Chapter 265
Chapter 265
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 265
Chapter Title: Peerless Talent
"Ho ho, what's that technique? You still have more to show me?"
Balak's eyes sparkled.
Just like a child eagerly anticipating the moment before tearing open birthday wrapping paper.
"……."
As that emotion vividly transmitted to him, Jerome couldn't shake off the profound sense of incongruity radiating from Balak.
"...Do you feel absolutely nothing?"
"Hm? What are you talking about?"
"Look at the battlefield around you. The commanders you boasted about are falling one by one. The tide of battle is turning overwhelmingly in our favor. Even the minor pirate crews are being mopped up by Rampang over there."
Jerome's voice gradually grew louder.
Balak had once told him that he felt no anxiety over his comrades' fates.
Back then, Jerome could understand it. Objectively, the forces under the Pirate King's commanders had been far superior.
That's why seeing those trusted allies overcome such odds and claim victory filled him with immense joy and pride.
But conversely, that meant...
From Balak's perspective, this was an 'unintended' and 'completely unforeseen' defeat.
No one who had ascended to the throne could avoid feeling urgency in such a situation.
Yet...
This man...
How...?
"Even so, how can you remain so calm in the face of your subordinates' deaths?"
How could he act like this when the empire he'd built with his own hands was crumbling?
Balak, who had been staring blankly at the question, suddenly burst into maniacal laughter.
"...Ha, haha. Hahahaha! What nonsense is this? That's all it was?"
"……?"
Tears welled up in Balak's eyes as if he found it truly hilarious. Jerome's sense of alienation toward him only deepened.
This wasn't just a matter of poor character. Something fundamentally human was missing in this man.
"Commanders or whatever, they're just tools—hands and feet that move in my stead. As for the galleons' defeat? What meaning does that hold? They're all things I can acquire anytime. The only thing that matters is this body."
The hand not gripping his greatsword pointed to himself.
"I am the Archipelago, and the Archipelago is me. The fates of those petty underlings are mere entertainment."
"……!!"
In Balak's words, Jerome caught a fleeting sense of déjà vu from experiences past.
The Forest Queen who had deliberately refrained from acting even during the orc invasion.
Paulo back then had made a similar choice, hadn't he?
'The Wall...!!'
Not all who ascended to the throne were equals. Even among them, there existed clear 'divides'.
To breach those subtle gaps, even throne-holders had to strive endlessly, forever pursuing the pinnacle.
Those who failed to surpass the wall, crushed by its weight and succumbing to despair, were devoured by their own desires.
The world called this 'Demonic Possession'.
'...Now I understand.'
Balak's reactions, which had seemed half-mad. They weren't without reason. Balak truly wasn't in his right mind.
Shrrrrr!
The seawater rose from the surface, slowly enveloping Balak's greatsword.
"I am the Pirate King. Ruler of countless archipelagos like stars in the Southern Sea, master of these southern waters. Thus, my victory is the Archipelago's victory."
Kwak!
As Balak gripped his water-saturated greatsword with both hands, an immense aura rivaling—no, surpassing—Jerome's radiant light erupted outward.
Kuuuuu!
"Ascending to the throne means becoming one pillar of this world. That is the privilege reserved solely for the absolute."
"……."
As expected.
He confirmed it once more.
This man was broken, just like Paulo had been.
A king who had dominated the Southern Sea for ages, shaking the world with his might. But blocked by the wall, unable to venture into a broader, higher realm, he had shattered.
"...The throne doesn't suit you after all."
At least Paulo, twisted as he was, had the greater cause of elven prosperity at his core.
But this man was even worse.
Therefore...
He would shatter him and claim it.
Wuuuuung!
His fist glowed even brighter, while his skin darkened to an inky black.
Perhaps sensing the ominous energy rising from Jerome's body, Balak's grotesque smile deepened.
"Kukukukuku! Interesting. If you can take it, then take it."
The water stream coiling around Balak's greatsword grew larger, soon forming a massive serpent.
