Chapter 294
Chapter 294
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 294
Chapter Title: The Prophecy Points to Death (6)
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◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Sarah had failed to convince Kyle.
Kyle's attitude was utterly inflexible, and on this matter, he acted as though he wouldn't entertain a single counterargument. No matter what Sarah said, Kyle refused to listen.
Whether she lashed out in anger, shed tears, or clutched his arm and begged, nothing worked.
"If Raniel goes there, then I have to go too."
That was all Kyle would say. As if it were simply his duty. Sarah couldn't comprehend that rigid stance at all.
"Then why did you kick her out in the first place?"
Raniel's ambitions had been far too grand.
She no longer wanted to risk her life.
She'd wanted to pull away from the dangers, so she'd expelled Raniel from the party. So why now was she trying to plunge back into the jaws of death?
"Because I have to."
That was all Kyle replied.
He offered nothing more. At some point, Sarah felt the wall between her and Kyle more intensely than ever before.
...After years of grueling travel, Sarah's patience and resolve had worn threadbare. She no longer saw the Hero as infallible, nor did she strive to fulfill her duties as a Saintess.
If pushing didn't work, she let go.
She didn't waste effort on lost causes.
Once she'd started living that way, it felt far more comfortable than before.
A life laced with resignation and surrender was sweeter than one fueled by grit and obsession. Sarah had thrived in that sweetness. But even now, in this moment, she couldn't bring herself to do it.
"You'll die."
If she gave up now too, she'd lose everything.
"Kyle will die. You too. In the north, you'll charge straight at the Sword of Death—and that thing will be gripping its blade in its left hand."
She'd lose Kyle.
"The Sword of Death, holding its sword in its left hand. You know exactly what that means better than I do. You won't survive it. You'll die. You'll definitely die. It's not like last time."
Sarah hated even picturing it.
"It's nothing like the time Kyle held out. He won't be able to swing his sword like he did then, and you won't pull off anything that reckless either."
So she'd do what she could.
Sarah dropped to her knees and pleaded with her old comrade.
"I've... no, I've wronged you so many times. I know that. I know you were always right, and I was always wrong."
Prideful as Sarah was, in this moment, she set all that aside. She cast everything away and bowed her head before the former comrade she'd once despised.
"I'm sorry. Forgive me. I was wrong. So please—just this once—grant my request."
...Like so many who climb to great heights—and especially as the figurehead of the Delorhim Church—Sarah had never bowed her head to anyone. She was, after all, God's stand-in on earth.
So this was her first time.
The first time she'd ever knelt and lowered her head to another. Even as she surrendered for the first time, Sarah felt no humiliation.
"Please, Raniel."
If prostrating herself would solve this, she could smash her forehead against the floor a hundred times over.
But Sarah knew better.
"Please, please..."
This wouldn't sway Raniel.
She knew a plea like this would never move Raniel, who lived her life with unyielding integrity. And yet, knowing full well, Sarah had come anyway.
"......"
Silence hung in the air.
Raniel offered no reply. Sarah couldn't tell if it meant refusal or something else entirely.
Sarah slowly lifted her head.
Her pale pink locks fluttered in her head's wake. Peering through the swaying strands, Sarah looked ahead.
There stood Raniel.
Her old comrade, transformed beyond recognition.
Sarah's green eyes met Raniel's blue ones. And in that moment, Sarah realized it suddenly: the way Raniel looked at her was utterly different from before.
2.
After Chloe's name began spreading in earnest, she found herself crossing paths with renowned knights more often. They were witnesses to her investiture ceremony, men who remembered Garahal's glory.
Before them, Chloe poured her all into proving her worth. Some applauded; others sighed in relief that the flame hadn't yet guttered out.
The attention thrilled Chloe but weighed on her too.
It felt like the load on her shoulders grew heavier by the day. It was during one such routine of daily life and studies that another visitor arrived.
*Slap slap*.
After smacking her cheeks a couple times to steel her expression, Chloe opened the door. She was about to greet her guest as the Hero candidate set to inherit Garahal's mantle.
"...Belnoa?"
Chloe's eyes went wide at the figure in the doorway. It was her childhood friend Belnoa—the one she hadn't seen much of in recent months.
"You got time?"
"Uh, y-yeah."
Belnoa slipped inside and took a seat while Chloe floundered. After gauging Chloe's reaction from her spot, Belnoa forced the words out.
"Ch-Chloe."
Awkwardness thick in the air, Belnoa pressed on.
"...You heading back to the battlefield or anything?"
"Not yet... I don't think. I'll focus on classes for now. Though I might drop by every few months—battlefield or knight gatherings."
"Got it."
Belnoa exhaled sharply.
"Then let's go together."
"...Huh?"
"Together. Battlefield, whatever. If you've got meetings, don't go alone—take me."
Chloe blinked.
Belnoa averted her gaze sheepishly and scratched the back of her head before continuing.
"...I'm the Black Mage Tower Lord's prized pupil, after all. I can tag along to most places. And I'd be useful on the battlefield too."
As she pitched herself, an odd embarrassment washed over Belnoa. Glancing at Chloe, she mumbled,
"Forget it if you hate the idea."
"...N-no? It's not that I hate it."
Chloe flailed her hands frantically and shook her head.
"Just caught me off guard..."
How should she respond?
What face should she make? Chloe nibbled her lip in thought. Moments later, she realized none of it mattered.
'...No need to put on an act even around Belnoa.'
She wasn't here as the Hero.
Just hanging out with a close friend... Did she really need to overthink every move? No, she didn't.
"Um, er..."
Chloe hesitated, then
"Yeah."
nodded with a smile.
"Yeah, sounds good."
The grin Chloe flashed was the one Belnoa knew so well—the carefree Chloe who laughed at nothing back at old man Cardi's shop.
