Chapter 316
Chapter 316
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 316
Chapter Title: Junior, and Descendant (2)
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Aphria was also famous for its beautiful scenery.
There was a mana spring not far from the academy grounds. The plants near the mana spring were lush and vibrant in color. Overflowing mana was like the ultimate fertilizer for them.
In spring, it bloomed with flowers of every color, and in summer, Aphria's back mountain was dyed in fresh green.
That stunning landscape was Aphria's pride and joy, and something Dean Aron cherished in particular. The dean, who loved nature, had a hobby of climbing Aphria's back mountain.
Lania knew this all too well.
Far too well.
"Whoa."
Thwack. Lania smacked her own forehead.
'This is fucked...'
Trees that should have towered into the sky.
Grass that should have boasted vibrant hues.
Things that should have been there naturally, things that had been there just yesterday, were gone from this spot now. Cold sweat dripped down Raniel's back at the realization. In the middle of a forest section that had been clear-cut entirely, finding the culprit wasn't hard.
"Rak?"
"Yes, Professor Lania."
"What did you do?"
"I was training."
"That?"
Lania pointed to a corner of the forest that had turned into a clearing. There, firewood was neatly stacked in abundance.
"It's firewood. In the North, we often chop wood from the back mountains to endure the raging snowstorms..."
Lania could only let out a long sigh in front of Rak, who was explaining with an innocent face.
"...From now on, no axing in the forest. One or two trees, you could quietly erase the traces, but this is a bit much."
What am I supposed to tell the dean?
After agonizing over it, Lania decided not to think about it at all. As long as it didn't get found out, that was fine. Trees would grow back eventually.
"Still, though..."
The forest turned into a barren field.
Lania let out a smirk as she looked at the trees split with single strikes.
"Looks like you've made quite some progress."
Lania pulled a platinum chalice from her bosom.
"Wanna challenge it?"
She shook the Grail lightly.
The question wasn't just for Rak. Right now, the Grail was reacting to both of them at once.
Rak, who had inherited Grace's sword.
Belnoa, who had contracted with the Shadow Dragon Lord.
The two, who had grown in their own ways, nodded almost simultaneously. Both met the qualifications. The Grail opened the path to the trial.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ 2.
"That thing won't last long."
Cardi's words echoed in my ears.
I tilted the Grail and narrowed my eyes. Now that the path to the trial had opened, cracks were forming on the Grail. Bigger ones, longer ones.
Cracks spread across the Grail.
'This might be the last time.'
The Grail was a miraculous holy relic that provided trials to humans, but Cardi had warned it wouldn't last forever. Especially if used for Rak and Belnoa.
Shadow Dragon's sorcerer, Belial.
The first hero, Ganikalt van Galatric.
They were existences far too vast to be contained in a small vessel like the Grail. Even now, as it opened the passage, the Grail was creaking.
"When Glia was around, we could just repair the Grail, but not anymore. I figure there's a high chance it'll shatter once those two complete the trial."
Cardi had muttered that while shooting me a glance.
"Do you know what this means?"
As if I wouldn't.
'One less possibility leading to the future.'
That's what Cardi had said.
It was a warning aimed at me, but honestly, not a very useful one. I'd planned to wrap everything up in this generation from the start.
I'd been hesitant at first, but not anymore.
"Rak, Belnoa."
I called their names.
They paused mid-step toward the passage and turned to look at me. I smiled at them both.
"Pay your respects properly to your seniors."
Seniors who were ahead of me as well as you.
"And show them."
Long ago, in the distant past, there were those who saw the potential of humans on this land. Because of them, we have the present. Because of the present, we have a future. Even if they fell into ruin, their achievements hadn't vanished.
The potential they inscribed upon this land continued unbroken.
"Show them what?"
"Potential."
What I saw in you.
"Show them so dazzlingly that they think, 'This one might just make it.'"
Even if it's just an illusion of recreation.
I wanted them to face that potential and feel relieved. Even if it ended up meaningless.
"And that your master taught you well."
Brag a little for me too.
I muttered that and waved them off. Belnoa and Rak blinked, then smiled and threw themselves into the passage beyond.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ The moment Belnoa opened her eyes, a vast desert stretched out to greet her. An endless sea of sand, swept by dry winds.
Dry winds.
Last time she was here, Belnoa hadn't sensed anything special in those winds. She'd just thought of them as desert breezes. But now...
'...Winds cloaking a dragon.'
Where there is a dragon, there is wind.
In the distant past, even before ancient times, humans likened dragons to winds. Wherever dragons lingered, winds always raged.
Not warm like spring breezes, nor biting like winter gales. A dry wind that was neither. That was the wind symbolizing dragons.
The meaning of the wind blowing now was singular.
A single dragon dwelled in this expansive desert. Who that dragon was went without saying. Belnoa slowly raised her head.
Crunch.
The sound of sand crunching underfoot.
The sound grew closer. Belnoa walked toward it as well. How long had she walked? She stopped. The crunching of sand ceased.
