Chapter 305
Chapter 305
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 305
Chapter Title: Ways to Confront Death (4)
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A dragon roared from the sky.
The skeletal dragon casting its shadow resembled the Black Dragon Belial, which had reigned as a calamity for centuries. Several knights present knew that form all too well.
The Black Storm, the Black Dragon Belial.
The dragon now appearing before the refugees was that fearsome calamity's hatchling. Yet the knights sensed no nobility from it like they had from the Black Dragon.
Though several times larger than an average dragon, it was insignificant compared to that massive Black Dragon. Viscous slime dripped with every flap of its wings. Its outer hide tore and regenerated repeatedly, as if shedding its skin.
Everything about it differed from the Black Dragon.
Humanity had felt mythical terror from the Black Dragon Belial. An unstoppable calamity. A fear born of not knowing how to face something so immense. But from the dragon flying before them now, the knights felt no such dread.
What they felt was disgust.
An instinctive revulsion that overpowered any fear.
It was a creature far from perfection. Its body was composed of human corpses. Monster corpses. The dragon's form, stitched together from countless amalgamations, was utterly grotesque.
【■■, ■■■■■■.】
The cursed dragon opened its maw.
Within that gullet formed a circuit.
A circuit unlike any they had ever seen.
"What the hell is that...?"
The knights didn't recognize the circuit.
But they instinctively sensed the threat. Their spines prickled, and they hastily raised their shields. They didn't know what was coming, but they had to block it somehow.
It was the best judgment for knights.
But to Belnoa, who recognized the circuit, it was the worst possible choice. Belnoa moved in a flash. Her one standout trait from her slum childhood was her lightning-quick situational awareness.
"Offering."
With a sickening crunch, Belnoa's fingers twisted.
She held nothing back. In an instant, all ten fingers snapped, and shadows enveloped her body. What formed was shadow armor.
Thud.
Belnoa leaped off the knights' raised shields and swung her arm. Just as the cursed dragon's maw clamped shut, her shadow touched the circuit.
Screeech, skreeek■■■■ skreeek!
She couldn't erase it entirely.
Grinding her teeth, Belnoa twisted its direction. The curse aimed downward now shot skyward at an angle.
Kiiiiing!
A beam erupted from the black dragon's maw.
The beam, deflected by Belnoa, streaked obliquely into the heavens, dyeing the sky red. Clouds scattered.
The knights watching had their pupils quake.
Had Belnoa not altered its path, if that had struck their shields head-on... not even traces would remain.
And the boy who had deflected it—what of him?
It was hard to draw hope from his sight.
The boy plummeting from the sky had lost most of the shadows cloaking him. He looked far from unscathed.
"Ngh..."
Belnoa hit the ground like a falling stone, steadied himself, and looked up. His gaze fixed on the cursed dragon's wings.
'A curse...'
The moment the cursed dragon had opened its maw, Belnoa had glimpsed something being "offered." He hadn't known what then, but now he did.
A hole gaped in the cursed dragon's wing.
It sealed almost instantly, but what had filled it was human corpses turned to slime. Dozens of humans offered up—the black dragon had manifested its curse that way.
Chilling.
Deflecting the trajectory had cost all ten fingers. Yet the cursed dragon didn't stop. It opened its maw again and began flapping, its wings made of countless human corpses.
"Block it! Hold the line!"
"Refugees first...!"
The knights were frantic blocking the swarming ghouls. Behind them huddled those they had to protect.
"Kyaaack!"
One ghoul finally broke through and bit a refugee. A knight's thrust ended the ghoul, but the woman it bit was already dead.
Terror spread like contagion.
Screams erupted everywhere.
In this landscape turned to hell in an instant, someone stepped forward. Stood beside Belnoa. He turned to look.
"...Chloe?"
The Hero cloaked in platinum light.
The Hero of Holy Flow, Chloe.
She glared at the sky.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ 2.
Death swung its blade.
The sword tip didn't reach the sky, yet the sky cracked with a screech. It tore open. The eerie sound of the sky ripping was like a scream.
Kiiiiieeeek!
The star shining in the sky split.
A mere flaw, yet it severed something linked to the star, if only temporarily.
One sword stroke.
A raging wind then swept the area.
"Ugh...!"
Raniel crouched low to weather the gale. Once the blast subsided, she barely lifted her head. She turned to look beside her.
