Chapter 150
Chapter 150
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 150
Chapter Title: Superhuman, Mere Human (5)
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The sound of one person's life crumbling was horrific. A dry laugh echoed across the snowfield. It sounded almost like something tearing apart.
Draka laughed madly for a while.
How long did he go on like that?
Drip.
His laughter cut off abruptly.
Draka lowered his head. He stared blankly at the black filth staining the snow. There was no trace of his former fervor in those eyes.
'He's lost his purpose. His tenacity. Everything.'
His pride was shattered.
His dreams lay in pieces.
Nothing remained for him. I stared silently at Draka's hollow, empty gaze.
『The contract is established.』
The star didn't stay silent.
It whispered the outcome of the deal in a matter-of-fact tone. I let the words go in one ear and out the other. It wasn't anything worth committing to memory, and besides, I already knew it all. I simply looked at the superhuman before me.
"...Tch."
I clicked my tongue for no real reason.
He was someone who deserved death, a situation that could even be called karmic retribution... but that didn't stop the bitterness from filling my mouth.
'Would it have been different if I'd explained in more detail?'
A meaningless what-if.
The facts I could share were just a handful anyway. I couldn't even properly pronounce most of the knowledge I'd gleaned from Kardi's archive.
'Even if I'd explained it vaguely, beating around the bush...'
The Sword Ghost wouldn't have listened.
Like anyone on the verge of fulfilling a lifelong wish, his eyes had already drifted far away.
'A life marching straight toward a predestined tragedy.'
A flicker of sympathy welled up for that life... but recalling Draka's deeds soured it into something far more complicated. It didn't boil down to a single sentiment.
'Life's always been like this...'
Everything had wrapped up so neatly lately that I'd almost forgotten.
'Battlefields were full of this sort of thing.'
Stickiness was the norm there.
Everyone had their stories. Plenty had endured tragedies. Burying those who'd turned traitor amid their suffering with my own hands... it wasn't a pleasant memory. Not in the slightest.
「I'm no superhuman like you ashen ones.」
「No amount of effort over a lifetime could reach it. Because we can't reach it, we're just consumables, sacrificed for the likes of you! For you—for you!」
"......"
「I wanted to live for myself, too.」
「I just wanted a life where I was the lead, not one sacrificed for the greater good...」
I closed my eyes for a moment.
A queasy discomfort settled in my gut.
But it wouldn't last. I'd been through it too many times before. People wear down with experience.
"...Hoo."
I let out a short breath.
Bitter taste in my mouth, tangled thoughts in my head—duties still had to be done. As always.
"Contract."
I spoke.
Stellar light answered my voice.
『Command.』
A bond of enslavement, forged by contract.
With his ego erased, Draka would become a puppet moving at my will. He'd obey any order. I gave mine.
"Deprive."
Draka's body went limp, like a marionette with cut strings.
'Now...'
Best to contact Kalt.
I couldn't hand Draka over to the Knight Commander myself. I pulled a letter from my pocket.
「Encountered Sword Ghost Draka in the North.」
I paused while scribbling, hand halting. I could already picture Kalt's horrified reply.
But I paid it no mind.
I gave the Sword Ghost one last look.
The superhuman of the sword. A superhuman.
'What is a superhuman?'
Those who surpass human limits.
They are called superhumans because they transcend humanity.
They accomplish what humans cannot.
'But...'
Even so, superhumans are still human.
Just ordinary mortals bound by the star's rules.
'That's what makes it meaningful.'
Uncle Kuntel's parting words.
I mulled over the meaning packed into that single line. It tasted different from the first time I'd heard it.
2.
Time flows.
Events gradually resolve.
The Northern warriors captured the holy knights alive. Berlang, called Ironwall, stared blankly at the cardinal's corpse before cooperating with the Northern warriors.
"We're heretics."
"We tried to perform forbidden alchemy."
"We merely borrowed the Delorim Church's name."
They called themselves heretics.
They testified it was independent action, utterly unconnected to the Delorim Church... but no one bought it. Though no one believed them, the Delorim Church excommunicated them permanently.
'They cut off the tail.'
Everyone thought so.
Suspicion turned toward the church. They denied any ties to the end and paid massive reparations to the North.
"What bullshit."
But Eryahl didn't let it end there.
He smashed the table of high priests gathered there with his bare fist, laying down threats.
"The North is home to berserkers who know nothing but battle. They're not under my control. If they raid the church, it won't be the North's fault, right?"
He jerked his chin.
"Conveniently, one's right here."
The first seat among the Thirteen Warriors.
Berek of Madness.
"Even if Berek slaughters you all here, I bear no responsibility. True?"
The high priests' faces drained of color.
"Well, compensation? We can pay whatever."
Eryahl wiggled a finger.
Berek strode toward the table. The pale priests hurriedly added conditions. Eryahl eyed them and added one final warning.
"Never set foot in the North again."
If they ignored the warning.
"The North will wage total war on the Delorim Church."
