Chapter 137
Chapter 137
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 137
Chapter Title: The End of the Wasteland (2)
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*
The Eastern Kingdom Alliance's camp was fully focused on withdrawal preparations. It was regrettable that the eastern expedition hadn't gone as planned, but the lack of significant supply consumption or casualties was a great relief.
Papnarmeier leaned back deeply in his chair, leisurely flipping through the stockpiled supply report. After rationing carefully in preparation for a prolonged campaign, they were in a position where no additional resupplies would be needed until their return to the homeland.
"Disappointing, isn't it?"
"What's that?"
"The Round Table Knights of the Dane Kingdom are always like that, aren't they? Showing off their valor in battle to leave behind grand epics."
"Ah, of course. Leaving an epic is important."
Papnarmeier gazed at Ludwig, who was mocking him with a blunt expression. Fairn had long been a rival to Dane, and Ludwig never missed a chance to provoke him.
Papnarmeier soon shifted his gaze back to the report as if disinterested and spoke.
"This expedition will become a great epic as well."
"Not a single battle was fought. It was just a tedious search operation."
"What did your country hope to gain from this expedition? The Empire's favor? You'll get it. Since we supported the Empire when it needed us, there will surely be diplomatic exchanges."
"Then what did you hope for?"
"The Empire's indifference. And the safe return of our people. We secured both. Not a single able-bodied man fell in combat, which is a massive victory for the kingdom. The Empire can't raise its voice against us. After all, we did dispatch troops."
Papnarmeier flipped through the report as he spoke. Ludwig bit his lip slightly and narrowed his eyes. This rock-like man didn't yield to any provocation, despite his young age.
His plan to humble the young commander from a rival nation and break his spirit was hitting a major snag. But Ludwig had another way to provoke him.
"Then I suppose I should go see that woman called 'Abel.'"
"...What business do you have with her?"
"Well, if there's no business, I can make some..."
"She is a state guest of our kingdom. I won't forgive any discourtesy."
Got him. Ludwig chuckled as he looked at Papnarmeier glaring at him.
"Won't forgive me? Are you challenging me to a duel?"
"I could refer you to military law."
"On what grounds? For touching an unaffiliated civilian woman in the camp? Do you think you can punish a knight order commander of a nation for that?"
"...I won't give you what you want."
-Shing.
Papnarmeier closed the report, gripped the longsword leaning against his chair, drew it, and stood. Ludwig grinned slyly and clutched his sword hilt.
"No need to throw down the gauntlet, right?"
"To the training grounds. I'll show you what a Round Table Knight is."
"It's just a title, young man."
A sharp tension flowed between them, as if blades would clash at any moment. Papnarmeier narrowed his eyes and glared at the Fairn nobleman with his mustache.
Odds of victory? Not great. Even if Fairn was declining, it was still a powerful nation, and he was the captain of the Royal Griffin Knights, one of its strongest.
But morally, honor-wise—no, emotionally. Papnarmeier wanted to crush this middle-aged man. At that moment, the tent flap opened.
"A Round Table Knight is not merely a title, child. It symbolizes honor and morality, chastity and integrity. And knighthood."
"...Abel?"
Abel, who had entered through the flap, smiled softly as she approached Papnarmeier. With her cold, slender hand, she took the sword from his grip.
"Young knight. A Round Table Knight doesn't need to be the strongest in martial prowess. However..."
Her blue eyes sharply pierced Ludwig. Ludwig smirked slyly, scanning her up and down.
"That honor must be an idol for all, and that nobility must be the moral standard for all. Therefore, you have no need to stain your blade with blood."
"Are you offering to fight by proxy? With that frail... woman's body?"
As Ludwig sneered, Abel smiled faintly.
"The strength or weakness of the flesh is merely the bare minimum for martial arts. It can't be the benchmark. Allow me to teach you about martial prowess."
"Amusing! Commander! Don't regret this! I never imagined your state guest was such a madwoman prancing in flower fields! Hahaha!"
Ignoring Ludwig's laughter, Papnarmeier cautiously grasped Abel's shoulder and whispered in her ear.
"Matron, please don't kill him."
"Is that not allowed?"
"It could spark an international incident."
"Hehe. I had no intention of killing him. Just joking. I simply wanted to... give him a light scolding."
"Thank you, Matron."
