Chapter 275
Chapter 275
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 275
Chapter Title: The Undying Human (1)
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The coffin-shaped cross that Kariot carried was originally a scabbard designed for a single sword. He had stored his pitch-black, cross-shaped greatsword inside it.
"Well, that's what I say, but..."
Kariot opened his mouth as he slung the coffin over his shoulder.
"That doesn't mean I can just send capable guys back from the battlefield just because they're young. Back in the day, I was stubborn about that myself and got my ass handed to me."
Kariot tugged at the cross hanging around his neck.
"To act on what you believe is right, you need power. Beliefs without power are just delusions."
"...I think the same way."
"Yeah, that's why I'm aiming to become a superhuman, Hero."
Those who aspire to become superhumans each have their own convictions. Their own goals. For some, it's revenge; for others, keeping a promise; for yet others, a rematch.
Kariot is no different.
He too has a promise to keep and a purpose to fulfill. That's why he seeks to become a superhuman. Fiddling with his cross pendant, Kariot continued.
"If I become a superhuman, the strongest in the world... then I can say it with confidence, right?"
He let out a smirk.
"Get the hell off the battlefield, you weak little brats. Until you've had your fun and lived it up, this old man will hold the line."
Kariot's smile was refreshing.
More like a neighborhood uncle than a soldier who'd spent twenty years in the demonic realm, he said with a grin.
"How cool is that? That's my dream. The dream I promised my wife."
"...Is that so?"
"Yeah. So, listen."
Step.
Kariot took a step forward and spread his arms wide.
One arm around Garahal's neck, the other around Lania's, he spoke in a subdued voice.
"Quit moping around like you've already lived full lives, you young punks. It hurts this old man's heart to see guys who haven't even tasted life yet scowling like they're about to drop dead."
Like men about to die.
Garahal and Lania fell silent at those words. They hit too close to home. Seeing their stiffening faces, Kariot gave a wry smile.
"Life ain't that big a deal."
He patted their shoulders lightly and released them.
"Live it up. Have fun while you're at it."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ 2.
Kariot's trials occurred every other day, and there was a good reason for that.
"Sorry, but this sword can only be used once every thirty-seven hours. It's a bit complicated to explain..."
"I heard about it from Brother Raniel. Go ahead."
I nodded.
I knew the properties of the magic sword Kariot wielded... or as he claimed, the holy sword—the cross-shaped blade.
'Thirty-seven seconds, and a thirty-seven-hour restriction.'
A magic sword usable for 37 seconds, cycling every 37 hours. The rule was absolute, with no exceptions even in the trials of the Holy Grail.
"Thanks for understanding, miss."
"How are the trials going?"
"Hm, not easy, as expected. If I'm to settle it, I have to do it within 37 seconds, and that's no small feat."
After one trial attempt, Kariot stroked his chin and said.
"Still, I can see a path forward."
"Really?"
"It's been about ten years since I hit the wall, and it's already pretty cracked. I'm starting to glimpse super-sensation too."
Having survived the battlefield for so long, Kariot was close to superhuman. He'd even awakened a faint super-sensation, so his chances of passing the trial seemed high.
"What form did the trial take?"
"Hm, do I have to say? If it's necessary, I will."
Kariot scratched the back of his head sheepishly at my question.
His reaction suggested it was something he didn't want invaded, so I didn't press.
"Thanks for the consideration, miss."
During his stay at Cateron Castle, Kariot mingled well with the knights without issue. He even sparred with them occasionally and fit right in... but.
"You there."
Some people just don't fit in with others, no matter what.
"Come here for a sec."
Saintess Sara.
It had been three days since the pink-haired wench arrived at Cateron Castle with Kariot. She called me aside alone.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "Am I your dog? You think I'll come just 'cause you call?"
"Speak for yourself, you virgin wizard's disciple. Why do you always talk like such trash? Got a rag in your mouth or something?"
With my right hand, I flipped her off; with my left, I pointed two fingers at Sara. It was a profoundly blasphemous gesture loaded with curses, but it didn't seem effective.
"Your mannerisms are exactly like Raniel's... Ugh, whatever."
Sara swept back her hair with a tired look.
"I don't want to talk to you either."
"Then why the hell did you call me? Ruining my mood."
"Kyle has a message for you. I'm just here to deliver it."
...That guy Kyle?
Sara sighed and pulled a necklace from her robe. At the end of the worn chain hung a rusted bronze trinket. It was an old bauble no one could call elegant, even politely... but.
The moment I saw it, my brow furrowed.
"...He told you to give this to me?"
"More precisely, to your master Raniel. You know what this is? I've seen Kyle wearing it a few times..."
Of course I knew.
A few years after our hometown burned down, we returned. Amid the ashes that day, we salvaged a few unburnt items, and this necklace was one of them.
"It's a memento. Father gave it to Mother as a gift, but now it's become a memento."
Kyle had said.
Then he strung the soot-stained bronze trinket and hung it around his neck. I still remember the bitter expression on his face then.
"I won't forget. Never."
No subject, but it wasn't hard to understand.
'I won't forget the tragedy that befell our hometown.'
Kyle seemed to swear it to himself, wearing his parents' memento.
'But.'
Why give it to me now?
Does it mean he's reneged on his vow? That he's forgotten? If not, what does it mean?
I couldn't read his intent.
I looked up at Sara, brow furrowed. She dangled the necklace in front of me.
"Didn't you hear me? You know what it is?"
"Don't you?"
"No clue. Kyle just handed it over with no explanation. Said to pass it to you."
She apparently hadn't been told about it.
