Chapter 399
Chapter 399
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 399
Chapter Title: Alkheia, the Abyss
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The superhumans of the sword—those who had reached the absolute pinnacle of the blade.
As was typical of such figures, at this very moment, there was no distinction in Kuntel's movements between drawing his sword and swinging it. The soft shing of the blade being unsheathed and the quiet slicing sound as it cleaved the air echoed almost simultaneously.
Sgeung.
Belnoa's vision split apart.
The slashing strike from his swung blade dropped right in front of her nose, ignoring all distance. An impossibly sharp cut. The air, shoved aside by the sword strike, didn't just part—it snapped with a sharp twang.
"……."
Belnoa fell silent.
In that silence, she stared at the severed strands of her own hair. A few locks of her bangs floated in the air, neatly trimmed. The strike had halted right before her nose, meaning the swordsman could have cut her but chose not to.
If he had intended to, it wouldn't have been just a few strands fluttering in the air right now—it would have been her head.
This was a warning.
A warning not to take even a single step.
You weren't supposed to heed an enemy's warning in the heart of their territory, but in this case, she had no choice but to obey. Her life was already in that swordsman's grasp.
...Odds of victory?
Obviously none.
Chance of escape?
That too, none.
Belnoa swallowed dryly. And so, as she stood frozen in place, unable to do anything...
Ku-gu-gu-gung.
With a low rumble, the temple doors creaked open.
Kuntel, standing at the entrance, stepped aside and bowed his head. As if greeting his master.
Click.
The sound of footsteps.
Click, click.
Someone was approaching from deep within the temple.
Each echoing step made the enveloping darkness of the temple ripple. Rippling shadows. Trembling air. As that presence drew nearer, Belnoa's senses went on high alert.
An immense presence.
The footsteps were light, but the aura was incomparably vast. A crushing pressure, the air suddenly thickening like sludge, tightened around Belnoa's throat.
This is...
Only once before had Belnoa sensed something like this. Back in the city of Cardinac, under the cover of night.
Click.
At last, she emerged onto the meadow before the temple. A priestly robe entwined with thorny vines. Snow-white hair cascading to her lower back. Slender emerald eyes. Then, her lips moved.
"An unexpected guest."
The heretic, Gletus.
Disaster itself stood before Belnoa.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "Come to think of it, Belnoa."
"People say I really do look like the heretic."
At this moment, Belnoa's mind flashed back to a story Chloe had once told her.
"Professor Lania could be forgiven for mistaking me."
The tale that Chloe resembled the heretic.
And indeed, it was true.
"What brings you here?"
The face and voice of the disaster before her eyes felt all too familiar to Belnoa. Familiar, yet she could never mistake this heretic for Chloe.
They're different.
Fundamentally different.
It was hard to put into words, but an unbridgeable chasm existed between the heretic before her and Chloe.
"Child."
Something...
"I'm asking you."
A chilling voice.
Belnoa swallowed reflexively and blinked. In that split second between closing and opening her eyes, the presence closed in instantly.
"What brings you here?"
The heretic stood right before her.
The distance had been considerable—had she closed it in an instant? No, that wasn't it. The heretic was still standing at the temple entrance. It was Belnoa herself who had moved.
An incomprehensible situation.
But now wasn't the time to ponder the phenomenon. Belnoa clenched her trembling fists. Before her were those emerald eyes. The gaze of a madwoman stared straight at her.
What should she choose?
What stance should she take to survive?
How should she navigate this?
A flurry of thoughts raced through her mind.
As the heretic reached out toward the still-silent Belnoa, Belnoa made her choice. She opened her mouth and spoke.
"...I got caught in a spell and ended up in the heart of the demon realm."
The heretic's arm halted.
She tilted her head slightly.
"And?"
"On my way back to the front lines, I was pursued by a chase squad. I jumped into this vertical shaft to shake them off."
The heretic blinked.
As if not quite grasping it, she asked back.
"So... you're saying you ran in here to escape?"
"...Yes."
"You ran? In here?"
Belnoa nodded, and the heretic burst into laughter. As if it was absurd. Or perhaps amusing.
"Do you even know where you are?"
She let out a hollow chuckle as she spoke.
"Alkheia. The abyss, Alkheia."
The destination of all filth.
The heretic's domain, Alkheia.
"My goodness, you're the first kid I've seen flee into my territory to escape. You must not be in your right mind?"
...If I'd known, I wouldn't have come.
Belnoa swallowed those words.
"Well."
The heretic chuckled again.
"You wouldn't have inherited Belial's sorcery if you were in your right mind."
Belnoa's shoulders twitched.
As if reading her unspoken question of how did you know?, the heretic extended a pale finger. The slender white digit pointed straight at Belnoa's heart.
"Even after centuries, Belial was my comrade."
From the most radiant era.
A comrade with whom she shared her fondest memories.
Murmuring thus, the heretic smiled.
"You think I wouldn't recognize the sorcery of such a comrade? The god you serve must be... the Lord of the Shadow Dragon, right?"
The heretic shrugged.
"Child, what's your name?"
"...Belnoa."
"Belnoa, Belnoa..."
Repeating the name several times, the heretic smiled with her eyes. For a fleeting moment, the expression overlapped with Chloe's, making Belnoa swallow reflexively.
"You said you want to return to the front lines?"
The heretic asked.
Belnoa nodded.
"Follow me, then."
