Chapter 205
Chapter 205
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 205
Chapter Title: Sadarkelia, The End of Dragons (3)
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Time flows. Beyond the boundary between matter and concept. The sky turns, the celestial sphere revolves. Stars rise, snow falls. Mourning clothes drape over Fernandez's shoulders.
-Suuuuu....
Water droplets tangle in his inhalation, and the cold wind chills his lungs. Soon the snow turns to sleet, then to downpouring rain. His hair soaks and drips.
-Huu....
His low exhalation fades, and soon the sun rises. Summer rain scatters in the hot day's wind, then autumn's clear breeze blows, whipping the rainwater into waves.
Snow falls again. Layer upon layer over Fernandez's rock-hard body. It piles up, melts, rains, flows. Freezes once more....
'Melted.'
Fernandez stood frozen, his sword thrust into the ground. Slowly sinking into his subconscious, focusing solely on the flow of mana beneath it. Sadarkelia's cries, her rage, her roars echoed from afar, scattering like sea foam. She could not physically interfere with him.
Thus. A matter of time. Only time was the issue. Sadarkelia forcibly accelerated time, twisting the flow of mana into complexity. Because of that, the hallucination warped, becoming uncontrollable even for her—but the same held for Fernandez.
The mana enveloping this mental world was twisted beyond measure, making it perilous to touch. Mana dense enough to mimic divinity formed this world, and dismantling it with mere technique was an exceedingly thorny task.
Yet, he does not give up. Once more. Little by little. Little by little.
'Melted.'
The mana. No, the divinity melted. Just a tiny portion, but unmistakably. With eyes closed, Fernandez sensed the change in mana. Both his own and hers, melting bit by bit.
[Give up!!]
Sadarkelia's cry rang out. Ridiculous. As if she'd let him go if he surrendered? Due to the distorted sense of time, it flowed agonizingly slow—and terrifyingly fast.
A span that would leave no trace even of a mortal's soul. Like the vision of ancient giants in myth, using moments as stepping stones across eons. Time brushed past him, no longer a mere concept but a tangible form.
Surpassing physical cold and heat, it gnawed slowly at his soul, eroding it away as lightly as if it were dissolving. No being is eternal, nor mana. Even divinity is treated as a consumable resource beneath time.
Therefore. It melted. Sadarkelia's frenzy did not limit itself to Fernandez. She was consuming herself as well.
However, time is relative. Though the time Fernandez endured surely had substance, he intuitively knew the time flowing in the material world would not be long.
Thus. This moment is illusion. His goals and purposes lay focused on the material world; other realms and dimensions held no interest for him.
In this instant, his sole concern was one thing. Sadarkelia's soul.
"Melted."
Fernandez slowly opened his eyes. At that, Sadarkelia narrowed hers into slits, glaring at him.
[What nonsense!]
"Your soul is visible now."
Crack. His stone-hard fingers broke free from the sword hilt with a thunderous sound. The grain of mana. The storm of time and conceptual flow became visible.
Vast hellish mana, and beneath it, the great demon's will swimming along. That vortex. His analysis of that flow was now complete.
Dozens, perhaps hundreds of years. Under that sense of time, he had slowly observed, attuned each stream.
The end was in sight. Between the flows, in the crevices. Faintly, the bare essence of her soul appeared.
-Crack.
Finger by finger, they bent with harsh sounds. Rough and slow, like a dust-covered boulder shifting. Crack, craaack. Bone-joint-crushing noises continued relentlessly.
Pain of illusion. Even amid the agony of his body crumbling, Fernandez coldly glared at Sadarkelia. If that much time had physically passed, no form of his would remain.
Phantom pain screamed by the soul. Thus, no hesitation. Pain without threat of death was merely a hindrance of flesh. Fernandez lifted his sword like drawing a key from a lock.
-Shhh....
Ash scatters. He gazed intently at Sadarkelia's rigidly hardened face. One step forward.
[Don't come closer!]
-Quaadrack!
Intense stimulation like stones jammed between cartilage. Fernandez's senses went mad, his body halting for an instant. Yet his gloomy blue eyes gleamed as he took another step.
