Chapter 416
Chapter 416
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 416
Chapter Title: Ganicardt's Sword
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Late at night, Raniel van Trias closed her eyes.
What rose in her mind was the turning point. The memory of that day when her life and her values had been uprooted entirely. Beyond her closed eyelids, Raniel mulled over the past.
"Hello, Raniel van Trias."
"I'm you from the future."
The future version of herself she had encountered three years prior.
She was the one who had lived through the future Raniel was meant to face, a person with values utterly unlike those of Raniel back then.
Raniel van Trias had harbored an obsession: if something had to be sacrificed, it had to be herself—no one else. That was why, in every crisis, Raniel had always discarded only herself as the discard play.
She had staked her lifespan, pushed her body to the brink, and whenever something had to be abandoned, she had thrown away her own life.
It was the manifestation of an extreme aversion to others' sacrifices, Raniel van Trias's stubborn conviction. But what of the self who had come from the future?
Raniel van Draconic.
The human who had become a god was different.
She had discarded everything. Not just herself. She hesitated not at all to use discard plays, and when the moment came to let go, she released what she held without a second thought. She pursued pure efficiency above all.
"There is no best."
"All I could do was avoid the worst. That's how I lived. I can't even say in empty words that I lived well. I discarded too much."
Disciple, comrades, juniors—all of them discarded.
"I really did discard them all."
The conclusion reached at the end of endless discarding. Imagining what that end looked like wasn't hard.
"...So that's how she discarded everything."
Raniel let out a long breath.
The information Kalt had relayed. Natida had said she saw Rak die in a dream. He had met his end while trying to block the Reverse Heaven Sword from crossing Sword's Gorge.
It wasn't Natida's delusion.
It had been a real future.
From the perspective of the Goddess of Ashes, Raniel reviewed the situation. The Reverse Heaven Sword, Kyle Toben. It would be a different existence from the Kyle she had faced three years ago. More like the fully awakened Demon King, a vessel of shadow.
To delay such a calamity even by a single second, to prepare more pieces, her future self would have gladly discarded everything.
Even if it was her cherished disciple.
"......"
Raniel silently wiped the corner of her eye.
Why had Natida seen that future now, of all times? The Saintess seeing the future signaled the emergence of a prophet—and hinted at the advent of the Sword of Death. It didn't feel like mere coincidence.
The same stage: Sword's Gorge.
The same players: Natida and Rak.
But the Reverse Heaven Sword could never exist there. Did that mean someone else would stand in for the Reverse Heaven Sword? To Raniel, that seemed impossible too.
'Ganicardt taking Kyle's place?'
Impossible. Absolutely.
The Sword of Death, Ganicardt, did not move from Gehetete. He would be blocking the path to the Temple of Shadow at the world's end, waiting for challengers to come to him.
Then who was left?
"Beast King, Barta."
Raniel frowned.
The revived ancient calamity, Beast King Barta, wasn't directly bound by contract... but his connection to the apostate marked his location roughly on maps. Raniel spread out a map.
A dot indicating Barta's movements here and there.
But that dot was still wandering inside the Demonic Wastes. Far from Sword's Gorge, Galatric. So Barta wouldn't appear in the gorge... but.
She couldn't ignore the slim chance.
Raniel narrowed her eyes and gazed at the artifact on the table. Resti had warned that some permanent side effect might linger in her body next time...
"No helping it."
She had steeled herself for that much.
2.
"Just keep in mind there's a chance the Beast King might appear. Honestly, the odds are low, but you never know—just in case."
On the road to Sword's Gorge, Galatric.
Kalt walked with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his overcoat. In his grasp was an artifact shaped like a perfect cube.
"The odds are low."
"But if he does show up, you know what to do, right?"
The artifact called Gate.
Kalt rolled the artifact in his palm and sighed deeply. He knew well the side effects of this artifact.
'Last time, it was hemiplegia.'
What side effect would she endure this time?
No matter how sturdy the Hero's body or how swift her recovery, limits existed. To Kalt, it seemed Raniel was continuously gambling away her own life.
She had been like that since her days as the Ashen Mage.
A person who would grind away her own life rather than sacrifice anyone else.
Hoping above all that he wouldn't have to use this artifact, Kalt pressed on. He didn't know why Raniel was rushing this mission so urgently, but there must be reason to recover the Holy Grail as soon as possible.
"Rak, you heard the warning, right?"
"Yes, I remember."
A stiffer expression than usual.
Kalt clicked his tongue inwardly at Rak, whose shoulders were tense. Come to think of it, the Beast King had slain countless warriors in the North.
'...No wonder he sees it as a blood enemy.'
Kalt let out a short breath and slung his arm around Rak's neck.
"I'm saying this ahead of time: the chance of it appearing is slim. A real one-in-a-million, absolute worst-case scenario. And even if it happens, Rak."
Kalt warned in a low voice.
"Our mission is Holy Grail recovery. Not subjugating the Beast King. To begin with, the two of us... no."
Natida, following behind. Kalt shot a glance at her hollow-eyed from lack of sleep and added,
"The three of us couldn't do it. Best case, we'd call for senior right away and pull out."
"...I understand."
"Good. Judgment must always be cold."
