Chapter 109
Chapter 109
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 109
Chapter Title: Disaster, Nightmare, Ghost (2)
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The ghost of dusk, Belnoa.
The boy's life couldn't be called clean, not even as an empty compliment. He had lived a filthy existence. He had dirtied himself in order to survive. No one understood the boy.
Belnoa is a murderer.
No matter the reason, the fact that he had killed people remained unchanged. Belnoa didn't think of himself as clean. He considered himself filthy too.
However, he wasn't ashamed of it.
Everyone has their own values.
There are those who dirty their own hands to uphold their beliefs. Belnoa was of the same breed. He willingly dirtied his hands.
Solely for one girl.
'Chloe.'
He was fine with getting as dirty as needed.
'For Chloe's sake.'
He didn't mind being called a murderer. Or a ghost. For Chloe's sake, none of that mattered. That was Belnoa's highest value.
And now.
The time had come to prove the weight of his conviction.
"Let's see you try."
The wall approaches.
The final barrier blocks the path. There were no other routes. The single narrow trail was completely sealed by a massive obstacle.
He couldn't target the rear as always.
He couldn't exploit weaknesses through persistent observation and tailing.
All the methods Belnoa had clung to his entire life were blocked. What remained was the simplest approach.
'No choice but to break through head-on.'
What was the gap between the opponent and himself?
The opponent was stronger. Superior in every way. An enemy he couldn't defeat with ordinary means.
'How do you claim victory from such a foe?'
The answer lay close at hand.
Belnoa recalled it. The experience of seizing victory against an unbeatable foe in a forest clearing.
'Observation and intuition.'
And a variable the opponent couldn't anticipate.
Kikik, kigik.
The shadow's form shifts.
The shadow enveloping Belnoa's body peels away. The shed shadow gathers on his arms. It forms sharp claws.
"Using some unique spell, are you?"
The black-armored knight raises his greatsword.
The massive blade is like a wall. An insurmountable wall stands before him. Staring at the wall, Belnoa thinks.
'If I can't go over it.'
Then he'll just smash through it.
Belnoa lowers into a stance. The knight pulls his greatsword low. Their gazes clash in midair.
Thud.
Without a word, they both kicked off the ground simultaneously.
The leap and collision happened at the same instant.
2.
Clang, claaang.
The clash of steel rings out. The shadow Belnoa had forged at great cost doesn't scatter like before. An equal exchange takes place.
The greatsword meets the shadow.
Neither yields.
'...As expected.'
The black knight Dyke senses it instinctively.
'Subduing him swiftly in that moment was the right call.'
His instincts had been spot on.
The boy before him was dangerous. Though not yet fully mature, his movements rivaled those of a first-rate warrior.
'Power and speed, both mine to command.'
Yet he couldn't overwhelm him. The boy knew how to face someone stronger.
Kak.
The shadow gauntlet grips the greatsword. It disrupts its trajectory. The blade aimed at Belnoa's shoulder scrapes along the wall instead.
Belnoa steps forward.
He lunges in, thrusting his sharply honed claws.
Kagagak!
The claws slide over the black armor. But not even a scratch forms. Dyke yanks the greatsword free from the wall and swings again.
'Heavy. Can't deflect it.'
His thoughts are brief, his judgment swift.
Belnoa's pupils dart rapidly.
Within his dilated pupils, the black irises shake wildly. He reads the motion. He acts a step ahead of his foe.
Thud. Belnoa leaps back.
Boom!
A heavy impact reverberates through the ground. The greatsword slams into where Belnoa had stood moments ago. He lands in a skid, catching his breath.
Kagagagak!
No time to breathe. The opponent pursues immediately, greatsword still embedded in the floor. The blade kicks up bricks as it rises.
"...!"
Belnoa jerks his head back.
Whoosh!
The greatsword grazes his chin and rises. Blood sprays in a fine mist. Barely dodging, Belnoa retreats another step.
"Watch it, Dyke. We can't kill him."
"...The traitor can even revive the dead."
"Sure, but that's half-assed, isn't it? The traitor wouldn't want that either. Be careful."
"......Understood. I'll be cautious."
Unlike him, who had to stake his life every moment, they were casual—even relaxed. Yet Belnoa didn't despair over it. He couldn't afford the time for despair.
'A way.'
Belnoa desperately recalls.
'I need to find a way.'
His weapons couldn't pierce the armor.
His deal with the stars was nearing its end. The shadows would scatter soon. He had little mana left.
The knight advances again.
Each step is heavy. The ground trembles as the knight swings his greatsword. It seems swung carelessly, but Belnoa must risk his life to block every strike.
Whoosh.
He reads the motion and ducks. He dodges by a hair's breadth. He doesn't fully evade; a long gash opens across his chest. Blood flows.
Kagagak!
Unable to dodge, he twists the trajectory. The greatsword slides over the shadow. A nick forms on the shadow gauntlet.
Clang!
A weak swing. He meets it head-on.
The nick turns to a crack. The shadow begins to scatter bit by bit. Blood sprays through the dispersing shadow.
