Chapter 425
Chapter 425
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 425
Chapter Title: Humanity's Golden Age
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Time flies by swiftly.
As summer faded into autumn, Raniel unfolded the newspaper and scanned the reports from the various battlefronts. Her own name had given way to others appearing more frequently in the headlines, a fact that brought a satisfied smile to her lips.
The Dragon's Heir, Belnoa van Draconic.
The Torrent, Chloe.
A legion of just the two.
They moved with only a handful of companions, operating as guerrillas across the battlefields. Much like the unit once centered on Kyle and Raniel, the pair were fulfilling the hero's role to perfection.
Raniel let out a chuckle at the names the Demon King's army had bestowed upon them.
"The Black Nightmare, Belnoa."
The superhuman who dragged a black storm in her wake.
Any demonic beast tied to dragons knelt before Belnoa. The infamous wyvern units had lost all value in her presence, and the Demon King's forces, stripped of air superiority, retreated time and again.
"The Witch, Chloe."
The mage unbound by common sense.
They called her that because even spells of perfect counter or superior rank were crushed outright by sheer force.
Thanks to those two, the battlefronts expanded rapidly. Raniel led the charge, but they had already caught up right behind her.
With a contented smile, Raniel folded the newspaper.
She glanced back at the juniors following in her footsteps, then pressed on ahead once more. Always one step in front of them.
...And so, time flowed onward again.
Autumn passed, and winter arrived.
Fallen leaves crumbled into dust beneath the accumulating snow. On a bone-chilling winter day, Raniel unfolded the newspaper once more.
Chloe and Belnoa's exploits.
The feats of the Ashen Mages led by Resti.
And trailing behind them, the name of a newly risen hero who had begun making waves in earnest a few months prior. Raniel confirmed it.
Annihilator, Rak van Grace.
True to the chilling name of Annihilator, Rak's achievements over the past few months were brutally aggressive. He had sortied alone against the Demon King's forces surging to reclaim Kremphelia, annihilating their ranks and returning without a scratch.
Then, with only the Saintess at his side, he raided the Demon King's stronghold near Kremphelia. In a single night, he dealt them damage bordering on annihilation...
Every line poured out tales of Rak's outrageously extreme accomplishments. Raniel chuckled. Rak was no longer called a guardian. His way of protecting was not defense, but offense.
Annihilator. Strike them down and obliterate.
Rak always charged at the forefront and returned unscathed. Seeing this, the knights who fought alongside him began calling him the symbol of victory. Just as they once called a certain hero.
"He's grown."
Raniel smiled.
Rak van Grace. Belnoa van Draconic. Chloe. Resti Eleanor. The children she had raised were no longer inferior even to the heroes of old.
...The world now called this era humanity's golden age.
For centuries, humanity had warred against demons, but never before had they so overwhelmingly dominated the demonic hordes. They had repelled disaster after disaster, subjugated calamities, and even scarred the Demon King himself.
This was the moment. The time to end this interminable war.
The masses, the people, the historians, the knights, the commanders—they all cried out in unison. The names of heroes. The name of the hero leading this era. Lania van Trias's name.
"I think so too."
She set the newspaper aside and rose from her seat.
"If not now, there won't be another chance."
She pushed aside the tent flap and stepped forward.
Over the past several months, Raniel had aggressively expanded the front lines, finally reaching this place. The heart of the demonic realm. Raniel looked up at the sky.
A sky with a blood-red moon.
Snow fell from the crimson heavens.
The snow wasn't purely white. Where it touched demonic energy, it turned black and red. Amid the downpour of pitch-black snow, Raniel slowly lowered her gaze to the vista ahead. At the base of the cliff stretched a vast forest.
In the forest's center yawned a massive hole.
A colossal crater, as if struck by a meteor.
A bottomless black vertical shaft.
Raniel uttered aloud the name given to that passage to the abyss.
"The land for those who do not believe."
Alkeia, where all filth converged.
Humanity had arrived before the abyss.
Six months had passed in the blink of an eye.
2.
The promised six months had elapsed.
With the Alkeia Annihilation Battle just ten days away, the key forces from each front began converging in one place. The first to arrive was the longest-serving hero of the current generation, the overall commander of the eastern front.
"It's been a while, huh? Though, you're always hard to catch a glimpse of anyway."
Destel the Cringe.
Now the longest-surviving hero by current standards, he plopped down across from Raniel.
"You actually pushed all the way here."
"I told you. We'd reach this point within half a year."
"Easier said than done."
Destel gave a wry smile and looked ahead.
Sitting before him was Lania van Trias, hailed as humanity's greatest force—and in truth, the Ashen Mage Raniel.
A being of absurd might.
She'd always defied common sense, but now it was on another level. They called her a mage challenging divinity.
'She's grown far stronger than back then...'
Though she was much farther ahead now...
"Is the plan going smoothly?"
"Smoothly? It's hell."
Raniel sighed and slammed down a stack of documents. Exhaustion lingered in her eyes. Seeing it, Destel couldn't help but burst out laughing.
She was far ahead now, but it didn't feel as distant as before. The one sitting across from him was just another human, not some extraordinary entity.
"Figured as much, so I came early. Thought I'd lend a hand."
Destel was a veteran of paperwork.
He hadn't spent years as the eastern front commander for show. As he took a bundle of documents to review, Raniel suddenly spoke up.
"No regrets about joining the operation?"
This was about the Alkeia Annihilation Battle.
When she'd briefed him on the plan long ago, Raniel had warned him clearly about the risks. And added that he didn't have to participate if he didn't want to.
"When the operation starts, all of humanity's forces will concentrate in one spot. Gaps will naturally form elsewhere. That'll be an opportunity for the Demon King's army."