Not an empty threat. Knowing that, the high priests nodded, cold sweat beading on their brows. Around that time, the incident was wrapping up back in the Delorim Church's homeland.
「Are you insane? Senior?」
"This fucker says nothing's impossible. You crazy?"
Gale-force winds were blowing in the North.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"Respected senior."
「Yes.」
"I trust you immensely. I see you as a profoundly rational, calculating, and cool-headed mage."
「I suppose I am, somewhat.」
"......"
「What the fuck.」
"...A-anyway. Lately, even I—a person like that—have been harboring one doubt."
「Speak.」
"Truth be told, far from cool-headed, aren't you actually highly emotional, acting on a 'just go for it' impulse...? An utterly irreverent thought, I know."
「Reflect on that.」
"In that case, senior."
Kalt spoke in a quavering voice.
"Would you please explain the situation in greater detail, so this foolish junior can lay his suspicions to rest?"
Via the Black Mage Tower's mana communicator, Kalt continued his call with Raniel up North, his neck practically snapping backward in stress. A few days prior, he'd received a single letter.
'Encountered Sword Ghost Draka in the North.'
The letter's phrasing was elegant.
But peel back one layer... and the contents promised Kalt weeks of overtime hell.
"What accident did you cause this time?"
「Do you think I cause trouble every damn day?」
"Statistically, nine out of ten times you two meet, something explodes. Can I cling to that 10% chance, senior?"
「Uh......」
"You didn't blow up some terrain again, did you? I hope not. I really don't want to handle map revisions too."
During the call, Raniel glanced out the window. She gazed at the towering Kurakt Mountains—or more precisely, at the severed ridgeline.
'Hmm......'
A trace barely visible if she squinted.
That it was visible from so far away was the real issue... but Raniel decided not to dwell on it.
「No need to worry.」
She nodded and replied.
「It's not noticeable.」
"Oh, please."
Kalt panicked.
He tore at his hair, demanding explanations from Raniel. What exactly happened? What about Draka?
"Please, senior, explain..."
As Kalt unleashed his barrage of questions, a weary voice came through the receiver.
「Hard to explain over words.」
"...Pardon?"
That was the moment. Kalt's instincts blared wildly.
Standing on the boundary between mortal and superhuman, Kalt had dipped a toe into superhuman senses. Those senses screamed a warning louder than ever.
'Don't let her continue.'
The instant Kalt reflexively opened his mouth.
Raniel beat him to it.
「Just come see for yourself.」
She said in a gentle tone.
「Yeah, that'll be much easier.」
The call cut off with a click before Kalt could respond. He stared blankly at the beeping mana communicator.
"Ugh, ughhh......"
Kalt clutched his bangs and groaned.
"Senior, please!"
His unexpected Northern business trip had just been decided.
Kalt's screams wouldn't reach Raniel.
Only the Black Mage Tower Lord, Yetual, who was nearby, clicked his tongue in pity. Yetual patted Kalt's shoulder and offered advice.
"It's an old truth: bosses need 'sensible' subordinates. You have it rough. Truly."
A line that struck at Kalt's heart.
3.
Days passed since the incident.
Rak van Grace focused solely on recovery. The White Mage Tower Lord had panicked and poured every potion imaginable into him, so it didn't take long.
That said, he still had to hole up in his room. The doctor's stern warning: absolute rest until his broken bones knit.
"...Umm."
Couldn't train when he should be.
He'd normally gripe... but not now. Rak closed his eyes. They conjured a vast snowfield.
Snowfield.
Bloodstains marring the pristine white expanse.
A lone swordsman standing over them.
Crunch.
Snow crunching underfoot.
The swordsman swings his blade down from above. A concise motion. Concise, thus perfect. Sword aura erupts from the guillotine-like edge.
Shrieeeek!
Sword aura raking toward him, clawing the snowy mountain.
He watches it approach, then moves. Foot steps forward, drawn-back arm swings the axe. Fluid motion. Faster than ever. Unbelievably so.
'Impossible movement.'
A fleeting instant transcending his body's limits.
Rak replayed that moment endlessly.
'Unfamiliar.'
An alien sensation, unforgettable.
In that instant, Rak saw the wall.
A colossal barrier between him and the Sword Ghost. Too high to climb, too sturdy to break. Rak reached for it.
'Still out of reach.'
Only touched it briefly amid the unique desperation of oncoming death. Reaching now, fingertips fall short. It felt distant.
'For now.'
For now, at least.
A wall he must reach someday. Must shatter. Rak seared its shape into his mind and opened his eyes.
"...Then."
Rak muttered blankly.
The more he recalled the scene, the more a question swelled within him. He voiced it aloud.
"What is Professor Lania's true identity?"
Even someone as dense as Rak couldn't ignore it now. Draka was the superhuman of the sword. No ordinary mage could defeat him.
'...No way.'
One guess flashed through his mind.
A guess quite close to the truth, in Rak's reckoning.