Chapter 151
Chapter 151
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 151
Chapter Title: Heavenly Horn Magic Tower's Malern (3)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
*
Thick sea mist and blistering heat kept the soldiers from daring to set foot on the ramparts. When Abel's breath poured out, the entire reserve force preparing for battle atop the fortress had evaporated. Even the navigators, and the Wild Princes themselves, couldn't muster the nerve to climb the walls.
"Fools! With the enemy's reinforcements right at our doorstep, not a single warrior to guard the watchtowers?"
"B-but, sir. Th-there are dragons!"
"Our ancestors would weep. Back then, dragons were commonplace! Our forebears commanded the world even in those days!"
If you're so full of yourself, why don't you go up there? The navigators scowled at the bellowing Wild Prince. At that moment, a strange sound echoed across the silent ramparts.
*Scraaape. Clunk.*
The rattle of chains snagging on the gunwale. The elves' keen ears soon picked up approaching footsteps. The Wild Prince gripped his sword hilt, narrowing his eyes as he peered into the mist.
"They've boarded. Prepare for battle!"
"Mages! What are the mages doing? How much of the deck shield is left?"
"Nine-tenths complete!"
Hearing the mages' shout, the Wild Prince grinned wickedly. Repel these rabble attempting to board now, and those without a flagship had no chance of victory.
*Whiiish.*
Until the whistle of slicing air rang out, the Wild Prince didn't stop laughing. And so he met his end with a smile. A dagger protruded from the center of his face, dangling loosely.
"Wh-what the—!"
"Full battle stations!!"
With the sharp cry, the navigators bellowed in unison. The mages hastily summoned winds to blow away the mist. As the fierce gusts cleared the fog, a man and woman strode into view.
*
Throwing the dagger was a skill honed to near instinct over countless years. Yet Fernandez winced, feeling the ache in his shoulder muscles. It was too violent a motion for the strength of an ordinary man.
*This body's just not getting used to it.*
-Haha, feels like the old days, doesn't it?
*Yeah. Nostalgic as hell.*
Fernandez chuckled along with Feizashi as he walked. Countless enemies gripped spears and swords, glaring at him. The mana flowing through the entire ship had thickened to the point where he could see its currents with the naked eye.
Troops in droves, mighty mages, formidable foes... It felt just like the old days. Right down to his weary, weakened flesh. The differences? He no longer possessed the brilliant magic of yore, and...
He had an invincible hero at his side.
"Drop your weapons and surrender, outsiders! Your allies won't arrive!"
Always the same old song. Fernandez snorted and took another step. The enemies rattled their blades in show. Not a single one drew steel amid the clamor. They had all trained in elven swordsmanship.
Fernandez pressed on, whispering.
"I'm conserving my strength from here on. Kirhas. Any blades that reach me are yours."
"I shall be your silver shield."
Hearing that, Fernandez broke into a run. Elven swords flashed from their sheaths, hurtling toward him like arrows. And at the same instant—
*Clang!*
Five blades snapped midair. Kirhas ran beside him, swinging her arms relentlessly. Deflecting swords, snapping spears, ensuring not a single strike touched Fernandez.
*Clang! Crack!*
Batting blades aside, shattering them, severing enemy arms, kicking bellies, swiftly switching positions to swing thrice more. It took Kirhas barely a dozen seconds.
*'Shield of the Great Wilderness.' Well-deserved indeed.*
-The real marvel is that this is just the beginning.
Her body had housed the invincible hero Kirhas's soul for only a few months. Her growth in that time was astonishing. Each time Kirhas's eyes gleamed, enemies crumbled, opening a path.
Blood and flesh sprayed from all sides. Kirhas was literally carving through the elves, forging a road. Her wrists ached, her body overheated from the furious motions.
Yet her eyes saw a blue path. The road to victory. What once was a mere instinctual sense of "the path stretching toward Fernandez" had evolved leading the beastkin alliance in the Great Wilderness—now it traced trajectories to triumph.
The optimal draw, swing direction. The moves to evade attacks safely. Her innate talent, instincts, and the experiences piled into her soul up to this point all revealed the perfect solutions.
On the battlefield, in combat. Kirhas wasn't a born commander. But she had the makings of humanity's finest field general. She could now see the flow amid the melee.