"Guhk!"
He couldn't block it.
The flat of the greatsword slams into Belnoa's body. His body floats into the air.
Thwack.
The knight's kick drives into Belnoa's gut.
Vision-shaking pain. His balance shatters completely. His airborne body crashes into the opposite wall. He tumbles across the ground.
He rolls several times before stopping.
With retching comes a trickle of nosebleed. Belnoa staggers to his feet. His legs tremble. Gazing at the dripping blood, Belnoa thinks.
'I can't win.'
Knowing he can't win, Belnoa still raises his head.
"...Is there any point?"
The knight asks.
Belnoa doesn't answer. He whips his body onward, raising his arms. He weaves the shadows tighter.
"It's just tiring us both out."
The knight approaches with a sigh.
Belnoa's pupils never stop moving. He keeps reading the motions. For that one fleeting opening.
They exchange blows.
With each exchange, wounds multiply on Belnoa's body. Blood spatters the alley. Belnoa's movements begin to slow.
Plip, plop.
Bloody Belnoa lowers his head.
Ptoo. He spits out the clot of blood filling his mouth. His movements have dulled, but his gaze remains sharp.
"......"
Dyke falls silent.
He's clearly ahead, yet he senses a ghostly menace from Belnoa. His movements have slowed for sure, but the boy's attacks sharpen further.
"Just like a ghost."
Such a mutter echoes through the alley.
Dyke regrips his greatsword. The swings carry more weight. The intensified attacks come, but Belnoa keeps pace with Dyke's movements.
A dulled body.
Shadows on the verge of scattering.
Yet Belnoa's pupils still grasp for victory. Accumulated experience moves his body. Buying time, Belnoa thinks.
'What can I use?'
A body at its limit.
Even sacrificing his flesh, he has no certainty it would pierce the foe. What could he use to forge that certainty?
'What I have left: limited mana.'
Enough mana for one spell.
Victory or defeat would hinge on that single spell. Belnoa keeps thinking.
'Pierce the armor with limited mana.'
Blood sprays.
Through the spurting blood, Belnoa recalls something. Amid accelerating thoughts, half-remembered tales intrude.
Limited mana.
A target to shatter.
Spell modification.
Belnoa's mind races. His pupils contract to a point. Countless circuits flicker into view and vanish before his eyes.
'Spell revision.'
Restrictions and reinforcements.
'Circuit remodeling.'
Belnoa gains certainty.
Kagagagak!
Belnoa's hand moves.
His right hand twists the greatsword's path. The shadow on his right peels away, accompanied by the snap of breaking fingers. The broken fingers are all offered as tribute.
Swish.
Belnoa's left hand moves.
The left draws a circuit. The completed circuit unravels, restrictions applied. To achieve the best result with limited mana, Belnoa remodels the circuit.
'One shot to pierce the armor.'
His head feels like it's burning up.
In his flickering vision, Belnoa assembles the spell.
Shadow Needle.
His most-used basic spell.
But the forming shadow bears no resemblance to what he knew. Belnoa gazes at the spell hooked on his fingers.
The remodeled needle isn't sharp.
It's blunt instead. Less a dagger, more a stake.
"...!"
The knight's eyes widen at the needle before him. He tries to pull back his greatsword. But the spell's completion is a step ahead.
The stake spins.
The spinning stake sucks in the scattered shadows.
Gazing at the charged spell, Belnoa curls his lips. The best strike he could muster.
"Die."
The blood-soaked ghost grins.
Thud-boom!
With a roar, the shadow stake embeds in the knight's helmet. The knight's head snaps back. For the first time, he retreats.
Kagagagagak!
The stake spins. Razor shadows bore into the helmet's seams. Cracks spiderweb across the helmet.
Crack, craaack.
"Ha, haha."
Laughter leaks from the cracking helmet. The retreating knight reaches out and grabs the stake. The spinning stops.
"Not bad."
Crack. The helmet shatters with a crunch.
The knight, face fully exposed, is smiling.
"...Damn it all."
Thwack!
Belnoa's vision flickers from the knight's punched fist. His body flies airborne, slamming into the opposite wall before halting.
"...Guh."
Belnoa can't stand.
No strength left to rise. His vision blurs. His ears ring. The shadows have scattered.
'...One step.'
Just one step short.
Frustrating. He thinks of next chances, but... there won't be any more.
'Is this the end?'
Belnoa's head drops limply.
Staring at the ground, he awaits the end. But no matter how long he waits, it doesn't come.
"...?"
Belnoa slowly lifts his head.
Looking straight ahead, the knight stares at him with trembling eyes. The tip of his raised greatsword quivers. As if gripped by fear.
'At me?'
No matter how he looked, it didn't seem so.
The knight wouldn't show such a face to a near-dead foe like him. Belatedly, Belnoa realizes the gaze isn't directed at him.
'Not me—beside me.'
A presence suddenly registers.
Thud.
Someone's hand rests on his head.
The touch isn't rough. A gentle hand pats Belnoa's head.
"Good work."