"Hey, Kyle! You okay...?"
The words didn't finish.
Kyle, bracing with his sword plunged into the ground, wore an odd expression. His gaze wavered.
"Kyle?"
"......"
Kyle looked at Raniel.
His wavering eyes slowly settled. The focused pupils now differed from moments ago. Yet to Raniel, it wasn't unfamiliar.
"...You?"
The Kyle from years ago, before meeting the Demon King.
The eyes of the Kyle before he broke.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ The contract severed.
Temporarily broken, the offerings made in exchange briefly returned to their places.
Thus, the Apostle of the Stars became human.
"Guh, hack."
Kyle gasped for blocked breath and raised his head.
What he saw was Raniel.
Meeting those blue eyes snapped Kyle back to his purpose amid the confusion. He never lost sight of it.
"Cough, guh."
Spitting out the clot of blood filling his mouth, Kyle steadied himself. His body felt heavy. Heavy, yet... his mind wasn't foggy as usual.
Clearer than ever.
He knew this wouldn't last.
The contract's severance was temporary; it was repairing itself even now. Feeling that, Kyle looked ahead.
"......"
There stood Death, silently watching him.
The trial he must overcome.
The condition to fulfill the contract, right before him.
"Use everything at your disposal."
Death's sword, Ganikalt, spoke.
"Starlight, magic, allies' aid—whatever. I won't stop you. Do it. A calamity must be withstood by any means."
It raised a human arm.
"But."
A finger pointed at Kyle.
"It must be your will alone. I have no desire to fell a star's puppet. What stands against me must be human, through and through."
A human upright by its own will.
"Move by your will."
Death stepped forward.
"Wield your sword by your will."
Thud, boom.
With each step, the ground cracked. Fissures spread through the valley. Before the approaching Death, Kyle felt fear.
"Swing your sword by your will."
Anything less held no meaning.
"That is a swordsman. That is human."
Human.
Proud human.
"Are you human... or slave?"
Death asked.
Facing the encroaching death, Kyle thought with his pure will. What he felt was fear. With the star's link dimmed, Kyle felt terror.
Powerless, helpless—a mere human unable to do anything.
Without the star, a simple human knew fear.
In that terror, what anchored Kyle's mind was the contract he'd forged by his own will. Faint now, but... he hadn't forgotten it.
"......"
Kyle glanced behind him.
There stood a girl with her mouth slightly agape, watching him. Raniel. Meeting her eyes, Kyle gave a wry smile.
In the end, his task was set.
Feeling fear, Kyle rose. He didn't answer Death's question with words. It had to be proven through action.
He reached for the holy sword he'd dropped sometime ago.
Kyle's fingers gripped the hilt. He pulled it free with force. He swung the smoothly drawn holy sword lightly.
Whoosh.
It no longer shone brilliantly as before.
Gripping the sword leaking faint light, Kyle assumed his stance. He exhaled, regulating his breath.
"I."
Kyle spoke.
Staring at Death, he declared.
"I am Kyle Toven."
It extended a conversation from long ago.
"Proud swordsman, disciple of Kuntel."
Kyle raised his holy sword.
Its tip aimed at the Death before him.
"Wield your sword, Ganikalt."
The human showed his will.
Trembling in fear, yet he didn't release the blade.
Death acknowledged that will with pride.
Whoosh.
Ganikalt lightly swung to shake off the filth caked on its blade. Ignoring the shadowy voice urging it to sweep away the rabble and claim the sword, Ganikalt gripped with its left hand and took its stance.
The same as Kyle's.
A sword art of the Sword Valley, forged by Ganikalt van Galatrick.
Same stance, same breath, same stride.
They moved toward each other simultaneously.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ 3.
"Remia, dagger."
Gazing at Kyle charging toward Death, Sara extended her hand to Remia.
"Why a dagger?"
"We need blood spilled."
Puzzled but compliant, Remia handed over the dagger.
Sara took it and slashed her forearm deeply. Her cherished garment tore, blood flowing down her arm to gather at her fingertips.
Drip, drip.
Red blood fell onto the snowfield.
Sara continued carving her body with the dagger, chanting prayers. She inscribed holy spells into the snow soaked with sacred blood.
"Please."
Sara prayed.
"Please..."
For one person alone, Sara prayed.
