Chapter 395
Chapter 395
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 395
Chapter Title: Depths of the Demonic Realm
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If you don't want to have regrets, give it everything you've got.
Chewing over those words, Chloe rose from the bed. Lania had already left, but the artifacts she'd left behind remained. A circular transmitter and a cubic artifact.
Wearing them, Chloe took a step forward.
Her body ached, but she had recovered enough to move. After leaving the treatment room and taking a few steps forward, she spotted the forces Lania had arranged. They had a different air about them from the knights patrolling the base.
Armor covered in scratches.
Weapons worn from use and shields scarred by soot.
Those who had survived long years on the battlefield naturally exuded a sharp aura. One of them broke from the group and approached Chloe. The man who had led the scouting party.
A man in light armor draped with a robe.
The emblem engraved on his shoulder pauldrons symbolized a magic knight, the mark of the special forces deployed on the most perilous missions.
"Hero Chloe, it's an honor."
The man from the special forces saluted her. Chloe felt his face looked familiar, like someone she'd seen before.
"Rox of the special forces."
He gave his name.
Rox the Turbulent Mage, a magic knight and Aphria Academy graduate.
"It's been a while, Chloe."
He had once served as Garahal's adjutant.
He'd heard the rumors about Chloe, the most heroic of heroes, carrying on Garahal's will. They'd crossed paths on the battlefield often enough.
"Lady Lania filled me in."
Rox let out a short breath.
"We're with you."
We're with you.
Chloe's eyes widened slightly at the words. They had been Garahal's catchphrase, now Chloe's own. Rox met her gaze with a wry smile.
Even after Garahal's death, Rox had remained on the battlefield.
He'd racked up achievements in major engagements time and again, throwing himself into dangerous operations without hesitation. As a result, he'd become the head of the special forces, often assigned to missions like this one.
"...Thank you for your cooperation."
Clutching the collar of the robe Belnoa had always worn, Chloe closed her eyes. When she opened them again, the trembling in her eyes was gone.
"......"
Her green eyes fixed ahead.
Confirming the direction indicated by the transmitter, Chloe took a step forward. The knights fell into formation behind her and began to move.
The assembled search party headed toward the heart of the Demonic Realm.
Deep into the Demonic Realm they advanced.
2.
Survival was Belnoa's specialty.
Having spent her childhood in an environment that demanded it, it was only natural. What else would a child abandoned in the deep alleys of the slums learn first?
Just how to survive.
Rummaging through trash bins, picking up what others discarded, hiding in the shadows to stay alive. Reacting sensitively to danger, seeking places out of sight. That was the first knowledge Belnoa had learned.
...Brings back old memories.
Knowledge she'd never had occasion to use until now.
Yet it was the root at her very core, her foundation. Tracing it, Belnoa moved. She erased her presence and climbed a tree.
First, secure a vantage point.
Hiding among the tangled branches, Belnoa looked down. The Demon King's Army was combing the forest like rats. They glanced up at the sky now and then, but failed to spot Belnoa, shrouded in shadows with her presence concealed.
As they left the forest without finding any traces, they muttered to themselves. Belnoa perked up her ears at their voices.
"The Prophet said she fell around here... Looks like we were too late."
"She must've already moved on."
"Then we'll expand the search radius to the surrounding areas. Starting from this side, bit by bit..."
What they held in their hands as they spoke.
Belnoa narrowed her eyes and confirmed it. Maps. Her mind raced, weighing the value.
Fighting would give her away for sure.
Even wiping them out completely would expose her position, since the search party had vanished.
Still, despite the risks, Belnoa felt the need to take what they had. A map, basic rations. And if she got lucky, potions too. The scales tipped in an instant. Belnoa made her choice.
"......"
In the darkness, Belnoa let her arm hang limp.
A thin shadow extended from her fingertips, flowing downward like thread. The threads draped over the Demon King's soldiers' heads. Over shoulders, napes, forearms, ankles. The moment the threads made contact.
Snap. Belnoa yanked them.
"Urk!"
"Gahk!"
The soldiers' bodies lifted into the air, tangled in the threads. Belnoa's lips moved. A simple incantation, but the most efficient one for this moment.
Shadow Thorns.
Thorns burst from the thin threads.
As the soldiers collapsed, pierced and bleeding out, Belnoa descended from the tree. She landed lightly with a thud and began rummaging through their corpses.
"Urk, gahk..."
One soldier, throat pierced but still alive, remained. Belnoa expressionlessly snapped his neck and took the map he clutched.
Unfurling the stolen map, Belnoa could only let out a long sigh.
"...What a pain."
A simple map marked with frontline positions.
Even estimating roughly, it was over ten days to the nearest frontline. Meaning she'd have to survive at least ten days deep inside this Demonic Realm.
Ten days of survival.
Belnoa winced and pressed her side. Pus seeped from the wound, staining her clothes yellow. She clicked her tongue.
Injury, and limited food.
The rations scavenged from the soldiers were steeped in demonic energy. Poison to ordinary humans. She'd have to eat them in a pinch, but she wanted to save that as a last resort.
Survive ten days on this.
Pursuers would come, and she'd have to fight sometimes. The closer to the frontlines, the harder to avoid combat. She'd need to conserve strength for that.
