Chapter 146
Chapter 146
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 146
Chapter Title: Superhuman, Mere Human (1)
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Cardinal Verdict of the Delorhim Church.
He stared at his hand. Blood trickled along his fingers. A droplet gathered at his nail, then fell with a soft plink, plink, staining the snow red.
"......"
He gazed at the blood droplet impassively.
He looked at the corpses scattered around him. Surprisingly, no thoughts stirred within. It wasn't his first time taking lives, and to him, this was righteous.
'Sacrifice the worthless to revive what holds value.'
It was the right thing to do. The cardinal offered the life of a blind child upon the altar. There was no hesitation in his actions. He simply carried out what he believed to be correct. That was how the cardinal devoted himself to the stars.
"Ahh..."
The cardinal sighed.
It wasn't a sigh of grief. It was one of ecstasy overflowing. He surveyed the snowy expanse.
'Starlight.'
Holy power brimmed from every direction. Sacred relics resonated with one another. In this place where particles of pure white light rose like mist, the stars' blessings seemed ready to flood forth at any moment.
It felt like he could do anything.
He felt omnipotence.
He was certain that even the alchemical miracle of resurrection—reaching toward the divine—would be possible now. If only he had the remains of the first saintess.
"C-Cardinal."
Just as the cardinal basked in that sense of omnipotence,
a voice broke his immersion. He turned. Behind him stood a holy knight—one of the Holy Emperor's Hundred Elites, second seat, the Iron Wall Berlang.
"What is it, Berlang?"
"It's noisy outside. It seems the northern warriors have caught on and launched an attack."
"I see."
The cardinal nodded.
"So, what of it?"
"...Pardon?"
"This is holy ground. Can't you see the overflowing starlight? Even you, called the Iron Wall... you'd struggle to move properly here."
Berlang silently looked at his own fist.
He clenched and unclenched it. The motion was slower than usual. The cardinal pointed it out.
"Even you, blessed as you are, feel it. So, do you think the godless northern barbarians who set foot here... could move properly?"
The cardinal sneered.
"Not a chance."
He continued the ritual.
"Focus on the ceremony. Don't disturb me."
"Yes, understoo—"
Berlang's words didn't finish.
He whipped his head around violently. Looking behind him, he swung the shield that had earned him the moniker Iron Wall.
KAANG!
Something struck the shield and ricocheted away.
Berlang narrowed his eyes. Circling through the air was a bladed weapon. One with a unique shape.
'...An axe?'
The moment Berlang recognized it,
someone snatched the spinning axe from the air.
"Stand down."
The axe's owner spoke.
A chilling voice echoed across the snowy plain. Berlang and the cardinal took in the intruder who had set foot in their sanctuary.
Hair white as snow.
Eyes gleaming red.
The boy with those distinctive features gripped an axe in both hands. The cardinal recognized him. So did Berlang.
'Rak van Grace.'
The Northern Duke's only son.
"Step aside."
He narrowed his eyes.
The axe creaked in his grip. Veins bulged on the arm holding it. Rak scanned his surroundings. Corpses littered the ground, northern villagers among them.
Thud.
Rak took a step forward.
His demeanor screamed he wouldn't stop—if they refused, he'd smash through right then and there. Something blocked his path.
BOOM!
Berlang slammed his massive shield down.
He became the Iron Wall, barring Rak's way. But Rak didn't halt.
"If you won't move..."
Rak kicked off the ground.
Even in the thick mana density, his movements showed no sluggishness. Eyes bloodshot, he swung the axe.
"I'll go through you."
KAAAAANG!
The clash of metal roared fiercely.
2.
"Huff... haah..."
Plip, plip, plip.
Blood dripped with every staggering step. His bones creaked throughout his body. The ragged Draka limped across the snowy mountain. Even walking was a struggle.
'That damn mad wizard.'
He hadn't underestimated her skill. Precisely because he hadn't, he'd prepared accordingly. The terrain advantage. The ambush. He'd even triggered an avalanche, forcing a dilemma.
He'd pulled out all the stops.
And still, accounting for blood loss, he'd charged in. To seize the opportunity.
'But what was the result?'
Draka recalled the clash moments ago.
The mountain flipped. Blinding light seared his retinas as it battered the peak. Amid the scorching heat that followed... Draka had thrust his foot forward.
'Aiming for her throat.'
To him, it had seemed feasible.
The problem was that even that had been anticipated by the ash-gray mage. A pre-laid spell disrupted his sword. The wavering tip missed its mark.
So, Draka chose.
He couldn't kill her. He'd lose. Then... even in defeat, he had to claim what he wanted. Draka never settled for a meaningless loss.
-SHRIIIK!
In that instant, Draka twisted his blade.
He didn't target Raniel directly amid the oncoming heat. He went for the cape draped over her shoulder. No matter how outmatched he was by the ash-gray mage... slicing a scrap of fabric was within reach.
The moment the cape tore, the storage spell released, and something burst out. It was exactly what Draka had predicted.
'The box containing the saintess's remains.'
As it flew out, Draka snatched it and dragged his sword downward. He forcibly redirected the surging explosion. He got lucky, Draka thought.
-KABOOOOOM!
The redirected blast struck the unstable ground.
The avalanche vaporized, but the ash-gray mage plummeted beyond the collapsing earth. It wouldn't kill or injure her... but she couldn't pursue him immediately.
'...Luck was on my side.'
Coincidence upon coincidence.
That's how he survived.
Though not unscathed.
"Cough..."
Draka held his breath and clutched his collar tight.
