cause the boss asked us to. But Desert King, you really think you can take that guy?”
“Watch and learn. I’ll capture this Professor bastard myself and mold him into a proper Saladin once and for all.”
“That’d be fun. Palkatus oppa always says the right thing, which makes him a bit of a buzzkill.”
“Nigmi. Don’t badmouth Tus. I thought he was a total moron at first too, but when it comes to results, even Edeorna sis has to give that guy his due.”
“Big sis? How the hell could that moron—”
Crack!
“Call my brother a moron one more time, and I’ll rip off your arm instead of just a finger.”
“Ow! Everyone loves Palkatus and hates me. Hmph!”
.
.
.
.
Hard to show his full hand.... Ugh....
‘....Maybe I should just blast through at max output?’
Watching them casually chit-chatting like they were cracking peanuts made the thought tempting, but Professor quickly reconsidered. Since they were following Palkatus’s orders, it could be a ploy to lure him into dropping his guard.
Splash!
[Professor! We’re here! Can you hear the chaos outside? The Third Step Oasis is going nuts—]
[Perfect timing, as always.]
And right on cue, what he’d been waiting for arrived.
Clang!
Charging into the heart of enemy territory meant having one or two escape plans ready, obviously.
The original plan was for Slave Saladin to earn Kauladi’s trust, snag the two royal bloods under his arm, and flee through the escape route punched from above by the Moonshadow crew straight into the sand sea—a perfectly standard op.
But Professor had always been way more enthusiastic about Plan B.
Using the brief opening from a wide axe swing, he poured full-power aura into his right arm and axe—the one he’d been babying due to its wrecked durability.
An unprecedented surge of power filled him in an instant, his arm visibly bulging and cracking.
“Hraaaah!”
A simple overhead smash with no finesse or target sent the seasoned warriors retreating like the tide,
-BOOOOM!
The axe cleaved through the flagstone and hammered the sand floor, its shockwave sweeping the entire chamber.
Slave warriors caught in the blast groaned from unhealable wounds, and the sand wave that followed snuffed out the torches, plunging the chamber into pitch blackness.
Kauladi brushed sand from the wall that had halted before him, frowning.
“....I heard you were a clever warrior. Seems Palkatus exaggerated. Saladin. You thought mere darkness would let you escape a place teeming with desert warriors and shamans? In that condition?”
Kauladi’s eyes, gleaming with an eerie light, pierced the inky darkness, seeing everything.
Saladin, panting wearily. The axe gripped in his left arm like a staff. And the warrior’s right arm, severed from the elbow down in the aftermath of that strike—even by his standards, impressive.
Swish- swish- clack!
“Nah. I’d mop the floor with your grunts alone, but add those two monsters behind? No chance. And anyway, putting out the lights wasn’t the point.”
Slipping the leaning axe into the hook on his back, Professor deftly caught his tattered right arm and said,
“Hey, Kauladi. Everything’s out in the open anyway, so lemme ask something. What, too rude for ya?”
“Not really. Comparing your current defiance to the sight of you groveling at my feet, begging to be my shoe-shine boy? It’s a nice appetizer. What’s on your mind?”
“Fitting hobby for the great ruler of the vast desert. Anyway, nothing big. Looks like Palkatus spilled all the beans on me.”
“I know you’re no slave, not even from the desert, and your real name’s Professor, not Saladin. Even without him telling me, I already knew. My scouts reported a ‘strange merchant ship cruising the sand sea with a naked human dangling from the mast.’ Claiming to be a normal merchant while doing shit straight out of a sand pirate’s playbook? How could I not notice?”
“Damn it all. If I’d known we were made from the start, I wouldn’t have busted my ass playing along. What a shame.”
As Professor grumbled, the mangled arm detached from his shoulder began faintly glowing in the darkness.
“So, you knew about this too, huh.”
“....What?”
“About how I’m kinda famous back in my neck of the woods.”
Swish-
Professor casually tossed his softly glowing arm into the air.
As his Empire days had taught him, Lo-Haram was more than willing to lend him holy power capable of shattering a demon’s ferocity in one go. The only reason He held back was that, with the blood armor woven into his body like tendons and nerves to compensate for his lacking durability, infusing holy power would basically turn it into an attack. Remove that restriction, and He’d gladly let His sole saint unleash true saintly might for all the world to see.
And there were such things as holy relics in the world.
Holy power didn’t just dwell in human bodies. Objects touched by divine will could hold vast amounts of it.
What he’d just thrown was his own flesh from moments ago—a “purified” object, brimming with aura and its mana fully burned away.
Know what that means?
Swish-
Swish-
Swish-
Slowly. High enough for all who could pierce the darkness to see. The arm hovered, emitting faint light, then paused at its peak.
“Latura, Lo-Haram.”
.
.
.
.
.
.
There-
The saint’s arm, poised for freefall, halted dead in midair.
“The Saint of Glory decrees.”
Humm- humm- humm- humm-
-SCREEEEEEE!
