Chapter 137
Chapter 137
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 137
Chapter Title: Lord's Resolve and King's Fall
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"…Lord, if I may be so bold, isn't that decision a bit hasty?"
Arandal asked Bacchus in all seriousness.
As the lord's closest confidant, Arandal knew that Jerome was set to receive the Olivia territory from the royal family.
But he stood firmly against Jerome departing for Olivia.
"Even though he was once derided as the Shield Family's worm—the Third Young Master—no one treats him that way anymore. If anything, his recent feats have been nothing short of dazzling."
And that was the simple truth.
It wasn't that Ares or Mercy were incompetent. They continued to handle the various affairs in Banten and the major and minor issues in the surrounding territories with flawless efficiency.
But the scale of Jerome's accomplishments was entirely different.
He had forged trade relations with the elves—something the entire continent envied—subjugated the orcs and lycanthropes of the Dragon Mountains, resolved the great famine to earn unshakeable trust from Prince Julius, and even quelled the rebellion in the Philador Kingdom.
Any one of those feats alone would stand equal to what his siblings had achieved.
And now, Jerome had ventured deep into the Dragon Mountains to subjugate a wyvern. If successful, it would be a monumental contribution on behalf of the entire alliance.
The gap between him and his siblings had already widened to an irreparable degree.
At this point, it was no longer a matter of comparing the sizes of the factions supporting each heir.
In Arandal's view, if Jerome took charge of Banten's future, the Shield Family was sure to soar to even greater heights.
Yet he couldn't fathom why his lord was so determined to push Jerome out.
"…I've spoken with the boy."
Bacchus said, gazing out the window at the sky.
The piercingly blue sky was clear and pristine, without a single cloud.
In Bacchus's mind rose the image of Jerome, fresh from the spring festival, declaring without a hint of regret that he would abandon Banten.
"…That child isn't thinking in terms of Banten. He's envisioning the entire kingdom—no, the whole continent. Beyond the Banten territory, he'll raise the name of the Carviot Count Family high."
Whether it was Banten or Olivia didn't matter.
What mattered was the mindset of a shield that protected the kingdom.
That alone was enough.
"So no more words. My decision is final."
"…If that's what you've decided, my lord, then a mere subordinate like me has no place to argue. Understood."
Bacchus let out a chuckle at the low, subdued tone in Arandal's voice.
"That guy—always sulking."
"…Who's sulking?"
"Yes, yes. I get it."
(Can't act his age.)
Bacchus, who had forgotten his own identical behavior just minutes earlier, suddenly felt a spark of curiosity.
"Now that I think about it, I'm wondering what that fourth condition was—the one he never revealed."
Now that he'd made up his mind about the heir, he couldn't help but ponder the fourth condition Jerome had mentioned right before heading off to arrange trade with the elves.
What on earth had the third son planned to propose as his final demand?
"Kieeeek!!!"
The wyvern let out a monstrous screech as it lunged toward Saladin with its razor-sharp talons, aiming to snatch him up.
"Argh, damn it! Stop following me already!!!"
Saladin—the pitiful wretch rendered the weakest link now that Mimi and Nene were out of commission—rolled across the ground in desperation, screaming his lungs out.
Shraaarak!
His body, gathered into a rigid spin with hands clasped, rotated like a drill and pierced straight through the throat of the wyvern that had been targeting him.
Longinus.
Transformed into a single spear, my body had once again severed the breath of a wyvern gunning for Saladin.
Blood gushed from the hole in its neck, drenching Saladin head to toe. He grimaced and let out a piercing shriek.
"Fuuuuck! If only Mimi and Nene were still working, trash like you..."
"What are you talking about? You're doing plenty well."
As meat shields, that is.
Thanks to so many of them fixating on the ultra-weak Saladin, the orcs and I were suppressing the wyverns with relative ease.
And most crucially...
Booom!
"Now!!"
"Chwiik!! Human, woman. Fire hot! Chwiik!!"
Roooar!
"They're dropping!! Kill them all!!"
"Krr! Human, burns well!! Krr!!"
"Kieeeek!!"
Bringing Aria and Set along had finally paid off.
