Chapter 312
Chapter 312
-----------------------------------------------------------------
>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 312
>Chapter Title: See, You Were Wrong
>-----------------------------------------------------------------
Cloudy sky.
A night where the moon had hidden itself.
Aster's form cut across the pristine white snowfield.
Rumble—
With every step that struck the ground, thunder reverberated, and by the time his figure had pulled far ahead, fierce winds whipped up in his wake.
In Aster's vision, the landscape spun chaotically.
An endless expanse of white snow. Snowflakes pouring without end. Dark clouds in the sky, the white earth below, and the night's darkness filling the space between.
Black and white, and gray.
It was as if all color had been stripped away.
The achromatic scene felt less holy than ominous, and less ominous than a pale corpse.
No, perhaps it wasn't the space that felt suffocated like a pale corpse—it was Aster himself.
Then, what was choking his breath?
- The Decullan Patriarch... has come to the Second Black-White Slums.
In truth, nothing was certain.
Pahren von Decullan's visit to the Second Black-White Slums was surprising, but his purpose remained unclear.
And considering the circumstances, Pahren was in no position to act recklessly.
The Second Black-White Slums were already the Grand Duchy of Muspellun, and with armistice negotiations looming, the Decullan Family had no choice but to watch the imperial family's mood.
Therefore...
...Pahren's procession was most likely a trap to lure him out.
Here I am, come to your turf. What will you do? Just watch? Hide in the shadow of the Muspellun Grand Duke and stay silent? Even though I could trample your domain?
A threat he could never actually carry out.
But.
Even so, Aster did not slow down. No, far from it—he spurred himself onward even faster.
It was unavoidable.
He could laugh off a mere verbal threat, but his opponent was Pahren.
The man who had staked his family's fate on the Heavenly Origin Art. The one who ultimately brought down the Blandoga Family and claimed it for himself. The figure who ascended to the greatest heights in history.
A threat from such a man was no longer mere words.
Thus, Aster tore through space itself. He pierced the raging snowstorm. In a world where the moon was hidden and visibility was nil, he gauged his direction with transcendent senses and pressed forward.
Rumble—
Thunder with every step. Clashing winds. Pristine white snow. Thunder again, winds, snow... and more snow.
...It wasn't long before Aster began to slow.
“......”
He came to a gradual halt, taking in the scene ahead.
In the space where snow lashed fiercely, nothing was visible, but his senses clearly detected a presence.
Whenever the snow briefly thinned, the silhouette of that presence flickered into view, and with his hyper-sharpened eyesight, Aster identified the figure from that alone.
His opponent was a giant mage.
Just shy of two meters tall? Even concealed beneath his robe, his sturdy build was unmistakable. He seemed more knight than mage, yet Aster was certain he was a 'mage' nonetheless.
He knew.
That face.
“......Holland.”
A faint mutter. To ordinary ears, it would have been lost in the flurry of snow.
But Holland was no ordinary man, and his senses—honed to the extreme—could pick out the sound of a needle dropping amid the cacophony.
That was why a smile bloomed on Holland's lips.
“You know me?”
As if there was any way he wouldn't.
However, Aster did not respond.
'As expected...'
It was a trap.
But even with the trap confirmed, Aster's expression did not change. It wasn't an effort to feign calm. His face was masked from the start, after all.
He was simply sizing up.
His opponent—and himself.
But was his opponent doing the same?
“Someday, I looked forward to the day I'd rip you apart. But... hmm, heh.”
The smile deepened, twisting into something grotesque. When it did, Holland let out a laugh of pure delight, pressing a hand to his chest.
“It's been ages since my blood last boiled like this.”
It was sincere.
Unlike the clash with Lortel's blade before. Unlike imagining a fight with Aeviron under the same shadow.
It wouldn't boil like this if the opponent was merely strong. Needless to say for the weaklings.
Holland had realized it.
A worthy rival.
The masked figure before him was exactly what he had sought his entire life.
“Let me confirm. You're the Tower Lord, right?”
He wasn't asking out of ignorance. Holland was here precisely to wait for the Tower Lord. It was just... unbelievable.
The man he ought to tear apart... was the rival of his dreams. Could there be a sweeter twist of fate?
But unlike the seething Holland...
“......”
Aster regarded him with cold eyes. And soon, a low thunder rumbled.
Rumble—
The moment the sound registered...
...Boom!
A bolt of lightning struck Holland. Naturally, the lightning was Aster.
“Perfect. Yes, no need for talk.”
