Chapter 143
Chapter 143
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 143
Chapter Title: Enemies Meet on a Log Bridge (1)
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The moment she stepped out of the church, Raniel sensed something wrong. It felt like her tongue was hardening stiffly. Frowning, she parted her lips.
“...What is it?”
The alien sensation from when she’d formed her contract with the star.
It was a kind of ‘restriction’. Raniel probed at the restricted part.
“Heretic, Gletus...”
The first saintess.
The rest of the words wouldn’t come out. The same went for the other calamities. She couldn’t speak aloud the knowledge she’d gained inside that church.
‘...So this is the restriction Cardi was talking about.’
She now had a rough idea of what Cardi had kept calling a ‘restriction’, the thing that kept him from explaining the full story. It was, as expected, an incredibly stringent one.
‘A truth only those who fulfill the conditions can comprehend.’
Raniel asked the star what those conditions were.
「The condition is to set foot in the ‘Kurakt Research Facility’ as defined by the first contractor.」
“Then what’s the condition for entering the research facility?”
「Take the star’s remnant from the Sword of Death, or from the heretic. The first contractor defined the star’s remnants as the ‘Sword of Shadow’ and the ‘Arm of Delorhim’.」
“...Haha.”
Crazy elf.
Raniel muttered that as she glanced back. The church doors were firmly shut. She said it was crazy, but deep down, she knew.
‘A deal like that could only stand with a restriction this close to impossible.’
Finding loopholes in an already-established contract was no easy task.
To accomplish something so difficult, they’d needed an even more rigorous and cumbersome method.
“......”
Raniel looked at the key in her hand. The key Cardi had pulled from the heretic’s arm.
‘The first door was opened with this key.’
But now she could open doors without one.
‘The key wasn’t really necessary after all.’
The key had been a symbol.
A symbol of fulfilling the condition.
Why it took the form of a key? She had no idea. Probably only Gletus and Cardi, its owners, knew.
“I’ll have to ask them later.”
Raniel started walking.
A short distance later, the fiercely whipping snowstorm came into view. Only the peak of the Kurakt Mountains basked in warm sunlight. To descend the mountain, she’d have to cross that blizzard once more.
“Fuu...”
Raniel let out a long sigh.
Climbing the mountain had been exhausting even for her. The thought of braving the blizzard again on the way down just drew out more sighs. Yet her steps weren’t heavy.
‘Because it wasn’t a meaningless trek.’
She’d witnessed forgotten history.
She’d grasped the truth Cardi had wanted to convey.
And she’d received the ‘next’ passed down through centuries.
‘The possibility they left behind.’
A lantern to illuminate the path ahead.
A possibility laid out by sages of old, steeling themselves for centuries to come. That was what she now held.
Grip.
Raniel clutched the wooden box nestled in her bosom.
She carried two wooden boxes there. One held the heretic’s arm, transformed into a calamity. The other held the first saintess’s arm.
Relics linking past to present.
Clutching them, Raniel pondered.
‘I still don’t know everything.’
Cardi had called this the ‘third’ contract in his letter. So what were the first and second?
Why had they fallen to corruption?
What was the true nature of the Demon King?
What was the kingdom where they’d resided, now utterly erased from history?
She didn’t know.
There was much more she didn’t know...
“Still, it’s fine.”
Raniel murmured to herself.
It was different from the days when she knew nothing of the era called ancient. Now, she felt like she stood at the true starting point of it all.
‘I’m not stumbling blindly through an endless void.’
The road was long.
But she could see the path she had to walk.
It was a road someone from centuries past had once trod, left behind for whoever the ‘next’ might be, someday.
‘...Far and treacherous, but.’
If there was a path, there was nothing she couldn’t walk.
If it proved impossible for her, she’d pass it to the next, and the next after that. Just as the hero and elf of old had done.
“Fuu.”
Raniel exhaled shortly and lifted her head.
She took one large step into the blizzard.
Now it was time to head back.
2.
“Where are you all rushing off to in such a hurry?”
“Ah, Young Master Rak.”
Warriors who should have been training were moving about ceaselessly. Sensing something off about the scene, Rak called one of them over.
“Well, it’s like this...”
The third seat among Eryahl’s Ten Seats Warriors.
Hawk Eye Oyakal stepped forward to Rak. At that moment, Rak furrowed his brow. Something was wrong.
‘...It’s only the Ten Seats Warriors.’
The warriors preparing to head somewhere—all of them belonged to the Ten Seats. Looking closer, their atmosphere was different from usual too.
“......”
The warriors’ faces were stiff. A cold tension hung between them. Silently, they wrapped hobnails around their boots. After a brief pause, Oyakal continued.
“There was a raid on Hameln Village.”
“...What did you say?”
Rak blinked vacantly.
Oyakal pressed his temple and went on.
“Hameln Village, as you know, Young Master, is a frontier settlement. Located near the Kurakt Mountains, magic communications barely reach it. Must’ve seemed perfect for a raid.”
But, Oyakal added.
“The villagers may be old or retired from the front lines... but they’re still warriors.”
“That’s...”
“The raiders must’ve underestimated them.”
Oyakal narrowed his brow.
“Last night, one elder made it to the capital. He crossed the blizzard while wounded and breathed his last the moment he arrived...”
Oyakal ground his teeth.
