Chapter 384
Chapter 384
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 384
Chapter Title: Shadows of the Black Beast
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Crunch. The sound of snow crunching underfoot echoed out.
As he trudged forward through the pristine white snow, at some point the landscape was no longer purely white. The snowfield was stained dark red with blood. Blood and chunks of flesh. And broken weapons.
Following the trail of blood.
Passing the sprawled corpses of his brothers-in-arms.
At the end of that path stood it.
It was making wet, smacking sounds as it chewed and swallowed something. Blood and saliva dripped in thick streams from its gaping maw.
Kreeeak.
The thing that had been gnawing on a human slowly raised its head to meet Rak's gaze. Rak stared back at it. He burned its appearance into his eyes.
Its left half was covered in shaggy fur.
Its right half was a grotesque amalgam of countless creatures.
Only half of it was intact, which only made it all the more horrifying. It was neither beast nor human nor monster. That thing was there. Every time it worked its jaws, sticky blood splattered to the ground.
The black beast.
Barta, King of the Demonic Beasts.
Rak seared the nightmare of an existence into his eyes, then slowly closed them. When he opened them again, the snowfield and the nightmare were gone. All he saw was the familiar ceiling he looked at every day.
And so, Rak woke from his sleep.
Blink.
He blinked several times before slowly trying to sit up. Or rather, he tried to, but his body screamed in agony the moment he applied any force, so all he managed was to tilt his head slightly.
"Moving like that will just reopen your wounds."
As Rak groaned from the pain slicing through him like a blade, a voice whispered in his ear. He turned his head slightly to the side.
"You're awake?"
The Saintess, Natida.
She was looking down at him.
2.
Once he was awake, Rak spent a while piecing together the situation. His body was wrapped head to toe in bandages, and empty potion bottles were scattered haphazardly on the shelf.
My body... won't move.
He couldn't even twitch a finger.
Not that he hadn't expected it. After sustaining wounds like those, he'd pushed himself nonstop, so this was par for the course. Rak gave up on sitting up and just turned his head to glare at Natida.
"...How long was I out?"
"About two days, I think."
Natida rubbed her eyes and let out a long yawn. Up close, her eyes looked deeply sunken, like someone who hadn't slept in days.
"Don't try to move. You need to stay in bed all day today if you want to be up and about by tomorrow."
Natida gave a wry smile.
"It's going to take some time. I'm not all that talented at healing, you see."
She let out a self-deprecating chuckle.
"Funny, right? A Saintess who's worst at miracle healings."
It wasn't particularly funny.
Rak had trained under a quirky professor who crushed enemy skulls with her bare hands despite being a mage. A Saintess who wasn't specialized in recovery? No big deal.
"......"
Rak silently stared at his own hand.
Natida was clasping it, channeling holy power into him. It wasn't warm so much as cool, like an autumn breeze circulating through his body.
Natida said she wasn't talented at healing.
But his broken body was recovering at a rapid pace. Blood vessels wrecked from repeated cauterization and torn muscles were knitting back together good as new.
"Thank you."
"No need. Least I could do is handle the recovery."
"Not just that, but..."
Rak swallowed hard for a moment.
Being unconscious for two straight days hadn't erased what happened before. He could still see it when he closed his eyes. The encounter with the beast. His brothers meeting their deaths.
And the horde of demonic beasts heading north.
When he'd seen that horde marching toward the walls, something inside Rak had crumbled. His mind was filled with vivid images of the north engulfed in flames.
...Even as they headed for the walls.
Once his body could move again.
Even then, as he'd raced toward the walls long after, Rak had been half-convinced deep down. That countless people must have died. With his heart on the verge of shattering, he'd arrived at the walls and witnessed it.
A miracle had occurred.
No one had died.
And the Saintess who'd wrought that miracle had said matter-of-factly that it was thanks to someone excluding the leader from the battlefield. Those words had given Rak a faint sense of salvation.
"For protecting the north from that horde of beasts."
And, Rak murmured, adding,
"...For ensuring my brothers' deaths weren't in vain. That's what I'm grateful for."
"It's thanks to you all," Natida said.
Whose thanks? It had to mean Oyacal, who pinned down that beast, and the other warriors—and herself. To Rak, those words were worth more than anything.
"No need to thank me."
Natida chuckled lightly.
"The hard fight, making the battle easier—it was all thanks to you, young master. What I did was more like cleanup."
Receiving thanks made Natida a bit uncomfortable. She'd always thought she wasn't the type deserving of it.
"If Sir Kalt had been dispatched instead of me, or someone else had come here, things might've turned out even better."
Lania had many capable subordinates, and Natida knew she wasn't particularly outstanding among them. She believed Lania had taken her in half out of pity.
"If someone else had come..."
"I'm thanking you."
