Chapter 98
Chapter 98
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 98
Chapter Title: Void Sword in the Dragon Vein
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Like everyone else of a certain standing, Ardane had her own schedule.
In the hidden plaza at the heart of the imperial palace, Ardane staggered as she arrived to train at the center of the dragon vein. She hadn't even begun her training yet, so it wasn't due to exhaustion.
Why was this? Her chest felt hollow and suffocating, as if it had been emptied out. She gripped her sword tighter without realizing it, but the Dragon Fang Sword—its hilt wrapped in dragon hide—was so sturdy that nothing happened. Instead, her hand ached like she'd clenched a rock.
"Ow..."
Feeling the pain, Ardane released the sword and realized her foolishness, banging her head against the wall. When she gripped it again, immense mana from the dragon vein began flowing into the blade.
A dragon vein was like a highway for the mana flowing through the planet Pyros. The density of mana here was far greater than anywhere else.
It wasn't a natural formation but a massive magical construct created long ago by the dragons who came to this land, designed to rapidly restore their mana.
A colossal arcane structure built with magical knowledge beyond human wizards' comprehension!
In any case, the dragon—the ancestor of all imperial blood—was a unique being that could mate with humans, producing offspring. It had plucked out one of its own teeth to forge a sword and stripped its hide to craft the hilt.
Not content with that, it had even extracted a fragment of its heart—the most powerful organ, known as the Dragon Heart—and embedded it in the sword's eye. Because the Dragon Fang Sword housed a piece of the Dragon Heart, it could freely draw upon the dragon vein's mana in places like this, just as a dragon would.
She had grasped that secret and was about to begin proper training, but what was this on the very first day?
Kyle had left her. She hadn't followed him, hadn't even tried to hold him back. Now, she didn't know. She'd come here, but she didn't want to do anything.
'I want to sleep.'
Despite doing nothing, Ardane—who had reached Master level—felt crushing fatigue.
'I want to sleep deeply.'
If she slept and woke, would he be back? She knew it was a ridiculous delusion, yet the thought crept in unbidden.
The farewell had been too sudden, too abrupt. Did she mean so little to him? Was their bond so shallow that he could announce their parting on the spot?
For a moment, fury had surged within her, and she'd even entertained forbidden thoughts.
She'd imagined overpowering that cheeky wolf whose tail swayed so smugly and imprisoning Kyle. She didn't even know why she'd been so angry.
That surge of rage had cooled just as quickly as it boiled.
When she thought about it, what connection did she really have with the saint? They'd simply traveled the same path until now; they were strangers before, and they'd be strangers after.
Yet the faint sting of betrayal persisted, for a simple reason.
She hadn't thought of him as a stranger. Even if he was, she'd believed he was someone precious to her. She'd thought they'd built some kind of bond, but were the citizens of the Citadel Republic—people whose faces he didn't even know—more important than her?
People he might not even be able to save, who probably couldn't be saved at all.
Was it right that those uncertain lives took priority over her? That was what truly infuriated her.
What had those people ever done for the saint!
'When I think about it.'
But that line of thought naturally led to a question.
'I haven't done anything for the saint either.'
She didn't want to dwell on it, but perhaps she was no different from them.
The realization hit her suddenly. She let out a deep sigh.
Your Highness, you look just like... a wife sending her husband off to war.
Exactly. Why tie yourself down to one man? Cheer up a bit...
She hadn't even wanted to hear her maids' consolations and had fled here under the pretense of training, but it had only deepened her turmoil.
Her sword sliced through empty air, meaningless and purposeless. It wasn't training; just swinging the blade.
She knew this wouldn't dispel her heart demon, yet she couldn't stop the futile swings. She slashed fiercely, as if to cut away the frustration, but while the blade could fell mountains, it couldn't sever her emotions.
No. Don't be so pessimistic.
Look at the Citadel Republic's situation. Even the saint... must know it's hopeless and come back soon.
She was comforting herself with that when she sensed a presence. It wasn't so much a presence as an emptiness, a void.
Outside, she might not have noticed, but this was the dragon vein. With immense mana packed everywhere, the void stood out immediately—like a white sheep in a field of black.
'Who... who's in the dragon vein...?'
Only imperial blood could enter here. An intruder would be a grave threat. Ardane kept her guard up, pointing the Dragon Fang Sword toward the sensation.
Moments later, an old man appeared without a sound. He was familiar to Ardane—the Master who had blocked her path when he reunited with her father. His name was...