Papnarmeier bowed his head to Abel. His expression showed no doubt of her victory. Ludwig stared at them in stunned disbelief.
Abelesas, the legendary guardian dragon who taught swordsmanship and knighthood to Knight King Dain. Papnarmeier couldn't even imagine her losing.
*
It was raining. The wasteland was now closer to a quagmire, but it still bore the name Great Wasteland. Fernandez dismounted his horse, whose steps were growing heavier in the mud.
-Splash.
Far off—but not too far by Demonica standards—the Eastern Kingdom Alliance's banners fluttered unsteadily. There was no need to push the horse that had galloped the entire distance any further.
Fernandez pulled his rain cape low and headed toward the alliance camp.
"Halt! State your identity and disarm!"
How long had he walked? A loud voice came from the watchtower. A weary-eyed soldier looked down at him. Fernandez slowly lifted his rain cape and met his gaze.
"Fernandez Cerned of the Inquisition, Religiosa Demonica. Here to report mission completion. Where is the order's barracks?"
"Ah, a priest? Sorry about this. Inspections have gotten complicated. Do you have anything to prove your identity...?"
"This is all I have right now..."
-Jingle.
A small rosary dangled from Fernandez's hand. An intricate rosary engraved with a key-sword—undoubtedly authentic church issue. The soldier opened the camp gate and shouted.
"Please come inside for a moment and warm yourself by the fire, Father. I'll fetch the duty priest shortly!"
"No rush."
Fernandez sat on a wooden chair and warmed his hands by the bonfire. The rain poured relentlessly.
Rainwater, symbolizing new life, blanketed the parched, cursed land. Everywhere Fernandez looked, he saw grass sprouting. The Great Wasteland was regressing to a distant ancient era, the time of the Asit Empire.
The Great Demon's curse was dissipating from the earth. However...
'Where did his divinity go?'
The divinity that being had gathered by devouring countless ancient gods. It must have corrupted and waned, but still potent—where had it vanished? Fernandez felt uneasy about it.
-It was probably used to revive Kadan.
'Kadan only took his share. He knew taking more would twist his essence. The rest—specifically the divinity symbolizing "death"—vanished. And a few others...'
This question had plagued Fernandez's mind for days. Even if other divinities were being consumed to cleanse the wasteland's curse, the divinities that formed Mumto's existence had scattered.
This was deliberate, by someone. At this point where his past life and history had drastically changed, Fernandez keenly felt his information deficit. His grand plan hinged on monopolizing information.
-Step.
His sharp ears caught footsteps approaching through the mud from afar. Looking up, a man approached. A man in a gray robe, its hem soiled by rain and mud.
His strides were rock-solid, brimming with resolute conviction. Fernandez smiled wider as the man drew near.
-Splash.
The footsteps stopped. Five paces away. The man stood in the rain, looking at Fernandez under the eaves.
"Brother..."
"Yes, Brother."
"Brother, we thought you were dead."
"When did you start thinking that?"
"From the moment the Phantom Pharaoh's army vanished. We saw it—the whole city swept under rubble, the demon's mighty presence echoing across the wasteland in an instant..."
The man tremblingly lifted his robe. His eyes overflowed with thick fatigue mingled with shock and joy.
"Brother Zephys. Glad to see you again."
"We all are."
"Are you crying now?"
"Funny joke."
Zephys looked at him bluntly, face soaked by rain. Fernandez grinned and approached.
"Religiosa Demonica, Fernandez Cerned. Mission accomplished, returned safely."
-Jingle.
As he offered the rosary, Zephys hesitated briefly before taking it. He fiddled with it and spoke.
"Praise with all your heart."
"Oh, reciting the prayer in the common tongue?"
"Not courtesy or greeting—truly praising with all my heart."
"...Shall I hug you, then?"
"Don't say creepy things."
"That was a joke too. Haha."
At that, Zephys finally burst into laughter. Fernandez awkwardly smiled back, as it was the first time he'd seen him laugh like that.
"First, to my barracks. Eat something and tell me what happened."
"I already wrote the report. Just needs minor edits. But I have something urgent first."
"Something?"
"Where is the Dane Kingdom's camp?"
Abel—he needed to confirm she was here in this era. This world wasn't Mumto's phantom or illusion, but after spending so long there, he needed to quell this anxiety.
Zephys chuckled at his words.
"Rushing to a woman's arms right after a long mission. You'll be a cautionary tale for monks, Saint Brother."
