Chapter 445
Chapter 445
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 445
Chapter Title: No Regrets
A holy spear trailing a cluster of platinum stars shot forth.
The trail of light pulled by the spear slicing across the battlefield even resembled a person charging ahead. Starlight reminiscent of the hero who always gripped his spear and dashed forward... standing at the forefront of everyone... raced across the field of battle.
'Ah, damn it...'
Having finished his throw, Destel felt his vision blur. His body grew ice-cold. Excessive blood loss. Blood poured madly from the pierced and torn wounds. With the spear throw as his finale, Galahal's starlight departed from Destel's body.
...He could barely see ahead anymore.
Still, determined to witness the outcome his spear would create, Destel blinked his eyes. He strained to focus on what lay before him. As he kept blinking repeatedly, a sudden sense of wrongness washed over him.
It was slow. Incredibly so.
The world flowed sluggishly.
No, it had come to a complete halt. Amid the frozen time, Destel saw something scattering before his eyes.
...Ashes?
What fluttered before him was ash.
The signature of the Ashen Mage, Raniel. But this ash was somehow different from what that one scattered. If Raniel's ash felt like firewood awaiting a spark...
This was ash that could burn no longer.
Ash that had consumed everything it possessed, harboring no lingering attachments... and in that sense, almost appearing liberated.
Sa-rak.
In the halted time, only the ash moved.
The moment the snow-like ash touched Destel's body, his eyes—which had been fixed ahead—now gazed at something infinitely distant.
The giant gods filling every direction.
The battlefield that had begun to tilt.
Raniel battling beyond them.
All of it overlaid with an entirely different scene.
What filled Destel's vision was blackened earth. Barren land where no life could survive any longer. The wasteland stretched to the horizon. It reminded Destel of a ruined world's landscape.
Blink.
Destel peered ahead with his now-clear vision.
Someone stood there. By coincidence, he wore platinum vestments—familiar attire. Bloodstained and soiled beyond recognition, but surely that was...
Splash.
At the sound, Destel looked down.
Blood flowed beneath his feet. The stream extended all the way to the man standing in the distance. Following the trail of blood, Destel shifted his gaze.
"Why."
"Why didn't you help?"
"Why did you run? Why?"
"You're supposed to be a hero. You, and that so-called strongest hero too... all of you, all..."
From the blood came voices.
Along with a wailing cry, scenes flashed across the barren land. There was a girl clutching Belnoa's corpse and sobbing. Chloe, clawing at her own skin and screaming, was there.
"Why. Why, why..."
The blood continued to flow.
From the spilling blood came blame, resentment, mockery. But as the trail stretched on, the voices faded into silence.
"......"
The man at the end of the blood trail.
He slowly turned around. Meeting Destel's eyes. Though his face differed from his own... and the expression was utterly unlike his... Destel recognized the man.
His future self stood there.
He looked at Destel. Clad in blood-soaked garments, standing atop the blood, he slowly opened his mouth.
"...Ah."
With a groan, he smiled faintly.
A thin laugh.
Just before it vanished, he asked a question.
"No regrets this time?"
As Destel moved to respond, the distant figure chuckled and turned away.
"Good."
As if he'd heard the answer.
In that instant, with a sharp crack, the scene shattered. The platinum holy spear Destel had thrown was what destroyed it. Like clock hands resuming motion, the spear smashed through the ruined world's vista and advanced.
Passing Rak as he swung his sword.
Passing Resti as she commanded her summons.
Forward, ever forward. Toward a distant future's unreachable scene, the spear pressed on.
Shrieeeeeek!
Piercing the giant gods, crossing the battlefield, the spear of light finally reached the apostate. She reached out toward it, but the spear pierced her hand and struck her heart—the very spot where once a hero had thrust his lance.
The moment the spear tip embedded in the heart of calamity.
Flash—the accumulated starlight burst forth entirely. The flooding starlight engulfed the apostate. For an instant, the world was dyed in starlight.
Kwaaaaaaaaang!
A deafening roar echoed even to this distant spot.
The black cross soaring toward the heavens trembled, and the expanding hole in the sky halted its growth. The giant gods obeying the apostate's command froze in unison.
Thus, a gap was created.
Thus, a path opened.
Gazing at the path his spear had forged, recalling the inexplicable scene he'd just witnessed... Destel slowly turned his head.
"......"
His juniors, staring at his bleeding form.
Looking at those two, Destel smiled.
"Go."
Extending his hand toward the apostate, Destel said.
"To your stage."
As Chloe and Belnoa nodded and charged toward the temple's heart, Destel collapsed to the ground. Sitting there, he mulled over... the question his future self had posed.
No regrets? he'd asked.
As if answering, Destel murmured.
"None. No regrets."
Watching his juniors race along the path he'd opened, Destel smiled. More satisfied than ever before.
2.
The apostate, Glerea Bell Armias, gazed at the spear hurtling toward her. A straight path, blinding speed—the star spear. Though it had left its master's hand as a thrown weapon...
In the apostate's eyes, she saw something entirely different.
From the surging starlight, the apostate beheld.
A hero charging at her, gripping the star spear, blood streaming from his wounds. She saw the radiance he emitted. Caught in the glow she'd thought she'd never witness again, her response came too late.