The searing flames they wielded were enough to scorch the wyverns' hides, and with the beasts getting shot down one after another, our wyvern-hunting pace was accelerating rapidly.
The Cyclopes, led by Brontes, hadn't joined the fray since arriving. Instead, they formed an ironclad defense around the ritual site where Hatan and the Poison Eye wyvern were trapped.
A ritual made with mana stones was still just a ritual, nothing more—hastily assembled as it was.
If even one wyvern crashed down and warped the surrounding terrain, it could deliver a shock to Hatan at a critical moment.
'Hatan, we're almost done here.'
The orcs had avenged their king by hunting wyverns, we'd butchered our catches for their wing scales, and the Cyclopes would take the remaining hides to reinforce their gear.
That left only Hatan.
'Fulfill your long-cherished wish.'
As I glanced toward the ritual site where he was fighting, an ear-splitting wail from Saladin echoed from behind.
"Hieeeek!! It's not over yet!! You flaming bastard!! Somebody save me!!"
'...Someone'll help him.'
Or not.
Tadadadadot!
At the entrance to the Abyss Cliffs—a narrow pass flanked by sheer drops on both sides—a line of crimson appeared.
The axe gripped by the orc atop that line brimmed with chilling killing intent.
Weeeeeeng!!
The resonant hum emanating from the axe blade echoed around the cliffs like the death cries of the orcs who had perished in vain.
The target: the Poison Eye wyvern perched high atop the cliff.
Far too distant for Hatan below to reach.
Or so it seemed.
The red-furred Dire Wolf kicked off both cliffs in a flash of lightning speed, soaring up to the precipice in an instant.
"Chwiik, I'll kill you!!"
Hatan's axe cleaved into the cliff face.
Shaaaack!
The vibrational force infused in the axe from midair slammed into the cliff where the wyvern stood.
Rumble rumble rumble!
The cliff edge, unable to withstand the shock, began to crumble.
The wingless Dire Wolf, descending slowly amid the collapse, used the falling chunks as footholds to leap lightly to the opposite cliff.
"Krrrr..."
A low howl escaped as it bared its fangs.
Even without the wolf's warning growl, Hatan knew full well.
If this wyvern could be felled by such a trifling attack...
It never would have massacred his subordinates in the first place.
Flap!
The air high above rippled.
A colossal body that blotted out the sun.
Gula had already taken to the skies upon spotting Hatan swing his axe.
How could something that massive move with such blinding speed? It defied belief.
"Krr... Not bad..."
Gula—now with its wits restored—was genuinely taken aback by Hatan's prowess.
In the past, when it had hunted his tribe and the orcs, it had felt like mere playtime with prey—nothing more, nothing less.
The thrill of dodging boulders rolled from the cliffs, snatching leaping orcs from the sky!
So he'd assumed this time would be no different.
Laze about atop the cliff, roll some stones, and watch them self-destruct.
But the bastard had closed the distance at astonishing speed and swung that menacing weapon.
Come to think of it, even before being dragged to this bizarre place—back when his mind was foggy...
Getting struck by that strange metal rod the orc wielded had made his jaw throb fiercely.
"Krrrr..."
Better safe than sorry.
Thus, Gula decided in this moment to dispatch the foe using the safest method possible.
Flap!
With one more mighty beat of its wings, Gula ascended even higher.
Until Hatan on the cliff looked like a mere speck.
Click! Click! Click!
Its long, needle-sharp fangs ground together like flint.
A searing energy welled up from deep in Gula's belly.
That energy, sparking against its fangs, ignited into roaring flames.
Roooar!
The ominous purple blaze pooling at Gula's maw plunged straight toward Hatan's position.
Flames that had once melted even Brontes's gear—before them, Hatan seemed as frail as a rowboat adrift on the sea.
Yet Hatan showed no fear, spreading his vibrational power wide.
Weeeeeeng!
The expanded vibrations enveloped both him and the Dire Wolf.
"Kiiing..."
The wolf whimpered, tail tucked against the encroaching purple inferno, and glanced at Hatan.
It wanted to dodge.
"Chwiik, fear not."
Hatan gently stroked the Dire Wolf's scruff.