But... the Demonic Realm fundamentally wasn't suited for human survival. Everything here was poison to humans, and even clean water seemed impossible to find.
Frankly, it was tough. Very tough.
No matter how skilled, long-term survival without proper food and water was hard. Especially injured, deep in enemy territory.
[What are you thinking so deeply about?]
"...Just that it's going to be rough."
The goddess's voice interrupted her deepening thoughts. Belnoa relaxed her stiff expression and exhaled deeply.
"The road ahead is long."
[It would be. You're deep in the Demonic Realm, after all.]
"Yeah. So, any chance I could summon a dragon or something? Flying out on one would make this a breeze."
[Sadly, no. All the dragons under my command are dead. The ones left are mere children, not even recognizing their own lord. They won't listen.]
What a tragedy. The goddess murmured.
Belnoa had only meant it as a joke, but the goddess took it seriously. Seeing her voice tinged with gloom, Belnoa gave a wry smile.
[Ah, but that child did subjugate all dragons. In the simplest way possible.]
"Simplest way?"
[Fear.]
The goddess shrugged.
[Dragons knelt before that child just from meeting its gaze. Bowing their heads in submission.]
There was only one being the goddess called "that child." The sorcerer from centuries past, Belial.
The most powerful sorcerer I know...
The realm Belnoa aimed for.
"Then if I dragonized like him..."
[Don't even think about it.]
The goddess cut her off.
[You won't come back from it.]
She seemed leisurely, open to anything, but she had her taboos. The goddess leaned in close to Belnoa.
Black eyes, laced with blood-red.
[Altering part of your body and soul into a dragon's is brushing against the forbidden. I may question taboos, but they exist for a reason.]
You'll pay a price.
A very steep one.
[It's impossible for you now anyway, but even if you could later, don't try it. I won't allow that deal.]
The goddess wore a faintly sad expression.
[One tragedy is enough.]
Belnoa nodded slowly.
3.
Near Artia, where the barrier had been erected.
Numerous mages gathered around the barrier poured their mana into suppressing it. Dozens of high-ranking mages pulled from nearby frontlines, magic knights employing physical means as well—all to hold the barrier down.
"Magic stones, magic stones!"
Drained top-grade magic stones rolled across the ground as fresh ones were brought in. Mages slotted them into their staves and cast spells at the barrier once more.
Not spells to dismantle it.
Spells purely to suppress it, to interfere with whatever was happening inside.
Dozens of top mages gathered, yet all they could do was disrupt. They'd never intended to breach or dismantle it. From the moment they faced the barrier, the assembled mages had realized the truth.
We can't break it. Not ever.
Something unknowable.
Humans seemed insignificant before the colossal wall. Feeling the futility of their path in magic, the mages still drew their staves. To do what they could.
But we can suppress it.
Emptiness was an emotion they felt daily on the battlefield. Despair before a giant wall wasn't new. Now accustomed to finding what they could do, the mages burned through masses of magic stones to hold it down.
"Hoo..."
Mages collapsed from mana exhaustion, gulping potions while tracing circuits. Nosebleeds, shaking eyes, trembling fingers. But they never let go of their staves. Drained magic stones and empty potion bottles littered the area.
...Of course, this wasn't a fundamental solution.
What the mages did was just buying time. They couldn't dismantle the barrier, after all. But it wouldn't all be for nothing.
"Just until that one arrives..."
They waited.
For the one who always answered their efforts. The one who would ensure it wasn't all in vain.
Drip, drip.
A mage tracing circuits amid a nosebleed staggered. Mana exhaustion. As he fumbled to uncork a potion with shaking hands, he dropped it.
Clang! The bottle shattered.
No strength left to stand, the mage began to crumple. Someone grabbed his shoulder, steadying him. Turning, he gasped.
"...Ah."
A short exclamation.
Wide-eyed, the mage looked at the one holding him. Blue eyes, ash-gray hair. A woman in a platinum robe, symbol of the hero.
"Good work."
She said briefly.
She patted his shoulder twice and moved past, heading forward. As she brushed by, mages lowered their staves. Some slumped where they stood, others collapsed outright.
They'd endured. Or held on.
Such sentiments brought smiles to their faces.
How could it not be? They'd seen the back of the figure who passed them and stood before all. She wore no heavy armor, nor wielded a signature hero's weapon like others.
No matter. Her very existence was the symbol.
Lania van Trias, the Hero.
Or the Sage. The Guide. The Archmage.
Or the mage challenging divine might.
The being the mages had awaited so desperately had arrived on the battlefield. Watching her stand closest to the barrier, every mage lowered their staves. They stopped wringing out their mana.
Snuff.
The circuits' glow, unbroken for days, went out entirely. In the resulting darkness before the barrier, Lania spread her arms wide.
"Leave the rest to me."
In the darkness.
A platinum flash gleamed.
Whoosh!
And the mages beheld it.
Before the flash could fade, thousands of circuits unfolding in the air. Circuits shining brilliantly in platinum. Mana so vast it overflowed, gleaming unbearably.
Right then.
In the Demonic Realm, forever shrouded in darkness without a rising sun, at its very center—a platinum sun rose.