Chapter 8
Chapter 8
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: Great Warrior Ivar (4)
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The Ancestral Power manifested in various forms, but the Soul Devour I possessed came with stark limitations.
First off, in the early stages, I had to defeat opponents stronger than myself. It was possible with help from others, but unless I perceived it as my own power that brought them down, I couldn't absorb their abilities.
And once a soul was infused into a rune, it couldn't be emptied again. In other words, I couldn't discard an unnecessary soul I'd used before and replace it with a stronger one.
Right now, there were six runes etched into my body. The last one was still empty, so including the first one I'd claimed—the Moving Mountain—that meant I only had the powers of five magic beasts at my disposal.
They were abilities I'd chosen carefully up to now, but most guaranteed immediate survival or were suited for fighting the Imperial Army—or humans, in other words. Especially the fourth and fifth runes; they were next to useless against the Night Lord.
Even so, I made full use of the powers I had to press the fight. I had to kill this bastard here, no matter what.
"How are you dodging all of this? You can see it—my magic...!"
Black bolts of lightning rained down without warning, narrowly grazing the spot where I'd stood moments ago. The third rune. Piercing Steps.
A few years back, at the request of the fortress shamans, I'd hunted a corrupted spirit polluting the lake and drunk its essence. That was how I'd gained this Ancestral Power. It let me read mana flows and pierce through their paths.
That was also why I'd been able to find my way in the devouring forest.
I dodged the magic and closed the distance, swinging my axe at his head. In the narrow cave, there was nowhere to evade.
To kill the Black Dragon Caladrak, I needed to strip off his scales and sever his neck. I kept pushing without giving him a chance to counterattack.
Realizing he couldn't land a spell on me, the moment I drew near, he unleashed a massive dragon arm. The walls and ceiling crumbled as I was caught in its grip.
"Got you, you rat."
"First time I've heard that one."
The axe wouldn't budge an inch. Not even with the strength to shatter an Imperial rampart. As I pondered, I drew out the 'fire' from my second rune. Flames erupted from my shoulder and instantly enveloped my entire body.
Roar—!
"Guh...!"
The flames clinging to his scales drove back the darkness filling the cave. Seizing the opening, I slipped free of his grasp and severed one of his fingers with my axe.
He couldn't hit me with magic, and if he grabbed me, his body burned. Swinging my axe while wreathed in flames, I was the Red Ghost the Imperial soldiers feared.
"Daring to play your tricks on me?"
Activating three runes at once sent agony ripping through my body. I could feel my mana draining in real time. But it was working. The dragon was starting to give ground to a mere human.
Victory seemed in sight. But right then, the bastard clamped a hand over his mouth—then ripped it away, unleashing a roar.
『Begone!!!』
The flames flickered out like a candle in the wind, followed by a shockwave that shook the cave. I was hurled back endlessly, like a haystack caught in a gale.
Piercing Steps had let me foresee it, but blocking or dodging was impossible. This wasn't the structured magic the Imperial mages had refined over centuries into a single 'path.' It was the 'language infused with will' that only dragons, the progenitors of magic, could wield.
It was Dragon Tongue.
The reason Caladrak was designated an untouchable supreme-grade magic beast. The reason it was said that meeting his eyes made it impossible to defy any command.
No living being could resist this overwhelming violence.
"Cough, cough! Ugh, didn't want to use that."
He hadn't fully recovered his strength yet, so spamming Dragon Tongue was beyond him. But I was already a battered wreck—no need for him to bother.
The Ancestral Power wouldn't come anymore. His scales were red-hot; a few more strikes and the axe would've sunk in. But I didn't even have the strength to twitch a finger.
"Hah, what a pain you are."
"......"
"Won't pluck your eyes. I'll let them rot. Don't want to see you again."
The Night Lord approached slowly, his leisure restored. His sharp claws dug into my throat, blood spraying out.
As my consciousness faded, I thought of one woman. She'd surely felt the same.
But unlike back then, this moment didn't mean defeat. With one hand, I grabbed the bastard's tail as he tried to flee the cave.