Reaching out belatedly—but it was already too late.
Shrieeeeeek!
The incoming star spear pierced her hand.
Piercing the back of her hand and onward, it embedded in her heart. Staring at the spear pulsing fiercely within her chest, she couldn't help but laugh.
Flash.
Followed by an ear-shattering boom.
The focused starlight erupted fully, shaking her body. The starlight exploding from her heart seared her retinas. It tore her skin, shredded her flesh.
Kiiik, kiiigigigik.
The cross piercing toward the heavens shuddered.
Shaking so violently that the opening sky paused. Even the link to her familiars wavered, freezing the giant gods. After the light's explosion faded, what remained was the apostate in ruins.
Drip, drip.
Blood poured from her mouth, her eyes.
Staggering to her feet, she looked at her body. Arm charred and ragged by starlight. Scorched skin. A hole through her chest. Gazing at them, the apostate laughed.
The star spear vanished with the light's explosion, but the wound it carved would never fade. Upon the scar Galahal had left, Destel had etched a new one.
"Ah, truly..."
Tracing the wound, the apostate laughed.
Bleeding, she groaned.
A variable. An unforeseen variable. In this moment, nothing went according to her expectations.
'A human who protected nothing, whom I predicted would be consumed by madness and perish, a coward I thought would flee forever...'
Those I'd deemed bereft of radiance.
Those I'd believed could never shine again—they had reclaimed their light. And now flaunted it before her.
'As if declaring everything about me was wrong.'
All predictions missed the mark.
Every prophecy she'd uttered was refuted.
The path she'd walked as the apostate, her convictions, her values—all denied.
"Indeed."
Bleeding, the apostate looked ahead.
There, seizing the opening, came her contracted heirs. On the stage that dear child had prepared for her sake, the apostate laughed. With boundless delight.
...Even though all plans had gone awry.
...Even though her defeat loomed.
Glerea Bell Armias found this situation enjoyable instead. This moment of denial, facing those who shone brilliantly beyond her predictions—it was too exhilarating to bear.
Craaack.
Raniel, closing in, swung her fist.
A fist wrapped in layered spells slammed into the apostate's face. With a brain-rattling impact, the apostate tumbled ignobly across the ground.
"Ah, aah..."
Managing to rise.
She saw them approaching from all sides. Those tearing apart the nameless gods, wrecking every stage she'd prepared, advancing here.
The one wielding Ganikalt's sword.
The one chosen by the stars, like her.
The one inheriting Belial's will.
The child resembling her.
The one who'd walked her path to the extreme.
"If you've got any cards left, play them all."
And.
"If not, you're done here."
The contracted heir who'd brought them all this far.
Gazing at Raniel striding toward her, the apostate burst into laughter. Show everything if you have it. Only now did she grasp her intent.
"Never imagined."
The apostate raised her arm, wiping her face.
"What you're trying to achieve, why you're denying me so utterly—I think I finally get it."
The apostate laughed.
"Because you resemble that person."
Thoroughly crushing.
Not one to waver from that sole purpose.
"You."
The apostate tilted her head.
"You're trying to strip away my apostasy, aren't you?"
Raniel flinched, furrowing her brow.
"Separating the apostate, Gletus... from Saintess Glerea Bell Armias. Peel away the apostasy from me, kill me as a saintess. Right?"
That must be the salvation she envisioned.
Perhaps the salvation that person desired.
"Thanks, but."
Her hand wiping her face.
As it descended to her chin, white light bloomed from her palm. Tick, tick—the divinity she possessed rose.
"I'll pass. Can't be done."
Tick, tick-tick-tick-tick.
The blooming light turned black. Drawing the blackened light, the apostate raised her finger toward the heavens. Not fully open, but that was enough.
Reversing Heaven still needed time.
But Opening Heaven was already achieved.
Gazing at the apostate raising her hand to the sky, Raniel let out a long sigh. Exhaling, she tapped her ear.
"Hey, Cardi."
The apostate halted her rising finger with a start. Turning at the nostalgic name Raniel uttered. The one thing she couldn't release until the very end. Her final lingering attachment.
"That's what they say?"
"You..."
The apostate stared at Raniel with wavering eyes. As if conversing with someone. A long thread connected her ear to somewhere.
"What do you plan to do?"
"Who are you talking to?"
Raniel ignored the apostate's questions.
She merely smirked and tilted her head. As if for the apostate to hear, Raniel continued. With each word, the apostate's eyes shook more.
...The thread connected not far away.
Then, was that person here?
Had they come this far? Breaking the rule of non-interference to reach here...? No, impossible. No such convenient tale existed.
But perhaps...
Denying inwardly, her gaze kept wavering. She stepped toward Raniel. In a trembling voice, she spoke.
"You."
"Won't be easy, you know?"
"I asked who you're talking to."
"Well, I'll give it a shot."
"I asked—"
Raniel dropped her hand from her ear.
With a sneer, she lifted her head.
"Who else?"
Raniel stomped the ground with a thud.
Closing the distance in an instant, she said.
"The hopelessly stubborn mage who's been groveling for a thousand years to save your sorry ass."
Grip.
Raniel seized the finger the apostate had extended.