Chapter 52: Ragnarok (4)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 52: Ragnarok (4)
Ordinarily, a "giant" refers to a person of immense physical stature.
However...
BHOOOOOOO!
Sometimes, the great figures or heroes who grace the pages of history are also called giants. Not for their physical size, but for the grandeur of the winds of fate they harbored.
Swishhh.
The presence of the flagpoles was lofty. At the sharp tips of the spears gathered a spirit that seemed ready to pierce the heavens.
Son of the Sword Emperor and father of the Sword Princess.
Orion von Nibelung looked up at the sky for a moment. The sky was clear. How long had it been since he last felt the grace of the Sun God? A bittersweet mixture of joy and sadness stung his nose.
Even with war knocking at the door, Orion’s heart felt full. Orion and those summoned alongside him were heroes who had defined an era. Warriors to whom old war songs were lullabies, and combat boots fit far better than soft slippers.
As Orion felt a surge of exhilaration, he spotted a white-haired old man. The old man’s eyes were wide as he stared at Orion—a striking expression, for it was a look he had never once shown in life.
"...Father."
A laugh escaped him along with the murmur. The sight of the ever-strict Sword Emperor looking flustered was a rare treasure.
"I wanted to be recognized by you."
Let us be honest now.
"I thought your stern yet kind presence was merely a strong man comforting the weak. Perhaps I even felt an inferiority complex toward my own father."
Shing.
"I pondered it for decades, and only then did I understand."
He drew his blade.
"Father, you simply loved me, purely and truly."
Orion von Nibelung pointed his sword forward. A beam of sunlight pierced through the clouds and ran down the length of his blade.
"I am sorry. I saddened you with my childish pride."
From afar, the warriors' flagpoles began to tilt in unison, like the closing pages of a book. A discipline so sharp it gave goosebumps. A rigid cloud of war solidified the grounds of the drill hall.
Swishhh.
Just as the front line lowered all their flagpoles, Orion shifted his gaze from the sky. He stared fiercely at the enemy.
"Thank you, Heavenly Sword."
Golden brilliance blazed from his eyes.
"For giving me the chance to apologize."
The tips of the flagpoles were sharp. Everyone aimed them forward—toward the insect demons gnashing their vicious, shark-like teeth.
"All units."
Warriors were those who expressed emotion with spears and swords rather than words.
"Forward march!"
BOOOOOOM...
The earth quaked beneath the giant's footsteps. Charges followed one after another. Both sides rushed violently toward the enemy.
KABOOOOOM!
Waves of light and darkness collided. Mikellan stood alone, fluttering the banner to boost the heroes' morale.
"May the Blessing of God be with you!"
Episode: Gigantomachia
"...What on earth is happening?"
"You're eighty years old and still surprised by so much, you geezer."
Medea said so, but a proud smile spread across her lips. Regardless of the context, fresh firewood had been tossed into their vanished odds of victory.
"Uahhhh-aaaaah!"
A battle cry of victory tore through the ranks of evil. Thrusting swords, spears, and flagpoles skewered demon after demon.
Despite being on foot, their speed was staggering. The heroes' desire for expansion, suppressed for decades, transformed into a sense of omnipotence. Who could stop battle-tested veterans whose morale had reached its peak?
The insect demons fought back with ferocious malice, but were pushed back by overwhelming momentum. From above, it looked like a golden wave swallowing a light-green sewage.
The bloody battle on the wild plain was literally dazzling, making the hearts of onlookers race. The army of the dead held nothing back. Their majestic presence was remarkable, even when compared to their descendants.
These were individuals who had etched at least a sentence into history with a single blade. Such warriors now trusted one another with their backs, carving through the light-green hellscape with every ounce of power they possessed. The clashing of armor resounded rhythmically.
Slash!
Orion von Nibelung charged forward, swinging his blade. The demons that met his edge had their heads split wide open and died instantly. Wiping the blood splashed across his face, he lightly leaped forward.
"The King of the Dead is watching us!"
The warriors cheered and followed their vanguard. They poured all their accumulated resentment into their weapons. Sounds of bursting, air tearing, and metal scraping. Their blood boiled.
If an invincible legion truly existed, it would refer to them. Thump, thump. The Sword Emperor placed a hand on his chest.
Medea raised the corners of her mouth so high her eyes twitched, saying, "It wouldn't be polite for the descendants to fall behind in front of their ancestors, would it?"
The Sword Emperor smiled as well. "Indeed."
"Let's go."
All-Power Meain uncrossed her arms.
"Siegfried, Medea."
"Yes."
"Mm."
The Sword Emperor and Medea half-closed their eyes. They sharpened their senses to a fine point, honing them again and again. The sensation of detaching oneself from the surrounding landscape.
Through hyper-focus, they seized the strands of magic power. Utilizing the anomaly of the world to their advantage—a concept possible only for veterans of their caliber.
Bzzzzz-t.
Time slowed. As the Seven Star Heroes strained their eyes, the world regained its proper flow.
Awakening of the Blessing.
Because Awakening naturally erodes one's lifespan, All-Power Meain Poison had adamantly warned them against it, as all the current Seven Stars were on the verge of Awakening. But the situation had changed.
Magic power had invaded the Human Realm. Just as Balor Joaquin had once established the 'Special Pavilion' to protect his disciples, the Seven Champions—the magic power, though a pollutant to ordinary humans, ironically prevented the Seven Stars from being consumed by their Blessings.
"Hup!"
A chilling sensation ran down Medea's spine. A sense of omnipotence felt as though it were numbing her brain.
Right before the sword carrying her lunged to pierce the giant's eyeball, Medea flipped like a gymnast and dismounted.
BANG!
