Chapter 798: Ultramarine Sky
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 798: Ultramarine Sky
The Balrog’s body, its crystals shattered, began to crack and drift away like fine ash. A dark, murky mass oozed from the fissures within.
Even so, he still had the strength for one final act. He possessed just enough power to strike one last time. For instance, he could have commanded the remaining thoughtforms to risk everything and slaughter those who had driven him to the brink of annihilation.
But the Balrog did not. He had no desire to.
He merely grinned, pulling the corners of his mouth wide. He had been born to fight, and he would die fighting. There was no reason to be anything but satisfied. He had not lived for the sake of slaughter, but for the sake of the fight itself.
Born as a monster, dying as a warrior. He had not backed down out of fear of extinction. That was enough for him. His only regret was that he could no longer continue.
No, to be completely honest, he wanted to keep playing with a guy like that—human or not. For longer. For a very long time. With a madman like that, with his black hair and blue eyes.
What a pity.
Yet, he left no clumsy regrets behind. The Balrog, who had been about to convey his final will through telepathy, vibrated his vocal cords for the first time in ages.
"Hey."
There was no need to ask who the call was meant for. His gaze was fixed solely on the human with the still-shining eyes. It was a look that suggested the rest of the world had ceased to exist, leaving only Encrid.
As his skin tore away like clumps of soot, the shape of the labyrinth above his head also crumbled into ash and drifted away. In the midst of his dissolution, the Balrog spoke his final words.
"That was fucking fun."
With those words, the Balrog’s face collapsed as he dissolved. As if he had never existed in the first place—like spring melting winter snow—everything in the labyrinth, starting with the Balrog, melted away.
No, not everything had vanished. The shell that had formed his outer skin fell to the ground with a heavy thud. The black mist that had flowed in place of bone, flesh, muscle, and blood drained away. The remaining shell, stripped of limbs, wings, and horns, looked like a massive, hollow hide.
With Salamander and Urt also gone, it was the only trace left behind.
Audin, who had been watching in silence, spoke.
"May you find the moment you desire in the heavens."
Once the veil obscuring the sky vanished, the ultramarine sky finally revealed itself. It was the evening sky. In the distance, the fading sunlight mingled with the faces of two moons. The cloudless sky was serene. As always, the heavens merely displayed their majestic beauty.
Encrid looked past the ultramarine sky, past everything that was fading away, and saw Oara.
"Thank you, Enki," she said.
"Don't mention it," Encrid replied casually.
The thoughtforms—or perhaps all the souls bound to the Balrog’s existence—began to ascend. A single, hazy light rose from below. Following it, dozens of lights soared into the sky. It was a spectacular sight.
Among them, Encrid saw three familiar faces. Amidst the cluster of lights stood the woman who wielded a single-edged sword, tilting her head; the old knight Donapa, now possessing a sturdy, whole body instead of his Dullahan form; and Lino, the relic expert.
Lino gave a nod. Donapa raised his axe, and the woman with the single-edged sword tucked her chin, resting her left hand on her sword’s hilt. They seemed to be former soldiers, and their parting gestures reflected it.
Some of the others were in a hurry to ascend, while some looked back at Encrid’s group, offering silent gestures of gratitude.
"They must all be grateful," Oara said. Her body was also turning into a cluster of light and dispersing.
Should I have brought Roman? Encrid thought. No, if I were going that route, I should have brought the soldier who had a crush on her, not Roman.
Encrid felt the name hovering on the edge of his memory.
Milio. Yes, that was it.
Even as she dissolved into light, Oara smiled. It was the exact same smile she had worn when they first met. Her expression remained unchanged.
"If I say 'see you again,' it would sound like a curse, wouldn't it?"
With those final words, Oara dissolved into light and vanished.
Encrid didn’t even furrow his brow despite the throbbing pain in both arms. His gaze swept over those who had survived the fight.
A deep dent was clearly visible on Audin’s chest. It was a mark left behind despite Encrid blocking with his sword and Audin defending with his Holy Light Armor. A faint, continuous glow emanated from Audin’s entire body.
"I am fine," Audin said.