She'd offered him the role of filling those gaps.
If he didn't want to risk his life, he could sit this one out. And Destel's response to that proposal had been...
"I regret it. I do regret it."
But then:
"Feels like I'd regret it more if I bailed here."
The same answer as back then.
Raniel chuckled. It was the very response she'd given to Destel's question in the past. As she laughed, Destel slammed the documents down roughly on the table.
"Hey, you know what people are saying about me these days?"
He sounded a bit indignant.
"All the next-gen heroes have epic tales, and all I've got is 'Cringe.' Someone said that. Isn't the comparison a bit unfair?"
He held up one finger.
"That Galahad guy nearly single-handedly crushed the heretics, saved the next-gen hero, and on top of that, he's got the title of the most heroic hero. There are dozens of fairy tales about him."
And another.
"Then there's Kyle. What about that bastard? He lopped off the Black Dragon's head. Even scarred the Sword of Death. And that's not all—he supposedly cleaved the Demon King in half once."
Destel held up two fingers.
"Those guys are the ridiculous ones. I'm not that pathetic... right?"
The world feels like it's forcing me down.
Raniel shrugged at his mumbling. She knew half of it was a joke, even as he said it.
Even though he could correct that perception.
Destel never bothered to dispel the misunderstanding.
As if that position suited him just fine.
He always said not to expect too much from him—the guy who fled in fear at the crucial moment.
"Can't argue with that."
Raniel smiled wryly.
"Those two are the ridiculous ones."
"Hearing that from you—the most ridiculous of all—makes me feel even more pathetic."
Grumbling, Destel kept reviewing the documents. Then, his finger froze mid-page.
"I knew from the ops plan, but..."
Destel sighed.
"You sure this is okay?"
The document he held up bore the name of a certain superhuman.
"Sword Ghost, Draka."
A superhuman bound by a subservience contract.
Raniel had once leashed the uncontrollable beast. A contract Draka had entered willingly. Under it, he lost his ego.
An ego stolen by the stars.
An ego sealed by providence.
Normally, Draka had no way to reclaim it. That's what subservience contracts were. But Raniel knew how to loosen it.
"You really planning to take off his collar?"
Destel pointed at the document.
Asking if she truly intended to free Draka.
"Not completely."
Raniel tapped her own neck.
"Just enough to return some of his ego."
Destel looked uneasy.
Like he didn't like the idea. As if there was no need. Raniel smiled wryly and spoke.
"Once we're this far in, control doesn't matter much. This is the stage the Sword Ghost wanted most."
Heretic subjugation.
It was Draka's deepest wish. He'd carved away his life for that one desire.
"And..."
Raniel glanced skyward absentmindedly.
A sky hidden by the tent. But she gazed even farther, to the star floating above. To the value the first guide had prized most when it was first created...
"Who knows."
A vengeful ghost. A man who craved revenge.
"He might create a variable."
3.
The second to arrive was Kalt.
Kalt had retrieved Draka from the north and brought him to the front. The moment the carriage door opened, a thick stench of blood wafted out.
Thud.
Draka stepped forward, trailing the scent of blood.
Like a puppet with severed strings. Just before entering the command tent on orders, Draka halted. His head creaked around.
His gaze fixed on the horizon beyond.
A massive vertical shaft pierced through the dense forest. The moment he beheld it, Draka's eyes flickered red for an instant. But it faded quickly. Returning to normal, Draka entered the tent.
The instant he stepped inside.
Draka looked up.
His hollow eyes fixed on the lone figure seated within. Lania van Trias stared straight back at Draka.
The contract's master.
She posed a question to the broken man.
What do you desire?
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ For the sake of purpose, humans can become as cruel as needed. As horrific as needed. Draka knew this better than anyone.
His own life proved it.
He lost, and lost, and lost some more.
Having lost everything, with nothing left to lose, Draka walked a path stained with blood. He lived for revenge alone. For revenge was his only reason to live.
A blood-soaked path. A twisted, errant road.
Draka knew what awaited at its end.
Ruin. He had always run toward ruin. And ruin came swifter than expected. Perhaps because he'd harbored vain hope.
He'd hoped to see his daughter's face again.
But the world granted Draka no miracles.
The moment hope was stripped away, his path crumbled. Reliving that most horrific instant, Draka's mind shattered. His sundered ego sank to the depths of his soul.
Bereft of ego, Draka swung his sword.
As a puppet, he swung it across countless battlefields. Relentlessly. Thoughtlessly. Now, after much time, he had reached the foremost line. There lay the purpose he had lost.
"Draka."
Someone called him.
The soul sunken at the bottom stirred. The voice asked Draka his purpose.
Even a shattered soul bore its purpose etched deep.
It was the single word piercing his life, the name of the path he had walked. Even with ego crumbled, Draka did not forget it.
"What I desire..."
A puppet's voice, devoid of emotion.
Yet for a moment, heat flickered in it. The undying embers of long years blazed fiercely, the wick unaccustomed to full consumption now raging.
"Revenge."
A ruined life. A ruined sword. A ruined path.
The broken blade had one destination.
"Against the one who took everything from me, revenge."
The man who lived for revenge sought no salvation. No miracles. Only revenge. That sufficed.
Killing intent oozed thickly.
Raniel swallowed reflexively, then after a brief silence, flicked her upward-pointed finger at an angle. The moment it touched, the contract binding Draka rewrote itself.
Draka was not fully freed.
Raniel had created only a small crevice.
From that gap seeped viscous killing intent. Raniel glanced at Draka's eyes. The unfocused gaze now burned scarlet. Bloodshot, like a beast's.