Chapter 478
Chapter 478
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 478
Chapter Title: Last Parade (9)
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****
Splash
Roooar—
Splash,
Rooooar—
“Hmm hmm hmm~♪”
It’s great to have so many talents. Especially when traveling alone.
“Salvager, magitech engineer, mechanic, and knight. With this lineup, doesn’t that make me an all-purpose wanderer?”
Click, click!
Three days after departing Windhole.
On a boat that had enjoyed perfect tailwinds the whole way, my body lounged lazily at the bow, but my hands busily worked with tools smaller than my fingers.
Rrrumble, squeak—!
The grand wizard’s gift, a letterbox stuffed full of “arrived” stamps after flying toward its destination for an awfully long time, glided smoothly with just a nudge from my toes on the rudder.
=========
‘Ooh, to clean up a harbor that badly wrecked—and so quickly.’
‘Red Mut Duke, no plans to help with Windhole’s other big and small affairs? What’s that? You’ve got a boat now, so no need?’
=========
“Let’s see. Disassemble it like this and...”
=========
‘To think you’d try crossing the great ocean in something like that paper boat. Plus, that paper boat is a magic item produced in our territory, so technically, it’s not Windhole property?’
‘Of course, it obviously belongs to Mut Duke, but territories have their laws, so we need to verify. That takes time, so how about helping with Windhole’s work in the meantime? If you lend a hand, even just a little, I swear on my name as lord of Windhole that I’ll ensure the duke—’
Crash!
『This dogshit lord dares call the high wind’s goodwill a “paper boat”?!』
‘Argh! Guards! The wizard’s gone berserk! Stop him! Guards!!!’
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Snip, snip!
“Hmm, I’ll have to accept some power loss? The size is a bit...”
=========
‘I see. So Lord Astrad... passed peacefully.’
‘Aw, gee, the old man’s shedding tears like a fool.’
‘We understand his will. The winds of the paper boat blow truly toward you, Mut, so its owner is undoubtedly you.’
‘Those ungrateful elephant-nosed territory folk? Our boys have them pinned, so hurry on your way.’
‘Us? Hahaha! Now the world is our home—why would we owe Windhole’s lord anything? Oh, debts? Sure, we borrowed plenty of research materials here and there, but...’
‘We’re skipping out. Will truly free winds be bound by worldly silver? What’re they gonna do? Heh heh heh heh!’
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“Pfft! Ah, focus, focus. Where to assemble this—ah, perfect spot right here.”
Clunk! Creak creak! Rumble rumble, clack! Clatter! Click!
...Crunch!
“Well, this’ll do. About ready.”
I fixed the rudder I’d been steering with my feet while lying down, sat up, and proudly displayed my latest masterpiece in the sunlight.
Shing—
Lionel, revered longer than even Felix Hume’s blade, just gazing at its noble form stirred the heart.
Beneath that blade, a work of art, where a simple yet elegant hilt should have been, magitech parts smeared in grease were crudely piled on like a hilt.
Clank clank!
“Ugh, why’s it shaking so much.”
Creak creak, crunch!
“But it’s from a sword worth a small castle—how’s the durability this bad?”
It was the core power transmission from my old sword, the infamous “Bankruptcy Blade,” the Anti-Aurora Sword. Parts ripped from a broken sword, so of course it’d be a mess.
On top of that, the verdigris mana stone “Vein Crystal” in the power unit, and the lion-head pommel that Lucilla had yanked off for Gainax long ago, now tied on tight with strong cord holding “Ottoman’s Jewel”—green and blue mana glowed brightly....
.
.
.
.
“Hmm, it’s ugly as hell.”
Up top, the pinnacle of classical metallurgy art; down below, parts exposed like a pipe gun handmade by a smith. That unnatural mishmash lit up garishly like cheap neon signs by raw mana light.
Until recently, Lionel had boasted a regal air like it leaped from an imperial painting. Now, after my groundbreaking mods, it was reborn as a post-apocalyptic cyberpunk monstrosity reeking of end-times neon.
Haaa.
“If I’d lived this long, I should’ve bloomed some talent in art or sculpture at least once. Or heck, if I hadn’t self-taught magitech...”
No matter how I looked, it sucked. Sure, the function matched the effort, but it still felt lacking.
“To think this is the pinnacle of my 200 years.”
Rustle.
As I stood with my haphazard mod-Lionel, the letters stuck to my back rained down.
A paper boat on the open sea.
Crew: just the captain, no helmsman.
The sole crewman, the hero to end it all, Lord Hyde, was.
Tool smaller than his fingers in hand, face smeared with oil.
Holding a sloppy knife pieced from scraps with lacking skill,
“Pathetic, huh.”
....And gazing at the distant sea.
Rising bit by bit on the horizon: the land of Teldrat.
Rumble! Growl!
The sunny weather till now seemed a lie as dark clouds gathered overhead, the gentle pushing winds now swirling wildly, shaking the boat fiercely.
Crimson lightning poured from the churning dark clouds. And at the vortex’s heart of lightning and cloud... it was empty.
“Well, damn.”
No metaphor—this was literally a black hole punched in the sky above Teldrat continent.
Rumble!
Even now, red lightning tore the sky, crumbling bits of heaven into tiny cubes that rained down.
“‘Sky’ object... recovery? Swapping the game’s biggest frame, the ‘background,’ into usable resources...? Ugh, trying to bridge with someone else’s knowledge is driving me nuts.”
The sky crumbling heterogeneously on the horizon.
Proof the System was nearly grasping its goal through Professor—and wielding unimaginable power.
The enemy was the final boss, truly. Beneath thundercloud-shrouded skies, an invincible being starting to shatter and claim the world.
