Chapter 441
Chapter 441
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 20
Chapter Title: Offroad (15)
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‘....Gone nicely.’
Ottoman watched the surface until the backs of Hyde, whom he’d sent up, and his troll friend had shrunk to specks.
Crunch—
Even as his barrier split open and a white-haired woman and a man with a familiar face appeared, he kept his back turned, staring upward.
The man gazing up at him with dry eyes, and the woman standing half a step behind like his adjutant.
The moment Ottoman saw their eyes shift not to him but to the water’s surface, he quietly drew out the item he’d kept hidden.
[Shouldn’t there be something more important to find than a little kid like that? Am I right? Isn’t that why you came all this way—to find this?]
A hand. More precisely, a stone statue in the shape of a severed hand.
[Made using the actual flesh of the great saint ‘Professor,’ and infused with the soul of a cockatrice by the legendary imperial soul sorcerer Aldrich himself. The Church of Light cremated most of the saints’ remains left in the world, but they couldn’t touch this one, already the core component of Airship No. 1, so the Teldrat Empire kept it. That’s why it survived like this.]
[Didn’t you come for this? The only officially documented use of Saint Professor’s flesh, which sucked in the faith of countless Church of Light believers because of it. The true power source that gave Airship No. 1 its otherworldly defense, earning it the name ‘Aerial Sacrament.’]
“....So you know me too.”
[I’m Ottoman. Well, we spent about two years together, teaching and learning. That kind of bond.]
Ottoman lifted the living hand—twice the size of a normal one—and smiled leisurely.
[Incredibly strong. Not just the arm, but most of the body made of fragments.... By the sea, my god! Rank 6? How did you amass such enlightenment in this parched world?]
“....Those swept up in the world’s current can only feel its wild flow more fiercely the more they struggle.”
[A question answered perfectly. So, even with such immense power in your grasp, you still seek to grow stronger? To reclaim your old power too?]
“For contingencies. Before I absorb enough authority to lose rational thought like now, I need a force no one can block.”
[Hahaha. Thorough, aren’t you. So very thorough. Planning even for after you lose yourself....]
.
.
.
.
Still the meticulous disciple of his.
And the frequent lapses in that meticulousness popping up here and there.
[....That’s why we can hold onto hope.]
“What are you talking about.”
[Up there, that fishing boat Hyde rode in on.]
[You could’ve turned it to dust easily, but you just brushed it and let it go. Not like you at all, is it?]
“....Escaping this sea in a half-sunk boat is impossible. My followers are tailing them, so they’ll handle the cleanup and salvage themselves.”
[Hahaha. Really? Or did you leave a chance to avoid killing them with your own hands? Wasn’t your plan to kill and absorb them all? Why not do it when you crossed paths?]
“To.... use memories efficiently. With so little left, I need them for stronger fragments so that even if I lose reason, I can still absorb the world—”
[For that, there were too many refugees. As a being of the sea, I watched every boat crossing from Lordric to Teldrat! You spared some, abandoned others.... You say you’ll kill them all, but it looks like selection to me. The guilty die, the innocent get pushed to ‘next time’.... You’re clearly writhing to avoid killing.]
Hope. The hope that it could still be reversed came from the Warlord’s lack of thoroughness.
[You’re driven by an inner sense of duty, but desperately rationalizing it away.]
[I’m busy, so let the scraps handle civilians who’ll die anyway. Absorbing them won’t help much. Anyway, half-sunk boat and injured crew—my minions will take care of it.]
[That’s how you dodge the guilt-born responsibility. You left them to die, but if they survive, it’s not your fault. My mistake.]
“....Not worth listening to.”
[The Professor guy, who clawed through needle’s-eye chances to succeed, missing batches of people he meant to kill day after day? Hard to believe.]
Ottoman laughed aloud, watching his face twist more and more.
His disciple was a true mage. Dissatisfied with the original world, wielding spells and laws to project his imagination onto reality.
‘But a mage’s magic requires preparation.’
Drawing images, gathering mana, forming equations, chanting incantations.
Professor had been hurled into the world without any. Before he could even look around, this world’s sharpest edge was thrust at him, and he wasn’t the type to turn away.