But they were only words. He was in a state where he had to force divine power through his entire body just to stay alive. It was only because of his exceptionally sturdy constitution that he was standing at all.
Ragna leaned his collapsing body against Sunrise, which was planted firmly in the ground. His eyes were half-unfocused, and judging by his muttering, he was practically half-unconscious.
"At that point, I should have changed it to a blade..."
The meaning wasn't immediately clear. It was likely something only understandable from his unique perspective. Still, it was rare for a genius packed with talent to say such things, so it sounded novel. Although he probably wouldn't be able to keep it up for long, Ragna was actually conducting a combat review.
He had likely caught a glimpse of his own shortcomings in the fight. Even if he couldn't have overwhelmed the enemy, his pride was wounded by his inability to perfectly execute his role.
Not that Encrid understood his inner thoughts completely. To be honest, Encrid was just as exhausted. His skin tingled, and his entire body throbbed with pain. It felt as if dozens of giants had swarmed him and beaten him black and blue with clubs.
"Ugh," Sachsen groaned softly as he revealed himself. He wasn't in good shape either. The Horn Trumpet Dagger Encrid had thrown had only bought him time, not a shield.
The tip of the Balrog’s wing had slashed a long gash across his chest. Despite wearing defensive gear that was considered a relic, blood was pouring from the deep, gouged wound. Naturally, he didn't leave it untreated. He slathered on an ointment Anne had recently made using elven secrets, then pressed elven leaves over it.
Though used as a makeshift bandage, it boosted the body’s natural healing and helped stop the bleeding. He had also applied a medicine refined from blood-coagulating poison beneath the leaves, turning the flowing blood into a natural seal over the wound.
This was the treatment he had administered the moment he saw the Balrog die. Honestly, if he hadn't, he would have been in grave danger from blood loss. A massive scar would undoubtedly remain on Sachsen’s chest.
"That was easy," Sachsen remarked dryly.
Encrid let out a smirk. While the lingering traces of omnipotence still made his head throb, Sachsen’s dry humor helped dull his overstimulated, hyper-sensitive senses. Sachsen had cracked the joke because he recognized Encrid’s state.
"Look at you weaklings," Rem grumbled as he approached. His cheeks were hollow, and he was dragging his legs, barely able to walk. Yet, seeing him pretend to be perfectly fine while uttering such nonsense made it clear that his madness was far more genuine than Sachsen’s dry humor.
"Well, if things went south, this vice-commander was going to step in and chop it up with his axe, you know? Hmph."
Drip.
As he spoke, a stream of blood trickled from Rem’s nose. Smudges of blood were already visible around his mouth. He wiped the fresh blood away. His internal organs were undoubtedly screaming in pain, yet seeing him put on such a show proved that Rem was still Rem.
Normally, upon hearing Rem’s words, a certain elf would have chimed in with a joke about a companion’s duty. But she remained silent and still. Her boots of layered leaves were completely shredded, exposing her bare feet.
"It is called Ars Pugnae," she had once said.
It was the name of the martial art passed down through generations of elves.
"All elves are born with vital energy. This is a technique that manipulates one’s innate vital energy, not external energy."
Thus, it could not be used lightly. A single mistake meant instant death. And that was exactly what Sinar had done. She had already exhausted the vital energy she left behind in Naidel. Moreover, she had been standing right at the edge of the Demon Realm, which had undergone labyrinthification upon the Balrog’s arrival.
She had very few choices. Would she stand by and watch everyone die under the guise of "trust"? Or would she intervene, knowing it was beyond her limits?
Faced with those two choices, Sinar chose to burn like a spark rather than cling to her long elven lifespan.
"I won't die, Enki."
She called him by his nickname, not "fiancé." It was the name only those closest to him used.
"Sinar?"
Encrid looked at the elf. The vitality in her eyes was rapidly fading.
"I hope to see you when I wake up again. Please, send me to the elven city."
With that, Sinar collapsed. Her body went limp like a felled tree. Encrid, whose arm bones were completely shattered, couldn't catch her with his hands. Instead, he slid his own body beneath her falling form. He cushioned her fall, keeping her off the ground.