"Ah, I'm no longer a saint."
"...Is that a position you can just return?"
"Lost my stigmata. Haha."
"Needs explanation."
"It's detailed in the report. But first, can I meet the Dane knights? This feels more urgent..."
"Tsk, hand over the report first, Brother."
"Haha."
Fernandez laughed, handed over his pack, and headed to the camp's center. Toward where the Althais banners fluttered.
*
"Abelesas! Abelesas! Abelesas!"
-Thud! Thud! Thud!
Despite the downpour, the training ground brimmed with knights. Ignoring the falling rain, they lined up at the edge, stomping weapons and feet on the ground, roaring ferociously.
Ludwig, slightly intimidated, scowled and grumbled.
"She's quite popular, huh?"
"Hehe, takes me back."
After that child Dain became king. The atmosphere was much like this when sparring with royal knights to teach swordsmanship. Abel smiled softly and extended her sword.
"Come, child. I'll yield the first move."
"...Feels like the Royal Griffin Knights' reputation has hit rock bottom."
He had acted overly provocative to insult the Dane knights, but now it felt like he was the one insulted. No choice but to win thoroughly. Ludwig grimaced and drew his sword.
"Don't regret it!"
"Amusing words."
As Ludwig bit his lip and assumed a charging stance, a commotion erupted among the knights. Abel and Ludwig halted just before clash and looked over.
"Gathered to interfere with the duel, are you?"
Ludwig grumbled, but the knights ignored him, exclaiming in awe and stepping aside. Soon, a path opened among them. A man walked toward the training ground.
-Step.
Slender build, tall stature. Hair half-gray despite his youthful twenties. Gloomy blue eyes gleaming beneath...
"You came."
"Been well?"
Abel gazed at him with trembling eyes, then smiled warmly. Fernandez strode onto the training ground. The knights whispered at the black greatsword on his back.
"That's the one we've only heard of... First time seeing it in person!"
"The King's sword... That must be Round Table Knight Albert...?"
"The royal savior, Saint of Shild?"
A somewhat twisted reputation. Fernandez shrugged and approached Abel. She reached out, stroking his wet hair.
"You've suffered hardships. Sorry I wasn't with you."
"I'm rather relieved."
"That I didn't become your weakness?"
That was what he'd told her when they parted. Fernandez smirked, meeting her eyes. Clear and warm like a blue sky.
"That you're here. That you remain by my side, breathing, smiling, enjoying this world. That this isn't a dream. That's my relief."
You deserve happiness. Since he'd awakened her from eternal sleep and brought her to reality, he felt a debt to Abel.
Not even a year had passed since he'd promised to show her the beauty of desert night stars and the sweetness of jungle fruits. Fernandez believed she should be happy now.
He saw her eyes welling up.
"Was that a confession?"
"It was just..."
"Enough, say no more. Of course, I'll accept your confession."
As Abel spoke with teary eyes, Fernandez panicked. That wasn't his intent.
-Aria would love this sight. Sorry, Aria. Because my flesh is weak, you're humiliated...
'Shut up.'
-Haha, fool.
Feizashi cackled.
"What are you two doing? Mocking me?"
Ludwig spat angrily, gripping his sword. Fernandez glanced at him and asked.
"Who's that?"
"A Fairn royal knight. Can't recall the name. He insulted me and the Round Table Knights, so I was going to teach him."
"I'm Ludwig von Boltstal!! I won't tolerate this insult any longer!"
"Ah, that was his name. Right."
Ludwig flushed and yelled at Abel's words. Fernandez smiled and turned.
"No need for you to dirty your hands on your first day here. Mind if I take your place, Sir Boltstal?"
"Your name?"
"For now... Albert of Cerned."
"Ah, I've heard the rumors. That suffices, young Round Table Knight."
He'd heard the tales of the legendary Round Table Knight, dismissed by some as royal propaganda. Ludwig sneered and adjusted his grip.
Yes, crushing a Round Table Knight before the Dane knights would be more effective than beating a frail woman. Ludwig took his stance and said.
"No need to yield the first move, right? Round Table Knight?"
"Do your best."
-Shing...
The dusk-hued greatsword rose into his hand. Soaked by the rain, it gleamed in the training ground's torchlight. The lined knights gasped at the sight. It was the founding king's sword—and the symbol of knighthood.