"Madeleine?"
"No need for caution. His Majesty sent me."
Madeleine. Right, that was his name.
Yet today, he looked vastly different from before. Had he been hiding his power then? Even with the Dragon Fang Sword in hand, she felt overwhelmed.
"His Majesty was curious about that sword's power. So was I. How much can a mere chunk of metal enhance its wielder's skill? Princess, you seem out of sorts. Care to cross blades with this old man?"
This man was strong. Far beyond ordinary.
He invoked the emperor's command, but with no guarantee it was true, the princess gripped her sword tightly. As the Dragon Fang Sword roared, the dragon vein's mana surged into the tiny blade.
"Heh, well now."
The flow was enough to unsettle even an average Master, yet Madeleine chuckled pleasantly, as relaxed as if watching fireworks.
"I see one thing. That won't be nearly enough."
"What won't?"
"That sword would be less than a toothpick against the Ancient Demon King. A sturdy toothpick, perhaps."
Grimudo's Polaris Fortress sat atop a dragon vein too, but relying on it alone in the north would get you shattered. The old man was all but certain.
A Demon King's mana was vast as the sky, deep as the sea. The dragon vein's mana was a mere great river by comparison. Even drawing the maximum Ardane's skill allowed, against Grimudo, it'd be like playing with fire before lava.
"Well then, let's see if it works on me."
Madeleine—no.
The Quiet Rayman spread his arms wide. Anyone who survived facing a Demon King had every right to confidence.
He had that right.
*****
"He left? Through the gate?"
"Appears to have had help from Elvenhome's plenipotentiary ambassador, Rowena."
A priest of the Hilai Church bowed as he reported the news to Armata. Among the triple gods, Hilai's priests—the goddess of healing—were inseparable from nobles and their equivalents.
Any family of note hosted Hilai priests as "dispatched" guests, essentially retainers.
With little hope of popular appeal compared to Nemi or Elysia, they made minimal efforts to win the masses.
Instead, they bonded with the powerful. Starting as guests, they became valued kin when a young master or lady was injured.
When the family head or patriarch fell from a horse and broke bones in old age, their status rose to near-family friend. Thus, they gradually merged with the elite.
Scattered across the world, Hilai's priests were the church's greatest asset and intelligence network. Of course, unless they intermarried, they remained outsiders.
They couldn't obtain secrets deciding a faction's fate, but that wasn't the goal. Network-derived intel sufficed.
Some priests did marry into power, becoming family—yet their birth and marital homes were the Hilai Church. Thus, despite middling size, the church amassed wealth, information, and influence beyond its scale. Archbishop Armata pondered deeply.
"Should we destroy the gate and leave them to die? This chance may never return. It could be our only shot to write off an Ancient God's priest as an accident."
The archbishop fell silent. Even for him, cutting off the republic's citizens' last hope was burdensome. If exposed as Hilai's doing, the backlash would be unimaginable.
Yet it held value. If Kyle died in the volcanic eruption, no Ancient God reprisal—nature, not they, had killed him.
Silence meant assent. Armata said nothing, but the priest read the intent, nodded, and withdrew.
The archbishop's chambers plunged into darkness. Only one statue glowed—a gold idol gifted to him long ago as a mere priest.
Cherished meticulously, it gleamed like new despite the years.
"Goddess, must I commit this sin, or refrain? However high I stand, I am Your servant, obeying only Your will."
Praying with hands clasped, kneeling before the statue, an unknown light swirled above him. Hilai followers existed in the Citadel Republic, but few in number.
Even with the gate open, how many could be saved? Unknown. Open it, lose most; destroy it, lose all. Weighing this, the goddess approved—or at least permitted—Armata's act.
"As Your will decrees."
Archbishop Armata rose calmly. He was the hammer, the mace in the goddess's hand.
If She swung him at solid iron, he'd shatter laughing, knowing it. That resolve had placed him here.
Now, the hammer had its target.
'If this is Your divine will, my duty weighs heavy.'
He donned a cloak quietly and stepped out. Late spring neared summer.
Even at night, a thin garment sufficed in the heat, yet the archbishop ignored it, wrapping himself in a brown fur cloak before setting forth. The time to awaken it had come.
Hilai Church's secret weapon—to doom both the princess, who had defied fate post-divine punishment and sullied the goddess's face, and the Ancient God's priest who healed her—would finally see light.
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