Chapter 37
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 37
Chapter Title: House Zahav: Clear Skies After the Storm (4)
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[Hahaha! Finally! Finally, our sworn enemy draws his last breath! O being who made the fear-eater tremble in terror! Realize that you too are but a mere mortal!]
"Ah, no! Oppa! Why... Why me... I, the weak one, should have taken the hit...!"
The black mage cackled madly. Was it because he had hidden himself within Brent's twisted flesh and was using magic to make his voice resound?
The voice echoed from all directions, filling Yuria's throat with despair.
Yuria staggered forward on unsteady feet and knelt before the fallen Enoch.
Clinging to a faint hope, she leaned in to examine his wound. And she saw it.
A sword that absorbed all light without reflecting any, giving the impression of a hole punched through the world, piercing straight through Enoch's heart.
"Ah..."
No blood flowed even a single drop, but that didn't matter. The ominous aura emanating from the sword embedded in Enoch's chest right at that moment fiercely stimulated Yuria's instincts.
If all the malice and curses of this world, along with death itself, were forcibly bound into the form of a sword, would it look like this?
Yuria's keenly developed instincts realized it the moment she looked closely. That sword wasn't a weapon meant for slashing someone down.
Its sharp form was for burrowing into the body. What truly led the opponent to death wasn't the external wound, but a denial of their very core from the inside... pure negation itself.
"I-I have to pull it out... It's not too late yet..."
Enoch lay there with a dazed expression, as if he had no idea what had happened to him (he really didn't).
But seeing his chest still rising and falling, as if he was clinging to life, Yuria reached out.
But.
"Kgh!"
The moment she tried to grasp the sword's hilt, the hairs on her entire body stood on end, and her arm froze solid. As if her body was rejecting any contact with the sword.
"Move! Move, damn it...!"
Yuria grit her teeth and pounded her own forearm. But the arm that could swing even a massive greatsword like it was part of her body didn't budge an inch.
In truth, it was only natural. Her greatest weapon wasn't physical strength or willpower, but instinct—and instinct was ultimately based on survival instincts.
The moment Yuria, a direct descendant of House Zahav, tried to grip a sword made solely to kill Zahavs... she would meet her end in the most agonizing way possible.
Her body refused the command, intuitively understanding the future her mind hadn't grasped.
Was he savoring the scene like it was some amusing play? The black mage leisurely watched everything, even going so far as to manipulate Brent with magic.
His voice, laced with laughter, echoed throughout the barrier, unable to hide his overflowing glee.
[Futile. It embodies the deaths of a hundred, the curses of a thousand, and the tragedies of ten thousand. No matter if you're our great adversary or a scion of House Zahav who once illuminated the south, you cannot escape the mortality it brings.]
"......"
[Daughter of Zahav. Your turn comes next. Though hastily procured, the scabbard has fulfilled its role, so as its contractor, I must show some sincerity. So? What will you do?]
"......"
[Will you beg? Or curse the heartless heavens? Will you crumble under the tragedy befalling you and shed tears like some clichéd actress? It matters not. Every tear shed within this barrier will become my blood in the end! Hahaha!]
"......"
Listening to the black mage's mad laughter, Yuria quietly rose to her feet.
She used the greatsword deeply embedded in the ground as a crutch to steady herself, then yanked it free and slung it over her shoulder.
She lowered her stance deeply, lifting the greatsword with one shoulder and one hand while letting the other arm hang limp—a bizarre posture.
But this was Yuria's stance for unleashing her full power.
She expelled tension from her entire body, channeling all remaining strength into the greatsword. It wasn't a person swinging a greatsword; it was a person assisting the greatsword in tracing its arc—a reversal of roles in swordsmanship.
She raised her deeply bowed head. Her pale purple eyes gleamed coldly.
"......I'll kill you."
[Killing intent, eh? How splendidly it blooms will be the key, but not bad at all. Very well. Come, try to take this neck if you can. Not that it will bring back your great adversary already wandering the dark valley.]
Once, Yuria had felt an instinct that she needed to stay by Enoch's side.
It was little more than an unconscious impulse stemming from her grasp that Enoch was soft on those around him, urging her to become one of those close to him...