Rak cut her off.
Natida blinked and shot him a sidelong glance.
"Not some other person who wasn't there, but you—who protected the north at the most crucial moment, in the most crucial place. That's who I'm grateful to."
Rak stated it bluntly.
He wasn't one for beating around the bush. He voiced his feelings plainly, definitively.
"Once again, thank you."
He wanted to bow his head, but his body wouldn't cooperate, so he could only nod it slightly. Watching him, Natida couldn't help but burst out laughing. It was a pretty ridiculous sight.
"Sorry to ruin the serious mood, heh..."
Rak just blinked at her outburst. Natida dipped her head slightly, her shoulders shaking faintly. For a moment.
"Hoo, haa..."
She let out a long breath and smiled.
An unfeigned smile, unlike her usual ones.
"If you think that highly of me... then mind if I ask for a little reward?"
"Anything within my power."
She'd upheld the warriors' honor to the end.
Rak replied earnestly, and Natida waved it off like it was nothing, spreading her right hand wide.
"Five hours."
"...Pardon?"
"The holy sword. Five hours."
In short, she wanted to bask in the light of the first holy sword for five hours. Rak's expression chilled in an instant. Natida eyed him warily and slyly folded one finger.
"Th-then four hours..."
"Sigh..."
"You can sigh, but no less than four? Four's reasonable, right?"
She was suddenly groveling.
Rak let out a long sigh before answering.
"I'll let you bask all day. Just say when."
"The whole day?"
Natida's pupils dilated wide.
Heh, her lips parted slightly.
"Twenty-four hours..."
She looked ready to drool at the mere thought, like she was already high on it. Rak shot her a pitiful look.
3.
Fortunately, the bodies of the warriors Rak had defended to the last were secured intact. By the time Rak could finally move, their funeral was held.
Warriors acknowledged by the Grand Duke himself.
A funeral honoring their pride and sacrifice. It was during the peak of mourners gathering that she arrived.
Halt.
At her appearance, every mourner froze in place. All eyes turned to the woman who'd appeared at the funeral. Amid the focused gazes, she walked toward the coffins.
Lania van Trias.
No one didn't know her face.
Especially not in that uniform symbolic of the Hero. Her presence meant she was here not as Rak's acquaintance or in a personal capacity, but as the "Hero" to pay respects.
"......"
She silently laid flowers and bowed her head slightly before the coffins. The motions were so fluid and natural, like those of someone who'd done it many times before.
Honed through endless repetition.
But familiarity didn't mean it was taken lightly. She genuinely mourned the fallen warriors and paid sincere respect to the value of their deaths. As everyone watched, she laid her flowers and turned away.
"...Thank you for coming."
Rak was standing there.
Lania gave a bittersweet look and nodded subtly.
A signal to talk after the funeral. As she passed Rak, she patted his shoulder lightly. Comfort from his mentor.
* * *
"It's been a while, Professor."
"Man, it's been ages since I heard 'Professor' from you."
Once the funeral had wound down somewhat, Rak arrived at the reception room where Lania waited. She scanned him up and down and nodded.
"Almost three years? You've grown a bit taller. More muscle too. You've filled out."
"You haven't changed a bit, Professor."
It wasn't flattery; it was true.
Compared to three years ago, Lania looked exactly the same. The only difference might be her aura. Lania chuckled and shrugged.
"I'm ageless."
Ageless? Weren't you in your early-to-mid twenties?
As that thought crossed his mind, Rak suddenly recalled that "Raniel" had been twenty-eight right before retiring. So now she had to be at least...
"Definitely got that thirties look..."
"Nope?"
"Pardon?"
"I'm not."
Lania cut him off sharply.
Her voice was chilling.
Like someone who'd been hit right in the sore spot.
"I'm not in my thirties."
"Uh...?"
"Rak, what do people call me out there?"
"The Hero. The strongest Hero."
"Besides that. My name."
"Lania van Trias?"
"Right."
Lania, not Raniel.
"I'm mid-twenties. Definitely not thirties."
No, even so, that's a stretch.
The moment Rak opened his mouth to retort. For the first time in ages, his instincts blared a warning. The superhuman senses honed to the peak were screaming.
Shut your mouth.
If the professor says so, it's so.
Arguing means death, forgot that?
He'd forgotten the ironclad rule in the three years apart. Rak shuddered lightly and nodded.
"Yes, of course."
Professor, you're mid-twenties.
Only then did Lania nod in satisfaction.
She muttered something like, "Sometimes when I check the Raniel van Trias documents in the library, it says 31, but that's wrong info. I'm forever in my twenties," but... Rak pretended not to hear. Some things were better left unheard.
...But why check your own documents?
He had questions aplenty, but his instincts told him to let it slide. Better that way.