That’s why he’d twisted, come this far. The price of invoking a mage’s miracle—a dreamer’s—without preparation: consuming himself.
“....Then I must kill you all the more. If only to disprove your words.”
[Like a kid caught red-handed doing something bad, Professor.]
Ottoman realized he was enjoying this sharp exchange.
Once, long ago. He and Professor had talked like this.
About future plans. Understanding magecraft. Life.
Or—
=========
‘Everyone’s leaving one by one. Bork too, Lucille, Aldrich.’
‘Water flows, splits, merges—that’s how it is.’
‘....Ottoman. How old are you this year?’
‘Hm? Why ask suddenly?’
‘Well.... I feel like your [natural] retirement isn’t far off—’
Smack!
‘Ow!’
‘If I die soon, it’ll be because I met you!’
‘That’s from unbalanced nutrition due to poor diet—’
‘Hand on heart and deny it, you rat! You rat!’
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.
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=========
About death.
Having crossed death’s door together a few times, it was only natural.
Pretending otherwise, imagining the moment he’d die and gone bitter at his disciple’s expression—it stuck with him.
What did I say then?
[....Don’t remember it too painfully.]
“A dying wish?”
[Not for you. For my disciple, who’ll one day wake from long sleep and look back on memories.]
The Warlord raised his hand.
Ottoman formed seals too.
With the Warlord’s seals appeared a water pillar swirling like a dragon.
[You learned.... well.]
That one time, in the desert sea, he’d shown it just once.
As if to shred this place and the boat left on the surface in one go, Ottoman unleashed his own magic.
‘This’ll be the last.’
Ottoman recalled the moment he cast his Last Spell.
A great mage’s trace encountered on a journey with Professor. His will became object and phenomenon, affecting them centuries later.
A spell begun in the past might end in the distant future.
[You two bear too much burden.... Have to help like this.]
Srrk—
Fingers forming magic seals dissolved without trace.
With the magic, Ottoman Bodler’s existence scattered too.
His will, sustained by the Last Spell’s power, fading as the incantation ended.
[So.... quiet....]
No form, ritual, or seals—the mage’s death knell seeped into the sea with his final existence.
Gurgle—
The mage’s end was quiet, like his life.
Crunch!
“World....! Open the.... path!”
“Too much data to force.... Ugh!”
His magic was not.
In an instant, every wave vanished from all seas called ‘sea’ in the world.
The vanished waves surged toward one point. Every wave in the world toward that single point.
Keeping them from going anywhere, for a moment.
Until the burdened one escaped the sea on his half-ruined salvage ship. Just like that.
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“Pffft! Gack! Grrk!”
“Egwil!”
“Grr, grr, Egwil, monster back! Deep sea mage! White woman! Crazy man!”
“Ottoman and those two....”
Seeing they’d followed soon after I surfaced, it seemed Ottoman sent them after me.
Egwil rambled unlike his usual self, then gaped at the half-sunken Whale Ho.
“Wh-what happened?”
“Don’t know. Guess we’ll find out now.”
Our half-sunken salvage ship, and beside it a completely wrecked unfamiliar boat.
Swimming cautiously for surprises, but the presence on deck felt unchanged—situation over.
“Grr.... This is....”
“Shardknight. Traces of ‘Malo,’ having absorbed excessive fragments.”
A sight shard hunters see often. Shardknight over-absorbs fragments, loses control, goes berserk.
Stepping on the tattered rope ladder, unease floods in.
Three presences. Elf’s thin breaths, beastkin’s rough throat rumble. Finally, someone’s stuttering gasps.
『Empty, hand stone, kid.... Takes, you, long....』
“You....”
“Grr, grrgrr!”
Captain Grim Rock sat leaning on his body-sized anchor stabbed into the deck, colorless transparent crystals sprouting all over.
As Egwil wailed and rushed, I met the captain’s half-lidded eyes.
Shardknight.
Crystals growing from body, spreading outward.
And those eyes.
Crack!
“Stop, Egwil.”
“Let go! Captain hurt! Blood! Blood!”
“Yeah. Looks badly hurt to me too.”
Egwil thrashed his gripped wrist fiercely, but I held firm with strength from my side.
