Chapter 130
Chapter 130
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 130
Chapter Title: Business Trip Arrival, Nightmare Descent (4)
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There was a certain cycle.
Every cycle, human history would enter a dark age.
As if by some promise, that time invariably arrived. Even the heroes who survived for long years would meet their ends one after another when it came. Some endured, but they became broken shells of their former selves.
Humanity called that era...
"The Age of the Extinguished Flame."
There were no more brilliantly blazing fires.
The flames died out, and darkness descended. Until new embers sparked to life, humanity had to face the shadows.
A cold and terrifying darkness.
The most recent dark age had come some twenty years prior. There was one who remembered it. Closing his eyes, he recalled that time.
There was a hero called the Unyielding.
There was a hero called the Immortal.
They shone brilliantly.
No one could imagine their deaths. And as always, despair arrived from beyond imagination.
'Everyone died.'
The Unyielding knelt before the heretic.
The Immortal fell to the blade of death. The walls protecting humanity crumbled one by one. Thus, an era of chaos descended.
Countless territories were swallowed by darkness.
Several nations perished.
Innumerable villages, large and small, burned away.
It was much later that a flame to illuminate the era appeared amid the ashes of those villages. In the Age of the Extinguished Flame, humanity faced the darkness without a guiding light.
An age of war.
An age of chaos.
An age of shadow.
Such eras forged heroes. Many transcended into superhumans during that time. Very many. This man, who now recalled the Age of the Extinguished Flame, was one of them.
"......"
The man opened his closed eyes.
He gazed at the blade in his hand. The blood-scented edge felt like a mirror to his own life.
Sword Ghost, Draka.
A superhuman of the Age of the Extinguished Flame.
The lord of Belliatta Territory, reduced to ashes overnight.
"It's noisy outside."
He muttered.
His flat tone sent a chill circling the room. One of the swordsmen who followed Draka spoke up.
"It seems a new guest has arrived at White Night Castle. They're holding a banquet. Shall we go?"
"I don't like noise. I doubt I'd enjoy myself there anyway."
"Then I'll inform the Grand Duke as such."
The door creaked open, and the subordinate stepped out.
In the now-silent room, Draka tilted his blade at an angle. Reflected in it were his own eyes. Within those pupils burned an unquenchable flame.
...The Age of the Extinguished Flame had ended.
New heroes had emerged. There was a hero shining more brilliantly than ever before. The hero repelled the calamities. He severed the Black Dragon's neck, repulsed the heretic, and subjugated the ancient lich time and again.
New flames blazed.
Brilliant fires illuminated the darkness.
Forgetting the shadows, people lived in the light.
But not everyone. The ghosts who endured the Age of the Extinguished Flame could never forget the darkness.
Shing.
Draka lowered his blade.
"It won't be long."
Only his chilling mutter lingered in the room.
Leaning back to the crackling, dying sounds of the fireplace, Draka closed his eyes.
2.
As banquets always were, the one at White Night Castle was much the same. A feast was prepared, and people swapped stories in a suitably boisterous atmosphere.
'Well, that's true enough, but...'
I glanced around discreetly.
The banquet stayed within its general framework. It stayed within it, but... in other words, it merely adhered to the basic formalities. Something, something was just a little off.
"Woooooo!"
The warriors' roars echoed.
In the center of the banquet hall, they charged at the meat spinning on a spit skewered through it, suddenly swinging their swords. They began slicing it off like sashimi.
"Take this!"
"I'll slice, you catch!"
Chunks of meat piled up neatly on large platters.
Though irregular in shape, they were cut to perfect eating sizes. The warriors carried them to the tables themselves.
"My thanks."
The nobles in formal attire smiled warmly, as if accustomed to it. No sign of surprise. It seemed I was the only one taken aback.
"Hey, Rak."
"Yes? Professor?"
Rak, tearing into meat beside me, tilted his head innocently, as if nothing was amiss.
"Is it always like that?"
"Yes, it is."
