Chapter 74
Chapter 74
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 74
Chapter Title: Duel After Thirty Years
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Long ago.
Or rather, not so long ago by elven standards.
"Are you the Queen of the Elves?"
A brash human had barged into the peaceful Elrunheim and demanded to see her.
Like an annual event that popped up whenever she'd almost forgotten, the elf calmly asked about the intruder's identity.
"Human, how did you get in here?"
Ching!
Instead of answering, the human abruptly drew his sword.
"No need for chit-chat. Let's have at it!"
And with that, he charged in recklessly, no questions asked.
What a rude little punk.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Crash!
"M-My shield..."
"Oh dear, that's hardly worthy of being called a shield. Go get yourself a proper one."
The kid sniffled at his shattered shield, eyes bruised black and blue. A few years later, he showed up again.
"Elf Queen! Let's go another round!"
"...What, the brat from before?"
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Clang!
"Th-The Knight Captain's sword!!"
"You're a bit better than last time. But don't come back. That brooch on your chest marks you as one of the Carviot family. I'll let it slide this once."
In the Beast Forest—especially on elven land—no human had ever invaded twice and lived to tell the tale.
But they were long-time neighbors, even if they kept their distance.
She didn't want the hassle.
'I've said my piece. He should get it.'
"......"
The human trudged away dejectedly, clutching his broken sword. He never returned after that.
Or so she thought.
"Elf Queen! No—Paulo Minerva! I challenge you once more!"
Ten years was like a single year to elves.
But to humans, it was enough time to turn a green youth into a full-fledged man.
"You again, you pup."
Paulo Minerva was glad to see the persistent fool, but annoyed too.
She'd clearly warned him not to come back.
"Fine, let's see how much you've grown."
In that duel, she hadn't expected much.
"A fine... match, Paulo Minerva."
The young human lost, but traded over three hundred blows.
Soon after leaving Elrunheim, that man would ascend to one of the continent-shaking thrones.
Have you ever faced a massive fortress?
One that seems impregnable against any natural disaster or enemy assault?
That unyielding solidity built over countless ages...
I felt it now from the man standing before me.
Whoosh!
The man flicked away the arrow, shaking off the sword's shrill vibration. He narrowed his eyes.
In deflecting it, the arrow aimed at Hatan had been knocked aside too—but that meant nothing to him.
Blocking one or two made no difference to a warrior of his caliber.
"Tch. Filthy beasts mixed in. How'd it come to this?"
"...Father."
Father—Bacchus von Carviot—didn't look strained at all, even after blocking an arrow infused with the Spirit King's power.
Tap, tap.
"Good work. You did well getting him this far."
Father patted my shoulder briefly in praise, then turned away.
"This is beyond you now. Watch closely."
He bellowed toward Paulo Minerva, who observed from the hilltop.
"Queen of the Forest! Will one of the throne's masters cower like a coward?!"
His voice boomed across Elrunheim, shaking the battlefield.
"Come out! Shouldn't you speak with one who matches your station?!"
The majestic mana wave overwhelmed the energy in Paulo Minerva's arrow—nay, dominated it.
It erased the presence Na or Hatan had exuded in an instant.
An overwhelming aura.
"At least... we're alive."
Tension drained from me naturally.
Stagger!
The wounds from fighting Hatan threw off my balance without warning.
"Stand straight, you idiot brother. Don't wobble like some limp-dicked fool fresh from a woman's bed."
That crude line in a lovely voice.
I knew who it was without looking. I asked without turning.
"How'd you get here, Sis? You feeling okay?"
She'd been hacking and coughing before we headed to elven lands.
"Oh great, reduced to getting well-wishes from my moron brother. How'd I sink this low?"
Once she'd steadied me, someone shoved Mercy aside, thumping her chest in mock despair.
"How many times have I told you to watch your mouth? Ugh, who in their right mind would marry a wild girl like you?"
"Oh? Who's gonna marry me? Big Brother's the one heading off as a groom to another house."
"...Tch. Never mind."
Ares shot Mercy a weary look, then turned to me.
"Glad we made it in time. You alright, Jerome?"
"Brother. What the hell...?"
The wind mage, Kamit, answered my question.
"Simple. You two reported to the lord."
"Reported? How, in your conditions?"
Kamit's eyes curved like crescent moons.
"How? They insisted on heading to Benten at once despite their ailments, giving it their all. The Third Young Master should've seen it..."
"Ahem! Kamit, enough gossip. Since when did my vassal turn so unmanly?"
Mercy cut him off in a panic.
"Oops, sorry. Got carried away."
Sir Kamit chuckled, covering his mouth.
He looked thrilled, for some reason.
"Don't care if you drop dead here, but becoming beast chow would be gross, so we came to retrieve your corpse."
