Chapter 284
Chapter 284
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 284
Chapter Title: Hero, Gallahal (3)
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◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ The apostate, Gletus, stares right at me.
The one who should be dead is still alive.
A human who wouldn't be out of place dying dozens of times over is charging straight at her with eyes wide open. His body is, of course, a total wreck.
One arm torn clean off.
One eye gouged out.
A leg shattered, hobbling along.
His face, which has vomited up blood countless times, is now not just pale but ghostly white.
She was an apostate who had seen countless corpses.
A saintess who, in her time as a priestess, had healed innumerable people.
To her eyes, the human charging toward her was already dead. He was resisting with one foot in the grave.
'Not trying to pull away from death.'
Because he couldn't die just yet.
Because there was something he had to accomplish.
He was simply resisting until the very last moment.
The sight of resisting encroaching death usually turned ugly, but no one could dare call this sight ugly. The image of a human charging forward, splattering blood, was eerie... and sublime.
The hero, Gallahal.
The apostate chews over that name.
She remembers the name of the human who, after hundreds of years, was worthy of being called a hero.
'Ah, how...'
What a beautiful scene.
Could a human burning away their life, staking it all for others, shine so brilliantly? This was true salvation.
Saintess Glerea Bell Armias.
The defiled saintess has her gaze stolen by that radiant glow. Tears stream down her face at the light she once longed for but can no longer wish for.
Slash.
Every time he vomits blood, every time a chunk of flesh peels away, Gallahal accelerates. His steps grow faster, the spear blade he swings sharper. In Gallahal, the apostate sees the figure of her old comrade.
To cleave what could not be cleaved.
To reach what could not be reached.
The first hero, who had staked everything, swung his sword until the moment half his body was torn away. A right-handed swordsman who lost his right hand, delivering his final blow with his left—it ultimately severed the king's flesh.
Now, that history from the past is reenacted.
Radiant light flickers.
When the light that ravaged everything fades, nothing remains before the apostate. Amid the demonic beast corpses pattering to the ground, Gallahal thrusts his spear blade.
She thought it wouldn't reach, yet it does.
The demonic beasts guarding her are all gone, and the masterpiece she created is currently under repair. No more demonic beasts remain in the apostate's grasp. Tens of thousands of them—Gallahal has cleaved them all.
'It's over.'
She has lost.
She has no choice but to admit that fact. The apostate sighs as she gazes at the spear blade right before her eyes. The human has won, and she has lost. So, being pierced and killed by that spear would be the natural order.
The apostate herself wishes for that as well.
A human bearing radiant light.
A human resembling her old comrade. Meeting her end at such a human's hands is one of her long-held desires.
⚙ DIVINE EDICT ⚙ 【■■ will ■■■■.】 However, that is impossible.
The shadow will not permit the apostate death.
The god desires for her to live and suffer.
For her soul to scream eternally. That is the price of the contract, the karma she must pay. Since the god wills it so, it shall be.
Yet the star desires for the apostate to die.
As the two gods' wills clash, the god the apostate serves makes a choice. The god sends his mightiest warrior here.
⚙ DIVINE SUMMONS ⚙ “■■■■, ■■.” The apostate's mouth opens of its own accord.
The language pouring from her mouth is overheard by the star and the shadow. The shadow pays the price in her stead.
Riiip.
The air tears open, the flow of air reverses.
Death comes.
The judge who dies yet cannot stay dead comes.
The once most radiant human comes.
The first sword saint, now fallen, comes.
Screeech, screeeeech.
The moment space twists and an arm begins to emerge.
Flash—a burst of light explodes behind the apostate. In slowed time, she cannot turn around. Yet even without looking, she knows the nature of this light.
The miracle she once used herself.
The mightiest miracle, born when the star's blessing resonates with a soul indebted to the star. Who wields that miracle? No need to see.
The girl she thought would be too terrified to act.
That girl was vomiting blood as she unleashed the flash.
2.
Chloe sees Gallahal.
Unlike herself, who finds even breathing difficult before the calamity, trembling... there stands a hero confronting the calamity head-on.
"Cough, urk."
Chloe watches the figure she admired vomiting blood, dying. She witnesses his final blaze as his body burns itself out.
Where lies the cause of that death?
It is right here with her.
That fact pains Chloe deeply.
Someone superior to her sacrificing themselves to save her. In this moment, echoing in Chloe's ears are the words once spoken by a certain hero.
「A hero is someone who lives off the blood of others.」
Now she understands that saying.
Only now does she grasp the agonized expression Destel wore back then. It hurts. Truly. Chloe bites her lip hard.
She hates her own powerlessness.
She hates that she can do nothing, forcing others to shed their blood for her. It had always been this way. The image of Belnoa, covered in blood, saving her, flickers before Chloe's eyes.
Nothing has changed since then. Nothing at all.
Hating her powerless self, Chloe slowly raises her arm. Watching the hero battle the calamity, the girl inspired by the hero extends her trembling hand.
To be of help.
To do something, anything.
⭐ STAR'S WHISPER ⭐ 【......】 【...You desire it?】 【Then, follow after me.】 That instant.
Someone whispers into Chloe's ear.