For the umpteenth time since arriving in the North, Rak gave his umpteenth identical reply. I pressed my temple and sighed.
'What kind of place is the North, exactly...'
It was a scene utterly incomprehensible to someone with my thoroughly common-sense worldview.
"Hmm..."
Anyway, it was an extremely avant-garde sight. I averted my eyes from the warriors howling "Woo!" Ignoring them was the best policy for my own sake.
'That meat looks delicious. Better focus on eating.'
As I reached for my fork with that thought...
"Lady Lania!"
"Shit, you scared me."
A curse slipped out reflexively.
Fortunately, it seemed drowned out by the cheers. Lowering my hand from my mouth, I looked at the warriors who had called my name.
"Wha...t?"
I blinked dazedly.
The approaching warriors held platters piled high with meat like mountains. Impressively stacked to that height.
"What else would it be?"
The warrior grinned, flashing spotless white teeth.
A pure, unclouded smile.
"How can the guest of honor pick at her food like that!"
Thud! The table shook as he set down the platter.
I alternated glances between the mountain of meat and the warriors.
"Uh..."
"Please, eat. We sliced only the most tender parts."
The most tender?
Not an entire pig filleted sashimi-style?
"It's our sincerity."
"Everyone sliced with one heart and mind—eat till your belly bursts!"
The warriors watched me.
Urging me to grab my fork with their stares.
"It's a Northern tradition."
The butler standing nearby whispered in my ear.
"Warriors offer meat to guests who pass White Night Castle's trials. The amount shows how much recognition you've earned from them."
The butler nodded with a smile.
"You're the first to receive this much. Feel proud."
"Ah, yes..."
I speared some meat with my fork.
They stared piercingly, waiting for me to eat it. Intensely, overwhelmingly burdensome gazes.
"Ooooooh!"
The moment I chewed, the warriors erupted in cheers again. I wanted to plug my ears.
'So damn loud.'
Forcing down the meat while thinking the clichéd line about not knowing if food went in my nose or mouth...
"How's the taste?"
"De...licious."
"She says it's good! Bring more meat—more meat!"
"Oh..."
This was driving me insane.
"No, wait, finish what's here first..."
As I tried to stop the charging warriors...
They halted abruptly. Then stepped aside one by one, clearing a path. Someone approached me through the parted warriors.
"Hello, Miss Lania?"
She exuded elegance.
With a slight smile, she greeted me. Her narrow eyes were red—like Rak's.
"Rak, you must be tired from the long journey."
"Sebas made it comfortable, Mother."
The one Rak called Mother.
And the woman who sat beside the Northern Grand Duke.
"The Lady of the North, Lady Failia."
The butler whispered in my ear.
I stood straight, composing myself. It was only proper to show respect.
"He wants a word with you."
She glanced at me, nodding toward the end of her gaze—where White Night Castle's master sat.
'Eryal van Grace.'
The Northern Grand Duke was summoning me.
3.
Eryal van Grace.
The guardian god of the snow mountains, draped in bearskin torn from the white bear itself... his exposed forearms bore countless small scars. Hands callused from wielding weapons over long years.
'More warrior than ruler.'
Everyone who saw Eryal thought so.
Eryal had no intention of denying it. It was simply fact.
'I swung the sword relentlessly.'
He wielded his greatsword, forged from the North's indestructible ore, until it crumbled. It was necessary to bring order to the chaotic North.
Thus, Eryal noticed.
His flesh-honed senses, trained to their limit through generations of the Grace family.
"......"
Eryal regarded the girl standing opposite him.
Rak's guest, evaluated as Aphria's strongest. Looking at her, Eryal let out an involuntary chuckle.
'A monster.'
Up close, her level was plain to see.
Some called monsters "superhumans," but Eryal's eyes gauged strength more intuitively.
A blood-soaked beast.
One who arrived from afar.
A warrior who carved her way to the heights by honing herself.
He'd heard she was a mage, yet her aura was that of a seasoned warrior. No way mere distant spellcasting produced that.