The heretic turned and walked deeper into the temple. Her back looked utterly defenseless. But Belnoa couldn't bring herself to attack. Not because she resembled Chloe.
...No matter what I try.
In her current state.
No, even at full strength...
She didn't seem winnable. That wasn't defenselessness—it was the leisure of the strong. The confidence that she could counter any assault.
"What are you doing?"
The heretic glanced back as she walked.
"Not following?"
A moment's hesitation.
In the end, Belnoa followed behind the heretic.
2.
The ruins of Artia.
A madman buried in the debris of pulverized buildings retched, spewing something from his mouth. What he vomited was the sewage that made up his body.
Splatter.
The sticky sludge stretched out and evaporated upon hitting the ground. Realizing his lost sewage wasn't returning, the madman let out a hollow laugh.
"Really."
His body was collapsing.
And it wasn't just his flesh. The shadows that formed the madman's foundation were now crumbling too. Crackling lightning continuously arced, gnawing at his soul.
"It's beyond absurd at this point."
It had happened in an instant.
The moment Raniel activated that unknown circuit, the battle's outcome was decided in a flash. No time to analyze the circuit, no chance to comprehend the spell—it was over just like that.
"Even the mana that devoured my curse was suspiciously crafted, and now this."
"It's the same in essence."
Thud. Raniel planted herself right in front of the madman.
She looked down at the madman, collapsed and pinned under the rubble, standing firmly on both feet. No need to ask who had won.
"An incomprehensible spell."
"That's why you failed."
"Ouch, hitting where it hurts."
The madman bantered as he posed a question.
"What did you offer as the price?"
The madman's gaze fixed on Raniel.
His conjured spell hadn't even touched her, yet Raniel's eyes were bloodshot red... and blackish blood trickled from her nose and mouth.
The visible toll on her body was just that much.
But the madman knew.
That was only the surface—Raniel had paid far more. There was no power without a price.
"It can't have been light, can it?"
Did she burn her lifespan again?
If so, then my plan succeeded.
As the madman murmured this, Raniel stomped down on his head with her combat boot and thrust her middle finger in his face.
"Do I look like a sucker to you? You think I'd just tell you?"
Still, she continued.
"If I told you just to piss you off, it wouldn't be by chipping away at my lifespan. I can't use that method anymore."
She wouldn't use lifespan-draining ways anymore.
This life wasn't solely hers. Raniel had vowed not to squander the life given to her by another as if it were her own.
"Can't use it?"
"Yeah. Made a promise with that damn bastard."
Raniel twisted her boot. The madman's shadow splattered and crumbled a little faster.
"Well, the price isn't my concern anyway."
Half his face had collapsed.
With his remaining eye, the madman looked up at Raniel.
"You've inherited the contract of the ashen elf, haven't you?"
"I took the reins."
"Then you must know why they failed to subjugate it too?"
"I do."
"And yet..."
The madman sneered.
"You're still siding with them?"
"Yeah."
Raniel pressed harder with her boot.
Even the madman's remaining half-face crumbled rapidly.
Splatter. Sewage splashed onto Raniel's face. As it sizzled and burned away, she leaned down a bit more.
"I have to."
"Is that the best choice?"
Raniel didn't answer.
Her silence was the answer. Before those resolute eyes, the madman let out a long sigh.
"Anyway..."
He glanced at the lightning clinging to his shadow, devouring his soul. Having pierced beyond the flesh into his very spirit, the lightning showed no sign of fading.
"This will follow you even if you switch bodies. What a vicious spell. Or is it not a spell?"
The madman sneered.
"Vicious."
Truly.
"A vicious curse."
Splatter. The madman's body fully disintegrated.
3.
Belnoa followed behind the heretic.
The temple's interior was shrouded in darkness, but only at the entrance. A few steps in, and the shadows lifted. An inexplicable light illuminated the temple brightly.
The revealed sight made Belnoa clamp her mouth shut.
Humans in wretched states, unidentified sludgy things going splatter, things beyond description filled the temple's depths. Stretching on endlessly.
"……."
She'd thought her stomach strong, but this scene shook even her composure. Belnoa's gaze wavered. In a temple meant for worship, the ultimate heresy unfolded—more horrific than anything.
Splatter, sizzle.
Something approached Belnoa.
Slithering across the floor, it seized her ankle. A grip she could shake off with minimal effort. Yet Belnoa froze in place.
"Ah, ■■ah. ■ ■■."
Spewing an unknown tongue, it wept. Even formless, even with most of its body melted and fused with others, those eyes remained human.
"Why."
As Belnoa stood rooted, the heretic ahead turned to look at her.
"Do you pity it?"
A voice devoid of any warmth.
"Or do you find it horrific?"
Belnoa had no answer for the purely curious question. She stayed silent, and the heretic continued plainly.
"I think it's beautiful."
The heretic smiled.
A beautiful smile. More so than ever.
"It's the form returned to its essence, shedding the flesh. No matter how ugly the vessel, the essence is beautiful. So I connected the beautiful essences. Human, beast, demon, traitor—it doesn't matter. The essence is beautiful, right?"
Beautiful, yet.
"Everyone deserves salvation."
The smile felt more grotesque than anything.
"Free from the false god's rules, this beautiful form is salvation. Isn't it?"
Belnoa's expression twisted.
The heretic laughed at her face.
"Difference in perspective, I suppose. I don't expect you to understand."
Still, she turned and walked ahead.
"But someday, you'll all be saved too."
That's what this place is for, after all.