"Truth is, it's been kinda rough."
Chloe murmured.
"All so sudden, and everyone's got these huge expectations... Feels like I gotta deliver more. Shoulders keep tensing up for no reason..."
As she spoke, the strain melted from Chloe's posture. Her voice softened, natural.
"But this feels nice."
Nice.
Belnoa stared at Chloe's easy murmur, then bowed her head low. Ignoring Chloe's puzzled "What's wrong?", Belnoa whispered,
"...Professor nailed it."
Hasn't changed a bit.
Just playacting.
The words rang true now, leaving Belnoa flushed with embarrassment.
"Hoo..."
Realizing her own foolish misunderstanding, Belnoa rubbed her eyes and sighed. She looked up.
"Chloe."
Meeting Chloe's gaze, Belnoa smiled.
"You said it yourself."
"Huh? Said what?"
"That it'd be great."
Belnoa jabbed her index finger into Chloe's dumbfounded forehead.
"Tell me not to come, and I'll follow anyway. I'll cling like gum. So don't shove me off."
Belnoa grinned impishly.
"Clingy types win everywhere."
3.
Figuring out the situation was simple.
The chiming magic tool. The flood of messages.
A few lines of text hovering over the missive were all Raniel needed. A prophet, unseen for decades, had foretold death in the north.
And that prophet stood before her now.
Raniel stared silently ahead. There knelt Sarah, head bowed to her—the proud Sarah, on her knees.
"......"
Impossible, Raniel thought.
The Sarah she knew was frivolously light. She'd never once pictured Sarah groveling, begging like this.
Not even in her wildest imagination.
And now it was happening, leaving Raniel flustered. She frowned at this unfamiliar side of Sarah.
'...Don't go north?
If I do, Kyle tags along?'
Hard to swallow. Kyle wouldn't pull something like that—or so Raniel believed. He was the type to fear facing monsters like the Sword of Death.
'But...'
Sarah's desperation suggested otherwise. Raniel tabled probing Kyle's motives and shot Sarah a look. Just then, Sarah raised her head.
Their eyes locked.
Sarah blinked, startled.
"...Raniel?"
"What."
"You gonna chase me out?"
"Debating it."
Sarah's confusion deepened.
"...No hair-grabbing drag-out?"
"What the hell do you take me for?"
Raniel shot her an incredulous look.
"High-and-mighty Saintess on her knees begging? Least I can do is hear her out."
Raniel nodded at the chair before her.
"Sit."
"...Pardon?"
"Sit down. Or keep your face in the dirt and talk."
Sarah approached hesitantly.
She didn't even brush the dust from her pristine white robes. Raniel inwardly tsked at the grime in her pink hair.
'That desperate, huh.'
First time seeing her like this.
Sarah, who quit at the drop of a hat. Sarah, who'd never uttered an apology. Sick of her brazen contradictions, Raniel hadn't thought her human.
Not anymore.
Still hated her guts, but hearing her out? Tolerable. So Raniel listened as Sarah detailed the prophecy.
"...So amid the ash heap, me and Kyle charging the Sword of Death?"
"...Yes."
"No death scene?"
"Couldn't see that far. Blizzard hit, blocked everything."
Raniel rubbed her chin.
"Wouldn't happen."
"...Pardon?"
"I wouldn't bull-rush the Sword of Death."
She rapped her knuckles.
"I'm a mage. Melee-capable? Sure. But mage first."
"...Meaning?"
"Dumbass, magic runs on mana. Buffs, close quarters—all mana-dependent."
But Ganikalt?
Raniel sighed.
"Spells bounce off. Mana fizzles. Get close, and every cast cuts out."
"You..."
"Saw it yourself. Why I tried burying him under a canyon from afar."
Ganikalt nullified spells.
Approach, and mana scattered.
"Me charging that monster? Makes sense to you?"
"...Prophecy says—"
"Then something changed."
Raniel propped her chin, muttering.
"Spells pierce Ganikalt. I can back Kyle up. That what it points to?"
Her eyes narrowed.
"Blizzard, you said."
Sarah nodded.
The prophecy always ended in blizzard. Like the snowfield inverting entirely...
"That ashfall?"
Sarah went quiet.
"Hey."
Raniel glared.
"You got it twisted. I don't bet my life on no-win fights."
Not even if it looked dicey to outsiders.
Even if it screamed suicide.
"Not without odds."
Raniel only wagered her life when odds appeared. She never hesitated on a sure bet.
"Must've had a shot."
"...But!"
"I know. Still a loss."
Chin on hand, Raniel continued.
"Kyle's current shape? Short. Me pulling miracles? Ganikalt walks. Think I don't get it?"
She did.
"Chasing it off, though? Maybe doable."
Topple mountains, flip plains—whatever it took, answers existed.
"Slim odds."
"Yeah."
"You'll die. Why keep—"
"You asking 'cause you don't know?"
Raniel sighed.
"Who else? Kelrhalim? Kariot? Draka? Destel?"
"...No."
"Or beg newbie Hero Chloe to hold the line?"
Impossible.
No.
She muttered,
"No one else. I've got a shot, so I go. Otherwise, everyone's dead."
But Raniel fixed Sarah with a stare.
"Kyle? Screw him. I'm going 'cause I say so. Not dragging that punk along."
"...Pardon?"
"No him? Improvise."
Raniel's smile turned bitter.
"Not guilting some spineless runaway into dying for us. Tell him stay put. Unneeded."
So.
"Don't guilt me. Should I tiptoe around that asshole Kyle? Everything I say turns to shit anyway."
Sarah sensed something off in that smile.
After a pause, she ventured,
"...You."
"What."
"Raniel?"
"Nah?"
Lania van Trias smiled.
"Aphria professor, Lania van Trias."
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