『Wanderer, more, like.... Knows, this, kind, of thing....』
“....Never even crossed my mind you’d end up like this.”
Cough, hack, gurk!
『Krrgh.... Sea, folk always, unpredictable.... right? Krh, ugh, krrhehehe!』
Blood-mixed coughs spat colorless crystal shards too.
All shardknights’ malro.
When absorbed fragments outweigh the shardknight’s own memories and take over, they lose center and rampage.
The fluttering eyelids over half-closed eyes signaled the captain’s reason ebbing away. When those eyes shut fully, reopening as fragment wills—the progeny of all negations—would wield that body.
『About 15 years back.... Got hooked on, eating fragments.... Memories or whatever fine.... Strength to swing anchor solo, couldn’t, resist....』
“Grr. Hyde, this....”
“Yeah. So listen to the end.”
Malo. When fragments claim a shardknight’s body, they spew their deepest held memory. Like expelling it before it’s gone.
Killing beforehand is proper, but if not, courtesy is hearing that final pushed-out memory. Desperately ejected, meaning for someone to remember.
『....In another city on business, some woman I didn’t know points at me. Why so late? Why now?』
Crack, clatter.
『Said I had family. Wife, son, daughter.』
『Forgot I even forgot. Left morning, absorbed auction fragment, forgot to go back.』
Crystallized tears poured from Grim Rock’s eyes.
In this harsh world, family suddenly headless. Lucky if they survived alone, usually....
『....Heard they were kidnapped. Home I didn’t remember was ruin, nothing left.』
Craaack. Plop.
『Except one fairy tale book.』
Captain’s throat, torn by sharp crystals, already filled with others.
Hyde picked up the thin booklet the captain tossed.
[Aerial Fortress, Legendary Airship]
“....That’s why.”
So he’d obsessed over salvaging the Airship for 15 whole years.
Pushed by the void of losing even the memory of loss.
His whole life.
Riiip....
By now, the sea had sunk into eerie calm.
In the mirror-flat surface without a ripple, reflected the captain pierced grotesquely by inward-grown fragment crystals.
“From when I boarded. Captain’s cabin. Super old fragments, eight of them.”
“Warlord’s minions attacked, and the captain.... used those.”
“Always said if no ship, no reason to exist. Grim Rock existed only as ‘owner of ship seeking Airship.’”
In the end, just another lunatic chained to lost memory.
Cherishing this one salvage ship—the only balm for emptiness—so much he’d pour out all remaining to protect it, fixated on one memory.
『No. 1.... Sky fortress, was it there?』
Last life flickered from Grim Rock’s eyes.
Likely attacked by Warlord’s minions, the salvage ship.
Why Warlord didn’t finish himself—who knows—but probably trusted his soul-sorcerer heavy army.
And that Captain Grim Rock and his half-anchor held off two ships’ worth alone.
“....Definitely. Fix the hull a bit, and it’d fly even now.”
『Aah, yeah....』
Soon, Grim Rock gone, fragment demon wielding that sturdy flesh.
Click.
Gripped the sword.
Used it once today, but letting the captain’s half-anchor rampage on half-wrecked deck would sink us all.
Above all. Realized couldn’t beat Warlord with this sword, so no more lingering.
Kiiing—!
Sword vibrated as if to shatter, mana rising.
“Short, but thanks. Captain.”
『Aah, depart! S-sails....』
Crack!
『S.... Sails.... grrrk!』
Boom!
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“....Sails, hoooo!!!”
Egwil’s water-choked bellow rocked the still sea.
With it, captain’s half-anchor hoisted sky-high.
Shing!
Sheath-drawn broken sword unleashed today’s second slash.
Plop.
Troll’s thick tear fell.
Captain’s head, no blood though neck severed.
His power’s symbol, the half-anchor cause of past too.
With green slash cleaving mirror sea, all fell to peaceful waters.
“....Goddamn world.”
Diving diver and Pathfinder exhausted all day, slumped.
As outside clamor died, sounds of those hiding below deck rushing up. Thick blood scent meant them badly hurt too.
Amid elf and surviving beastkin cries, Hyde closed weary eyes.
A small wave from somewhere nudged their crumbling ship.
To land. A bit off from where he’d aimed.
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