Resting his chin, Eryal asked:
"You're really a professor?"
"Pardon?"
The girl tilted her head at his question.
"You don't have the air of a professor. Feels like you've roamed far wilder places."
"...I've traveled some."
"Traveled, traveled..."
Eryal snorted a laugh.
"If that's what you say, then so be it."
He gestured.
"Sit."
Once the girl sat, followed by Rak and Failia, Eryal spoke.
"I hear you're teaching my son."
He lightly tapped Rak's head with his knuckles.
"Looking at the boy, seems he gained some insight in the capital. Reaching this level in half a year... my decision to send him wasn't wrong. Satisfying results."
Eryal narrowed his eyes.
Gazing at the girl opposite.
"Lania van Trias, was it?"
"Yes."
"The Trias family... the ones who raised the Ashen Mage. You had a fine master."
"Yes, an excellent one."
Lania smiled faintly.
Eryal closed and opened his eyes briefly.
"I called you here partly to express pure gratitude, but there's more important business."
He tapped the table.
"One request and one plea. Which first?"
"The plea, I think."
"Wise choice. To the point, then."
Eryal stated flatly.
"Work him hard."
"...Pardon?"
"My son. Grind him relentlessly. No need to mind others. I, Eryal, Northern Grand Duke, command it. Grind him as much as you can."
Lania blinked uncomprehendingly.
Eryal spoke as if it were the most natural thing.
"Why send my warrior-natured son to Aphria? He has magic talent. But his head's too stiff to use it. Great tool at hand, yet he just swings his body. Can't utilize it."
"...True enough."
Lania could guess as much.
As she nodded, Eryal added firmly.
"Beat knowledge into him if needed. Teach like taming a beast—engrave it in his body. He'll learn fast."
"...Father?"
"Just stating facts."
And isn't that the quickest way?
Rak groaned at his father's implied question. Failia, beside him, smiled wryly.
"Hmm..."
Lania touched her chin, tilting her head.
She spoke.
"I'm already doing that, even without being told."
"A professor who knows her stuff."
"I haven't tried teaching while beating... but wouldn't that be a bit much?"
"Not at all."
Eryal shook his head.
"Humans have human ways, beasts have beast ways. My son takes to the latter. Choose efficiency, Professor."
"Oh..."
Lania expressed admiration.
Rak's face paled. He recalled the past—being beaten half to death in the practical exam.
'Every day?'
Rak's eyes trembled.
Ignoring him, Eryal continued.
"Frankly, I'm thrilled a Trias mage is teaching my son."
"Pardon?"
"I don't want Rak walking only the warrior's path. I know from experience, my ancestors too. It has clear limits."
But, Eryal said.
"Paths aren't singular."
"......"
"The Ashen Mage, Raniel. I faced him once on the battlefield. Seeing that mage, I thought: raise my son like that."
Paths weren't one. To Eryal, Rak had a better-suited one.
"A pinnacle warrior wielding magic too. Like giving a warrior an extra weapon. That's what I wanted... but the mage I assigned young Rak seemed to see a different path."
At that moment.
Eryal's expression turned subtly odd. As if he'd forgotten something.
'The mage assigned when he was young?'
Something omitted, but not important. Eryal pressed on.
"So, learning magic directly from a Trias mage is..."
That instant.
Bang!
The banquet hall doors flew open.
"......"
Whoosh—a gust swept the hall.
Silence briefly fell over the banquet.
"Huff, huff...!"
A woman had opened the doors.
Head bowed, she gasped raggedly. Her fingers trembled on the handle. Then she snapped her head up.
"...When the ban...quet starts...!"
The White Mage Tower Lord, Celli Dvela.
Retaining a youthful twenties appearance, but her stamina didn't match. Having raced up the snow mountains, she continued breathlessly.
"You should've... called me...!"
An utterly obvious point.
"Ah."
Eryal uttered upon seeing her.
'I'd forgotten.'
He didn't remember trivialities.
Thinking it over, it didn't seem a big deal.