Drip, drip. Blood fell. His tattered arm screamed. Not just the arm—one leg was numb from the blast.
"Still, it's not a failure."
Draka looked at the box in his hand.
It resonated with the saintess's bone fragments. Multiple layers of sealing spells prevented opening it now... but it was undoubtedly her remains.
"......"
Yet, for some reason,
Draka felt an odd unease from the box in his grasp. An instinctive revulsion. He didn't know why. Unknowing, he kept walking.
"Haah... huff..."
Normally, he might have suspected something.
But Draka's vision was narrowed now. Like travelers nearing journey's end, he saw only what he wanted to see.
'Almost there. Truly almost.'
He pressed on.
Staggering, gasping... walking endlessly. As always.
"Armel... Armel..."
He murmured the name of the daughter he'd sent away.
It wouldn't be long now.
Decades of endurance to keep his promise to her. The fruit of those decades was ripening. The end of his long journey loomed.
A little further on foot.
A little more endurance.
And he could see her again.
Face the daughter whose features had faded from memory. Would she be shocked by her aged father's appearance, or pout with a bittersweet smile, asking what had become of him?
He couldn't know.
Unable to know, Draka walked on.
Squeeze.
As if no one would take it from him, Draka gripped the box with the hand meant for his sword. To him now, nothing was more precious.
"Armel..."
He walked endlessly.
Toward his destination.
3.
Clang, KAANG!
Amid the clash of metal, the Iron Wall Berlang felt astonishment. Pure shock.
Clang!
His gaze fixed on Rak before him. Watching the boy swing his axe, Berlang clicked his tongue in amazement.
'Incredible. Truly.'
The air was heavy. His body felt leaden.
Even breathing properly was hard in this space overflowing with holy power. Even for Berlang, forged as the "Iron Wall" through countless wars against heretics.
'Yet, in this environment...'
KAANG, clang!
The boy charged head-on.
No retreat. No disruption. His breathing seemed steady, his movements not notably slowed. Berlang felt respect for it.
'Can't underestimate him as just a young boy.'
Berlang stomped—thud.
The pure white light cloaking his shield intensified.
'See him as a fellow warrior.'
A barrier of light enveloped Berlang.
His body, shielded in light, was a weapon itself. He swung a light-wreathed fist.
KAANG!
Rak, hastily blocking with his axe, was launched into the air. The cardinal targeted the airborne Rak. As he chanted, arrows of light rained down.
Zip!
His clothes tore. Blood sprayed.
Even twisting away, wounds accumulated. Yet Rak's eyes still burned bright.
"Hoo."
Rak slid to a landing and exhaled shortly. He placed a hand on his heart.
Thump, thump.
His heart pounded wildly.
Excitement? Blood raced through him. Yet even here, his breathing held steady. Rak was pleased.
'It's working.'
The training with Professor Lania.
The lessons etched into his body through fainting repeatedly in this sanctuary.
Rak felt the fruits of that hellish training firsthand.
'A place where even breathing would be impossible normally.'
Now, he rampaged freely. Something the old him couldn't have dreamed of. Feeling his growth, Rak slowly raised his head.
"......"
The shield-bearing holy knight glared at him.
The wall of light centered on him was solid. Like facing a massive bulwark. Behind it, an old man nocked arrows of light.
'Simple.'
Simple, yet hard to breach.
But the counter was simple too. Shatter the wall. Rak asked himself.
'Are you ready?'
He answered himself.
'Adapted.'
His breathing stayed even despite violent motions. Mind clear. Mana array stable.
Time for the next step.
Rak raised his axe to his heart. He sensed the Stocked spell in the haft. One to use cautiously even ideally... but
'The northern warrior is a blazing fire.'
Rak released the spell without hesitation.
He tapped his heart with the haft—tap.
'Eternal, unquenchable steel forged forever.'
The spell activated.
Heating.
Thump, Rak's heart surged.
His red eyes glowed hot.
Steam rose from his body. With eyes like flames, Rak eyed the incoming arrows of light.
Slow.
All too slow.
Tap, Rak kicked off.
His speed dwarfed before. Snow sprayed. Wind howled. Thwip, thwip, the arrows buried harmlessly.
Whoosh.
Closing ten paces in an instant, Rak swung. Axe met Iron Wall. The result differed.
KAAAAAAAANG!
Air trembled. The wall shook.
"......!"
Berlang's eyes widened.
Crack. Fissures spiderwebbed the once-solid Iron Wall.
* * *
"Didn't see this coming."
I muttered while dangling from chains hooked into the cliffside. It was quite deep. Climbing would take a bit.
Clink.
Pulling myself up the chain, I thought it over.
I hadn't anticipated it.
Literally.
I'd expected Draka to charge there.
So I'd prepped a heavy strike, and he fell right in, as expected.
'Up to there, perfect.'
The problem came after.
Draka twisted his sword path then. Sliced my cape, redirected the blast downward. That was unforeseen.
'Thought he'd go for my throat, even if it killed him.'
The protective spell on my nape went to waste. It was odd. Not something the Draka I knew would do.
Who was the Sword Ghost, Draka?
A man who'd ascended to superhuman ranks on obsession alone.
Stronger-willed than any. One who'd dig deeper, even if blocked.
"Hm..."
That was the Draka I knew.
So I hadn't predicted his choice. Caught off guard because of it.
"Well, whatever..."
I chuckled.
From my half-torn robe, I pulled out a glowing box.
"Doesn't matter."
I'd misjudged Draka, but he'd misjudged me too. I had more than one box—the important one was hidden separately.
'Hide key moves in duplicates.'
Basic tactics.