“But he passed on final words.”
A warrior retired from the front lines.
Yet the old man, born of warrior blood, succeeded in relaying the information just before his end.
“Raided.”
The village had been attacked.
“Men in pure white armor, looking like holy knights, raided the village.”
“...Holy knights?”
Rak frowned.
Stroking his chin, he spoke up.
“What does Father say?”
“Show those brainless zealots the north’s wrath, he said. Lady Failia ordered us to gather ‘evidence’.”
Why gather evidence?
Rak was clueless about politics, but considering his father’s temperament... the reason wasn’t hard to guess.
‘...Father must be preparing to head to the Holy City.’
“Yes, that’s right.”
That was the man his father was.
Northern warriors never forgot humiliation. They never abandoned vengeance. And Eryahl van Grace was a warrior always ready to bite, no matter who dared touch what was his.
“Oyakal.”
“Yes, Young Master.”
“The Ten Seats Warriors are heading to Hameln right now, aren’t they?”
“Yes.”
Hm, Rak nodded.
“I’m coming too.”
“...You, Young Master?”
“If I get in the way, I won’t follow.”
Oyakal fell silent for a moment.
Would he be a hindrance? No. Rak was already a warrior who’d reached a certain realm, with skills matching the Ten Seats.
‘Even before the academy...’
Since returning north, especially in the last week, Rak had grown beyond recognition. He was improving day by day. Oyakal narrowed his eyes.
‘I’d like to let him come.’
But it was a march fraught with danger.
It wasn’t a decision he could make alone. Oyakal opened his mouth cautiously.
“We should ask the Grand Duke...”
“Go ask.”
A voice came from behind Oyakal.
Oyakal and Rak turned toward it.
“You may go with the warriors, Rak.”
There stood Eryahl, a polar bear pelt draped over his shoulders. The warriors dipped their heads slightly to him. He waved it off as if to say not to mind and continued.
“The one who will lord over the north must always stand with the warriors. A mere ruler who sits above isn’t what the north needs. Only warriors who fight together can claim lordship here.”
He patted Rak’s shoulder.
“Go show them the north’s terror—and come back.”
Rak nodded.
Eryahl smiled in satisfaction and turned away.
“I’m off to the Holy City. Looks like I’ll have plenty to say to those damned zealots this time.”
With that, Eryahl boarded his carriage, accompanied by three warriors as escorts. They watched him go for a moment, and once the Grand Duke had departed, Oyakal spoke.
“Young Master.”
The warriors had finished their preparations.
As their representative, Oyakal posed the question.
“Can you keep up?”
The swiftest among the warriors had gathered.
They’d run the shortest path to the remote village without rest. There’d be no time to look after stragglers. That was why he asked.
Whether he could keep up.
In response, Rak simply nodded without a word.
3.
The blizzard swirling around the Kurakt Mountains’ peak.
Raniel emerged from it and let out a short breath. Her exhaled breath puffed white.
“Ugh.”
Shivering, Raniel rubbed her forearms. She brushed the snowflakes from her clothes. She’d thought descending would be easier than ascending—half right, half wrong.
‘Speed does pick up... but it’s hard to control.’
She’d nearly slipped and tumbled.
Raniel sighed and did a quick stretch. The blizzard was weaker from here on. In the less harsh environment, her tension naturally eased.
Step.
Raniel took a light step forward. Just as she moved to take her second—that instant, she flinched. Raniel narrowed her eyes.
“......”
Her back prickled.
Her battlefield-honed instincts rang alarm bells. Her sharpened senses picked up a faint noise.
Sring.
The sound of a blade slicing air.
The subtle vibration of a sword edge.
Raniel read the air currents. Something was displacing the air as it approached.
‘Aiming for...’
The neck.
Raniel reflexively jerked her head back. She twisted her body. At the same moment, something grazed past overhead.
Slash.
Snip, the tips of Raniel’s hair severed. What had passed was a sword. A keenly sharpened blade.
Blind spot in her vision.
A split-second lapse in tension.
A masterful strike exploiting that gap. Even though it missed, the attacker didn’t falter. The trajectory of the horizontal swing warped. The blade tip chased after Raniel’s off-balance stance.
Twisted posture, unsteady footing.
An ordinary person couldn’t react to the follow-up strike. But Raniel wasn’t a swordswoman. She had no need to recover her stance. She merely flicked her finger.
⚡ SKILL ACTIVATED ⚡ Spell-Smite Stocked spell erupts in light.
Claaang!
A surge of blinding light struck the blade upward. The light wasn’t just one beam. Five or six rays targeted the mysterious assailant. He swung his sword to bat them away.
Clang, clang!
One step back per beam.
After retreating five steps total, he raised his head. The blowing wind tousled his hair.
“Hey.”
The assailant’s face was revealed.
Raniel frowned at the sight.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
She stared at the man before her.
No way she wouldn’t recognize that bastard’s mug. Her face twisted like she’d bitten into a bug.
‘Sword Ghost, Draka.’
The being known by that name opened his mouth.
“Who knows.”
Draka lowered his sword tip. He lightly brushed his ragged collar and exhaled briefly before speaking.
“If anything, I’d like to ask you the same.”
He raised the tip he’d lowered.
The blade now pointed straight at Raniel.
“Weren’t you retired? Ashen Mage.”