But now, with Enoch collapsed after taking a sword meant for her...
Yuria had no choice but to realize it.
Her instincts had merely predicted that a day like this would come (it hadn't).
They hadn't known each other long, but he was the one who put up with her eccentricities despite hating them. And now, he had even taken a flying sword in her place.
Yuria wasn't cunning enough to ignore someone like that.
Yuria's greatsword gleamed brightly as she squeezed out every last drop of her aura.
"Doesn't matter. Even if I die, I'll drag you down with me."
For the first time in her life, Yuria entered battle with death in her heart.
After I got "stabbed" by the sword and fell...
To gauge the ominous atmosphere and figure out why this sword lodged in my chest didn't hurt at all despite clearly hitting its mark, I decided to lie still for a bit...
'What the hell is this thing, anyway.'
I still had no clue what effect it was having on my body.
From all the talk of "deaths of a hundred" and "curses of a thousand," it seemed like a carefully prepared trump card.
Even Yuria was prostrating in shock, unable to properly grip the hilt, so there was clearly something I didn't know.
'No, wait. A sword through the heart would shock anyone, obviously.'
But really, I was fine. Completely unharmed.
No pain whatsoever, not even a wound. The blade had simply passed through my heart like my fist through air.
I had fallen backward not from the blade piercing me, but from the impact of the hilt colliding after the blade slipped through.
But no matter how much I pretended to have a fatal injury to buy time, gather info, and check my condition, nothing changed.
'Anyway, ominous talk, but I'm totally fine.'
That was the conclusion. Or rather, it didn't end there.
Because Yuria, enraged by my "death," was going all out with eyes half-rolled back to take on the black mage and Brent.
Yuria was pretty strong... but only on a student's level.
If they clashed properly, she might hold out for a moment, but she'd fall to the black mage soon enough.
She looked determined, with a resolve to die...
No helping it. Time to get up. A little embarrassment was better than risking her life.
...No, she was risking her life for my sake. Making it too anticlimactic might be rude.
A little show wouldn't hurt.
Woooong—
Instead of sending the gathered aura to my limbs, I rapidly circulated it within my heart.
It might seem like pointless idling from the outside. But deliberate idling was for looking cool.
Centered on where the sword was embedded, a pattern traced over my chest.
Before, it had been unrefined mana flowing through my body. Now, it was aura.
But with my immature aura control, I couldn't handle such a massive amount circulating so quickly. In the end...
Whoosh!
Flames erupted through the gap where the sword was lodged.
"...Huh?"
Yuria blinked dumbly. The black mage, no slouch himself, panicked but began casting dark magic.
Darkness coalesced in the air, taking physical form as fangs dripping acidic solution.
The mystery monster's teeth plummeted straight toward my head.
"You won't get me twice...!"
Yuria leaped into the air, spinning fiercely as she swung her greatsword to bat away the fangs.
...I could have blocked that myself.
My half-raised arm wandered awkwardly in the air for a moment before grabbing the sword hilt in my chest.
And in one swift motion, I yanked it out.
Fwoosh!
Flames exploded out through the "wound."
Exposed directly to my power that scattered magic and aura, the blade portion of the extracted sword melted powerlessly.
Clang.
I dropped the hilt-only handle to the ground and slowly reabsorbed the deliberately idled aura, beginning normal operation.
The flames flowing from my heart then wrapped around my entire body, burning away.
To be precise, I had recovered the aura wasting away in flame form, but it would look like rebirth from fire.
Brawling with showy black mage types had improved my flair for dramatics.
I let out a deep internal sigh and raised my head. There stood Yuria with eyes wide as saucers, and Brent and the black mage trembling in disbelief.
Seeing them that shocked made me a bit proud. Betraying such expectations would be the real letdown.
I smirked, curling the corner of my mouth, and delivered the verbose, pretentious line black mages would love.
"The sun sets, but it rises again tomorrow. Didn't you know this simple truth?"
[R-Resurrection...! How...!]
The black mage's frantic voice retreated backward. I had the perfect follow-up for him.
"You didn't know?"
Then die.