*Clang!*
The proof was this: twisting a blade aside, slashing the throat of an enemy closing in, spinning to snap a spear aimed at Fernandez—all in one fluid motion.
"She's no human... Th-that woman's not human!"
The soldiers screamed. They felt the vague dread they'd known hunting gods. The fear that karma might one day return for all this.
*Clang!*
Shattered blades rained down mingled with blood droplets, a storm of steel slashing everywhere, forcibly parting the battlefield. Fernandez could now see the great door leading into the hull past the deck.
*Impressive.*
Not once had he drawn his sword to swing it to reach this point. Fernandez glanced at the panting Kirhas, who darted about busily, and let out a brief sigh of admiration. The hero's gift.
Magic could pierce dense ranks and neutralize foes easily—simpler, even. But achieving the same with mere flesh and blood? That bordered on miracle over sorcery.
Divine blessing, fruit of effort, sheer luck, or pinnacle of a species evolved over millennia. What to call it?
And what to call an era where even such a one couldn't claim to be the 'strongest' alone in this material world?
Fernandez smiled as he walked the narrow corridor strewn with blood, flesh, and entrails. No more elven soldiers approached. All backed away, faces ashen, hesitating.
Beside him came Kirhas's ragged breaths. Her eyes blazed fiercely. Like a beast's, shining alone in the dark winter night.
*I want to call it Twilight.*
Such brilliance, such power in a hero. One so radiant, rare even once per generation. Heroes rampaging, mighty foes blocking their path—this era teemed with them.
The apex of civilization's achievements. No age had birthed so many talents, so many heroes. Thus, Fernandez deemed this the Twilight.
Like the most vivid, beautiful sunset. He glanced at the haloed moon far in the sky, then strode into the cabin.
*Twilight's end brings night.*
The age's finale approached. The doom he'd averted was but a fragment. The true enemy, colossal evil, still lurked behind the world.
Yet time remained before our ruin, and believing it not tomorrow, Fernandez opened the door to the cabin.
*
*Thud.*
Dozens of sounds mingled in his footsteps. An opulent hall, walls engraved with lavish murals, mana lamps refracting through colored glass to weave a dreamlike haze.
Fernandez advanced over solid stone bricks. His boots struck the floor with heavy thuds. With each step, Kirhas's footfalls joined. And others. Ten meters back, the slow tread of pursuing elven soldiers.
*Waiting for an ambush.*
*Pointless.*
If they meant to, they'd have by now. When Kirhas was exhausted, reactions dulled. Instead, slowing pace gave her recovery time.
So thinking, Fernandez glanced at the ceiling. Assassins hid amid the stone vaults, chandeliers, and ornate beams, eyeing him.
*Thud.*
Hoping he'd take a wrong turn? Or some other trap ahead? His senses caught nothing. Besides, he read the ship's mana flows, heading unerringly to its heart.
The elves were rattled. A warrior slaughtering dozens in seconds to blaze a bloody trail, commanded by this eerie man. Advancing straight to the throne room without hesitation, like it was his home.
Malern's flagship bore the nickname "Labyrinthine Palace." A web of doors and passages. Yet Fernandez and Kirhas never faltered, marching directly to the throne.
*Thud.*
How far had they come? Fernandez halted, staring ahead. A grand door bore a relief of a massive tree with nine branches. Archaic elven script etched blessings and legends across it.
As he stopped, soldiers and assassins halted too. Fernandez slowly lowered his gaze to the two giants holding spears before the door. Towering elves in gleaming ornate armor.
"No further. Outsider."
"Those who say that never get a second ask."
"This time will be different."
*Shing.*
The pair dropped into identical stances simultaneously, elegantly drawing held swords. Blades slid into sheaths—no, they poised fingers on hilts.
Perfect elven sword stance. Half-lidded eyes fixed on Fernandez, they spoke.
"Personally, I've wondered. Your clan's soldiers, even those Wild Princes. All so pathetically weak."
Fernandez took a step forward. He'd glimpsed their blades as they drew, stopping precisely outside elven swordsmen's range.
"Malern of the Heavenly Horn Magic Tower. His private guards, mages trained by the great ancient sorcerer himself. Even they seemed too feeble. As if he'd deliberately crippled his own limbs."
Fernandez narrowed his eyes, glaring at the sealed throne door.
"What's your game, Malern?"
With those words, the door opened.
*