"M-Monster...!"
"Everyone, evacuate!"
A colossal serpent that could swallow a galleon whole. Considering it was formed entirely of aura, it was only natural for the nearby ships to flee in panic.
"For the arrogance of daring to conquer my Archipelago, and for rousing me from my boredom—you shall regret it all and vanish."
The serpent coiled around Balak's greatsword lunged forward the moment he swung.
The sea between Balak and Jerome split apart. No sound reached them.
It was a roar beyond human perception. The uncoiling serpent scattered ferocious energy as it bared its fangs to devour him.
-Shaaaaaaa!
No sound was heard, yet it felt like a chilling hiss echoed in his ears.
'So this is Balak's famed Heart Image Technique, Uroboros.'
Just as his father wielded a shield that could block even the heavens...
Just as Duke Kamil wielded a sword that could cleave even light...
Just as Paulo wielded arrows that pierced even wind...
The ultimate art obtained by throne-holders upon shattering the walls within their heart-images.
Heart Image Technique.
Balak's was the serpent from myth.
Uroboros.
The mythical behemoth so mighty it found no equal, ultimately consumed by its own greed and boredom, devouring itself in ruin.
Truly fitting for Balak.
Away from boredom's coil, awakened by a worthy rival named Delro...
And now, discarding all pirates of the Archipelago save himself.
Facing the oncoming serpent's head, Jerome clenched both fists.
'I'll show you.'
What he had gained by shattering walls in the realm of heart-images.
His glowing hands clamped down on Uroboros's charging fangs.
Kwakwakwakwa!
His body was swept back across the sea surface, pushed relentlessly.
Yet he did not yield.
Kuuuuu!
The light gathered in his fists brightened further, compressing until it formed a thin, refined membrane over his hands.
The aura-forged serpent bared its fangs, seeking to devour his hands and flesh.
It twisted mid-lunge, plunging beneath the surface.
Jerome, gripping its fangs, was naturally dragged into the depths.
Kurururuk!
Onrushing currents and crushing water pressure assailed his body. Holding his breath, eyes half-closed, he recalled the memory of shattering the wall.
-How exactly does one break this wall?
-Can it even be broken?
-Am I just a mere mortal, unable to reach the throne or the fourth stage?
-Then what was the point of returning to the past?
Endless torment. Relentless self-loathing.
In the end, he had finally admitted it.
-I am not perfect.
No, since the continent's birth, no perfect human had ever existed.
His father couldn't wield the sword as well as Duke Kamil.
Kamil couldn't shoot arrows as well as Queen Paulo.
Paulo couldn't defend as steadfastly as Count Bacchus.
He was the same. They were stronger than him, but couldn't wield Heterogenous Powers as well as he.
Yet his father had attained absolute defense, Kamil a sword that cleaved light, Paulo archery bordering on the divine.
They had all achieved what they sought.
Then what did he seek?
The answer was obvious.
To return to the past and stop Ibarella, the continent's greatest monster in history.
She was the closest to 'perfect' among all living humans.
He had to stop her. Even if no perfect being existed in the world...
He could not falter.
He had to become 'perfect'.
The golden aura of the Adamantine Immortal enveloped him, slowly taking form around Balak's aura-clad greatsword, like Uroboros itself.
His resolve to block the continent's supreme genius, Ibarella.
The conviction that he too must become the continent's pinnacle.
How could one destined for the continent's apex fail to topple even this mere rampart?
Thus...
It was only natural that his heart-image depicted the 'perfect self'.
The heart-image of aspiring to be the kingdom's—no, the continent's—most flawless prodigy.
That was the answer he had found upon surpassing the wall.
'Heart Image Technique: Peerless Talent.'
Thud!
A colossal iron tower giant, no less immense than Uroboros, seized its jaws from above and below.
Zizizik!
Blood flowed from hands clutching the fangs, and Uroboros's coils crushed the giant's body in places.
Zizizizik!