'Melted.'
The dragon's stature melted away. Along with his own spirituality. The hand not gripping the sword twisted, ringing out clear like a plucked biwa string.
-Ting!
The dragon's body shrank. The presence and mana cloaking her slowly ebbed. As backlash, Fernandez's body grew ever heavier.
'To drag down divinity, with divinity as sacrifice!'
-Ting!
To shave away the dragon's supreme spirituality—reached at the pinnacle of immortality—and bring it to eye level, he burned his own spirituality. One technique, a mudra formed—
-Whoosh.
Spirituality blazed, a pure white halo flashing behind his back. Ting, like strings snapping, a portion tore away, striking Sadarkelia's spirituality directly.
Another step. Sadarkelia shrieked in frenzy.
[The divinity you built. All your achievements—will you abandon them? Forsake your power, your stature entirely?]
"Build it again."
[Foolish words! You destroyed the world, subjugated dragons, subdued great demons! Can you rebuild such stature, such spirituality?]
"My purpose is not power."
He had more than enough of it already, to the point of tedium. Fernandez looked down at the woman cornered against the wall, gripped by fear. Ash scattered from her body.
Behind Fernandez, remnants of burned spirituality scattered like unfolding wings. Divinity is more conceptual than material; each manifested fragment was his achievements, his convictions.
Thus, losing built-up deeds brought a vicious lethargy. Exhaustion. He wanted to drop his arms right then, rest just a moment. Meeting Sadarkelia's gasping eyes, Fernandez subtly twisted the sword hilt, lowering the tip.
[Yes. Regret it now? Good. It's not too late! Sadarkelia will help you. Take Sadarkelia's hand. Burn the world anew, rebuild your power, your stature. Finally, even against those heavenly substitutes—]
"No spirituality, no divinity, no achievements or mana... no power is eternal. Sadarkelia."
When the sword tip reached her chest, it suddenly halted. With weary eyes, Fernandez thrust it in.
Compassion. Pity. The sole weapon grasped in this mental world. Symbol of humanity. Its point tore into the terrified demon's heart.
Gasp, a choking breath. Beneath bone-weary fatigue threatening collapse, Fernandez slowly raised his hand to cover Sadarkelia's forehead.
[K-Killing me won't end it! I am but Sadarkelia's rationality. The true madness... the true power...!]
"No. Sadarkelia. You were your final soul."
A ritual akin to lichdom. In absorbing hellish mana, to avoid tainting her soul's stature, she had severed and sealed her soul within this mental world. Thus, her flesh bore undead traits, reparable despite material harm.
Therefore, this was the end. After soul destruction, only remnants for a lich. Fernandez twisted the greatsword plunged into Sadarkelia's chest.
"I pity you."
[Hypocrite!!]
"Power... power without purpose is mere illusion. A dragon lost in a mirage without substance. I pity your plight."
Once, I was the same. Fernandez felt kinship with this being more than ever. With the sensation of severing his past self, he drove the blade an inch deeper.
[How dare you! How dare you, to Sadarkelia—you scum!!]
"Holy Pantheon, grant your blessing. Eternal rest to the sinner."
-Crack.
Twisting the greatsword, slashing horizontally, Fernandez briefly traced the holy sign. The last remnants of divinity burned away, heavy fatigue crushing his shoulders. And from the greatsword's tip, space tore, the mental world beginning to collapse.
* * *
-Quaadddrack!
[Yormungandr moves!]
"This... ha. This is something."
The serpent twisted and writhed. Its colossal body shifted, shaking all of Yggdrasil like a dance. The blazing Yggdrasil, a massive smoke pillar rising above, undulating solemnly like a sacrifice for dead souls.
[See it to the end!]
"Fine. Let's go, friend."
To end the apocalypse. Loft cackled as he leaped from the eagle's back. The eagle hurled Thor. Thor thrust his current-crackling fists skyward, smashing down toward the dragon's head.
[Bal—halla—!!]
* * *
[Aaaah—! Aaaaah—!!!]
-Kwaaaaang!
