Chapter 362
Chapter 362
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>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 362
>Chapter Title: If Someone Sees This, They'll Think I'm the Bad Guy
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The first to regain his senses was Viscount Nebit.
“You! Damn bastard!”
Viscount Nebit spat his rage while taking in Colossus.
“Stop him. We have to stop him! That madman mustn’t go any further…!”
Before he could even finish saying ‘…we can’t let him burn the development site,’ Colossus kicked off from his spot and charged ahead.
“...Hmm.”
Flames assailing him from all directions. Colossus summoned every bit of ether he had to resist the heat while gauging the opponent’s position.
Gauging the position wasn’t all that difficult.
The opponent’s movements weren’t particularly fast to begin with… and…
“Fire!”
He was announcing his location himself.
The first strike was stealthy.
Shring—
The soft friction between sword and sheath. Not slicing through the air, but gliding along its seams.
And when that sword tip reached its mark…
Pibit—!
Flickering flames.
The sonic boom followed right after.
Paaaaang—!
Vision split open amid the parting flames. That line of sight stretched forth and forth until it finally reached the source of the blaze—
“...!”
Colossus furrowed his brow.
In the fleeting instant before the split flames sealed shut again, the opponent was unmistakably smiling.
As if he’d known the sword strike was coming all along.
He wagged a finger and mouthed words.
‘Come on, then.’
“You dare…”
Colossus didn’t suppress his surging fury. Ether cloaking his body rippled as it shoved back the flames. At the same time, his leg muscles ballooned explosively.
Boom!
Colossus shot forward like an arrow.
That was when it happened.
Swaeek!
“...What?!”
Alerted by his instincts, Colossus twisted his body in haste. Sssit! Strands of hair fluttered down amid the sound.
‘Almost… died.’
Had his reaction been a split second slower, it wouldn’t have been hair but his neck getting severed.
But a bigger problem was…
Shurik, shurik.
That the crisis was only just beginning.
…Amid the flames, whips of fire undulating as if possessed of will. The whips dangled and swayed like the tentacles of some creature, beguiling Colossus’s eyes.
The moment he confronted that chilling spectacle.
Colossus realized his mistake.
‘…I picked the wrong fight.’
He was an exceptional mage, but one he could take. Especially since Viscount Kallond, that deadweight, was right there beside him.
But.
- If that man had truly meant it, I might’ve lived, but you certainly wouldn’t have.
…I survived?
No, that was hubris.
It wasn’t just Viscount Nebit who’d clung to life by the mad mage’s whim.
That was when Colossus’s thoughts reached that point.
The flame whips lashed out.
Shurik!
“...Hup!”
Colossus’s sword, laden with ether, cleaved through the flame. The whip promptly lost its power and fizzled out.
But there was only one whip.
Shurik, shurik.
Dozens of them.
Colossus steadied his breath before them.
Soon—
Swaeaeak!
Staring down the flame whips hurtling in from every direction, Colossus swung his sword for survival.
And a voice echoed in his ears.
“Fire!”
In this godforsaken mess, Colossus swore to himself.
He would survive, no matter what, and ram his sword right into that mage’s face.
* * *
The hour when darkness had fallen.
Sadly, Colossus’s vow went unrealized.
“Hahk, heuk…”
Colossus had survived, but only just barely.
With the flames fully extinguished now, all he managed was to hold his sword… no, he couldn’t even grip it right.
And so.
Srrrrk, clang.
The sword slipped from his slackened hand and clattered to the ground. Colossus crumpled limply in its wake.
Footsteps approached his head right then.
Step, step.
“…”
Colossus laboriously raised his head toward the nearing steps.
Eyes half-lidded. Face marred by burns. Fingertips quivering. But that gaze burned on undimmed.
Colossus peered up at the figure and forced his mouth open.
“What… are… you…”
“Know me if I say?”
“I’ll… kill… you… for…”
“Bullshit.”
Ppak!
A kick flipped Colossus’s eyes back, and he blacked out. Aster prodded him a few times with his toe, confirmed he was out cold, then resumed walking.
A landscape where everything lay in ashes.
White ash billowed with every step. Scorched timber crumbled feebly underfoot.
Treading over the charred remains, the half-burnt debris, and the occasional unburnt scraps, Aster came to an abrupt halt.
A man stood before him.
…Melond Merchant Lord.
“Ah, aaah…”
Melond knelt amid a mound of ashes, emitting groans.
It was unbelievable.
That everything had burned to nothing.
Gazing blankly at the ashes, Melond Merchant Lord slowly lifted his head to Aster.
And hurled a question.
“Do you… even know what you’ve done?”
“…”
“Do you grasp what this land you torched was? What it meant!”
His hand clutching the ashes shook violently. Blood dripped steadily from his palm—perhaps from a splinter. Yet Melond glared at Aster, snarling as if oblivious to the pain.
Truth be told, Melond felt neither pain nor fear just then.
His rage burned too fiercely for that.
Seething passion.
In stark contrast, Aster’s gaze remained icy cold.
