Chapter 202
Chapter 202
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 202
Chapter Title: The Scale-Covered Empress, Sadarkelia (3)
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When Fernandez fell from Abel's back, he glared at Yggdrasil, carefully gauging his direction.
The terrifying acceleration swelling endlessly, the massive serpent's body wrapped around the blazing Yggdrasil and the dense mana emanating from it... Fernandez gripped the greatsword—the greatsword of the Dain King—tightly, measuring the distance between himself and death.
It wasn't quite as close as he'd feared yet.
-Kwaaang!!
The moment he slammed into Yggdrasil's massive trunk, Fernandez swung the greatsword downward. He heard the bones in his forearms crunching. His body barely clung on after striking the outer surface of the trunk.
A long sword scar and bloodstains were visible where he'd cut. Grinding his molars, Fernandez drove the greatsword deeper. The sensation in both arms was already... gone.
The battle with Botan, followed by countless skirmishes, the wounds and corruption from shattering Sadarkelia's barrier—his arms had long lost function.
Without the ritual's aid.
-Damage exceeds 85%. At this point, better call them chunks of meat than arms?
'Increase ventricular fibrillation by 15%.'
-Vascular strain is already critical. Don't want to see your whole bloodstream burst.
'The vessels near the heart regenerate as they rupture. Still fine.'
Fernandez spoke to Feizashi, who had buried an ethereal arm into his chest. Most calculations and spells were left to him; Fernandez focused solely on maintaining his sanity.
The spirit arm dug into his chest kneaded his heart roughly, revitalizing it as its slow beats quickened. The heart was the organ best suited to hold mana and divinity, the most vital hub supplied by Religiosa Demonica blood.
By directly compressing the heart, blood pressure rose temporarily, dispersing Demonica blood as strongly as possible to repair the body and restore stamina. On a macro level, it was a crude suicide method, but microscopically, an effective emergency measure.
The situation now was no different from tightrope walking. Stopping meant plummeting off the cliff—like high-wire acrobatics. Fernandez bound his crushed bones with mana and climbed the trunk.
-This is basically... a golem.
'Minion creation isn't my specialty, but...'
-Whatever. Stick to the theory, and the results are roughly the same.
Feizashi giggled as he meticulously reconnected Fernandez's arm—severed muscle fibers and bone fragments. Cut off mana supply or fail to repair vessels with Demonica blood, and the body would crumble instantly.
Thus, with precision. More intricate than an imperial surgeon's work. All black mages were masters of human anatomy, and Feizashi was additionally a master torturer. Assembly was merely disassembly in reverse...
-Ordinary humans wouldn't even dream of it.
Not a matter of mindset or will. The Demonica flesh's performance and the arms soaked in hellish mana struck a perfect balance for this moment.
-Kuduk!
As Fernandez drove the greatsword in for his next step, blood suddenly erupted from his heart. Feizashi grumbled bitterly, slowly withdrawing his hand.
-That's it. Can't maintain function anymore.
'Good work.'
-What's next? You didn't fall just to commit suicide.
'Needed a stationary state.'
Fernandez finally reached the massive trunk. His trembling body collapsed atop it. Breathing was labored from the heat; he coughed repeatedly, groping the surface for flat ground.
Once he secured space to lie down, he immediately sat cross-legged. One hand to the sky, the other to the earth. Taking the pose commonly called the [Mantra of Both Wills] in the Asias High Council, he slowly exhaled deeply.
'Gian-Kel's Ascension. What's the spell success rate?'
-Are you sane?
'Why not?'
-Eighty years barking like a dog to maintain it, and now back in the past, this is what you do...? Become a lich, of all things? Why start with magic at all? Why gain divinity, become a god's minion, fight shredding your body like an idiot?'
'To preserve my humanity.'
Fernandez exhaled slowly.
'To not abandon my humanity. To not lose a father's heart wishing for his son's future, his son's happiness. So our purpose, our reason, doesn't rot away...'
-Weak, foolish, emotional.
'That's human. Feizashi. Anyone with warm blood does it. Organisms deriving fixed results from given stimuli aren't human—they're flesh golems. Our regrets, our laments. The final moment we faced—that alone proves we were human.'
-Don't agree.
Feizashi clicked his tongue.
-But probability-wise, 20%... That's it. In this situation, without ritual or sacrifice, copying Master's lich transformation spell with pure incantation? Generously, under 20%.
Modern magic's three elements: spell, ritual, sacrifice. Completing a grand ritual abandoning all else would prove Feizashi's skill.
But with life as the stake, reconsider. Even after forsaking Beitasser's divinity—value no longer disposable—he had to gamble his life? Needed higher reward.
[No need if I help.]
Before his thoughts ended, Botan spoke from his waist. Fernandez glanced; Botan chuckled.
[Lich means undead. But maintaining the living body while forsaking innate factors? That's my expertise. No need to become undead.]
"Success rate?"
[Eighty percent.]
Simple math guaranteed over 30% expected value. Forsake innate factors, maintain vital functions? No different from Demonica procedures.
Fernandez nodded curtly and drew a deep breath.
"Begin."
[Long and comfortable. Short and painful. Which?]
"Need I answer?"
[Kekeke, always amusing.]
Botan clucked his tongue laughing. Soon, a circular ring formed around Fernandez, lightning crackling within. Runeglyphs densely inscribed between, the ritual activated like turning gears.
Beyond it, Botan's voice echoed.
[Better gag you. It'll hurt. A lot.]
In conclusion, it was exactly that.
* * *
Kirhas ran on instinct. Leaping crumbling branches, occasionally kicking off to descend, then ascend. Never stopping, not for a moment.
[Pest!]