The dragon writhed its entire body, screaming. Denser mana than ever swept everywhere, Yggdrasil rocking like waves with its thrashing. Atop it, Kirhas hoisted Abel and leaped relentlessly toward safe ground.
"Abel, snap out of it!"
"Leave... me and survive, Kirhas. I don't have much time left anyway."
"I can't do that!"
"Does that mean die together?"
"It means live together!"
Kirhas ground her teeth, running, leaping, soaring again. Dragging her weary body, dodging burning branches, pillars, and massive leaves!
[Bal—halla—!!]
-Kaboom! Kaboom! Quaadddrack!
In that instant, a sky-shattering cry streaked blue, slamming dead-center into the screaming dragon's head! A massive shockwave swept outward, lightning channeling with thunderbolts forming a vortex that shoved back the flames.
"Oh, Lindbrum? Looking pretty beat up."
"Loki. Here to mock me?"
"Hahaha, how could I mock the dying? God of death and all. Friend. My good, pitiful friend."
Loft appeared behind Kirhas, chuckling. Abel panted, squinting at him. Eyes that seemed to laugh—or weep.
"While Thor was busy butchering the dragon corpse, I prepared a gift for you, friend."
[You traitor!!]
Loft held Odin's severed head. Odin glared with blazing eyes and bellowed.
[Violation of pact! Jotun! I trusted you!]
"Did I? Not that I recall. Friend, your judgment's off!"
[What do you want? Why this suddenly!]
"Well, if I list my desires, too many to trim down! Haha. Death is greedy by nature. For now—your life.... Yormungandr's soul.... And our people's freedom. That much?"
[You...! Ragnarok, this scheme—was it all...?!!]
Loft smirked, then drove a dagger into Odin's skull. Odin's eyes convulsed briefly, then slackened from the jaw. Loft extracted the blood oozing out, rubbing it between the bony fingers left.
"So light, so easy a life.... Odin. Great friend. Why? With such power, why...."
"What now?"
"Do what must be done. Lindbrum. Good work. This is your pay."
Loft approached Abel, slumped on Kirhas's back, and smeared Odin's blood from forehead to neck in a long line. The blood spread oddly, forming runeglyph patterns before fading.
Abel's deathly pallor gradually regained color.
"Follow me? Friend. Still need some help."
"No. I'll take my own path now, Loft."
-Rumble!
Sadarkelia's roar and thrashing shook Yggdrasil violently. Gazing at the most intense spot, Abel slowly slid down from Kirhas's back to stand.
"Fine. Lindbrum. Go your way. Vanaheim's gate is open."
-Poof!
Amid crimson flames, a blue flower bloomed like bursting forth. Seeing it, Abel smiled softly. Abel and Kirhas walked the small path made by the unfolding blue bud, toward Yggdrasil's peak.
Watching them, Loft cackled.
"Vanadis. You, me, our entire people. At last, we've found freedom."
-Poof!
A flower bloomed on his shoulder. Far off, beyond the horizon. A beam of light descended, opening Bifrost's gateway.
Vanaheim's gate. The Aesir folk—and Einherjar—that Odin and Freyja hid to the very end appeared faintly below it.
Jotun, Helheim, even demons. Their battle seemed in brief lull with the sudden outsiders' arrival.
As Yormungandr's life ebbed, Muspel's nadir demons would scatter too. Asgard had become irreparably hellish, Yggdrasil ablaze.
The Aesir conquest devouring thousands of worlds was over.
Forever.
"This is Ragnarok. Or is it, friend."
The Aesir conquest. That endless winter... Fimbulvetr's nightmare faded amid Yormungandr's flames. The next conqueror-king, Baldr, had fallen to corruption.
Odin slain by Fenrir, Heimdall—who toyed with Bifrost's authority—dead too, Aesir turned wanderers.
Twilight of the gods. Yet twilight promises next dawn. With gods' era ended, mortals' age dawns at last.
Loft mounted the eagle, soaring skies, gazing at flame-wreathed Yggdrasil. The burning colossal tree resembled, from afar, a greatsword plunged upside-down.
Might heaven's greatsword judging earthly fall look thus? Loft cackled. A blade forged in Muspel's depths—closer to hell than heaven.