The sword struck home. The giant raised its hand toward its eye. Landing on its arm, Medea sprinted up its length and reached the space between its brows in an instant.
"Hold still."
KABOOOOOM!
The impact sound was heavy and dull. The giant's head snapped backward. At the back of its neck, another woman snapped her leg forward, having bent back at the waist.
KABOOOOOM!
The giant's head vibrated back and forth like a rubber ball tethered to a string. Watching the two women's exploits, the Sword Emperor and Spear Saint were not idling either.
Behind the Sword Emperor, ten swords unfolded in a concentric circle. Sword-Control Technique. Then, the concentric circle expanded wide, closing in on the giant's eyes, neck, philtrum, chest, backs of the knees, and inner elbows. The Sword Emperor himself drove his blade into the crevices of stone and advanced in a zigzag pattern. Clatter-clatter-clatter! The blade cut through smoothly without being damaged by the stone outcroppings.
"Grandfather!"
"Abel."
He briefly met the eyes of his granddaughter, who had suddenly boarded the giant's body. Exchanging nods as if practiced, they sliced through the protruding rock formations.
As they mercilessly carved away, green crystals began emerging across the giant's body. Anyone could tell without being told that those were its weak points. Drawing eerie sounds in their wake, the Sword Emperor and Abel charged toward the crystals.
"Shail!"
"Yes, Butler."
Shail circled the giant's feet, stringing Charon's Silver Thread onto a skewer. A line connected to Ryozo's bow as well. Like Gulliver bound in the land of Lilliput, they ensnared the giant's entire body. Its movement restricted, the giant began to collapse.
"Bwahahaha! It does my heart good to see you so hale, Nibelung!"
The Spear Saint was on the ground, for his task lay there.
Richard de Myura stomped his feet like a wild buffalo. Demons colliding with the Spear Saint's armor were sent flying like ragdolls. Reaching Gae Bolg, he swiftly drew the spear...
And threw it.
However, the distance to the giant was far too great. It would reach, but it would lack the force to destroy the crystal in its solar plexus.
"Niece!"
"Yes!"
Rachel sprinted, stepping on the shoulders and heads of demons. Treading upon a foothold formed by one of her ancestors cupping their hands, she launched herself into the air. Heart-shaped pupils gleamed between her slowly spinning pigtails. Snatching Gae Bolg midair, she reignited its momentum with the power of her waist and rotational force before hurling it.
CRACK!
The giant's chest caved in. Yet it was not destroyed. A decisive strike was needed.
WHOOOOOOSH.
Blonde hair fluttered forward. Where the flash of lightning swept through, only torn wings scattered in the air. The Hero, Leon von Reinhardt.
He drove Balmung into the target. The green crystal glowed precariously. He swung again and again. Buzzing numbness spread through his knuckles.
TINGGG...
A clear, ringing sound echoed. As the crystal shattered, Leon's view wobbled. An earthquake shook the ground—the aftermath of the giant he stood upon finally collapsing to its knees.
* * *
=You bas---tard!=
An enemy's roar of rage is always music to my ears. It's practically no different from a victory cry. What's more, coming from the Apocalypse itself, it brings a feeling that's hard to describe.
=Plausibility...! How much plausibility must you destroy to be satisfied...?! O blind one, blinded by the small to miss the grand picture! Ah, Counterforce... What path are you walking...?!=
"You've been nagging me until my ears bleed about how I'm an apostle of destruction."
I charged. I swung my crossed blades outward as if unfolding them. An X-shaped wave of sword energy surged toward the old knight.
Ragnarok was bare-handed, yet he parried and deflected the strike diagonally. He was certainly no ordinary foe. But he wasn't anything more than that, either.
"My blades were just doing their job. Isn't it double standards to whine about that? You're the one who turned our world into a fucking shithole with all your conquest and plague bullshit."
=I merely represented the legitimate exercise of the Counterforce!=
"Then this side is legitimate self-defense, you motherfucker!"
I struck again. Immeasurable flashes of sword light surged forward repeatedly. Harm didn't matter. My stamina was finite, but my will to fight was infinite.
Even if my muscles tore away like unraveling threads, my willpower snapped tight like fastened buttons. Amidst the massive turbulent current, the anchor of my allies held me fast, keeping me from drifting away.
Strip away the trivial details and let only two actions float to the surface.
Cut, and slash. Parallel thinking was simple, but its destructive power was immense. Even Ragnarok, who had been tenaciously fending off my attacks, seemed to be reaching his limit. How could a crafty coward who used to shoot arrows from afar possess the courage to face a blade head-on?
I pressed him hard. The scenery of the world sank around us. We tumbled downward, tangled together. The madness of war felt far closer than the heat of the sun.
=You insolent fool!=
I was alone. In a sense, I am lonely even now.
=How could an Apostle of the Counterforce side with such vermin...!=
The only person who could hear the agony of my existence after becoming the Sword God was Yoo Se-in. And even that was only a fraction of it.
The trajectories of my sashimi knives were a pair. Upon them, hands of light began to lay themselves one by one.
I do not advance alone. Whenever I stray toward the wrong path, those around me become my helmsmen.
That is why.
The path of my sword remained straight. Everyone held onto my mind as it walked a tightrope, pulling me upright.
No matter what monster appeared, they unhesitatingly drew their weapons. They come to resemble me. And I, too, follow their example.
I channeled an armful of thunderbolts into Murasame. Because the color of my soul had changed, the light changed as well.
A dark blue light. Infusing my hands and two sashimi knives with the skin tone of the cosmos, I thrust forward.
Thud.
The skull head wobbled and slipped free. It plummeted from the heavens to the earth.
Watching the sight from afar, Yoo Se-in murmured softly.
"...Three against one."
The living.
The dead.
And a god.
By their hands, the Apocalypse fell.