Chapter 93
Chapter 93
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 93
Chapter Title: Night-Slicing Ban (1)
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The Northern Region is no place for humans to live.
Flowers devour bugs, water withers trees, and sometimes birds swim through the soil, gaping their hideous beaks. The sun never illuminates the Northern Region's land, no matter the moment, and the only light one can hope for is the shadow of the White Flame pouring from that distant lighthouse.
But saying it's no place fit for living is different from saying no one can survive there.
"......."
"That's the fifth one this month."
An old man covered in scars from head to toe gazed down at a smooth corpse without a single mark. Even death hadn't freed him from fear; the body's face was frozen in terror. No matter if they closed his eyes or adjusted his mouth, nothing could erase the utter horror etched into that corpse.
"Is the lighthouse light fading, or is the night growing thicker...?"
"...Shouldn't we leave this place now too?"
Another man asked. Women in ragged clothes stared at the old man with hollow eyes. Having lived lives where tragedy was no longer novel in the face of endless death, they had long despaired. Their stories varied, but none could find a foothold in the Kingdom. They called themselves residents of the ruined village.
"Where would we go?"
"...The Revolutionary Corps' offer is still on the table, Father."
A man with the same face as the village chief spoke. The only differences were his slightly darker hair, fewer wrinkles, and lack of noticeable scars. The chief shook his head with a bitter expression.
"You think we'd be safe there? It would be the same. We'd just live in fear of the Kingdom's pursuit instead of the night."
"The Kingdom's pursuit is a future worry, but the night is right here with us now."
He was right. The chief slowly looked around at his people. Shadowed by death, they seemed to have forgotten how to fight for life. Was joining the Revolutionary Corps really the answer for people like these?
That was when it happened. A baby's wail—waaang—shattered their gloomy silence. As a flustered young mother nursed her child, the old man wore a grim expression.
"...All right. Let's go to the Revolutionary Corps."
Even half a hope was better than grasping at straws in this situation.
§
"We're not sharing thoughts. We're sharing memories."
"Then Shiraz's memories... do they make all Shiraz stronger?"
"People don't get strong just from memories, Ban."
Shiraz smiled.
"The training accumulated in your body doesn't just make you stronger in raw power. The more you layer on training after training, the more your body itself becomes a weapon. 'Strength' isn't merely a matter of 'knowledge.' In that sense, a Shiraz's strength varies by their body. And this body isn't built for combat."
"...How many Shiraz are made for battle?"
"Want to test it?"
"I want to feel it. Just how strong is a Shiraz who can properly hold and wield the memories of so many people."
"You won't be able to sense it."
Shiraz smiled strangely.
"You're still far from being able to feel that."
It would be a lie to say those words didn't sting, but Ban didn't argue back. Debating with Shiraz felt pointless. After all, Shiraz was essentially a gathering of hundreds—no, countless people, including the memories of the dead. How could one debate one-on-one with a crowd of thousands? A sage might manage it, but Ban was just a swordsman.
'Strength doesn't come from knowledge alone.'
The remark Shiraz had tossed out casually gave Ban more food for thought than expected. He felt himself growing just by holding his sword.
But perhaps there was strength one could only gain by not holding the sword.
'...I don't want to become Ropo.'
Ban realized anew how much he had been relying on Ropo. He didn't want to become a swordsman like Ropo. He wanted to become a swordsman who had achieved everything possible, beyond comparison to any other.
If he met the previous Guardian, could he find that answer?
As he walked, Ban had to slice through flowers that suddenly turned their petals into tentacles to ensnare him. At his level, they weren't a real threat, but the instinctive revulsion was unavoidable.
'...People live in a place like this.'
What was he here for? Simply to show the Seonwoo Clan? To prove he was the only one who could ultimately protect the library, the very power they had scorned.
He didn't want to think of himself as that childish. Of course, considering the shadow he had faced... it leaned more toward revering the logic of power over reason, but that shadow wasn't the real person.
What kind of swordsman did he want to be? If he had lived as the Guardian, he couldn't have hated the sword—so why did he wield it?
There was so much he wanted to discuss. He wanted guidance, and if possible, to cross blades with him.
"...Time to stay on your guard from here on."
Kizl said. He was Anya's distant relative and a member of the White Flame Corps. His thick beard, due to its color, made him look elderly despite being in his thirties. His voice, laced with the Nahar Clan's signature laziness, was so languid it could make listeners drowsy.
"The lighthouse light is fading. It's not just dumb wraiths now—true 'Seeds of the Night' will appear. No nobles, but even seeds are no opponents to take lightly. Keep that in mind..."
"Yes, Sir Kizl."
Ban nodded quietly. Among the Seeds of the Night, he had only faced demon ghosts and wraiths—both evil spirit types. If he encountered monsters or demonic beasts...