"Your mother, who departed for Valhalla—I fight with her spirit at my side. Chwiik!"
As if understanding his words...
The wolf's trembling gradually subsided.
And soon, it began inching toward the cliff's edge.
Its pace quickened bit by bit, reaching a fever pitch as it hit the brink.
Thwack!
The Dire Wolf launched in a straight line toward the flames.
But no matter its prodigious leaping ability, reaching Gula high in the sky was impossible.
Gula knew this, remaining stationary and continuing its breath attack.
Expecting the flames to reduce them to ash without a trace.
But just a breath away from impact...
"Chwiik, well done."
Hatan, riding atop the wolf, had coiled his legs like springs against his waist.
"Chwiik, brace your core tight. You'll get hurt."
Kaboom!
With his brief words, Hatan's ascending body rocketed upward far faster.
"Kyayip!"
Even cushioned by vibrations, the launch pained the wolf, eliciting a puppy-like yelp as it plummeted to the ground.
'You'll manage.'
Hatan trusted the Dire Wolf. Young and a bit skittish, perhaps—but it was the offspring of his soul-bound Blood Wolf.
By the time it hit the ground, it'd surely recover and land properly.
And crashing into the earth...
Was far safer than plunging into these flames right now.
"Chwiiiiiik!!"
Hatan infused his axe with vibrations and spun his body like a massive cartwheel, boring through the blaze.
Shrieeeeeek!
With a ferocious roar, he cleaved the flames at terrifying speed. At the end of his charge awaited the wyvern's panicked face—one he'd never forget.
"Krr?! Y-You...?!?"
"Chwiik, at last."
Craunch!!
Hatan's massive battle axe pierced Gula's flames and finally sank into its neck.
"Kraaaaaar!!"
Unable to endure the agony as the axe brutally tore through its hide, Gula thrashed wildly.
Whoooosh!
"Chwiik! Think I'll fall for the same trick twice?"
Hatan recalled how, last time, after lodging the axe in its mouth, Gula had wrenched it free by twisting.
Gripping the haft, he flipped direction midair and landed on Gula's nape, clamping down with thighs like logs.
Squeeeze!
"Kieeeek!"
Gula shook even more violently against the crushing pain at its throat, but Hatan—locked like a pillar with those tree-trunk thighs—didn't budge an inch.
Craunch!
He jammed the axe once more into the gash in Gula's neck.
"Kraaaar! You... damn... pest...!"
Shrieeeeeek!
Overcome by torment, Gula dove toward the ground at breakneck speed.
Kabooooom!
Dust clouds billowed from the crater left by the plummeting wyvern and orc.
"Krrrrr..."
Step. Step.
A dispassionate footfall approached Gula, who sensed its nape had lightened.
From the dust emerged Hatan, his body horrifically scorched and melted.
"Chwiiiiiik. Took far too long."
A coincidence?
Like Gula, Hatan had lost his left eye—and wore a grin across his face.
"Chwiik. Off to Valhalla with you soon. Wait there."
"Krr...!! W-Wai...!"
Gula desperately opened its maw at Hatan's words, but...
Slash!
The monstrous head couldn't withstand the vibrations surging through the axe and tumbled to the ground.
Thud!
"Chwiik, chatting with my fallen comrades, and you butt in so brazenly."
Crack!
Behind Hatan, who coldly regarded the severed head, came the sound of this space fracturing.
Jerome had said it would shatter naturally once one of them died.
'Chwiik. Terrifying human, that one.'
A human he'd acknowledged—a worthy archrival.
"Chwiik, can't wait for the Makgora in two years."
If he'd grown stronger, surely Jerome hadn't been idle either.
Hatan's gaze lifted from the fallen head to the sky.
The sky over the Abyss Cliffs' entrance, still uncracked.
Brilliantly blue, just like that day.
And as cracks spiderwebbed across the heavens...
"Chwiik. Finally over. Don't curse me as an incompetent captain for being late."
Hatan spoke his last words to the subordinates who had departed for Valhalla from this space's end.
Now, it was time to lay the past to rest and resume the path of the Overlord.
Craaaaaack!!