Wounds marred the giant's form, bones snapped, fangs pierced.
Yet it did not stop.
Yet it did not release its grip.
A prodigy without equal in the realm.
The continent's most perfect talent.
'I won't fall in a place like this.'
Splaaaaash!
The iron tower giant's mighty arm tore Uroboros from maw to tail in half.
"……!!"
As his Heart Image Technique shattered, Balak's eyes bulged in disbelief.
The giant's massive fist, like a heavenly general's divine punishment, plummeted toward Balak's head.
Kwaaaaa!
Spraying water droplets.
Within towering jets reaching the sky, the serpent that seemed poised to swallow the world and the perfect-bodied iron tower giant gradually diminished.
As the waters settled and the forms faded...
Only Balak remained, greatsword swinging down toward Jerome—and Jerome, blocking it with one hand while his other hand's handblade pierced Balak's abdomen.
Balak boasted a body impervious even to aura-clad fists, yet his insides were surely reduced to pulp by now.
For an ordinary human, it would have been instant death, or obliteration without trace.
Only his sturdy frame and profound aura kept his form intact.
"...At such a young age. You've already attained a Heart Image Technique."
Blood trickled from Balak's mouth as he asked calmly.
Taller than Jerome by a head, he had to look up to meet Balak's gaze.
Clear, transparent eyes, as if all prior words and actions had been a lie.
Why was that?
"...I got lucky. I've put in a lot of effort to bring you down."
Unlike before, he couldn't bring himself to speak casually to him.
"Huhu! You couldn't topple me with mere effort. It's your exceptional talent. Excessive humility insults me and the Archipelago."
"……."
"Congratulations. My throne will be yours now."
Balak's voice was serene, like laying down a heavy burden.
"...Are you stepping down?"
"Huhu! What meaning does that hold? I've lived a corrupt life for far too long. No intent to play the good man and meet a pathetic end now."
"……."
"Still, since you awoke me from wandering half my life in delusion, I'll offer one piece of advice."
"……."
"Don't let it consume you. Don't despair before the walls blocking you. The greater your radiant talent, the vaster the despair you'll feel."
"I'll keep that in mind."
Swipe!
Balak's head turned sideways.
The prolonged battle had brought sunset, dyeing the sea red.
"Isn't it beautiful? To think the heart that once wished to protect this sea twisted into this."
"……."
"One last request... if I may."
"Speak."
"Shameful as it is for the invader... could you accept the Archipelago's pirates?"
Balak's steadfast gaze wavered.
He too had spent his entire life in the Archipelago.
He'd devoted his youth to reforming its chaos, but lost in delusion, he'd forged its worst era instead.
Now, he asked if Jerome could forgive the sins he bore.
"...Didn't you see? Martel turned against you. I've already made a pact with them."
"Even so. I want to hear it from you."
Facing Balak's still-burning gaze, Jerome couldn't hide his mixed feelings.
"...I can't forgive all the pirates and their myriad sins. But... I won't uproot the Archipelago itself. That's the full extent of my promise."
The navy who trusted and followed him, and the many who supported them, had laid down their lives in these waters. Blindly granting Balak's wish would insult them.
"That's enough. That's enough."
Smirk!
Balak smiled—not his prior ferocious grin, but the refreshing smile of a man who embraced the sea.
"Martel... that girl's sharp. Through ups and downs, she'll surely handle it well."
Balak's words began to break apart.
Swipe!
He extended his greatsword toward Jerome.
"Take it... I'll give it... to you."
Balak's greatsword.
Forged from the Archipelago's rare ore, a peerless blade of the continent, they said.
Clack!
"I'll gladly accept it."
No reason to refuse.
Having shed all burdens at last, Balak straightened his back with a relieved expression.
"Huhu! Though trapped in a twisted life far too long... still, the end... wasn't bad."
With those words, Balak closed his eyes and spoke no more.
Central Frontline. King of the Archipelago, master of the throne, Pirate King Balak.
Laid to rest in Corantos Gorge.