"......."
Ban's steps halted. Moments later, Shiraz's did too. As the others turned to them in confusion, Ban drew his broadsword.
And unleashed a thrust.
It was a flawless thrust. Massive, sharp, and swift. The thrust, which mercilessly shredded trees and earth infused with night, finally dissipated before a single doll.
'...How beautiful is a single life.'
Countless Shiraz murmured in his mind. Considering his age, he had barely lived a fraction of a fraction of his lifespan, yet that thrust he produced astonished even Shiraz who had accumulated tens of thousands of years.
"...Who are you?"
Kizl turned and asked with an annoyed expression. The man in shabby clothes rolled his eyes wordlessly before trying to flee. But Kizl wasn't about to let him. In the next instant, a massive White Flame gale erupted from Kizl's palm. The gale, sucking in and devouring everything around it, burned off one of the man's hands.
"Hrrghhh."
"Keeping quiet even now. Judging by that poison... one of the ruined village scum. Why are you lot, who usually avoid coming near, tailing us?"
"N-Not tailing. We just... sought help."
"Help?"
"Lately, funerals haven't stopped in the ruined village. A 'Night Noble' keeps killing people like it's a game. If it were just Seeds of the Night, we'd handle it ourselves... but a Night Noble changes things. So the villagers plan to rely on the Revolutionary Corps."
"...A Night Noble appeared here? And the Revolutionary Corps? Did you say Revolutionary Corps? They've approached you?"
Kizl scowled. The night wasn't thick enough for Night Nobles yet. They could walk right up to the lighthouse if they wanted, but their nature preferred the dark...
And the Revolutionary Corps? This was no small matter for Kizl. He glanced at Shiraz. Shiraz spoke quietly.
"Dein's already been informed. He says hear them out."
"...No choice then. So, what help do you want?"
"I'm... in no position to go to the Revolutionary Corps."
The man spoke haltingly, gauging reactions. He didn't detail why, but it was obvious. Probably crossed them somehow—betrayal or snitching. Unlike the villagers seeking refuge, he had tailed this patrol by chance.
"Catch the Night Noble. And leave the ruined village alone. Guarantee that, and I'll... tell you where the Revolutionary Corps is myself."
"...What did he say?"
Kizl looked at Shiraz with a face that said he couldn't bear the hassle. Shiraz chuckled.
"Doesn't sound like a proposal we can refuse."
"Honestly, I thought the same."
Kizl sighed. He looked down at the man and asked quietly.
"Fine. Where's this noble-grade one?"
"Actually... there's more than one."
"...What?"
"We were confused at first. But the corpses' traces forced us to realize. It wasn't an individual—it was a group."
"Nobles moving as a group?"
"Some corpses were drained of moisture, others torn to shreds. Some died without a mark, others sprouted mold all over.
Abilities no single noble could have."
"...Seems that way. But tell me... were there any who died with mushrooms growing on them?"
"Mushrooms? Oh, yes. How did you...?"
"That figures."
Kizl said in a reluctant voice.
"I just grew one. On your head."
"......."
The man dumbly patted his head. Feeling the small mushroom sprouting there wasn't hard. His face drained of color as he screamed.
"N-No, no! P-Please, I beg you. Hurry and get these noble bastards...!"
"...'Noble bastards' rubs me the wrong way."
Kizl grumbled. Either way, it was an offer they couldn't refuse. With nobles descending this far, they had to check, and more importantly, they couldn't let the Revolutionary Corps lead slip.
"Lead the way. Where can we find these night scum?"
"Oh dear, 'night scum'? That's harsh, darling."
That was when it happened. The mushroom on the man's head opened its mouth and whispered. A horrific voice—one that made you want to vomit up everything from the day before just hearing it. Kizl didn't flinch at the bizarre sight. Expecting normalcy against the night was foolish.
"You the noble-grade one? Better come out quick—for both our sakes."
"...Really? You think you can handle us?"
"No one ponders if they can 'handle' trash."
"Fun. Fine. Come to Soy Dam then. I'll be there, and give you a real..."
Before the mushroom finished, White Flame poured down. The man panicked as it engulfed his head, but the flame burned only the mushroom and vanished. Kizl shrugged his shoulders and quietly turned to the group.
"...Looks like we've got a destination."
"Seems so."
Ban replied in a reluctant voice. Mushrooms sprouting on people's heads and talking? What a neighborhood.
'Amusing.'
Ban smiled. No moon or sun to tell time, yet he felt the night approaching.
Kisin cackled in glee.
—Feel it, savor it, the thrill of shattering the night! The righteous conquest surging through you!
He couldn't slice the sky yet, but still,
he could slice the night.