Belnoa looked at the sorcerer standing before her.
"We meet again, boy."
Shadow Dragon's sorcerer, Belial.
And.
The black storm, Black Dragon Belial.
Belnoa bowed her head before her distant senior, whose true nature she now knew. She'd just heard stories of him from the god she served.
"Greetings, ancient hero."
Belial chuckled at Belnoa's greeting.
"From the Shadow Dragon Lord, eh?"
Belnoa nodded.
"I see. Looks like you've seized your chance. Even formed a contract. Seems the Lord favors you quite a bit."
"Yes, somehow it turned out that way..."
"Good. Very good."
Ha ha ha!
He burst into hearty laughter and clapped Belnoa's shoulder with his rough hand. She gritted her teeth to endure the impact that felt like it would dislocate her shoulder.
"You've grown, boy."
Thud. The final one was light.
Belial stepped back, arms crossed, and opened his mouth.
"Enough to face a proper trial."
Arms still crossed, he jabbed his forearm with his index finger. Thump. That alone completed the offering. Shadows rose, coiling around Belial's forearm.
"Ready?"
Belnoa didn't answer.
She just swung her arm through the air. Shadows coiled around her arm. The sluggish shadows solidified. They took the form of dragon scales, covering her fingers.
Still just the beginning, but clear proof of growth. Belial laughed with unbridled joy at his junior's progress.
"Show your worth, boy."
Show your worth.
Prove it.
Prove you deserve to advance to the next stage.
"Prove it to me."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ 3.
Galatric, the Sword Sanctuary.
A gorge carved by a single swordsman, a cradle that birthed countless sword supermen. The name fit perfectly, and there, one swordsman awaited him.
Rak looked ahead.
A single swordsman stood there.
His greatsword plunged into the ground, he stood tall and proud. Unchanged from the last time Rak had seen him.
"You've come."
He looked at Rak.
"Rak van Grace."
He remembered Rak's name.
Rak slowly bowed to the hero before him. It was a sign of respect to his ancestor's master, the benefactor who made the North what it was today.
"I heard from my ancestor."
Rak raised his head.
With his axe drawn from his waist and held to his chest, he continued.
"How great you are, how much debt everyone on this land owes you—I heard it all."
The hero who saved this land in ancient times.
To those four heroes, every being on this land owed a debt. One that could never be repaid. Because they had all fallen into ruin.
"But Grace said..."
Rak slowly pulled the axe away from his chest.
"That you'd prefer this over a hundred words of thanks and praise."
Heating.
Thump. His heart pounded fiercely.
Rak's eyes flashed red. Ganikalt burst into laughter at the sight, as if Rak might charge at any moment.
"Indeed."
He extended his arm forward.
"Grace taught you well."
His hand gripped the hilt of the greatsword embedded in the ground. The air in the area grew heavy just from that. Oppressive pressure bore down.
Last time, enduring this was all Rak could manage, but now was different. Rak stepped forward undaunted by the pressure.
Thud. Rak stomped the ground.
The great swordsman before him took no stance, as if yielding the first move. Rak pondered what to show in his opening strike. The decision didn't take long. Just his best.
Galatric Style, Cleave.
Rak flung his arm back.
The axe in his hand hummed lightly, vibrating. The axe's afterimage blurred and reformed repeatedly. The moment it fully merged, Rak gritted his teeth and swung.
First Form: First Sight Slayer.
...Originally, Galatric Style's First Sword, First Sight Slayer, was a swift slash so fast it couldn't be tracked with the eyes. The blade, swung at speeds too quick to perceive, severed the opponent's neck the instant they registered it.
Hence the name First Sight Slayer... but it wasn't a technique suited to Grace.
"No matter what, if you kill with the first strike, isn't it First Sight Slayer? Bonus if it's too fast to follow visually—that satisfies the conditions too. That's how I interpreted it."
The words from the sanctuary echoed in Rak's ears.
Indeed, a sound interpretation.
Process didn't matter as long as the result was the same.
Riiiip!
Air tore along the axe's path. The rending air had no form. Something unlike sword ki shredded the area.
The moment the trajectory engulfed Ganikalt.
Clang!
Ganikalt casually flicked his hand, deflecting Rak's strike. Rak hadn't expected it to land, but he hadn't anticipated such effortless nullification either. He'd thought it was a fairly refined technique.
Rak wasn't wrong.
Objectively, Rak's technique was highly refined. He understood it properly, and his axe swing had no flaws. A slight margin of error, but near-perfect.
Not perfect, but a strike even supermen would praise...
Not in Ganikalt van Galatric's eyes.
The swordsman who reached untouchable heights with a single blade was the pickiest about swordplay. To him, Rak's technique wasn't near-perfect—it barely scraped a passing grade.
"That's not how you swing a sword."
He raised his sword.
To the distant descendant who had recreated his creation with similar essence, Ganikalt would show the original technique. Just watching would grant great insight.
"Watch closely."
This was the true First Sight Slayer.
...No one pointed out that Rak wielded an axe, not a sword.
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