It sounds like the star's voice, yet unlike the star's dry tone, it's a soft, human voice. It resembles her own voice.
Someone grasps Chloe's arm.
It moves her hand, wrapped around hers. Thus, the pattern Chloe's fingers trace is the first circuit. The circuit of the origin from tens of thousands of years ago.
The miracle by the first guide who led the star, who burned away the shadows cast upon the earth.
That miracle now unfolds through Chloe's hand.
Starlight bursts from the circuit. It is unlike the starlight Chloe knew. Unlike softly rippling starlight, this is rough starlight like raging rapids.
Unrefined, raw starlight.
That starlight is still weak.
Compared to the miracle used by the ancient guide and the first saintess, it is pathetically small. Yet that light undoubtedly reaches the apostate.
Just as a small light drove back shadows in the beginning.
The light repels the shadow resembling darkness.
The death extending from space halts. The arm stops for a mere instant. However, every battle is decided in such instants.
"...Ah."
The apostate lets out a laugh. With the laugh, a mouthful of blood spews from her mouth.
Thud.
The broken holy spear embeds into the apostate's heart.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Bloomed super senses.
Myriad futures flashing before her eyes.
Gallahal seizes one thread of those futures.
Gallahal's spear blade embeds into the apostate's heart. For the first time since the fight began, the apostate vomits blood. Not stopping there, Gallahal drives the spear even deeper.
Snap.
Something breaks.
Immediately after, the apostate vomits blood once more. Blood flows from her crimson-stained eyes. Yet she laughs as if in utmost joy.
"You've won, child."
"So, stop. Ganikalt."
Gallahal lifts his head.
A blade is aimed at his throat. Gripping the silently approaching sword is death itself. Death's sword, Ganikalt, glares at Gallahal.
He has held the sword in his left hand from the start.
Whether it's respect for a dying warrior or wariness toward a worthy foe, who can say. Ganikalt silently sheathes his blade.
"......"
Yet he still watches Gallahal. Gallahal shows no fear in Ganikalt's gaze. For he is already resisting the death approaching.
"Cough."
Vomiting blood, Gallahal releases the spear blade.
Yet he does not fall. Staggering past the apostate, he walks. Behind her lies the collapsed Chloe.
"I've come to save you, Chloe."
Forcing a smile, Gallahal helps Chloe to her feet. Then, with the unconscious Chloe on his back, he begins to walk. His staggering steps are unsteady.
Blood pours with every step.
Rejecting the death right before him, Gallahal walks. He covers the distance he charged, step by step. Two watch him depart.
"Your name."
The first hero asks.
The first saintess answers.
"Gallahal."
She adds.
"The hero."
Bleeding, she smiles.
As if utterly delighted by this situation.
She recalls what she lost in this battle.
Much. Far too much.
All her demonic beasts are gone.
Her pride, the armored dragon, and the horde amassed over centuries—none remain. The shadow will no longer pay in her stead, forced to watch her death.
"Ha, ahaha."
Facing death truly upon her, the apostate smiles.
A broken laugh seeps through her teeth endlessly. Like bleeding, the apostate laughs.
Death's sword lifts her with one arm.
Ganikalt gazes at Gallahal's receding back.
The first superhuman instantly recognizes the realm Gallahal attained. Beholding a true peer met after centuries, Ganikalt quietly says.
"You've cleaved the wall."
The realm reached only by him in human history.
Toward one who achieved the same, Ganikalt pays respects.
As a swordsman, and once a hero.
3.
Gallahal walks and walks.
Lost senses return one by one.
Pain returns first. The agony of his body crumbling defies words. Grinding his teeth, Gallahal moves his feet.
One step, another step.
Toward the distant-seeming passage.
His once light body is now heavy. So heavy that each step requires catching his breath.
'Not yet.'
Unable to collapse, Gallahal endures the pain and walks. Not much remains now.
『He stood because he could not fall.』
Amusingly, what surfaces now is a hero tale from childhood.
『A hero is one who fells enemies. A sword that cleaves calamity, they say. But I thought differently.』
The salvific hero, Ganyur.
He who saved countless humans said.
『Saving people.』
『Protecting humans from calamity.』
『Salvation is the value a hero must pursue.』
Not to kill, but to save—that conviction Gallahal chewed over as he lived. Even weak as he was compared to others, he believed he could be a hero who saves someone.
That there was something he could do.
That there was reason in the star granting power to one like him. Believing, always believing, Gallahal lived.
Did that life have value?
At its end, did he find his answer?
'I've found the answer.'
There was value, undoubtedly.
The path walked, the life endured—they prop up Gallahal's crumbling body. They add one more second to his waning time.
One second, then another.
Gallahal finally reaches the door.
Raniel stands before it. The moment their eyes meet, Raniel's pupils waver.
"Raniel."
Gallahal smiles.
"I kept the promise."
Saved her.
Muttering that, Gallahal sets Chloe down outside the door. At that instant, he spews blood. His vision blurs.
"I've... saved her..."
With those final words, Gallahal's body tilts.
Raniel catches the falling Gallahal. His body is chillingly cold, horrifyingly light.
Too light.
Too cold.
Impossible to believe it was a living human's body.
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