Holland grinned ferociously at Aster, who recoiled from the barrier's impact. Flames bloomed at his fingertips, and...
Explosion.
Screeeee—
Black and white, and gray.
Crimson flames overturned the achromatic world, while azure lightning surged toward the heavens.
* * *
The field where the monstrous flames had subsided lay charred black. Snowflakes from the sky turned to steam before even touching the ground.
And at the explosion's epicenter.
“......”
Holland swept his gaze around, a savage smile on his lips. Nothing was visible.
Had his opponent been ordinary, Holland would have no doubt believed he'd vaporized in the blast.
But Holland knew his foe's caliber. No mage so pathetic as to perish from such an explosion. No, he couldn't be.
“Where are you. Come on...”
As Holland spoke...
Crackle!
A low tearing sound suddenly erupted overhead.
Holland reflexively looked up. And there...
A single spear.
Immense.
And vicious.
Mana and magical power compressed to the utmost. The explosive force from their collision. Holland grasped its danger at a glance, and in that instant, he spotted the mage wielding the spear.
The lightning spear plunged toward Holland right after.
Kiiing—
Transcendence unleashed.
In the splintered fraction of a second, Holland took in the approaching spear. And he thought.
Could he take that with his body?
The answer was simple.
'Impossible.'
It would shred him to atoms, leaving not even a corpse in the destructive energy.
Even a barrier would have limits. A hastily erected one would fail utterly, bones and all.
If only he'd noticed a second—or 0.1 seconds—earlier, he could have blocked it.
So, what now?
Flames bloomed before Holland's eyes right then.
Roar—
In empty air, flames ignited and swelled on their own. No spell could achieve such rapid change in a split instant.
Even magical flames consumed oxygen, with inevitable limits to speed.
Yet, how?
The reason was simple.
This was the final stage of Red Fire.
Flames that burned alone.
That was precisely it.
Confirming the Red Fire's ignition, Holland escaped the fleeting moment and launched himself away.
...Boom!
Monstrous explosion. The flames clashed with lightning and detonated, the spear's condensed energy ravaging everything.
An utterly razor-thin margin. After rolling across the ground twice, Holland swiftly regained his stance.
And in one breath—
Boom!
A fist charging straight at him.
“Kh, heh.”
Holland laughed.
Their battle resembled less that of mages and more that of knights.
Wielding magic instead of swords, moving the body before incantations to target the throat. Hesitating not at bloodshed, offering flesh to sever bone.
Holland took a bare fist to the face while kneeing his opponent's solar plexus. As the foe gasped 'Guh!', he unleashed a barrage of brutal punches without mercy. Not all landed, of course.
Clang, claaang—!
Some were blocked by barriers.
Crunch, craaack!
Bones shattered from the impacts routinely.
Occasionally, Aster's explosive bursts struck true, but Holland always dodged lethal blows with beastly reflexes, countering by setting Aster ablaze.
Exchanging wounds that would kill mortals endlessly, yet their transcendent bodies were hardly human.
Even without Light of Healing, a transcendent archmage's healing magic far surpassed the norm.
Of course, like Shine with Aeviron, a fatal wound might change that—but Aster and Holland's realms were not so disparate.
No, it wasn't just realms.
Their combat experience matched too.
Craaaash—!
That was why Holland could remain composed before an explosion that would rip flesh.
He knew its non-lethal range, slipping through its edges for opportunities rather than fleeing.
When Holland's brutish grip seized Aster's throat, Aster showed no panic.
He knew.
Roar—
These flames engulfing him couldn't kill.
Crunch.
The vise grip strained to snap his neck, but he could endure.
Aster seized Holland's forearm in turn, deploying Collision Formula. No leisure to draw ambient mana, so he circulated only internal magical power.
“Gahk...!”
In the end, Holland released first and retreated.
Aster could have wrenched the arm away then... but he had to fall back to quench the flames devouring his body.
A brief lull.
Holland laughed.
“Excellent.”
Utter sincerity.
But Aster did not laugh.
Instead, beyond Holland's shoulder.
The snow-lashed horizon.
...The Second Black-White Slums.
He simply took it in.
Aster thought.
'Young Patriarch, see—you were wrong.'
That you have no choice but to grow strong when there's something to protect?
Even pouring heart and soul into it, against an opponent where victory was uncertain, his mind wavered like this. Mental disturbance meant defeat.
And it was all...
Because there was something to protect.
But.
Aster reignited his aura.
What kept him from retreating despite sensing defeat was simple.
...In his heart, a single tower.
That was what he harbored.