"Please... survive."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ In the valley where snow had evaporated, Kyle swung his sword. At the gale's center—where even the blizzard veered away—Kyle's blade traced a silver trajectory.
The path of his sword tip differed from before.
With starlight dimmed, Kyle's body couldn't move with its usual speed. He couldn't mimic superhumans' swordplay through sheer physical prowess. But now, more than ever, his mind was clear.
No regrets, no obsessions, no hesitations.
Kyle focused solely on wielding the sword.
Technique compensated for lacking physicality.
Recalling the sword's subtleties over raw speed and power, Kyle moved. Mimicking the countless superhuman blades he'd witnessed.
Clang!
Kyle's blade coiled around Ganikalt's greatsword like a whip. Wedging his sword into a hole in the greatsword, Kyle twisted his body, deflecting the trajectory.
Whoosh!
A sword stroke grazed overhead.
The valley crumbling behind him.
Each blow spelled death. Yet Kyle swung without hesitation. He knew hesitation meant death.
Clang, clang!
Swords clashed.
What Kyle unleashed with one blade was the Sword Valley's art learned from Kuntel. He wielded it with mastery.
Initial Strike Kill, Phantom Sword, Absolute Cut...
His opponent countered each technique in kind. Ganikalt, gripping the sword with its slender human arm, met him with even more refined forms. Naturally, Kyle was pushed back.
Sustaining the pressured Kyle were other techniques he'd observed, experienced, and learned.
「I'm a superhuman, but still human.」
「Think I'd beat you in spars with less strength and speed than you right now?」
The superhuman of the sword, Kuntel.
「I must show the Sword Valley's pride to Death's blade. Appease my dying masters' spirits.」
「But Valley techniques alone fall short. They're not for the weak against the strong.」
The human who had withstood Death with an aged body.
「A sword for humans against calamities.」
「A sword for the weak to pierce the strong.」
「Watch and learn. You'll need it someday.」
The sword he'd devised against Death.
Deflect, parry, infiltrate.
Kyle recalled it and swung.
"Hack!"
Far from perfect.
Spitting blood, tumbling across the ground, Kyle sprang up and charged Death again. Holding it in place. Allies aided him.
Moonlight arrows rained ceaselessly.
Blessings flowing over him replaced the faded starlight. Chains and spells filled his gaps at crucial moments.
Thus, Kyle connected second to second.
With each linked second, Kyle grew.
He witnessed the swordsman's flawless art. An infinitely perfect sword. The pinnacle swordsmen pursued. From it, Kyle gained insight.
He discarded flaws.
Corrected his movements.
Shed unnecessary force.
Minimized blade wobble.
Kyle's sword accelerated slightly. Still outmatched, but not utterly overwhelmed as before.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Raniel stared blankly ahead.
There was Kyle, clashing blades with Death.
'A minute... passed long ago.'
Over a minute had elapsed.
Yet Kyle still swung his sword. Bleeding, rolling on the ground—he never dropped it. He bolted up and charged Death again.
Just like old times.
In that silhouette, Raniel saw the past Kyle.
'...But.'
He wouldn't last much longer.
Kyle's body was reaching its limit. Soon he'd collapse. She had to find a way before then. Raniel scanned her remaining circuits.
Plenty of spells left.
But none that could touch Death.
Before that which severed all, her spells were worthless. Grinding her teeth, Raniel desperately sought an answer.
'A way, some way...'
Burying it was impossible.
The goal wasn't escape, but repulsion. So how? Inflict damage. Meaningful damage to Death.
An unprecedented feat no one had achieved in centuries—here, now.
'But how?'
Not even cursed mana had worked.
All her options negated.
Racking her brain, Raniel sought the answer. Then her gaze fell on a circuit etched into the ground.
A contingency circuit.
Exactly like the one used to fell the Black Dragon's neck.
'Contingency.'
The moment Raniel beheld that circuit.
Flash.
Light burst from behind her.
Raniel whipped her head around. Not from Kyle. Farther off, from the sanctuary's direction.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "Rak van Grace."
"Yes."
"Leaving?"
"I must, now."
"Go. Good work."
The specter tossed a sword.
Rak caught it.
"Prepared?"
"Warriors must always steel themselves against death. Isn't that our founder's last words? I'm ready."
"Good. You look it."
The specter smiled contentedly.
"Go."
He extended a hand, pointing the way.
"The exit's that way."