“Let there be light in the desert too—”
Crack-
KABOOOOOM!!!
From the chamber shrouded in darkness, holy light burst forth, exploding through the split arm.
****
Crackle, crackle....
Humm- humm-
Bright, but only for a fleeting instant.
The light filling the space gradually faded, gathering like a flock to seep into the arm’s severed stump and settle there.
No incantation, no will, not even the saint’s living flesh—just a detached forearm infused with it. The light of glory seemed to shine brightly and vanish harmlessly. To the uninitiated, it looked like nothing happened. But that was talk for those who didn’t know the desert.
The “holy relic, right arm of the saint” drifted down like a feather, pulsing like a heartbeat with soft light and faint smoke.
This was the heart of the Eastern Great Desert. The core of the Twelve Steps Oasis region—Third Step Oasis.
....Grooooan-
As if voicing the ominous silence, a eerie rumble echoed from deep underground.
“Heh heh heh heh....”
“Grrgh....”
Professor laughed, and even Kauladi, the desert’s ruler, let out a groan—both fully grasping the implications.
“You bastard.... How dare you, dare to do this in my very sanctum....”
Ruuuumble-
“Hey now, Desert Ruler? In your sanctum, no less? Something too horrific to speak of? You know who I am, right? Dragged me here knowing that? So you’re prepared for it, yeah?”
Ruuuuumbleeeee-!!!!
Between Kauladi’s rage and Professor’s smug grin, something immense and indescribable approached beneath the glowing right arm.
“You scum! How dare you commit such a ‘taboo’ where an oasis lies!!!”
KABOOOOOM!
“It’s, it’s the sandflow!”
“The Enforcer of Taboos has appeared at the oasis!”
“Escort His Highness! The oasis—the Third Step Oasis—is doomed!!!”
The desert’s ultimate taboo: Never, ever wield holy power.
The slow-encroaching moving sands of the desert, which trailed any bearer of holy power—Professor, already guilty just for entering—now had their prey.
Having confirmed via Ottoman’s moisture detection that it had entered range, Professor brazenly shattered the desert’s worst taboo with saint-level holy power—
‘Summoning the desert’s ultimate enforcer right into the heart of enemy territory!’
He’d dangled the holy relic “right arm,” packed with insane holy power, as a beacon for the desert’s moving sands.
While nimble warriors were already getting sucked in, Professor saw the two named freaks he’d feared most doubled over in hysterical laughter, fleeing worm-like into the sands. He launched himself forward.
Perfect chaos for a hostage rescue. And....
Crack!
“Gaaah! Y-Your Highness! Get away!”
“Your Highness! He’s thrown his axe at you!”
“Shield him with your bodies! Protect His Highness’s sacred form!”
“Damn, such a shame! One arm off-balance! Should’ve slipped through that gap and split his skull!”
The perfect moment to assassinate amid the pandemonium.
Watching his trusty axe—just barely miss Kauladi, take a warrior’s arm with it, and get sucked into the sands—Professor clicked his tongue in regret and dashed into the royal bloods’ chamber.
Sensing the dire situation inside, the two guards were on high alert.
“Wh-who goes there!”
“Saint! I’ll pray for your entire clan’s damnation! Latura!”
“Gaaah!”
The warrior lost his cool at the threat of taboo curses on all his living kin, charging wildly. Professor made short work of them and hurled their bodies outside.
“Lemme see.... Ah, the ‘Hearts of the Desert’? Heard the two royal heirs were here....”
Glancing around, he spotted a small huddled shape trembling under a blanket in the corner.
Two of them, kid-sized by the look. Even Professor wasn’t heartless; pity softened his tone to a gentle coo.
“Rakshasha from Moonshadow sent me. Time to get you out of here.”
“....Sniff. If Rakshasha sent you.... Are you Saladin?”
Just as expected, childish voices. Reacting to the name, the siblings emerged from the blanket.... exactly as anticipated: a young brother and sister.
“W-we, great heirs of the royal line.... Ugh, grant you the right to escort us.... Sob!”
“R-Rakshasha.... Take us to Rakshasha....”
The boy putting on a brave front to save face, the little girl whimpering for Rakshasha.
“Uh.... So, you two are the ‘Hearts of the Desert’.... The royal bloods, right?”
“How impertinent.... You scum! Can’t you see the clear proof ri-right.... there.... Urgh....”
“No, I see it. It’s.... just way too obvious, y’know....”
Ruuuuumble!
Something felt off, but with the sandflow nearly upon them, Professor scooped the two kids under his arms.
Splash!
Squelch!
“Urk....”
A truly bizarre, alien texture.
The hidden duo were siblings, kids, and royal bloods, sure—but....
“Uh.... Your Highnesses? Ever heard of.... lizardmen?”
“N-nooo! It’s collapsing! Hurry! Go!”
“....Sigh. What the hell is this now....”
The siblings looked less like humans and more like talking lizard hatchlings.
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