Mercy averted her eyes, mumbling gruffly. Her ears burned bright red.
"...Got it. Sure, let's go with that."
"It's not 'let's go with that'—it is that."
"Yeah, yeah."
"Hey, you little—"
Mercy kept blabbering, but I got the picture.
Brother and Sis had worried about me.
The family black sheep. The trash.
An unfamiliar feeling stirred in my chest—something I'd never known in my past life.
'Hmph.'
Still, it didn't feel half bad.
Crunch!
Paulo Minerva gripped her bowstring so hard it seemed it might snap.
Blood trickled from her gritted teeth—perhaps a cracked one.
"Bacchus...!!"
It wasn't her full power, but the arrow carried Spirit King Ariel's might.
And he'd blocked it. With just a single sword.
Thirty years ago, the pup couldn't even handle her presence, let alone an arrow.
She'd grown too, compared to back then.
But paltry next to Bacchus.
And recently...
Even his brat had withstood her aura.
Throb!
A headache built.
"This won't... do..."
Her precious daughter had nearly been kidnapped—someone she'd gladly trade her eyes for.
'Just months ago, weren't you nearly the Empire's puppet, my queen?'
That insolent human's words days ago.
Humans grew stronger, faster.
She—the elves—couldn't keep up.
Paulo shook off the thoughts.
'No. It's not too late.'
Right.
Not too late.
She just needed to break through her bottleneck.
'But how?'
The orc sacrifice plan had fizzled thanks to that human roadblock, Jerome.
Then, a majestic voice resounded.
"Queen of the Forest!! Does a throne's master know no shame?!"
Minerva's eyes snapped wide.
'What?'
Still there.
A sacrifice capable of breaching the wall.
No, calling Bacchus mere "sacrifice" like Hatan was an insult to language.
Throb!
The worsening headache halted her thoughts.
"Come out! Mustn't those of equal station converse?!"
Bacchus's follow-up left no room for hesitation. Demonic fury—not elven—flared in Minerva's eyes.
The pup dared speak of "equal station."
The nerve.
'If death's your wish.'
No reason to refuse.
Minerva answered Bacchus's call without further thought.
Throb!
"...You're here."
The hilltop speck—Paulo Minerva—charged. Before the air from Father's shout settled, she arrived.
"Quite bold now, Bacchus. Suckling pup no more."
Her bloodshot eyes spewed bloodlust.
"Around thirty years, eh? Long time, Paulo. Doing well?"
Father brushed off the murderous intent calmly. Then...
"No, stupid question. You couldn't be."
He provoked her brazenly, as one who saw the same world.
"The you I met thirty years ago wasn't this pathetic."
As Father's words ended, Minerva's mouth opened. And...
Kaboom!!
"!"
The sudden massive shockwave rocked my body.
Screech, screech.
Father and Minerva crossed blades before I knew it.
"How dare you!"
Minerva's voice rang belatedly in my ears.
She'd swapped bow for slender rapier—and matched Father's greatsword without yielding.
Scree!
After a brief clash, she leaped back. Her rapier whipped toward Father like the wind.
Slashslashslashslashslash!
Lightning-fast speed and majestic power—like all prior fights were child's play.
If it were me or Hatan before that blade, steel or vibration be damned—we'd be mince in seconds.
Minerva's swordsmanship was on another level.
'Who the hell called her melee weak?'
Her rapier work was masterful, never "weak" even charitably.
But her foe was the continent's mightiest shield.
No attack, however sharp, could fell the "Thousand Unbroken"—who'd endured three Holy Empire dukes' assault.
Bacchus withstood Paulo Minerva's onslaught solidly.
Nay, he countered sporadically.
Thud!
"...Kuh!"
Father's heavy greatsword barely moved. But its weight battered Minerva's frame plenty.
She retreated via the clash, bow back in hand.
Rrrring!
Air warped around the nocked arrowhead.
Her aura altered the density.
The shots at me and Hatan seemed like toys. This destructive arrow soon...
Boom!
Became a line piercing for Father's brow.
Kaboom! Rumble!
It crashed into him like cannon fire, cratering the ground.
Boom! Boom!
Minerva unleashed a barrage.
Each an aura blade—call it Aura Arrow.
How many such barrages hit Bacchus?
From the thick dust cloud obscuring all, Bacchus emerged, dusting himself off leisurely.
"Paulo. You know arrows don't work on me."
Armor and clothes torn, but unscathed.
He spoke calmly to Paulo as he exited the cloud.
"Forgot because it's been so long? Who I am."
"......"
This fight—what to call it?
Even "fight" seemed too mundane.
"Never thought I'd take you down with arrows anyway."
Minerva dropped her bow. The rapier gleamed in her grip once more.
"Shall we begin again?"
Her feet carried her rapier toward Bacchus anew.