“What’re you blabbering, retard.”
“…What?”
“Viscount Kallond, I’ve got no clue what this retard’s on about. You get it, Viscount?”
“I don’t quite follow either.”
“You filthy…!”
Unable to contain his passion any longer, Melond Merchant Lord lunged and seized Aster’s collar.
“Where do you get off flapping that tongue! My future! My dream! To lose it all so pointlessly! So pointlessly to scum like you… kek!”
“What’re you saying, seriously.”
Aster flung off Melond Merchant Lord and straightened his rumpled attire.
Only then did he glance down at the merchant sprawled on the ground.
“Who started it first?”
“…What?”
“Who started this mess first. Speak straight, you moron… Hoo. What’s this… Tsk, won’t wipe off.”
He scowled briefly at the ash and blood smearing his collar. Aster magicked it clean, then dropped to one knee, leveling his gaze with Melond Merchant Lord’s.
“Hey.”
“…”
Melond answered with a glare instead. Aster’s pristine, sootless face reflected in his eyes.
Aster spoke right after.
“Forget the meaning bullshit—answer me. Who started it first.”
“…”
“It’s okay if we get screwed over, but unfair if it’s you? Be real. You were pumped wrecking the First and Third sites, riding high. Why peddle sob stories now? Sob stories.”
“Don’t spew crap. Did you see it for yourself? Hear my proposal for the First and Third sites? I set that meeting up sincerely, for the greater good of every development site. I stepped in for you lot of useless idiots twiddling your thumbs!”
“Ugh.”
Aster shook his head.
“You seriously believe that?”
“You calling me a liar?”
“This is just…”
Absurdity left him speechless.
The way he spoke made it seem he’d scrubbed from memory the bit about marching in soldiers to threaten the Third site’s overseer, or dragging Viscount Nebit and a knight along to swing swords on sight.
“If someone sees this, they’ll think I’m the bad guy, huh?”
“You’re the one who smashed this peace to bits! You— kek!”
Aster backhanded Melond’s cheek with force.
Plop plop.
Hard enough that blood trailed a few teeth across the ground.
“Uh, uh…”
“Hey, there’s a line, you know? Moderation. That’s straight-up self-delusion. Get it? Sigh, fine. Why bother talking to you anyway.”
“Kek!”
A light jab to the jaw sent Melond sprawling.
A master of self-rationalization. His mindset was worlds apart from any normal person’s.
‘No talking sense into his type.’
Aster turned from the unconscious Melond. Viscount Nebit sat there.
“Viscount Nebit.”
“…Speak.”
“You think the same as this clown? That I blew your golden opportunity. That it?”
Viscount Nebit narrowed his eyes and let out a groan. His mouth soon parted.
His reply differed sharply from Melond’s.
“I’ll admit it. My intentions weren’t purely innocent.”
“Not purely? That’s vague.”
“…They were thoroughly impure.”
“Right?”
Yeah, this one gets it.
Aster nodded in approval when Viscount Nebit spoke up.
“So, what now? Impure motives, so you’ll judge us? Claim your actions justified?”
“What’re you even saying.”
Truth be told, Melond Merchant Lord and Aster weren’t so different.
Aster had planned to squeeze gains from those two sites in exchange for sorting out the Ara Pur nobles’ clique.
Sure, he wouldn’t cross Melond’s ‘line,’ but the acts boiled down the same.
Justification?
“Need that?”
“...?”
“Justification for what I did?”
“Well…”
“Nah. Look around. All burned to hell. How do you justify this? Huh? Just asking us to drop the act and get real. Makes talk possible.”
In other words.
No more face-saving bullshit—let’s lay our cards bare, honestly.
Hearing that, Viscount Nebit’s eyes twitched faintly.
Only now did he glimpse the mad mage’s true nature.
‘This one’s…’
A villain. Evil in its raw form, unadorned by any pretense of good.
“Anyway, we’re being straight now, so how about a chat? Your thoughts, Viscount Nebit?”
“Chat…”
Viscount Nebit’s gaze drifted unconsciously to the charred Second Development Site.
Torch the whole thing, then ‘chat.’
…The old Viscount Nebit would’ve scoffed and told him to quit yapping nonsense.
But.
“What… sort of… chat?”
“Something about cleaning up this mess. Willing on a topic like that?”
“…Let’s hear it.”
Viscount Nebit agreed without resistance.
No options left anyway.
Pleased with the attitude, Aster smirked and rose.
“Cool, let’s relocate then.”
“Un…derstood.”
As he moved to follow.
Viscount Nebit distinctly heard it.
The mad mage’s mumbled soliloquy.
“Good thing. Could’ve gotten messy.”
“…”
What did ‘messy’ mean?
Viscount Nebit chose not to dwell.
…A razed Second Development Site. An obvious perpetrator. Hundreds of eyes that had witnessed it all.
Far as he knew, if talks fell through, only one way to contain it: wipe them out.
“What, you coming?”
“I’m… coming.”
Prodded by the mad mage, Viscount Nebit quickened his pace.
Sweat soaked his back.