Sadarkelia's cry echoed above her head. The world engulfed in flames, earth crumbling, massive quakes shaking Yggdrasil. Yet Kirhas ran heedless.
Once, she'd chased Beitasser's spirit herald on foot. Beastkin agility plus her innate talent drove her.
Along with 'possibility.'
'He's still alive.'
That alone mattered. Fernandez lived. Her life's goal remained clear; her path sharper than ever.
'Red.'
Danger. She veered without hesitation, hurling herself to another branch. Simultaneously, Sadarkelia's arm pulverized the branch and vanished into flames.
'Blue here.'
Safe. Or closer to victory. Kirhas ran, eyes on scattered blue dots connected by faint blue lines.
Like a compass always pointing north, her eyes never lost the way in chaos. Sift the entire race for one gem—this era, it was Kirhas.
'Danger.'
Blue lines reddened moment by moment; some red zones flickered brief blue. She ran, and ran. Past lungs burning at her throat, now numb-minded, pure instinct.
'Silver Grace...'
Her victory meant more than survival. She'd sworn her life to one man. Thus, Fernandez lived. Must. Hope before her eyes meant his survival.
-Crunch!
Her foothold crumbled in flames. She twisted, snagging a corner of the shattered branch. Dangling in midair, she rolled her eyes, gauging direction.
[Annoying beast!!]
Sadarkelia's roar, madness, rage blanketed the sky. Hanging from the branch, Kirhas sought victory. Half instinct, half desire.
'Silver Grace. You must be safe.'
As the branch turned red, she released it, racing up the trunk.
'Must buy time.'
No idea what alternatives, but Fernandez's final order: Stall. Then...
"Lizard!!!"
Kirhas bellowed, vaulting branches. Drawing her sword, she charged Yggdrasil's peak.
"Try killing me!"
[Amusing suicide.]
Madness-overflowing voice poured from above. Kirhas staggered under the horrific presence, twisting away fast. Her spot pulverized.
[Or... yes. Trying to fool Sadarkelia.]
Sadarkelia's voice suddenly turned rational. Cold-honed madness lurked beneath. Kirhas, flustered, looked to Yggdrasil's summit.
The massive serpent head grinned sinisterly, gazing beyond the horizon. Where light beams poured from the sky, legions from other worlds emerged, slaughtering demons.
[Think your world safe, mortal?]
Kirhas gasped. Sadarkelia hissed whispers.
[Bifrost's gatekeeper... that damned mongrel can't stop Sadarkelia, whatever tricks. You, your kind. Your world daring oppose me—I'll trample it first. Won't kill you, mortal. Imprison eternally. Your soul stays sane till your last friend, last kin breathe their last in your burning world.]
Her whisper swelled, echoing vile curse. Kirhas staggered to a branch near her arm, slumping.
Terror, revulsion, despair gripped her heart. Madness' corruption beyond will. Kirhas clutched her trembling sword.
[Or... yes. I read your heart... Good... No attachment to your world. You cherish one alone. Yes. That mortal. Love? Admiration? Whatever. He'll crumble before you, beg my mercy. Your death—after.]
Sadarkelia's long tongue licked her lips. Hissing, red eyes rolled to Kirhas. Simultaneously, Kirhas's body stiffened. Overwhelming presence and despair, slowly.
-Ting.
That instant, a clear string instrument rang. Like plucking a pipa. Amid burning Yggdrasil, ruined earth, hell's arrival—ill-fitting sound.
In that fleeting moment, her sanity recovered, seeing light. Blue light—victory, hope.
Paradoxically, from Sadarkelia's nape.
[He's here.]
Sadarkelia twisted her head, gazing down her body coiled round Yggdrasil. Kirhas, free of her gaze, shook her head, panting.
Now fully visible. Blue glow thickened to circles, circles to lines flowing—a long path from Sadarkelia's massive nape, down trunk to tail.
Bluer, denser. Indigo from azure. Deep blue nearing black!
"Sadarkelia."
Cold voice pierced flames. Thick acrid smoke cloaked Yggdrasil's upper reaches; icy voice cut through thunderous clouds.
"I won't judge your sins. Judgment weighs guilt fairly beyond severity. I lack qualification to balance justice against your evils."
In that windless moment, Kirhas saw blue amid black smoke. Victory, hope, reason, attachment... affection. All her heart embodied—yet somber.
Thudding footsteps like thunder. Somber dark-blue eyes, half-white hair. Expression devoid of emotion, Fernandez walked, facing Sadarkelia squarely.
"...As once with Feizashi Wildcast. Even villains may hold final regrets. As priest, I grant you chance. Dragon, Sadarkelia. Will you repent?"
[Your plan? Repent? Chance? Begging life with such words? Pathetic. Pathetic! Sadarkelia craved more dramatic, grand madness!]
Sadarkelia hissed disappointment. Fernandez emerged from dark smoke. His body fully visible. Abel on his back.
Wordlessly, he approached Kirhas, setting Abel beside her. Fernandez stroked the head of Kirhas—stiffened, gazing desperately—then turned.
Broad back. Torn clothes revealed sleek muscles etched with writhing strange glyphs.
-Shing.
Greatsword slowly drawn from his hand. Facing Sadarkelia squarely, he said.
"Even gods utter one prayer in despair. Sadarkelia. Defendant's defense ended. Pray then. To any god, any words. Earnestly."
[Sadarkelia is this world's end! Sadarkelia dreamed long, many dreams. Of burning this world! Now 'my' dream—your worst nightmare!]
-Ting.
Clear zither rang. Sadarkelia's raging madness faltered. Kirhas felt corruption dispersing within.
[You... gained divinity!]
"I already slew nightmare in the wasteland. Nothing eternal."
Burn demons, heretics, witches.
Fernandez charged Sadarkelia's head.