"Time to head out and start the real hunt... Huh?"
She never gave me her name to the end. Our duel as warriors never took shape. It had been a predator-prey bloodbath, where the hierarchy of power was set. In other words, a hunt.
I'd won against her in that final battle beneath the ramparts. Soul Devour made no distinction between humans and magic beasts. The last condition—to devour the fallen foe—was just ill-suited for humans.
And from the moment night hadn't fallen on the plains, I'd been waiting for this. Even when Harald offered to swap weapons, I'd refused. All to slam the power of the Empire's sole three unique magic sword wielders right into the Black Dragon's face, up close.
I picked up the axe I still hadn't let go of. Then I shoved its blade into my mouth and chewed without hesitation.
The blade still bore the blood from when I'd wounded the woman's pale neck at the ramparts just days ago.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"You—what the hell...!"
The sixth rune. Serath Icefern.
A frigid wind that had swept the North blew into the cave. The witch's breath that chilled the blood of plains warriors and boiled the blood of Imperial soldiers.
Cold that devoured even darkness exploded outward. Everything around froze in an instant. I drove my fist toward the bastard's scales as he struggled, locked in ice.
Bam, boom—!
My target was the neck. Flesh tore, bones cracked, blood poured—but I smashed again and again. Until I'd shattered his ironclad defense with my bare hands.
The Black Dragon reverted to his house-sized true form and thrashed, but in the pit where he couldn't spread his wings, there was no escape.
"No! How dare you—how dare a filthy barbarian...!"
Finally, a dragon scale cracked and fell away. It was a small gap, but enough to jam a blade into.
Straddling the massive body, I squeezed out my last strength and asked,
"Any last words?"
『Die...』
"Right. You're no warrior—you're just prey."
The crude axe blade lodged into the dragon's neck.
The morning star rose. The horizon held a serene hush, as if dawn were moments away.
As darkness retreated, a stir rose from the Imperial side. The Northern Defense Army still clutched their torches, while the motley armed forces arriving at the fortress faltered, breaking formation in panic.
Those poised to tread the plains never emerged from the walls, peering out with tense, curious faces.
The plains tribes were the same. They already knew who'd felled the Night Lord. But with time dragging on and the hero yet to appear, Harald made his call.
"Select every warrior still fit to move and form a search party. We're entering the forest."
"Got it, Harald."
"What about the wall rats? They might attack."
"Finding Ivar comes first."
"But..."
"He's here!"
As they decided to ignore the foes before them and search for Ivar, Kara cried out. Through her Ancestral Power, she could command magic beasts she'd bonded with.
A Karangal came galloping from the direction her slender finger pointed. Empty, with no rider.
Karangal sensed stronger beings like ghosts and latched on. For one to come riderless meant only one thing. Ivar was dead.
"Satchpi..."
Pushing aside her grief, Kara reached out gently to the mount she'd raised since childhood.
"Satchpi!!"
"Screeek—!"
"Kyaa!"
And it trampled her flat. The cunning Karangal had come to sever its stale bond, fearing its potential new eternal master might find it bothersome. Then, a massive shape emerged from the forest.
"Look there...!"
"Ivar! Ivar's back!"
"Ivar..."
The warriors, eager to greet their comrade, fell silent as one. Ivar bore the head of a colossal dragon.
His body was covered in wounds. Even from afar, scarcely a patch looked intact. One leg dragged uselessly, unable to bear weight, and deep gashes from dragon claws marred him everywhere.
Yet he'd survived. Bleeding from every inch, he'd walked out of the forest on his own power and set the dragon's head down.
Thud! The sound snapped everyone back to reality. One of the calamities that had ravaged the North lay prostrate at a human's feet.
The sun rose, shining brighter than before. The warriors dropped their weapons as one. They ignored the enemies watching from behind. Without regard for who went first, they knelt on one knee.
Harald, at the forefront, uttered words of utmost respect he'd never used in his life.
"We pay homage to the Great Warrior."
This time, not a soul objected.
On the plains where the stars paused to rest, a mighty Great Warrior was born.