I snatched the necklace from her dangling hand.
"Quit shaking it."
"...What? It's just some old necklace anyway."
"You really... Hoo, forget it."
I sighed and swept back my hair.
"No other words? Like a message or something."
"I told you, just the necklace."
"That doesn't sound like him."
He'd usually add some smug remark or a meaningful quip. As I pondered the necklace, Sara spoke up.
"...Hey, you."
Sara stepped toward me.
"What the hell are you?"
She pointed at me.
"Why do you talk like you know Kyle so well? What's your deal with him?"
Her voice was irritable, shedding her saintly facade. Sara's sharp tone dripped with raw emotion.
'Sounds just like that elf bitch's voice from early in our travels when we were scrapping...'
There was a time Sara and Remia tore at each other's hair with Kyle in the middle. The snappish tone Sara used on Remia back then... matched the one she spat at me now.
'...Why?'
I blinked, baffled.
Her irritation made sense, but what seeped through was blatant jealousy. Jealousy toward someone who had what she didn't.
Why jealous of me?
"Some nobody, just 'cause you're that virgin wizard's disciple... Tsk."
Sara clicked her tongue.
"Quit flirting with Kyle, okay?"
...What?
"What'd you say?"
I tilted my head.
"What was that?"
"Don't flirt. Think acting all haughty will get Kyle's attention? Honestly..."
Don't flirt?
My head tilted further.
"Me? Flirting? With that bastard?"
"No?"
Sara snorted.
"That's how it looks to anyone."
Whoa.
"Whoa... Hold on. Whoa, no..."
I let out a hollow laugh, rubbing my face.
The laugh turned to fury in an instant.
"Are you fucking insane?"
Come here, you bitch.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ 3.
"Ugh, uuuugh!"
Sara stared at her reflection in the mirror, stomping the floor with her heels repeatedly.
"That crazy bitch, fucking crazy...!"
Her pristine skin was bruised, and her glossy pink hair was a mess. All because that lunatic yanked her hair and punched her face.
She bit her lip hard.
Chanting a holy spell, Sara healed herself. The beauty magic developed for cosmetics swiftly reduced the swelling and restored shine to her hair. But the chunks ripped out wouldn't regrow. Even a saintess's spells couldn't restore lost hair.
"Lania, Lania van Trias..."
Chewing the girl's name, Sara ground her teeth.
She couldn't figure her out. Who else but Raniel could trash a saintess like this?
"It really isn't Raniel?"
Close to the truth, but Sara shook her head to dismiss it. Delorim had declared changes to soul and body 'impossible,' so it couldn't be.
'Kyle, Remia too...'
They treated the girl special.
Lately, even Remia avoided badmouthing her, saying, 'She's a human cherished by the Elf's Benefactor.'
That attitude grated on Sara.
She hated Kyle taking interest in that unremarkable girl, hated her acting aloof in front of him.
But most infuriating of all was.
Kyle's changed demeanor since meeting the girl.
"Hoo..."
Sara pressed her brow and let out a long sigh. There was something she didn't know. She'd thought she knew Kyle best, but now she knew nothing.
Mid-sigh, Sara swallowed hard. Something caught her eye.
"......"
She narrowed her eyes.
Her gaze angled downward. Her star-blessed eyes immediately pinpointed the sinister. In her green irises, she saw mist.
Something lurked in the mist.
Something ominous emerged.
Silently, holding a single sword.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ The underground waterway stretching from Cateron Castle.
The soldiers guarding it suddenly opened their eyes at distant footsteps.
"...Hear those steps?"
"Yeah, me too."
The soldiers opened their eyes one by one.
They strained to listen toward the sound.
'One person.'
Footsteps of a single individual.
As the rhythmic steps grew closer, a foul stench hit them. Frowning, the soldiers grabbed their spears leaned against the waterway wall.
The smell of rotting flesh.
The stench of something neither dead nor alive.
Undead.
Had a single undead crept into the underground waterway? Frowning, the soldiers fixed their eyes on the approaching figure.
One's no big deal.
Darkness obscured the undead's form. But it had to be killed regardless. One soldier stepped forward.
"Quickly kill it and rest."
Muttering, he thrust his spear at the undead. Thud. Something fell.
It was the soldier's head.
Spurt!
Blood sprayed as the soldier's body tilted sideways. Then, splash. It sank into the waterway.
"...Huh?"
The soldiers' eyes widened.
Too late, they thrust their spears, but it was far too late.
Thud, splash.
Light sounds echoed repeatedly.
No one screamed. Heads severed in single strokes, the soldiers' bodies sank into the waterway.
"Wh-what!"
A knight behind them rushed forward, gripping his weapon. Beyond the falling bodies, the undead's face entered his view.
"...Why you?"
Facing that face, terror washed over the knight.
That was it.
Another light thud, and the knight crumpled. Natural enough. Before a superhuman's sword, knight or soldier was just human.
The black sword swung ceaselessly.
No sword aura cloaked it, yet its edge carved the waterway walls, slicing all obstacles effortlessly. No one saw the blade's trajectory. Unseen, it couldn't be blocked.
The result was unflashy. Quiet.
Only the waterway's flow echoed.
The water had turned dark red unnoticed. Human corpses floated atop it.
Thud, thud again.
No stopping the repeated sounds.
Sinking in the waterway, the knight stared vacantly at the undead's back. At the figure too profane to call undead.
The strongest in human history since ancient times.
The only human to reach the Sword of Death.
The last survivor of Sword Valley.
But now, a fallen superhuman.
Sword Superhuman Kuntel.
He had returned to Cateron Castle.