Audin quickly approached to examine Sinar. A priest who wielded divine power was naturally an exceptional physician. Assessing a patient’s condition before administering divine power was fundamental; the belief that blindly pouring divine power into a body would heal it was a mere misconception. The process required delicate, precise adjustments.
"She is not dead," Audin said. A faint, shallow breath escaped Sinar’s lips.
"She will be fine," Sachsen added. He, too, was highly skilled at reading physical conditions. Her breathing was shallow but stable. Her state was similar to someone under the influence of a feigned-death poison occasionally used in the underworld.
To an untrained eye, her breathing was so faint that she might indeed seem dead.
But she won't die.
That was what Encrid’s senses told him as he observed her body. Though her life force was but a tiny ember, it would not easily go out. Indeed, the light did not fade. In fact, the elf immediately delivered a joke in her own unique way.
"Ah, and it would be even better if our Holy Matrimony is fully prepared by the time I wake up."
Sinar had barely lifted her head just to squeeze those words out.
Wasn't she unconscious? Everyone stared in disbelief.
Come to think of it, an elf’s breathing was naturally shallow and quiet. Of course, she was struggling more than usual now. Having completely drained her vital energy, it was only natural. In truth, no one present was breathing normally.
Even Sachsen felt his senses falter as he tried to read Sinar’s condition, and even Rem was panting heavily after dragging himself over. Ragna was barely holding himself up by using Sunrise as a cane, though it looked as if Rem was the one who actually needed it.
"Were you surprised?" Sinar offered a faint smile.
Encrid simply laughed. Because he had indeed been surprised.
The battle was over. Under the backdrop of the ultramarine sky, they gathered the Balrog’s shell and made their way back to the village. The battlefield had been a wide, open clearing just outside the village.
Led by Encrid, they walked with slow, heavy steps. When they finally arrived, they were met by the survivors.
"No one died," Ropode reported as soon as he saw Encrid. Though they had survived, the signs of a brutal struggle were written all over the area. Ropode had a deep gash on his left forearm. It was so severe that even with divine healing and Anne’s treatment, he wouldn't be able to hold a sword for at least a fortnight. He was lucky he hadn't lost the arm entirely.
He spoke while tightly wrapping his arm in bandages. "That includes the villagers."
Pel added to the report. To say no one had died meant they had successfully protected everyone. More precisely, they had succeeded because none of the attackers had been completely consumed by a mindless bloodlust.
"The Lord watched over us," Teresa said.
"Well, was it fun?" Luagarne, who had lost both legs and his left arm, leaving him with only his right arm, welcomed him back.
"Very much so," Encrid replied, looking around. He saw the villagers who were watching them warily—the very people he had stood before and protected. The residents of the Demon Realm bowed their heads, muttering about "demonic charm" and other things.
That night, Encrid had two dreams.
In the first dream, Oara appeared.
"Didn't you ascend?"
"Ah, this is just a lingering attachment. A true thoughtform. You could call it a final farewell. Anyway, you fight better than me now."
"Is that so?"
"Sir Encrid."
As he stared at her in silence, Oara drew her sword, Laughter. This was a dream. And this was her lingering attachment. Just as the Balrog had wished to climb higher alongside Encrid, Oara too had left behind a lingering regret. She had once dreamed of a life after she was done protecting her city.
After protecting the city with Laughter...
She had wanted to wander the world with a single sword, searching for interesting things. That lingering regret was manifesting now.
"I'll give you everything I've got," Oara said.
Since it was a dream, there were no injuries to worry about. Even if there had been, it was an offer too tempting to refuse. Oara was gone now. Truly gone. So this would be the final time.
Clashing blades, he experienced Oara’s martial arts on a deeper level. It wasn't just the technique of the Connecting Sword; she had poured her very life into her blade.
The force called Will.
Will was life itself—a sword thrust forward, carrying the weight of that life. He learned her stance. No, he engraved it upon his soul.
The dream ended.
"Thank you for everything."
Oara’s lingering regret departed.
The second dream began on a vast grassland, with a blonde man on horseback.
"I've never lost a single fight," the man said.
Hearing his voice, Encrid was reminded of the ferryboat’s owner and his terrible taste.