Opposing it: a naked—wait, naked with just an armband—red-skinned Mut on a paper boat clutching a sloppy knife.
“Should’ve at least asked for some armor. Or a robe... wait, robe over naked might be dirtier?”
Should’ve worn something.
Should’ve studied more magitech.
Should’ve learned sculpting.
Even if useless, should’ve brought the Nigmi Mut legion for style.
Grumble grumble grumble.
As the end nears, regrets sprout for things I never did.
If life’s a long tale, every knight’s life is an appendix—and mine’s a 200-year epic.
Opponent’s finale grand beyond measure, yet mine so sloppy and pathetic.
“...Well, make do. Underdog can’t be picky.”
Splash—!
Fwoosh!
Harbor in sight. A familiar someone felt.
The boat pitched wildly on raging waves. Malice soaked into the sea gnawed at the paper boat’s letters.
Swish!
And a spine-chillingly cold gaze from someone.
“....You’re there, huh.”
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Hyde faced that gaze, climbing to the bow.
“Curious, right? Escaping your control at last in the West Continent castle where I could fight you on equal-ish terms—why charge into your fully prepped turf.”
Thud!
“Unfathomable, huh. Without Nigmi’s Mut legion, Astrad’s staff holding all his power, power rivaling a near-god System—rushing solo, worthless as I am, straight at you.”
Like the System couldn’t grasp it, even I didn’t know why.
Absurd, emotional, impulsive, reasonless choice.
But I was certain.
This was the only path to the end.
“My 200 years were like that.”
Five clear lifetimes remembered vividly. Plus fragments faded or gone.
“A rational person wouldn’t even attempt this task.”
Even in death, I remember. Begging the immortal.
Through life and death repeated, continued, pondered, endured.
‘Why me.’
‘Why go this far.’
‘Not something one person can change.’
‘Done enough.’
‘Even now, I have close friends, people I want to share time with—why push so hard.’
Frustration and struggle piling like a generation each memory regained.
Amid that pain, Hyde sought what drove his steps.
“....And I recalled. A few days ago, in the imperial underground.”
A very old memory.
Not from Professor, nor inherited lives. Pure me, Hyde’s own.
Life and death. Worn by world’s grind to the core: my “self” origin.
.
.
.
.
“I’m the shattered self of human Professor. The piece of soul carved out by his guilt.”
Rooooar!
House-sized waves, pure malice, assaulted from all sides without mercy.
....Click!
“At the same time.”
Splash—!
“Hyde. A knight existing wholly, writing my life atop the world.”
And white aura surging from the blade tip shredded the malice-laden waves.
Explosion rocked the boat; the burst wave became a brief shower raining over the sea.
“Come out, System.”
The aura-surging sword pointed far at someone.
And,
Splash!
He kicked off the crumbling boat and leaped.
Into the half-ruined harbor city’s alarm bells.
Toward approaching enemy ships, soul mage curses stabbing like needles, countless cannon fire, blades and debris swirling foes.
“Try stopping me.”
Rooooar!
He rampaged. Shredding all that blocked his path.
‘Professor. You throw yourself to save the world.’
“Raaaaagh!”
Knight’s blade poured with monster’s ferocity.
The Professor he remembered was greedy. Grasping all within arm’s reach, intolerant of any slipping through, throwing his body in.
Truly a “saint” loving all mankind—yet excluding himself.
Self-proclaimed cool calculator, yet when picking a sacrifice, he’d hurl himself first and claw out alive, idiot.
‘Then I.’
Boom!
『Try! Stopping! Me!!!』
‘Throw my world to save you.’
That was his vow.
His essence, why his aura became “Unyielding.”
‘I am the part your guilt carved from you.’
White aura began burning its final flame.
****
Rustle.
Rustle rustle.
Dim castle. Once home to one called Highroad, the city’s high seat.
“....Yes. Incomprehensible.”
The being seated there gazed beyond the wide-open terrace and spoke.
“Discarding his sliver of possibility, the veil of uncertainty—for an emotional snap judgment binding his own limbs, hurling into enemy turf. Truly unfathomable folly.”
Rustle.
World rolled in her palm a fragment disassembled from what was once called “sky,” pondering.
Judging not undefined entity “Hyde’s” actions, but verified data.
‘Intelligent entity. Player [professor]-like irregular evading computation predictions.’
‘Malice. Obsession. Inherited memory data that should’ve been erased—means that entity’s free will pressured the world beyond World-scale recognition. Won’t quit without strong motive.’
‘Suicidal desperation or stress-induced outburst: ruled out.’
“....Hidden trump. Or reinforcements outside this system’s perception.”
Crush!
“Must prepare countermeasures.”
The System hadn’t overlooked them. Freak actions led to unexpected results, futures off prediction.
All current predictions pointed to her victory.
100% with not even 0.000001% error—but still.
Just in case, she intended to erase even possibilities in others’ minds beyond her computations.
“Warlord.”
....Thud!
She drew her strongest card, standing behind her.
After grueling effort, enough to learn human emotions: her treasure.
“World’s savior... no, eliminate entity ‘Hyde’ obstructing my reclamation of this world.”
....Click!
World smiled brightly at Warlord shouldering his gun.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
[Downloading....67.4%]
[...68%]
[...68.2%]
Her “revised” goal, eternally granted by the creator, neared completion.
Rustle!
“I’ll stop him. Most unreasonably.”
World. She had the right to say that.
Rustle!
“System, call.”
That man, variable creator too.
“Unknown NPC, Hyde.”
All other humans.
“....Delete”
The world too.
Rustle!
For it was already in her grasp.
Rustle!
Feeling data scatter in her palm, the System smiled faintly.
Unintended, unconscious lip curl.
Unmistakably, the learned emotion: pleasure.
****