Kalt patted Rak's shoulder and took the lead. How long did they walk? The air grew chillier bit by bit, and the entrance to Sword's Gorge came into view.
Sword's Gorge, Galatric.
Now the grave of countless swordsmen, the Sword's Tomb, Galatric. The split and crumbled cliffs on either side resembled a massive dragon with jaws agape.
"Ah, you know that story? About Rak."
To lighten the mood and ease the tension, Kalt pointed at the gorge entrance.
"Sword's Gorge, this massive thing. Word is it's man-made terrain? Legend says the founder—the swordsmen's great master and first to set foot here—swung his sword once and cleaved the gorge."
Kalt chuckled as he spoke.
"Ridiculous tale, right? Cleaving a gorge this size with one sword swing? Impossible, absolutely."
"...Is that so?"
"Yeah. Doesn't make sense."
Kalt spread his arms wide, gauging the gorge's width, and continued.
"A size like that in one slash? No way. Only something like the Sword of Death, Ganicardt, could pull that off."
Right? Kalt turned to Rak.
To Kalt, it was just a joke, but Rak wore a strangely subtle expression. Not like he took it as humor.
"...What?"
"Nothing."
3.
After entering Sword's Gorge, Natida's complexion worsened sharply. Her face paled white. Though the weather wasn't that cold, she kept rubbing her arms.
"...You okay?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah. I'm fine."
Rak, walking beside her, glanced at Natida with concern. But Natida stared straight ahead, not meeting his eyes.
Sword's Tomb, Galatric.
Dozens, hundreds of broken swords lay scattered and stabbed into the ground everywhere. Their owners had long met their ends. Unable to even leave corpses, they had left only their swords behind.
Swords that were like their other selves to swordsmen.
With masterless blades jammed haphazardly everywhere, it truly deserved the name Sword's Tomb.
"Makes me think of Kuntel. He was the last survivor here, after all. Never thought I'd actually come to a place I'd only heard about in stories..."
Kalt smiled bitterly as he surveyed the Sword's Tomb.
Kuntel had often boasted proudly about his homeland, his master, his fellow disciples. Now that he had reached the Sword's Tomb from those tales, Kalt felt a pang of bitterness.
'...I saw this place in the trial.'
Rak recalled the scene from the Holy Grail's trial. And Natida...
"Run away."
"This is my stage."
"I told you, I'd protect at least you."
...was seeing an entirely different scene.
Natida walked in reality, eyes open to the real world, yet what reflected in them was the dreamscape. The place where Rak had died in her dream was here.
Countless people died.
Knight after knight fell to sweeping sword strikes, but Natida held them in the present with holy spells. They became dolls that couldn't die, charging at the Reverse Heaven Sword until their bodies were shredded beyond rising.
And Rak van Grace.
Trampling the pile of knights' corpses, he charged at the Reverse Heaven Sword. Already resolved to death, Rak swung relentlessly, but it was futile resistance.
'I bought time, but.'
No matter how much time Rak dragged out, no matter how he held the Reverse Heaven Sword while losing pieces of himself. No reinforcements came here. They had been discard plays from the start.
Thus, it was meaningless.
He endured and endured, but Rak died in the end.
His head fell with a thud, rolling down the slope. Yes, that very slope visible now...
"Urk!"
The moment Rak's end from the dream flashed in her mind, Natida instinctively covered her mouth with her palm.
A short dry heave, then a stagger.
Rak grabbed Natida's stumbling shoulder.
"...You sure you're really okay?"
"Ah..."
Natida smiled bitterly at Rak standing beside her. Not scarred and fierce like the dream Rak... rather, a bit dopey-looking.
"I'm okay now."
Natida smiled wryly and steadied herself.
"Hoo."
After a deep breath, Natida held out her palm to Rak. He blinked, then said, "I can't give you the holy sword. I have to carry it here," and Natida scowled.
"Not the holy sword. Your hand."
"...My hand?"
"Yes. I'm going to bless you."
"No enemies in sight yet."
"No backtalk. Give it."
Rak awkwardly placed his palm in hers.
Natida clasped his hand with both of hers and cast a holy spell. Light flashed briefly, and blessing seeped into Rak's body. Far more than usual.
Drip.
Blood trickled from Natida's nose.
Releasing Rak's hand, she wiped her nose bridge with her sleeve.
"Go on now. Be careful climbing that slope."
Tilting his head, Rak headed up the slope. Kalt's eyes from midway up looked incredibly sharp, but Rak decided not to mind.
A slope formed from crumbled gorge debris piled up.
Beyond this slope lay what was once called the heart of Galatric. Where the temple for swordsmen's trials stood.
Step.
Reaching the slope's crest, Rak and Kalt looked down. Open view. Ruined temple, sword scars gouging everywhere like claw marks. And...
"Wait."
Kalt frowned.
Stretching out his hand, Kalt pointed where the sword scars converged. The origin of the storm-like slashes raking all directions. There, a single sword was stabbed into the ground.
A massive greatsword.
In the Sword's Tomb full of broken blades, the only one unbroken. Kalt's eyes shook violently at the sight of that greatsword.
...A grotesque blade with a hole pierced through its body.
It was a sword symbolizing death.
The Sword of Death, Ganicardt's blade, was stabbed in the gorge's center.